Poor Truman 2.0

In my repeated attempts to bond with my 3-year-old son, I have tried various strategies.  Some include: reading together, cooking together, writing together, asking him 1000 questions that he has no interest in answering, taking him to eat ice cream, hugging, tickling, smiling, telling him how handsome he is, etc.  My attempts at bonding are not because we have a poor relationship.  These attempts are in hopes that an increased bond will serve to limit poor behavior.  It seems that Eamon is having some real difficulty behaving at home.  I know.  I know.  He has been replaced.  He is a sensitive Mama's boy who has to stand by and watch as I nurse, snuggle, and sing the praises of Trumie D.  I know.  That still does not excuse acting like a complete tyrant in my home.

My most recent idea was hatched in order to kill two birds with one stone: Prepare Eamon to be dropped off at school 5 afternoons per week AND enjoy an experience together.  So, why not stop at the flower shop, pick some gorgeous flowers for his new classroom, and chat lovingly about the beauty of flowers?  Perfect, right?  Nope.  Thus far, this post has been about my cherubic, but hateful 3-year-old.  Now, I will switch gears and give absolute proof that I should have had to get a license prior to bearing children.

As if being left in the car (hypoglycemia, remember?) wasn't bad enough, it turns out my inability to work the stroller/car seat combo has also placed poor Truman in danger.  So back to my story.  My cherubic, yet angry Eamon is yet again fussing  about having to get out of the backseat of my mini-van while I try to remove Truman's seat and click it into the matching stroller.  While trying to click the stroller,  I am coercing Eamon out of the back seat with promises of beautiful roses and sunflowers that would be a perfect addition to his new class, which was scheduled to begin the next day.  I confidently place the infant carrier into the stroller, take my older son by the hand and fight my way in the door, as I always do when pushing a stroller (that looks cool but ultimately sucks).  The first room you enter in this particular flower shop houses the check out area and very little else.  Customers must walk down a very short ramp (probably a former step) to get to an area filled with bucket after bucket of lovely, fresh flowers of all kinds.  As I head down this brief ramp with Eamon in tow, the infant seat detaches from my sucky stroller, does a 180 in the air and lands FACE DOWN with my 6-month-old suspended by his 5-point restraint.  My brain apparently needed a moment to catch up because it took me longer than it should have to realize what the hell had just happened. And to react.  After processing the gravity of the situation, I uttered, "OH MY GOD" and lunged to pick up my darling son who was quietly whimpering, his nap having come to an abrupt end.  I calmly MADE SURE to click him properly back into his stroller and placed my hand gently on his chest and belly, speaking to him softly.  I stayed calm.  Eamon gave the play by play, "Mommy made Trumie's seat flip over and then Trumie was on his face and then he cried and Mommy picked him up."  As if I wasn't aware of what an idiot I must look like, even Eamon was amazed that I could do something so horrible, endangering a defenseless baby.

I stayed calm.  I removed Truman from his carrier and held him tight, speaking ever so softly to him.  He stayed calm.  I looked at him and tried my best not to burst into guilty, scared, embarrassed, horrified tears.  I took deep breaths.  I tried not to look into the eyes of judgement all around me.  Finally, the store owner approached me to make sure that we were all ok.  It was all I could do to hold it together, but I did.  I did.  I assisted Eamon in picking out the perfect white carnations and pink-tipped roses to share with his class; we paid and were on our way.

That is until the owner insisted on getting the door for me and "walking me to the car."  She then proceeded to say, "I need to tell you something; you ARE a good mom, I can tell that you work hard.  YOU ARE a good mom."  Uh, ok.  My first thought was, "Do you honestly think I don't know that?"  My overt response was, "You're very sweet.  Thank you."  But she kept it up, "Just know that you are a good mom."  My second response, "Thanks, I have four children and they have all lived."  Ok, thanks for the patronizing comments, please leave me the hell alone.  I know that seems really rude of me to think that way.  I know she was trying to make me feel better.  I know she was trying to be nice.  I know that she felt badly because everyone else in the flower shop thought that I was a total moron. The fact is, I don't care what anyone in that store thought about me or my very obvious lapse in judgement.  I will not pretend that my life looks like it does on Instagram.  Sometimes things happen that I am embarrassed about.  Sometimes I make poor decisions.  I screw stuff up ALL THE TIME.  I just happen to always be doing it in front of people.  And I think it makes people feel better about themselves to know that they aren't the only ones who flounder.  At least, I hope it does.

As for Truman, he is no worse for wear and has no idea that he flipped around as though on a roller coaster and could have been seriously injured.  Eamon told everyone we saw about this incident for the rest of the day, and I cried on the phone to Jason about how I might really irreparably damage our son. And then I thought I might blame Britax for making a sucky stroller (but I didn't). And then I told the story 10 times and have been laughing my ass off, knowing that I really am trying my best to make all this work.  

Poor Truman

Truman has been such a delight to this family.  I think the kids were just old enough to appreciate him and not too old to find him a nuisance.  He hasn't caused much of a stir because he is just so darned relaxed all the time.  So relaxed in fact, that we can all go about our business and he will wait...quietly.

I know this sounds terrible, but if Truman makes it to his 1st birthday, it will be miraculous.  I will be completely honest about what has happened to Truman since he was born in February because I know that I will look back on all of this one day and laugh.  Right now, I'm a bit nervous that we might one day lose or hurt Truman in a way that is irreversible.  I'm not kidding.  You will believe me if you continue to read.

We all know of stories of parents who have let their children roll off the bed (yes, this happened to Sawyer), or children who have inadvertently fallen down the stairs (check), kids who fell off the couch (check), and many more horrific accidents that all end in a benign fashion.  We have been lucky so far.  All of our accidents have been placed in the category of "near misses" and we have never had to visit the emergency room for any type of injury.  I'm pretty sure our luck will soon run out.

Truman has never been handled with kid gloves.  He has been handled by children of all ages since   his birth.  He has flopped around like a fish in the hands of his 5-year-old sister.  He has been man-handled and wrestled with-Eamon style.  Madeline has carried him up and down the stairs with one arm.  He has been placed in laundry baskets and suitcases, obviously for safe keeping.  I have left him to play on the floor and honestly forgotten about him while I cooked, later finding him sucking on the leg of a living room chair.  He is so quiet.  However, this is nothing in comparison to the major incident I will now share.

I am not kidding when I tell you that while on a driving vacation this summer, Jason would ask me if Truman was in the backseat; often after an hour from our previous stop.  He is that quiet.  It happened every day of the vacation, sometimes numerous times. He was always in the back seat.   And then it happened.  Several days after our vacation had ended, I took Madeline and Truman to Madeline's orthodontist appointment.  Madda had her braces taken off that day.  Sawyer and Eamon stayed with a sitter so that we would not create complete mayhem in Dr. Burns' office, therefore Madeline and I had time to chat in the car, after her appointment.  She was excited and chatty about her brace-free teeth, her neighborhood book club, and going to show her Daddy her new smile.  We pulled into his office parking lot and continued our chat about books and taking care of her teeth properly.  We continued our happy talk as we walked into and down the hall of Jason's office.  It was about one minute (and the greeting of almost every employee in Jason's office) until I realized that I had left my sleeping baby in the car.  So, just as a new employee approached me to ask if I needed any help (he had no idea who I was), I uttered, "OH MY GOD!" and ran back out the door, to the parking lot.  I grabbed my baby (still asleep) and sheepishly returned to my husband's office; through another door that would avoid contact with any employee.  I had left my baby in the car.  How could I forget my baby?  He is my dearest darling.  He is my baby boy.  Oh my goodness.  I was horrified.  And in front of people.  In front of Jason's employees who now think I'm an idiot.  OH MY GOD.

I sat down in Jason's office; Madeline near me.  I said to her, "Madda, what do you think about your Mama leaving our baby in the car?"  Her response?  "Mom, it's not like he knows."  She. Is. Awesome.  We both started laughing and I forgave myself.  Because I have to.  I just have to.  I have to chalk it up to a moment of weakness or  hypoglycemia or exhaustion or just plain stupidity.  But, I know it won't happen again and maybe I have avoided some other more disastrous outcome by learning my lesson.  As parents, we have to forgive ourselves.  We try our best.  We are imperfect.  We forget our babies sometimes.  And it's ok.  If it's only for a minute.

9

Dear Madeline,

Yesterday, you made me the proud parent of a 9-year-old.  It is hard to believe that your Daddy and I have been at the parenting game for that many years.  You were a wonderful surprise who has turned into a wonderful little person.

I am proud of you for so many reasons.  I believe you to be kind, smart, thoughtful, responsible, and beautiful...in no particular order.  No one of these adjectives defines you,  you are so many things to me and to others.  As I said, you are now a little person.  You are not just my baby; you are also a friend, a student, a team member, a piano player, a singer, a sister (x3), and a leader.  However, you were mine first.  You were my daughter first.

We do not always agree.  We are not "just alike."  We see things differently and have different interests.    I am not always thrilled by your clothing choices or hairstyles.  I see you trying out your pre-teen chops.  I know that you are not perfect; that you probably are not quite as model a citizen as you tend to be in your home.  I know that the day is coming where you will think (even more than you do now) that I have no sense and that I am unreasonable.  I know that we will clash.

I will still love you.  I will still be proud of you.  I will still look at you, in wonder of your beauty and elegance.  Amazed that you are so intelligent.  I will be beaming with pride, knowing that your beauty means nothing to you in comparison to your book collection.  I will love you when you hate me.  I will be proud of you when you do not meet my expectations.  I will always be here for you because you were my daughter first.  I waver in my thinking, wondering if I am too hard on you.  I wonder if we expect too much.  You just keep delivering more on every front.  You have made my life easier, filled it with joy, introduced me to a sense of pride I had never encountered.  You are brave and confident when I am worried and conflicted.  You skin is thicker than mine.

I am so thankful for the surprise that is you.  What a treat.

I Love You,
Mama

Sense of Humor 2.0

Since Truman was born, we haven't done much eating out.  Simply stated, staying home is easier than going out.  However, it was Jason's 37th birthday and we decided to head out to a "fancy by Lafayette standards" restaurant with our entourage.  I wore make up and WHITE pants.  The girls wore dresses, Eamon a collar.  This was us really stepping out on the town.  

Our Trumie D is a very easy going baby.  He is without question, the easiest of all of our children.  He does not expect a whole lot of attention.  He has a very even temperament.  I'm pretty surprised about his easy going demeanor.  I didn't really think a Chihuahua (me) and a Jack Russell (Jason) could create a laid back person but hence, it has happened.  Except on the day when we chose to go out to eat at a "fancy" restaurant.  All day, he had been a bit cranky and I'm sure it had something to do with the fact that the kid is dragged from one end of town to the other, so that I can drop off and pick up his siblings at every camp and activity under the sun.  

Regardless, we went.  And we went early.  At 5:30, you generally only see senior citizens at restaurants around here.  This time it was The DeWitts and the white hairs.  We were taken to our table following a mandatory bathroom break for all potty trained children, and everyone was looking in tip top form.  The kids proceeded to color their children's menus and talk about their cuisine choices.  Jason and I perused the adult menu for appropriate choices and ordered drinks for the family.  Trumie was a bit crabby but nothing that a baby toy and a pacifier in his car seat couldn't take care of.  Until he really started crying. The disapproving stares of the seniors increased.  I remained calm and tried to access my sense of humor.  Truman's daddy unbelted him from the 5 point restraint and took him into his arms cradle style, in an attempt to comfort him.  And then I saw the reason that he was crying.  

Because I refuse to do any more work than absolutely necessary, my darling infant son does not wear anything except a onesie and a diaper to leave the house.  Even when we're being fancy.  Well, the 4 days of not pooping had come to an end.  Furiously.  Truman had bright gold baby poop oozing from his diaper, onto his onesie and subsequently onto Jason's finely pressed work shirt.  My look of horror prompted Jason to pull Trumie away from his body and look down.  The looks of disapproval from all of the perfect parents around me hit an all time high as I grabbed by son, gave my husband some baby wipes and rushed to the bathroom.  Truman had had a total assplosion.  Poop up the front and back and out the sides.  As he received a sponge bath in the dark fancy bathroom, I could hear footsteps quickly approaching.  The girls, because they are "helpful" had left their poop covered Daddy and were now standing in the restroom, watching the spectacle.  I cleaned the boy up and all 4 of us headed back to our table.  The older couple to our right had clearly never had any parenting mishaps and were therefore compelled to stare at us.  To which I responded, "At least you get dinner AND a show!"  At that point, they must have remembered some tiny mistake that they had made as parents and suddenly became more understanding by saying, "Oh, we had kids, too!"  I couldn't see Eamon's face at this point because he was laying in his chair with his feet in the air while Jason continued to wipe his shirt AND pants which were both apparently mired in shit.  The happy ending is that Jason looked at me and began to laugh.  Sense of humor?  Check.  

While Jason headed to the restroom to finish cleaning the poop off his body, I informed the waiter that is was his birthday. I then added that I never would have brought 4 children to his restaurant unless it were a special occasion.  He rewarded our antics with  free dessert (delicious) for all.  All in all, it was not a horrible outing.  The fact is, if we never take our children anywhere, they will never learn proper behavior for various situations.  The pain and work of it all is worth the effort.  Hopefully, they will be confident when ordering for themselves and will be using the correct silverware when I am not there to guide them.  And hopefully they will see the humor in difficult situations as well.