Cranky Mommy

It’s been 11 days since I last posted. I even failed to post on Mother’s Day, which I suppose in the Mommy Blog world, is some kind of faux pas.
But I don’t have much to rant, whine and complain about… I’ve been in too good a mood. I had the best Mother’s day gift of all — my son is finally potty trained. (Really, this time).
There have been times in my life when I thought some things would never end. High School. College. Pregnancy. Sleepless nights with the baby. Breastfeeding. And, especially potty training.
No more holding it for six days.
No more pull-up diapers. Or Once Upon A Potty, and Your New Potty, and every other stupid book or video that didn’t help at all.
Cancel that appointment with the Pediatric GI.
I’m not asking why or how (although toy bribery sure helped, no doubt), who cares, it’s done. Just don’t ask me for any potty training advice, I’m the last person you’d want to ask because I sucked at it so bad. I’m just so happy to be done with it I could skip down the street giving flowers to strangers.
I will never, ever, ever miss changing diapers. And with some luck if I ever have grandkids, I can talk them out of letting grandma change the diapers and I will be off duty for life. Woo Hoo.
So, that leaves me with little to blog about, at least that I feel comfortable putting up here in a public forum. I still have that tube in my eye which has mostly fixed things and will be with me for the next 6 months. I’m busy with working with my husband doing housepainting. I’ve been doing a lot of volunteer work. I’ve put on a couple of pounds.
Yawn.

When I was a little kid most of my nicknames didn’t stick long. A couple of friends called me Kir, but not many. My mom used to call me Ki or Kira Deara and still does, but she is the only one that uses those.
She also used to call me Little Buttinsky which I thought was cute until I grew up and realized it meant little butt-in-sky.
In fourth grade, because I was such a space cadet, a few kids called me Earth To Kira. I didn’t like that much, although it was accurate. And because I used to fuss about the small things, one obnoxious little boy in 4th and 5th grade called me Ms. Picky Picky.
Years later I was watching an epsiode of Big Brother and I noticed an obnoxious guy on the show who looked just like that little boy who teased me in 4th and 5th grade.

Some people never grow up (he didn’t win, woo hoo, and no I’m not bitter). Anyhow, I digress…
Anyhow, as of the last few weeks, my son has been giving me some nicknames. I’m not sure how I feel about them. One of them is sorta cute. It’s Lappy. I guess because he likes to sit on my lap. the other one I am not to fond of. It’s Salami. I guess it is because it rhymes with Mommy. Mommy - Salami. Ugh.
Of course he has a few nicknames, too, that aren’t any better. Some of which we don’t use anymore, and some have stuck around a while. His name is African and unusual in this country, so most of the old people in the neighborhood can’t pronounce his name right so I just tell them to call him Mr. T.

I don’t think he has any idea who this guy is.
When he was younger we gave him a few names that were transitory. When he was just a few weeks old it was Mr. Bobble Head and when he kept biting it was Mr. Bitey and the inevitable nickname of all babies, Mr. Poopy Pants. Mr. No Sleep, well we still use that one. He still doesn’t sleep much.
There is also Mr. Irrational Exuberance, for when he is manic, and my new favorite, since he is so into dinosaurs, Crankosaur, for for when he is tired and cranky. On occasion I do use my my mother’s old nickname for me, Buttinsky, since he is always in the middle of whatever I am doing. However I will probably do what my mother did and shorten it to Binsky, but before he figures out what it means.

Care to share any especially funny nicknames?

Somehow a lot of the mommy friends I have acquired have girls. Not all, but quite a few. My son seems to get along fine with all of them, but when we go to their houses I notice more and more, that the toys have become, over time, more gender-oriented.
That’s not to say that there aren’t a few cars or dinosaurs or what not here and there, and the “gender neutral” stuff. But seemingly many of the “girl” toys fall into one of these categories: dolls, dolls you can brush their hair, ponies, ponies you can brush their hair, princesses you can brush their hair, furry cuddly animals that you can brush their hair, etc. Not much in the way of dinosaurs, but if they made dinosaurs “for girls”, I bet you could brush their hair, too.

If I wanted to make the most popular girl toy ever, it would be a pink-fairy-princess-baby-pony-kitty with dyeable, styleable, hair and makeup, and stylish clothes. With lots of rhinestones and glitter. OH and of course a crown (and what am I missing here).
Most recently I was at one of these little girls houses, and T was the only boy his age there, in surrounded by many a girl and their ponies. T just found a lone dinosaur and played right along. Dinosaurs can ride along in little princess carriages, too, with all the other little ponies.
And these ponies weren’t merely just regular My Little Pony ponies. I was informed that the ponies have antennas because they are - get this - fairy ponies (or perhaps all you mothers of girls know this stuff and I am just out of the loop). To me, that is not merely girly — it’s doubly girly. Kind of the girl equivalent of what would be doubly-boyish — a race-car superhero. Or, a dinosaur-truck.

I’ve always been a fan of the “gender neutral” toys. I loved my legos and I played with them until my early teens (although I am not as bad off as this guy who is still at it). T is a big fan of those kinds of “works for either” toys - bristle blocks, legos, animals. Given the choice though, he often prefers the dinosaur, truck and car, and all that other boy stuff, most of which I don’t “get” much at all. Every time I read another book that tells me the difference between a excavator and a back hoe loader, I read it but I am holding my nose on the inside. The dinosaur stuff isn’t so bad, at least for me!…It is a break from all that car and truck stuff which I am so bored with. Oh well, he likes it.
But when I was a little girl I did have my semi-sickly girly indulgences. I loved my model horses like many girls do, and my Barbies, (which I used to make clothes out of tissues and scotch tape for them). If they had had the My Little Ponies back then, I would have probably been into them.
With my grown-up taste, though, I now find them aesthetically displeasing. The strangest thing to me is reflecting back on that Slumber Party that I went to (the sex toy and etc. party) that some of the “toys” I saw there, especially the pink ones with the animals on them, kind of reminded me of the ponies.
Or maybe that is just my disturbed mind.
For me I think it is a tie… the “boy” toys and “girl” toys are equally obnoxious. What do you think?

Both my husband and I are artists. Being the individualist he is, he is really isn’t that much into making art, and is much more into playing with construction trucks or reading about dinosaurs or planets or pretending to play football. Occasionally though, he does like to make birthday cards for different people. Here is one he just made for his friend’s birthday:

The funniest thing about this birthday card is that… well, of course he can’t read much, and he’s 4… so he has no idea what Be Mine means or how it is spelled. But in a couple of years, he would be horrified to know he gave a pink card with a sparkly Be Mine sticker to one of his rough and tough male friends.

This Friday is our annual preschool parent-teacher conference. I’m not expecting to hear much that I don’t already know. I talk to his teachers all the time and I pretty much have the picture on his behavior and development — he is developing fine and is well behaved at school.
Never mind what my son is like at home (he has settled down a lot at home too), he is pretty angelic at school. And compared to most of the boys in his class who are, by comparison, absolutely running around CRAZY, he must seem like the easiest kid. The class is chocked full of boys - 12 total, and when I drop my son off in the morning sometimes, I think I made a wrong turn and ended up at the zoo. Sometimes I feel bad for the teachers, they are stuck there with that pack of wild animals to settle down and try to organize them into civilized activities. They really need whips and chairs.
That’s not to say these boys are bad kids (really what 4-year-olds are bad? They’re FOUR!) The all seem okay, although some of them are a bit rough and immature. It’s amazing what a year can do… perhaps some of these boys will settle down. I hope, for their parents sake and for the sake of their parents furniture and personal possessions.
I’m happy to say though, that my son has gravitated towards one of the nicer, mellower boys in school. They play well together and both love trucks. It’s nice to see your kid making a good choice early on, choosing a nice friend. At least he seems nice, for now. And the mom does too.
Of course, I have to put an asterisk next to that, since I don’t know her that well, but I will find out at a playdate we will have this week. My requirements for the moms really aren’t too great.
1) Put up with me
2)Return phone calls or emails within 3 days
3)If you are a major Christian or belong to an evangelical faith, don’t God-talk and proselytize excessively
4) If you kid tries to wail on my kid, take some kind of action and don’t just sit there, do something.
Not too much to ask, right?
Of course I always hope for something a little more with the moms… something in common. Reading material, music, art, writing, hobbies, activities. But at this age, I’ll compromise for a nice kid who plays well with mine.
Oh yeah, and having good snacks in the house — that is a major plus.

Among the discipline techniques I’ve been employing lately at our household, I’ve found a new favorite.
Counting.
Fear the AWFUL TERROR of hearing Mom say THREE very scary numbers!!!
Actually, I rarely get past One. Sometimes I don’t even have to to actually count, I just threaten to count.
I don’t want to have to count now, T, don’t make me COUNT!
I don’t know what kids are so afraid of with the counting thing, but I suppose he imagines something really awful is on the other side of hearing three. I haven’t gotten to Three in months. Usually my biggest tactic is just saying, ONE. It’s amazing how ONE makes him start moving.
I don’t know how long this will last, but I love how it works and I’m reveling in it — while it does.

Ah, I’m back. Back to the mess that I call — home.
I am surrounded by way too many xmas toys of my sons, that don’t seem to have homes yet. It’s amazing how many toys he has. Sickening, actually. To think of all the petrol that went to making all the plastic toys that inhabit our house, it’s enough to think that an oil shortage was caused by it. As much as friends and family know that we live in teeny-tiny house with no room for anything, they seem to have has a lapse in rememberign that. Oh well, Goodwill and other charities will get another huge donation of older toys.
It’s amazing too, how many gifts that my son got for his birthday and xmas that just had me scratching my head wondering, why?
Of course, not from other moms of small children, of course. These moms tend to know better and don’t buy stuff:
- that is extremely loud and has a lot of buttons to press to make noise
- that is totally age-inappropriate and is too complex for my son to use, or too babyish
- that breaks easily
- that has a zillion and one pieces to get lost
- that is ANOTHER stuffed animal
Undoubtedly the 100 piece puzzle and the like will come from a single person. Without fail though, every gift-giving occasion, I get a toy that is irritating in one way or another, even if my son loves it. If it doesn’t have all the above forementioned problems, it is something else.
- it takes a half an hour to get out of the packaging, another half an hour to assemble, and comes without the C batteries it needs
- it has a zillion small parts that are surprising fun for a 4 year old to throw like confetti
- it requires constant adjusting and refixing, to avoid incessant whining from your child that it is broken
Sometimes, though, you have no one to blame but myself. This year’s big toy was a purchase somewhat based on the nag factor — Moon Sand.

My son, who rarely watches non-PBS television, saw the Saturday morning commercial for Moon Sand and so all I heard for about a month is “Moon Sand! I want Moon Sand for Christmas”! A few viewings and he had that commercial memorized.
So, Mom, Dad, and Santa obliged. He really does like the Moon Sand. It is pretty neat, neater than playdough. But messier. It gets everywhere, despite my best efforts to control it. In the carpet, in the treads of my shoes, on the quilt, everywhere. Moon Sand is fine for one kid, but forget about 3 kids playing with it together. That is asking for trouble. And keep the vacuum handy.

While eating breakfast cereal this morning:

Mommy, did God make the bowls?

(long pause from me)

Um, honey, well some people believe that God made everything, but I suppose they believe the bowls weren’t made by God, but that God made Man, and Man made the bowls.

Oh.

Chews a bite of cereal.

What about plates?

*Sigh*

Funny how things happen all of the sudden. I spent so much time thinking about when the heck my son was going to finish potty training, and suddenly, out of the blue it seems, it is all done. The little lightbulb floating above his head went on, and he decided that he was going to do it, and that was that. At 4 years and 1.5 months. Finally!
Sometimes little things in life give you a little joy. Like no more pull-ups. Yay! The little plastic potty which he almost never used, is sitting on my front steps in the rain, because two Freecyclers consecutively were supposed to pick it up, and didn’t… oh well it will find a home eventually. Oh, and those useless potty books get to go to someone who needs them. More stuff out of my house. Yay!
And in more good news, I sold all 3 pieces in The Last Big Thing art auction… apparently there was a bidding war. I still don’t know how much I made yet.
I would have gone to The Last Big Thing, but I had another virus… I have been miserable for 3 weeks now with one, than another, coughing hacking virus, then secondary infection and pink eye. Woo hoo.
I guess the moral of this story is… well… there is no moral. Except that selling art and potty training are - good. And, coughing - bad. (Sorry that I can’t come up with anything better right now, I’m not feeling particularly brilliant. Maybe something better will come up when I am not hacking and coughing all night).

This was written in my son’s class’ December newsletter last week. (names blurred for privacy)

Of course the ironic thing about it is that when the class wrote that, my son hadn’t hadn’t pooped on the potty in a couple months. But maybe he was working up to it … tonight, depite the obvious psychological potty training damage I have inflicted on him, he did do it, of his own accord.
Please let this be a trend! Before I get any gray hairs.