The Christmas Octopus

Posted on December 24, 2014February 2, 2015 by Mama

I get it now. . . I get the overnighted skates from Canada, I get the paying twice the price, I get the waiting in line for hours. I even get the calling to every store in town, skipping the pleasantries and going straight to, “I need an octopus for Christmas.” Yes, an octopus (preferably orange with blue spots). When your four-year-old son believes with all his might that Santa is bringing him a certain gift, a Mom will do everything she can to deliver on that dream.

My husband and I searched the stores, searched online and finally just picked up the phone and dialed. I ultimately located several octopuses, octopi, or whatever you call a group of such things at the aquarium gift shop downtown. But here was the catch — mid-afternoon, Christmas eve eve and Crown Center Plaza. Do not go there on this day. I battled the traffic but when I arrived the parking garage was full, so I parked way up the street and walked northward in the cold howling wind. (Of course by the time I made my way back to the garage entrance, it had opened once again. Grrr)

It wasn’t the best of circumstances and any other day I might have thrown in the towel, but on this day I was a “Momma on a Mission” and little else mattered. I beamed with pride as I battled the throngs of people and nature’s yucky attitude (or the yucky attitudes of the throngs of people), just to locate my son’s only wish. I understood it, I loved it and I was, for just a moment, Wonder Mom.

I just can’t wait to see the look on our son’s face, if only for a few seconds, when he believes that Santa heard his request and delivered the goods. At that moment I’ll swear, wearing my Wonder Mom cape and all, it was certainly worth the journey. Just don’t ask me to do it again. . . until next year.

Come On Four

Posted on August 6, 2014May 20, 2015 by Mama

Well there you have it. Just two months shy of my son’s fourth birthday and I just received my first, “Mommy, I hate you.” I received the lashing because I put milk on his requested cereal instead of letting him eat it dry. What was I thinking? Of course, I’m sure it was actually do to the fact that it was past nap time, we ran around all morning, I didn’t let him see every last dead animal at Cabela’s, or I just didn’t look at him properly (that’s a whole other issue).

All I can say is come on four years. That’s a magical day, right?? Surely all the tantrums, all the attitude and all the whining will just suddenly disappear on his birthday. At two, my husband and I were patting ourselves on the back thinking we had this parent thing down, but then came three. . . If four doesn’t see an attitude adjustment, I’m afraid Parents’ Day Out might become Respite Week Out or I’ll suddenly be taking applications for a nanny (and no, honey, she won’t be cute or perky).

Auction Lover Off the Ol’ Block

Posted on May 8, 2014February 18, 2015 by Mama

I introduced my three-year-old son to the auction last week and can I just say, “I’m so proud.” He kept his eye on the prize, and before the night was through, he brought home the item of his young-hearted second-hand affection.

Mom and I took my little guy to a small auction in Oklahoma while I was in town for a few days and my son, like a moth to a porch light, zeroed in on an old green engine and it took all the control he could muster to keep his hands off the toy train. In fact, we had to “visit” it several times during the night.

Finally, about two hours later, the toy table finally made its way to the front of the room. I intended to bid on the “gem” of an engine but was seriously hoping that no one else would be interested. To up my odds, I grabbed my son just as the auctioneer picked up the train and stood him up on a chair, hoping that the rest of the room would surely not bid against this cute little guy of mine.

With an opening request of $15, I barely got my number in the air when my son shot his arm straight up and hollered, “Me!” We just happened to be at the very back of the room and everyone turned around to see who was possibly so excited about this not-so-good of a deal. The tactic worked and not a smiling soul dared bid against us, and the cheerful auctioneer was half way back to our seats before yelling “sold” and handing us our prize.

I’m not sure my son’s smile (and eyes) could get much bigger as he realized the little toy train was his. . . come to think of it, the smile on my face was probably pretty matchless too.

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