A Boy Alone on a Swing

Drew. Usually when people ask me about my kids, if they know them, I will say, "Drew? Well, he's just... Drew.". I love the boy to death. He is adorable, says funny things at the right moments, and is unbelievably sweet. But, MY GOD... he is so ridiculously stubborn. He doesn't listen to anything, and he doesn't share his toys. Every morning I have to plan at least 10 minutes to get out the door and into the car, because I have to say, "Shoes on, coat on, no toys, get in your seat, sit down..." 50 times. I can only describe it as some invisible barrier between the two of us, where anything I say just doesn't get through. I think he has all the intentions of doing what he is told, but he just doesn't. Everything is a battle: eating, taking a nap, going to bed, taking a shower, getting dressed... I'm exhausted by 10 am. I do pick my battles. I let him choose his clothes so he won't fight me there, I let him wear his rain boots when it's sunny, I only give him what I know he'll eat, and he still fights me every step of the way. Drew does what Drew wants to do, and he doesn't give a hoot about anyone around him. Honestly, I love it. He doesn't care if his hair's not done and he looks goofy (Nate is particularly careful with that), he'll wear whatever hat he feels like wearing at that moment, and he proudly parades his 2 blankies, teddy bear, and stuffed dog where ever we go. He loves clothes that are loud, and expressive. He chose the hideously ugly McQueen hat at Disney, and it's his favorite hat. (picture a giant stuffed McQueen car sitting on your head. Yeah, that's it) He loves Wubbzy, a totally goofy cartoon. All of this, describes him. So when I say, "He's just Drew" people get it. I know when he's in school he won't be swayed by what's popular, and I'm sure he'll be popular because he has such confidence in everything he does. I admire it of him. All this being said, I'll get to the events that threw me into this blog.

It was our usual morning, but this morning we were going to a moms group event after we dropped Nate off at school. So everyone (including me this time) had to be ready to go by 9am. At the group, he refused to play upstairs. And of course, getting him to clean up was a battle. So we come home and I make PB&J for lunch, which he decides is better for playing with a squishing between 2 plates. I told the boys I would take them to the park, but I needed to clean for a little before we left. They were told to pick up the toys. Not only did he refuse to do it, but somehow got into some stickers and had them all over. "Clean up the stickers." Yeah right. I sent him to his room since he wasn't helping and he wouldn't stay there. Since I didn't have the time to hold the door shut, I decided to just ignore him. (It's easier than fighting a battle I know I'll never win.) I was tempted to cancel the park, but Nate was being so good and helpful, I didn't think it was fair to him. We had our usual 10 minute trip from the front door to the car, and Drew decided to unbuckle his seat belt on the way. I picked up a friend and her daughter, and we left for the park. I was so frustrated with him by this point, it would have been punishment to me if I made him sit with me. He came over once and said, "Mom, I need help." I said, "If you can't do it yourself, don't do it." I was in no mood to get up and play. A few minutes later I saw him sitting in a swing. He sat there for 5 minutes, still. I had the urge to get up and push him, but I didn't. He eventually got down and did something else. He got into it with some other girl over a toy, and I took him to the car while my friend pushed Nate on the tire swing. We went home, my friend took Matt for a few hours, and I put Drew down for a nap.

Now I am here, blogging, and I can not get the image of Drew sitting on the swing by himself waiting for me, out of my head. I am typing, and crying, and I feel horrible. Parents are supposed to be bigger... not let their emotions get in the way of their child relationships. I should have gotten up. I let him down. Sitting there, to me he was a crushed little boy let down by his mother. To anyone else, he was a boy, alone, on a swing.

Another reminder...

that my little boy is growing up. Nate has his first loose tooth! It also happens to be the first baby tooth he got. I called the dentist just to make sure this wasn't some accident I was unaware of, but she said, "no, this is about the right age. He's fine." Sadness. It's not enough that he's reading, doesn't crawl into our bed anymore, and can pour himself a drink if he's thirsty. Now he's got to go and loose his baby teeth. I absolutely can not believe he's getting so old so quickly. I celebrate all of his achievements, but I also want to freeze him where he is right now for a little longer. When he showed me his tooth I told him, "hey, you can put it under your pillow and the tooth fairy will come and leave you some money!" he replied, "Mom, the tooth fairy's not real."while he rolled his eyes at the notion. He can't even believe in the fricken tooth fairy! His brain is so much older than his body, it's crazy.

On another sad but celebratory note, Matt is crawling! How the hell is this happening? He's supposed to be my newborn, my sweet little baby. No, my sweet little baby is on the move, wearing 12 month clothing, and throwing tantrums. He won't eat baby food any longer either, so there's another sign.

Drew is growing up too; he argues about everything, and he talks well enough to understand what he is arguing about. His new favorite phrase is, "By my-self!". He doesn't want help with anything. I can't pick out his clothes, help him with his shoes... he is so independent. And as he's always been independent, now he has the ability to do a lot on his own. I know he'll flourish at school next year, but holy crap, he'll be in school. AND... he'll be almost 4. I don't mean to sound like every other parent in America, asking, "where did the time go?" But it's so true. Where did the last 5 years of my life go, because I feel like I missed it. I know there are so many little things the kids have done that I've forgotten about, and I really wish I could remember them forever. Thank god I have an obsession with catching every moment on camera, so I can at least go back to those pictures and reminisce.

Conclusion: enjoy it. Enjoy the tantrums, enjoy the fights, the milestones, and enjoy waking up at 4 am to a kid having a nightmare, cause pretty soon they won't need you to rock them back to sleep.

Normal, anyone?

A few days ago, Joe found out that if he were to get out of the military, it would be after the 10 year mark. If you are military or know someone who is, you understand how crucial a point that is when deciding what to do with the the next 10 years. It's the halfway point to a life-long retirement check, or the point at which you say "abandon ship!" and get out before it sucks you in forever. When he came home and told me about this my thoughts cringed at what I knew he was going to suggest. Just a few weeks ago we were both dead set on getting out. "What's the difference of 9 years and 10 months, to 10 years and 2 months?" I asked. Well, apparently there's a lot more going on in the psyche when the number '10' creeps it's way into the equation. "A lot." he said. "It's all single digit numbers down till you get out." Yep. I was right. Honestly, I sank into a little pit of defeat. I hate patrols. I hate moving. I hate the uncertainty of the future. Will we be here in 5 years? Who knows! All of that can make a person very nervous. OK, makes me nervous. When I am without a plan for the next hour or the next 20 years, I get very uneasy. I need direction on a constant basis. We debated for several hours over the pros and cons of either side. I finally said, "I want a normal life, not a military life." Joe retorted with, "What is normal?" I was pretty quick to answer but he shot back saying, "who do you know that has a 'normal' life?" I honestly could not answer. The days of dad works a 9-5 while mom stays home with the 2.5 kids, with the picket fence enclosing this perfect American dream home, are gone. The only people I could think of with this arrangement were my Grandparents. In the world of now, I'm lucky that I am able to choose to stay home. Well, he had me at that question. "Normal" is in the eye of the beholder. In the end, I believe he'll be re-enlisting in October, and while it saddens me, logically I know it's the best thing for us.