Children. Specifically, my children. Fabulous little creatures that they are. Let's see. There is the oldest, 6, who I call Doodlebug. He is losing his first teeth. We brainstormed on ways to get them out quicker. None of which he agreed to. He decided that just letting them do their own thing is just fine. How can you turn down an offer to tie a string to your tooth and the other end to the cat and then slam the door to scare the cat. I would have thought a little boy would love to terrify an animal. Uh uh, no go. Then we discussed twisting the teeth with his fingers. Nope. I ended with the idea of pliers. I don't think I have ever seen his eyes open any wider than they did last night at that proposal. I was shaken off on that one. So, we are reduced to waiting. Not something I can do well. Not so patient. Might I mention, patience is something that is required in droves when you have a child. The need for patience increases exponentially with the presence of each additional child. Odd that patience seems to diminish exponentially with the presence of each child. Is this another one of those cruel jokes of life we are to just accept. Sadly, yes. Currently. Doodlebug is taking an extended bath to remove the orange juice pulp from his dried stiff hair. There was an orange juice incident with his little brother this morning. Somehow, the 21 month old, also known as Monkeybutt, kicked the glass while Doodlebug was drinking. There was a spectacular shower of pulpy juice over the big kid, sofa cushions and seat. Um, wow. I only have about another year before I can purchase a new sofa. We just have to make it past Monkeybutt's toddler years. Then I feel like it might be safe to get something new and not worry about the endless onslaught of sticky spills, accidental urine leaks and any other countless messes little ones create. I have a love hate relationship with peanut or almond butter. Kid's love the taste. I love that it is a healthy snack. I hate that it turns to concrete upon hitting my sofa cushions and pillows. Seriously, there are still stains from Doodlebug's toddler years. I have washed all the covers to boot but they just won't let go of the precious peanut butter.
The longer I have these kids the more I realize that Bill Cosby knew what he was talking about when he did his "Bill Cosby: Himself" stand up. Particularly the part where you have to tell the kids every single step in the task at hand. They take things so literally and will do exactly what they are told to do. The fact that they take everything so literally is the reason why sarcasm does not have any impact on them. Case in point: Enter sarcasm: "I just love it when someone is rude to me while I am ordering dinner." Mama, you like that? I think it is mean and I don't like it at all. "No, honey, I was being sarcastic." Carstatic? I still think it is not nice.
So sweet. A point in their lives where their ignorance is still innocent.
Yesterday, Doodlebug was taking a bath after playing in the mud he and Monkeybutt created with the sprinkler in the front yard. It was time to brush teeth and start heading to bed. I told Doodlebug it was time to get out of the bath and head into the living room. I forgot the all important "dry yourself with a towel first" statement. My 4'2" six year old hopped out of the bathtub and started to hustle his way to the living room still dripping. I stopped him quickly after I realized my mistake in commands. "Oh, hold on, you have to dry yourself." So, he did. I forgot one more thing....dry your hair first so you don't continue to drip. He slogged around the house briefly with droplets running down him back and leaving little puddles in the wells of the his footprints. Doh! Mom did it again. Be as literal as you can and life with kids goes a little smoother. Did I mention sarcasm doesn't work. That is a real shame. It's like a second language to me and I can just slip into it without thinking. I'm talented like that. I know, it's a gift.
I won no awards for Mommy of the year yesterday. It was one of those days. We all have them. No one is proud of them. But, it is behind me and we are working on a new day and it has already proven to be better for all of us.
I took a much needed break from routine last night. I went and enjoyed a summer night in my naked Jeep. One of those nights that as you are driving the wind feels like silk on your skin. You just don't want to stop driving. Foot hanging out of the empty doorway. Sound of the wheels on the road and wind in your ears. Music from the radio is not necessary. Driving becomes a visceral experience. Things that you see seem more real when they are not from behind a pane of glass. You can feel fluctuations in temperature that would be completely imperceptible if you were locked away in the cab of a car. Conversation with people will even pop up when you are out in the open. Ah, it just feels good to be behind the wheel of my Jeep.
I first started my relationship with this Jeep in 1993. It has been to Florida and back. All around Florida. All around Texas. Parked in many a driveway. Been my therapists before I realized I needed one, when I had one and when I wanted to be one. I know where every ding and chip originated. There are even ones that are gone that I still tell the story of. There are countless adventures from all chapters of my life that took place in my travelling home. It is one of those cars that just feels like home. I sit in the driver seat and remember them all. Wrap them around me like a shawl. Good or bad memories...they are all comfortable. Only, now in my life the Jeep has become a source of comfort to my husband too. The call of the summer nights beckons him. Some nights a drive is in order to clear the cobwebs or the deep blue funk we all sometimes find ourselves in. A bit of respite from conundrums or a too loud household.
I just love to settle in, lean back and wrap my hands around the rubbed smooth steering wheel. I remember wondering if there would be a time when the whole thing was rubbed smooth and not just the one or two places I regularly held it at, years ago. Yep. 16 years later and it's rubbed smooth. I just love that.
I can't count the times it has been broken in to. Nothing of value was ever really taken. Sentimental value, yes, financial, no. Oh, well, there was the time when the fiberglass top was taken off of it in the middle of a December night. Who steals a top? Well, according to the cops repair shops do. That's comforting. Never found the people who pulled that one off but I was able to purchase a used top off Craigslist, get it repainted along with the hood and cowel of the Jeep that were starting to lose the clearcoat and a few other things with theinsurance money from that. It allworked out. I sometimes miss the stickers fromt he back window that had been there for a decade. They had stories too. When all this went down. The insurance company didn't want to pay for a rental car since the vehicle was still drivable. I had an almost three year old Doodlebug at the time and explained it was not possible for me to take him anywhere in December in a topless Jeep. They finally realized the severity of the situation and ended up with a rented Magnum for about a month. No complaints from me. THat was a blast toodling around town in that thing.
Then a year or so later neighborhood kids decided they wanted to set my Jeep on fire. The passenger seat has burn wholes in it. Neighbors chased the kids off and ran into my house and yelled for us to call 911. I was at another friend's house that summer night when I got the call. I was just around the corner and ran at mach speed home. At some point I kicked my flip flops off because I couldn't move fast enough with them on. Cops came. We had eyewitnesses and could identify the kids. Nothing came of it. Cold case now. Cops just wouldn't call me back when I was trying to get it moving. Guess there were better things to do. The kids are still in this neighborhood. I see them everyday. They glare and posture to us. They know they got away with it. The open hostility FOR NO APPARENT REASON is ridiculous. They are just thug kids. It is amazing to hear how the family of one of them talks to each other. A complete and total lack of respect on all sides. I have never heard f bombs dropped like that in any conversation between a mother and a son. Shocking. Guess delinquent behavior is expected.
Ah, to be the older and wiser 34 year old. HAH! Older: yes. Wiser: barely. I have so much to learn. It is amazing all the things my kiddos teach me. Or even reteach me. THere are many things about enjoying the little things in life that I forgot because directions to the grocery store with out too many stop lights took its place. Remembering to slow down and realizing that a day filled with "nothing to do" can be the most action packed days of all.
Woops...look at that. Noon on the dot, Monkeybutt is sleeping, Doodlebug is still in the bath, the computer battery is almost drained dry and I have a day of swimming ahead of us. Guess I should gather the suits and sunscreen and get ready for more Summer!