Alex and I Have The Talk

So, Alex and I had The Talk last week.  I was soooo not prepared.  I mean, I should be, but I wasn't.  I mean he's ten right?  He was bound  to ask sooner or later.  I should have prepared what I was going to say, but instead I tripped all over my tongue and sounded like a boob.  It went something like this:

There I am, 9:00pm, peacefully doing crossword puzzles in bed, listening to my meditative "8 Hours of Rain on a Canvas Tent" MP3, when Alex comes strolling on in in his undies, climbs up on my bed, gets directly into my face and says,

"Mom.  Tell me the truth.  Is the Easter Bunny real, or is is just you?"

"Wh, wh, wh!  What do you mean?  Why do you ask?"

(It is two days until Easter!!!!  What do I say?)

"Seriously Mom.  Just tell me."

"Uuuhhh.  Well you've seen The Gaurdians and Hop.  You know . . . ."

(This had been my standard go to answer for questions about Santa for years. "Well guys, you've seen Elf."  I crossed my fingers that this would work.)

"Really Mom?"

(Not the happy excited "Really Mom"!, but the "Really Mom" that is dripping with sarcastic, don't treat me like a child" kind of attitude that all children develop around age 10.  Oh shit.  He ain't buyin' it! This conversation is not going to end. Gulp!)

"You know honey, the really important thing about Easter isn't the Easter Bunny, or the chocolate and stuff.  It's about the sacrifice that Jesus made for us.  All the rest of it is just for fun".

(Send out enough mental wattage to actually light a halo around my head).

"Now what's a 5 letter word for octopus"?

"Mom"!
(He actually grabbed my chin and made me look at him!!)
"Stop trying to change the subject"!

I can't take it anymore.  The pressure is so intense!  I slammed my Crosswords For Beginners shut and looked at my baby.

"Alex!, Mommy is just not ready to have this conversation with you yet!"
(Please just ask me what an orgasm is or something!  Anything!)
"You just turned 10, and you know I'm not handling that very well, and now you want to talk about this?  Now??!!"

"Mom, just tell me".
(He actually had pity in him eyes!")

Sigh, "close the door".

And thus I told him the truth.  That Mommies and Daddies are the Easter Bunny. That we want to give our children a special day to celebrate Jesus overcoming death and the coming all new life with spring.

"Awww"  he says.  And then his eyes get this devilish little gleam and his mouth ticks up at one corner.  "I knew it!" he yells.

Why you little shit.

"What do you mean you knew it?"  I asked.  "You knew this whole time and you still made me suffer through this conversation!!!"

"Ya, I knew that you are the Tooth Fairy (that's another story), and the Easter Bunny.  I just wanted you to tell me.  But I know Santa's real."

My eyes start darting in any direction but him.

"Gasp.  Santa's real right??"

"Uuuuhhhhhhh . . . "

"What!?" No way!"

And thus ... (insert above paragraph but change Easter Bunny to Santa and Jesus overcoming death to Jesus's birth).

"Wow".

I actually told him about all the times in the last couple of years when someone almost blew the whistle on Santa for him.  Last year grandma put gifts under the Christmas tree marked, "To: Alex, From: Santa", which is fine, except she put the under the tree on Christmas Eve!  A full 15 hours before Santa was due to arrive!

This year I started in on how St. Nicholas was a great man who died many, many years ago.  Duh!  That did not go unnoticed.  I got a tongue cramp trying to talk my way out of that one!

Quite possibly the worst was when the boys were watching tv and Buddy the Elf came on and tried to sell them beer.  "Mom!  Why is Buddy selling beer?"  How do I tell them Buddy is just an actor but Santa is real?

So, where did this leave us?  Alex was cool with it all.  I mean really, I couldn't keep it a secret forever could I.  He'd look pretty silly being the only kid in college who still believed in the Easter Bunny.  I did let him in on something else though.  I told him that now that he was a member of the "Knowers Club", that he had a sacred duty to always keep Easter and Christmas special for those of his friends and family who still believe.  His little brother and cousins were all still eagerly awaiting the arrival of the Easter Bunny and to ruin that for them would be unforgivable.  He actually kneeled on the bed and saluted me.  "Yes Sir, Mam, Sir!"

This Easter came and went and Alex told me it was the best Easter ever.  I think that was the truth too, because not only did he get to do an Easter egg hunt and get a huge basket of candy but he got to see the whole thing from our perspective.  He got such a kick out of watching his brother and cousin enjoy the magic of Easter.

I guess I shouldn't worry so much about him growing up so fast.  He seems to be doing a pretty darn good job of it.  Good luck to the rest of you!

Michy

Pouty Lip!

I had THE best morning this morning.  I woke up early, (not normally a good thing).  As I was heading downstairs to make my breakfast I passed by Alex's room, (son, age 10 for those who don't know).  He was still asleep in bed.  Yeah!  I tiptoed into his room and crawled under his blanket to snuggle.  I LOVE snuggling!  It's the best!  I buried my nose in his hair and sniffed him in.  Ahhhh!  We snuggled for fifteen minutes or so before he wanted to get up.  I figured I'd go eat my breakfast now, except that I knew William, (son, age 7) was still sound asleep in his bed.  So I made a little detour and hopped in with Will and snuggled him awake.  Life does not get any better!  

It hit me as I was laying there though.  How long can this last?  My babies are getting older.  A mother crawling into bed with her fifteen year old in the morning is just creepy.  Alex will be hitting puberty in a few years!  There will be morning wood and wet dreams.  Ew!  Even I don't want to cuddle up with that!  So I know, in my brain, that my snuggling days are numbered.

I feel like there is a huge clock, ticking over my head, counting off the hours until my last morning snuggle.  Am I weird?  I am just not ready.  I think of all the time I wasted not snuggling and feel bad for not doing more, especially when they were little babies.  When I think about how much money we spent on Jolly Jumpers and Exersaucers, and bouncy chairs and swings, I think, what a waste.  Why put my precious baby in a bouncy chair instead of letting them fall asleep on my tummy.  I was only watching tv!  What a missed opportunity!  I want a do over!!!!

I try to take satisfaction in the reality that I am raising young men who will be independent and strong, who will be good to women and raise beautiful families of their own.  But it's not working.  I want my snuggles!

One day at a time I guess.  One day at a time.

Michy

I've Been Schooled

Bullying in school has become a very hot button issue of late.  Everyday on the news you hear about children suffering at the hands of their peers.  It nothing new mind you.  I remember that age.  I remember doing things I am very not proud of in order to maintain my social status and not become "That Kid".  The one that mercilessly endured whatever vitriol  every one else threw their way on a daily basis.  Bullying probably been going on since the day we crawled out of the swamps.  It just gets a lot more media attention now.

The only thing worse than being the victim of a bully or bullies is being the parent of a victim.   My children are not being bullied.  I'm pretty sure they are not bullying anyone either.  I don't think they have the constitution for it, but I'm sure every parent believes their children are incapable of such awful things.  I was once told that I was very chill about things that happen to my kids on the school yard.  I don't freak out over bumps and bruises.  If a child tells one of my sons that they suck one day, I wait and see, and in all likeliness they will be friends again by first recess the next day, so I guess that makes me "chill". But I informed this person that if my child was ever the victim of bullying at school, they would not like the Michelle that they would meet next.

I am a total split personality.  I am all funny and happy one day, but you mess with my babies, you are poking a stick at Mama Bear.  You do not F*^K with Mama Bear! As with most parents out there I will protect my children from harm.  I will not protect them from the consequences of their actions, but I will protect them from some little shit trying to make their life miserable at school.


The emotion involving harm to your children runs deep.  I'm talking Marianas Trench deep.  I've seen grown men engage in a fistfight one day, and a month later they are splitting beer and chicken wings like nothing ever happened.  I have never once met a parent who doesn't remember the name, age, hair and eye colour and shoe size of the kid who punched their baby in the face at school.  We don't forget and we don't forgive.  And here is where I got schooled by a seven year old.

In October my precious baby Will came home and told me that he and a friend had an altercation on the school yard.  This kid then proceeded to go around to their classmates at recess and ask them to "assassinate" my baby.  Watching a few to many video games, hmmmm?  Mama Bear was sitting up.  One of the other students took him up on his offer and pretended to stab my baby with an invisible knife.  Will was not hurt, but he was not happy.  Mama Bear, on the other hand, was PISSED.  I spent the next day gathering intel on this little jerk who would incite others to harm my baby.  I reigned in Mama Bear and proceeded to make sure the school and I were on the same page about this incident.  Turns out the office never got the whole story from the yard. Once they had the full story immediate action was taken.  I went home happy and filed that kids intel in the back of my brain for future reference.

A month later Will came home black an blue.  I have never seen so many humongous bruises on one person!  One whole side of his body was bruised from his eye to his ankle.  "What the heck happened?", I asked.  Apparently Will had given this same boy a "boost" to slide down one of the snowbanks at school, and this little miscreant retaliated by throwing my baby off the snowbank and onto the concrete below, resulting in the severe bruising.

Now, I am an objective person.  Who knows what Will, a seven year old considers a, "boost".  Did he give his classmate a boost, or did he push too hard and shove this kid down the snowbank?  It's had to tell.  Maybe his classmate wasn't too happy about being pushed.  Makes sense to me.  But the damage done to my child was way overboard.  Mama Bear was furious.  She was frustrated though, because each time Will was harmed at school, he put hands on first.  The first time he had tagged the boy too hard in Tag, and the second time he "boosted" him on the snowbank.  I decided I had to tackle this issue at home.

Will was under strict orders:  you do not play with that kid; you do not touch that kid; you do not even look at that kid.  If he comes around, just walk away.  This has been our status quo since November.  Problem solved.

Then, one day in January, Will asked me if this kid could come over for a sleepover.  "What?",  I said.  "No, of course not".

A week later he asked if the boy could come over for a play date.  "No", I said.  "I don't like that boy".

Every two weeks or so Will asked me if this kid could come over and play, and every time I said, "no".

Finally the other day Will asked me if this boy could come to his birthday sleepover this June, (he likes to plan his birthday well in advance).  I looked at him with genuine confusion.  "Will", I asked, "why would you want to invite him after what he did to you"?
"Mom!",  he said, somewhat exasperated, "that was ages ago!  We've been friends for months!  I don't care about that stuff any more.  Why do you?"

Why do I?

Shame crept over me like a blanket.  I had been holding a grudge against a child for months.  A seven year old.  A child, who my son had ultimately laid hands on first, who made a couple bad decisions.  No lasting harm was done.  The boys had put it behind them long ago.  I am always teaching my children about the power of forgiveness and I failed to heed my own lesson.  With a seven year old.

I was schooled by my son that day.  I hope I never forget that lesson.  I told him how proud I was of him and that I was ashamed of myself.  He was right and I was an idiot.

Now, this does not mean that Mama Bear will never make another appearance.  Every situation is different and has to be dealt with on its own.  She may be waaaayy back in her den, innocently licking her paws, but she'll be ready if she is ever needed again. I just hope that I can temper her temper with some compassion and patience.

Checkout this story from the book Zen Shorts by Jon J. Muth.  It's one of my favorite children's books.

 ""Zen shorts" are short meditation - ideas to puzzle over - tools wich hone our ability to act with intuition.  They have no goal, but they often challenge us to reexamine our habits,desires, concept, and fears".

                            -John J. Muth

                                            

A Heavy Load

Two traveling monks reached a town where there was a young woman waiting to step out of her sedan chair.  The rains had made deep puddles and she couldn't step across without spoiling her silken robes.  She stood there, looking very cross and impatient.  She was scolding her attendants. They had nowhere to place the packages they held for her, so they could not help her across the puddle.

The younger monk noticed the woman, said nothing, and walked by.  The older monk quickly picked her up and put her on his back, transported her across the water, and put her down on the other side.  She didn't thank the older monk, she just shoved him out of the way and departed.

As they continued on their way, the young monk was brooding and preoccupied.  After several hours, unable to hold his silence, he spoke out.  "That woman back there was very selfish and rude, but you picked her up on your back and carried her! Then she didn't even thank you!"

"I set that woman down hours ago," the older monk replied.  "Why are you still carrying her?"

Michy

Update

Well.  I guess I'm not the most consistent blogger in the world.  It's been how long since my last post??  Geeze, feels like Confession!

So what's been going on?  Well, I'm older, heavier and grayer.  I am happy, happy, happy, (except for those times when I am a psycho she-devil).  My oldest just turned 10.  We are nearing the end of the "Never Ending Winter".  I've got some wicked new tattoos (no, it's not a mid-life crisis).  It's the beginning of the month so I have yet another new plan for getting in shape.  Basically, things are swimming right along!

Alex just turned 10.  10!!!!!  The double digits!  As on every birthday, I had to pull out "The Album".  I remember the day he came home from the hospital.  He was so tiny, so sweet, and he couldn't talk back yet!

I do make good babies!

Time flies by so fast!  I asked Alex the other day if he realized that in the next 10 years he would become a "man".  That's right.  In the same amount of time that just passed he will be full grown.  Tall, hairy, probably with a girlfriend.  Sigh!  That's when 7 year old Will piped in with his comment, "I hope when my puberty sprout hits that it won't hurt.  I don't like growing pains"!  Hopefully they will continue to keep me in the loop on such matters.  I would hate for my boys to think that they couldn't discuss these types of personal issues with their mother.

I believe there is finally hope that winter is on the way out.  This has been, by far, the coldest and longest winter I can remember.  It. Sucked.  Spring is on the way and it has ushered in the annual poop count.  Yes, as the snow melts it reveals layer upon layer of little presents my dogs have left all winter long.  This years contribution has been somewhat astonishing.  Unfortunately my pooper scooper is still buried in the snow somewhere, so the exciting chore of clean up will have to wait a few days more.  I am already dreaming of warm summer days lounging in my hammock.  Ahhhhh!

And, I got some ink.  Yes, at the ripe old age of thirtysaaskflnje, I finally decided what I would like to endure the agonizing pain of the tattoo needle to have permanently emblazoned on my tender flesh.  

Exhibit "A" This is not just Eeyore, but Alex's Eeyore which many of you will know is his most beloved and cherished belonging.  Just like Alex's Eeyore this one is covered in bald patched and has no mane and his tail is held on with a safety pin.  The designs around him are the designs from William's "Big Blankie", his most beloved and cherished item.  When I look at the tattoo I am looking at my babies.  I love it!

This one is a quote from my favorite poem, Footprints in the Sand.  If you're not familiar with it, Google it!  This poem defines my relationship with God/Jesus.  I feel strengthened every time I look at it.

Now, somebody once told me that getting a tattoo feels sort of like an extended mosquito bite.  Well, I can tell you, that person was a LIAR!!!!!  It is so freaking painful!!  A more accurate description is to envision somebody carving up your arm with an Exacto knife.  For an hour.  I curled my toes up so much that they almost popped through the bottom of my boots! Now, if anyone is in the mood, my tattoo artist was the lovely and talented Tara Timoon at New Moon tattoo in Orleans.

Well.  That is all I have for now.  It's Birthday Party Day for Alex and I must go and tidy my house so the kids can tear it all apart today.  I promise to keep this blog more up to date.  Promise!

Michy