Stop It

I asked him, politely, to stop.

Last weekend, Zach and I went away for two nights. Two entire nights I was away from Alex. Before Alex I would never have understood the agony that a parent feels leaving a child for that long. I mean, hello?! You are getting away from your kid for two days! Have fun! Enjoy being a real person again! And I totally did. I forgot all about the fact that I’m supposed to be an adult. It was a blast. Plus, it was a wedding so it was romantic and beautiful and there were flowers and an open bar and there was dancing and it was pretty and it was full of love and happiness and…

I missed Alex. The second I got in the car for the five hour drive away from here I missed him. When it hit me that not only would I not see him the next morning, but also I wouldn’t see him the next afternoon, my heart sank. When I realized that I wouldn’t have to deal with the arguments surrounding food or cleaning up or, well, anything, I felt a small sense of relief. But then I felt sadness. Those tantrums may not be fun, but the moments of pure joy make it all worth it. A slight, sad, pressure hung around pushing on my chest the entire time I was away from him.

And when we returned, when I was able to get a hug and a kiss from little Alex, I realized something:

He didn’t stop it. I asked him to not change, to not grow, to just…stop. I made sure to say please! But he didn’t listen. He grew. He changed in two days. He sounded more mature, finally beginning to pronounce his “r” sound, and he looked more mature, with fading chubby cheeks.


You think if I promise him fruit snacks every day for the rest of his life he’ll stop?

Future Health Professional

“Oh no! Mommy! Oh no! He fell down!”

Fortunately, when Alex is playing he uses this super high-pitched voice. I never mistake a serious problem for pretend play, but I still have to react to whatever the pretend problem is: “Who fell down?”

“The man! The wittul fwying man! He fell down and went boom! He’s huwt! Mommy, he needs a doctuh.”

I told Alex to call the doctor so that the little flying man could get some help. We wouldn’t want the little flying man to be seriously injured and not be able to fly around again, after all.

“Otay! I cawed the doctuh. Oh! Da doctuh is here. ::new voice:: Hi, dere. I’m a doctuh. I Doctuh Seuss!

Alex has a cold. Like all people of the male gender, he’s a baby about being sick.

“Mommy, I sick. I need med-cine.”

After feeling his forehead and neck, and recognizing that he could, indeed, use a little medicine, I give it to him.

“Thank you, Mommy. The med-cine made me awww bettuh.”

Later on, he looked at Zach and I: “Umm…maybe I have a fevuh?”

When Zach and I started cracking up, Alex started cracking up too and said, “Nooooo! I don’t have a fevuh. Dat’s siwwy.”

And then again, later that night, as I’m sitting in his room, cuddling before bed, Alex throws one hand up, palm out, against his forehead. The other hand reaches around behind his neck and Alex says, “Mommy? I have a fevuh. I need med-cine.”

At least we never have the how-to-get-a-refusing-toddler-to-take-medicine-without-throttling-them battle. Instead, we have to thank medicine manufacturers for childproof caps and the fact that Alex is a scaredy cat and won’t attempt to climb up high enough to get the medicine that makes him feel awwww bettuh.


Four More Months Of School

I can’t wait to be done. I miss taking pictures. I miss doing nothing. I miss Alex. I miss Zach. I miss my life.


Us :)

I miss my blog, too.

Yesterday, Alex asked, “Where did you go, Mommy?”

I told him, “Today I was taking care of sick people.”

“Oh, you took cawe of sick people on da school bus?”

According to Alex, when I’m not with him? I’m on a school bus.