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Bathroom Fear

26 Apr

We’ve reached it. I knew the day would come.

Aidan refuses to go in a bathroom with a little dress on the door.

He has every right. The kid is six. I wouldn’t want to go in the opposite bathroom either.

But oh how I cringe when we are out in public, just the two of us, and he says he has to go. Clearly if Kyle is there, it’s a non-issue. The other day at Meijer he uttered the dreaded words, “Mom I have to go nooooww.”

“Bud, can’t you just hold it until we get home?”

“Nope. Gotta go now.”

So here we are at Meijer, and I let him walk in the bathroom with the pants on it. I am borderline irrational with my fear once the door swings closed behind him. How do I know who else is in there? It totally terrifies me.

In an effort not to embarrass him, I try to make myself count to 60 before I burst in with wild eyes and momma panic. He always goes in with these instructions: “Go quick, don’t touch anything, wash your hands and come out. Hurry!”

Poor kid. He’ll be the only guy who can piss and be out of the bathroom in less than 30 seconds thanks to me. Other people probably think he doesn’t even go.

So anyways, the operative word in that 60 second statement was that I try. I made it to 39 seconds last time. I pushed the door open, ready to protect, to yell, to…I don’t know.

He was in there alone, washing his hands thoroughly.

I quietly pulled the door back and waited for him once more, my heart rate returning to normal.

I really hate that I can’t be there every second of every day to protect him. It’s growing up, it’s natural, it’s needed. But I didn’t realize when I started this journey of motherhood how truly difficult it would be to let go. I didn’t know going from diapers to bathrooms by himself would twist my heart the way it does. I can’t even begin to imagine the day he grows taller and stronger than me and feels it his duty to protect me.

Raising a boy is funny like that.

Learning to Ride My Bike with Aidan

13 Apr

Yes, I’ve been able to ride a bike since I was a kid, smart ass.  I begged my mother to allow me to take my training wheels off when I was four and then sweet talked the slightly older neighbor boys into helping me all day long until it clicked.  I was determined not to have to put my training wheels back on.

Aidan has not been quite as adventurous with bike riding.  Anyone who knows him would agree he is full of spirit, adventure and loves fun.  I’ve noticed he is timid only when he senses a real possibility to get injured.  As his mother, I’m secretly thrilled with this.  I like that he  practices some caution when testing boundaries.  But, he’s newly six.  It’s about time he learned to ride his bike on his own.  The training wheels have been off since last summer, and Kyle has been awesome about working with him. 

Meanwhile, I’m the new owner of a fancy road bike I bought from my co-worker.  The bike is too cool for me, but Kyle has a really nice bike and I can’t exactly saddle up next to him on a Huffy.  So the fancy road bike has clipless peddles.  (A kind of funny term, to me, since the peddles have special shoes that clip to them.)  If you’ve ever ridden like this, you know this takes some practice.  I actually caught on well and my first ride was without incident. 

Tonight, I decided to ride a quick nine miles while Kyle and Aidan took Aidan’s bike for a spin and back.  When I got back to our driveway, I paused, thinking I saw Kyle and A down the road.  And totally forgot I was clipped in.  NOT GOOD.  So I got to experience my first falling off the bike while staying firmly hooked on to the bike experience.  I scraped up one of my fingers pretty good, but I’m fine otherwise.

When I stood up, a little embarrassed, I saw my little guy riding.  And Kyle wasn’t holding on!  A can only hang for a few seconds, but it’s totally clicking for him.  We met in the middle of the sidewalk, Aidan promising to blow on my finger when we cleaned it up at home, and saying, “When I try and fall, I just get back up and try again.  I’m not giving up.  You’re doing a really good job too, Mom.”

Aidan and I are at different stages and we value varying aspects of our life based on our ages and experiences.  But no matter where you’re at in life, it’s important to get back on the bike.  Getting discouraged and a little bloody is nothing compared to the joy of cruising smoothly with the wind grazing your cheeks.  It’s a pretty sweet lesson to learn with my kid.

Inappropriate Words to Yell at a Bagel Shop

13 Mar

Sometimes my life isn’t interesting enough to spur a blog post topic.  Sometimes it’s fascinating but not particularly blog appropriate.

And then there’s Aidan.  Hilarious, fun and decidedly blog worthy.  Today’s episode might be pushing it on the appropriate part.

So we’re at a local bagel shop enjoying pre-church breakfast and coffee.  Two police officers walk in.  Aidan is visibly excited and waves hello.  Around here, police officers often carry stickers in their shirt pocket, to have on hand for little ones like A.  It’s a good move, I think, because at age six Aidan definitely has a very positive connotation associated with those in uniform.  He gets up and walks over.

“Excuse me, Officer?”

(Two points for politeness, Aidan!)

Alas, they were out of stickers, but A just returned to his seat and we began to play one of a dozen games we play to occupy his attention whilst in a restaurant.  The rhyming game is pretty self-explanatory, and as his vocabulary expands he enjoys it more.

“Aidan, what rhymes with pool?”

“Uh, tool, cool, fool…”

“Aidan, what rhymes with pick?”

Kyle immediately shoots me a look.  The kind of look you give your server when you watch them spill Coke on you in slow motion.  You recognize it’s coming, then all of a sudden you’re soaked.

Aidan’s getting into the rhyming and his voice is escalating.

“Sick, tick, DICK!”

My son just yelled “dick.”  In a bagel shop.  On Sunday morning.  About 20 seconds after a police officer told him he didn’t have a sticker for him.

Keeping it classy around here, I tell you what. 

Note to self: Do not ask Aidan what rhymes with duck.

Home Depot Drama

28 Feb

My brother-in-law tried to warn him.  About Rose girls, that is.  We’re…occasionally a bit too ambitious about what we can get done in a day.  And at times we think something is possible—we insist something is possible—when it straight up is not.

Enter a Saturday trip to Home Depot. (So domestic!)  We’re on a mission for a rug or large piece of carpet, because we’ve turned the basement into a livable space.  The walls remain cinder block, though we plan to paint, and we’re all set up with the awesome furniture Kyle brought over and a TV with the Kinect hook-up.

Our Home Depot happens to be going out of business, so we arrive with loads of other people looking for a home improvement deal.  We spot the perfect piece of tan, flecked carpeting among cabinetry and sinks.  It’s on a cart with wheels, so Kyle pushes that.  He’s already sold his left kidney to somehow snag a “car cart” for Aidan, who is perched up and “driving.”

I walk away for a moment to check another item out; Kyle is right next to Aidan.

“MOM!” Aidan bellows.  “You can’t just walk away and leave me!  Look, the seatbelt even says so!” he yells, waving his proof.

Mother of the year.  As usual.

Moving on.  So we have this big-ass piece of carpet and a Camry.  We’re talking 12 feet long.  And Kyle’s all, “Uh, this isn’t going to fit.”  And I’m all brightly contradictory, “Yes it will! We’ll just lay down half the back seat, shove it through and I’ll hold the end up front on my lap!”

Mmm-hmm.

Now, in mutual defense, they weren’t doing deliveries, there was no layaway and we had phoned several friends.  We couldn’t just leave our prize piece with the hoards of people scouring for a deal.  I wanted the carpet!

We make our purchase and head outside.

Ahahahaha.  SO not going to fit.  Not a chance.  This was discovered in approximately 15 seconds.

But there’s this nice-looking couple next to us.  With a big truck.  And we have to get the carpet home because we own it and we can’t take it back.

So yes we do.  We ask some strangers to “swing by” our house on their way home.  They are totally lovely and will accept neither beer nor money; they simply instruct us to pay it forward.  We definitely will!

Once the basement is painted, I’ll post pictures.  I also really can’t wait to hear this version of the story as told to my brother-in-law from Kyle.

I’ve Officially Been Inducted Into the “My Child Stuck a Lego Up His Nose” Club

4 Feb

So.  Snow Day #2 was a little more eventful than Snow Day #1.  It started off innocently enough–Mom’s french toast on Grandma’s homemade bread, followed by hanging out together.  Then it was time for me to get to work on my monstrous to-do list and Aidan to occupy himself for a bit.  This generally involves art projects, Legos, Wii or Kinect around here.  He chose (you guessed it) Legos.  He’s five.  Almost six.  I leave him playing alone with Legos regularly enough.  I mean, it’s not like he’s going to stick them in his mouth or anything, right?

At the precise moment he lodged a grey, cylinder-shaped Lego up his right nostril, I happened to be putting away clean pajamas in his drawer, still warm from the dryer.  So at least I didn’t suffer the guilt of not watching him closely enough.  I was right there!

He turned to face me, looking as though a ferocious lion had suddenly appeared behind me.  And then broke into hysteria.

“Mom!  It’s stuck!  I didn’t mean to-I mean…I WISH I HAD NEVER STUCK THIS LEGO UP MY NOSE!”

He reached a shrill peak at the end of his exclamation as the deluge of tears began.

Oh, dude.  Dude.  If I could only tell you how many times you will feel this way over the course of your life. 

“I wish I hadn’t been in a hurry and gone 80 on the freeway!”

“I wish I wouldn’t have let that catty remark slip out!”

“I wish I wouldn’t have eaten that cannoli that I thought might have sat out too long!”

Ah, the tough lessons in life. Only one way to learn ‘em, at least if you have my genes! 

Now, I won’t claim to be the calmest under pressure, but I think I’m okay.  At least when it comes to my baby.  While I might freak out in a different circumstance, when it comes to soothing my little man and keeping things under control, I can access a new gear.

We tried to blow it out.  No dice. 

I called his doctor.  No openings.

I called Kyle and my mother for advice.

We spent a good half an hour with Aidan perfecting the art of standing still and flaring his nostrils while I perfected the art of the operation game, but with my own kid!  Wasn’t happening.

Well, here’s where things get a little complicated.  I have had great insurance.  Except for that I got a new job, remember?  I wrapped things up at the old job this past Tuesday.  I start at the new job Monday.  I’m in this 30-day window of no insurance.  I realize that might make me sound a bit irresponsible, but the truth is that if anything happened in that month, Aidan and I would go on COBRA and I’d cough up the money for a month’s worth of premiums out-of-pocket.  So, we’re covered, but I’m hoping to not have to do that.  We’re generally healthy people.

Until someone shoves foreign objects up their sniffer.

Anyways, back to the point that I’m trying to figure out a way to avoid going to the emergency room and costing us a small fortune over a Lego, when those things are too damn expensive anyways.

Enter Kyle. (Are we sensing a pattern here?  Penelope is a disaster!  Kyle saves the day!)

Kyle’s practice happens to involve some pediatricians.  Some lovely pediatricians who said that if Aidan and I drove over, they would figure out a way to remove the intruder.  So we did, and they did.  AND THANK GOODNESS.

$0 later, a stern talking to and adamant declarations from Aidan that he would never, EVER stick anything up his nose (or ears, or mouth–we covered our bases), we can check another item off of our little boy growing up list.

What I want to know is–are you part of the club?  Do you know anyone who is part of the club?  What’s your story?!

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