Concentration Can Wait

Posted on August 4, 2015August 1, 2015 by Mama

I used to think I was a pretty good multi-tasker. . . and then my son was born, carrying a big ol’ dose of reality in his adorable tiny fist. Amid the diaper changes, feeding times, bathing and general baby supervision it quickly became evident that I cannot do two things at once. In fact, the more I try to concentrate, the more he tries to get my attention and both of us just become completely frustrated.

A few weeks ago I had to take my sidekick along to decorate our church for VBS. I knew this would slow me down quite a bit, but what I didn’t foresee was the need to read, understand and execute an entire 11-step creative cardboard project. Yes, I’m apparently into torture.

While I begged and pleaded my little man to occupy himself with one of the many items we brought along, the more he wanted to “help.” Unfortunately it was one of those tasks that little fingers were just not made to conquer and I hardly had a clue what to do myself. The more he talked, fidgeted, and jumped in the middle my project and the more I tried to concentrate, be patient and build something beautiful from a bunch of flappy cardboard pieces, the more frustrated, unfocused and so-not-cool I became. Until finally my son had had enough. He promptly stuffed all his games, colors and paper in his backpack, put his arms through the straps and calmly said, “I’m going.”

When I asked just where he thought he was going, he assertively said, “I’m going home.”

That’s when I realized that losing my cool over this silly project (which would probably go seriously underappreciated) was so not worth it. So I finally apologized to my son, left the project lying in the middle of the church aisle and went home to spend a few dedicated hours with my little guy.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not advocating that moms drop everything, never complete a task and come running at every inquiry from a small child’s voice (although I’ve stopped and started this article no less than 12 times because a certain someone just woke from his nap), but I have learned that the cost of some battles are so not worth the fight, and sometimes a mother’s concentration can wait another day.

My Son’s Sorrow was Mother’s Day Gift

Posted on May 10, 2015May 10, 2015 by Mama

Well I might be the last to wish all of you a Happy Mother’s Day, so here’s to all you ladies everywhere who sing lullabies, wipe tears, wipe bottoms, deal with teenage heartbreak, pay for college or marry off children this year. May you all be strengthened, empowered, joyful and blessed in the coming days. . . and, of course, I hope your family treated you right today.

As for me, my little one woke up from a nap yesterday afternoon with a temperature and sick to his stomach. The poor guy felt terrible and I felt equally saddened at his predicament. But I have to tell you amid his sorrow and sickness, he gave me a wonderful laugh and a good mama cry.

My husband was joking to me that our son’s sickness was a great gift for Mother’s Day, which our son must have overheard, because he promptly walked into the room and told his Dad that they were supposed to get a card. Apparently there had been a whole conversation between the two of them earlier in the day.

But this is where my heart and my eyes got a little mushy. . . Our son (remind you, he is only four) sadly proceeded to tell my husband in a completely grownup way, “I’m afraid I won’t be able to help you with that.” He then turned around and walked out of the room with his head hung low and tears streaming down his cheeks.

I tell you, I smiled and cried a little all at the same time. What better gift can a little one give his mama?

“Hate” is a Four-Year-Old Letter Word

Posted on February 25, 2015 by Mama

Every now and then I catch a glimpse of unexpected assurance that our four-year-old son is actually soaking up a few of our better parenting moments. It’s usually when we least expect it and often when he doesn’t know we’re watching, but when it happens it’s gotta make a parent proud.

The other night there was just nothing on TV for the family to watch, so I switched over to Netflix (no, this is not the fine parenting moment of which I speak). I started searching for a family-friendly Disney movie that was not animated, because frankly there are times my husband and I deserve to watch “real” people doing real things during our son’s waking hours. I settled on The Rocketeer, and although I hadn’t seen it in many years I remembered it being a fun wholesome movie. Perhaps I should get my memory checked (showing an unscreened movie to my preschooler — still not my finest parenting moment, but stay with me here).

The first 10 minutes included a rolling gun battle, death, robbery and the D-A-M-N word at least four times. We finally decided to find something else to watch (which probably ended up being Bubble Guppies or Umizoomi after all), but our son was already riveted to the screen. He just couldn’t understand why we nixed the movie, so we told him that the people in it weren’t being very nice and they were saying bad words. Immediately he asked, “What did they say? What did they say?” Of course when we weren’t forthcoming with the actual term, he was left to ponder what he had heard. A few seconds later he came up with the answer.

“Oh, I know what they said. They said ‘hate’ and that’s not nice.”

I smiled and said, “Yes, baby, they said hate.”

Now this may not seem like much to most, but inside I wanted to take a victory lap or do a whole-hearted chest-bump with my equally triumphant husband. Still lost? Well let me interpret: Thankfully our son hasn’t had enough exposure to the d-word to know it’s connotation and we’ve never heard him say it. On the other hand, he does know and use the h-word. As of late, we have been trying to instill the dislike of hate into his pretty little head, so you just have to understand that it’s a complete proud parent moment when your little one suddenly assumes that “hate” is a four-letter word.

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