Is it utterly pathetic to get excited from an email that states:
“Rocco had a large bowel movement this afternoon.”
I experience the same elation I used to feel when daycare would send me a picture of a smiling Ri or Mario and write “S/he is having a great day today!” Rocco has definitely moved into the third kid bracket. I even find myself buying new doggy toys every time I go shopping. Yikes!
We got treated to a visit from Aunt Jane, Uncle Steve, Robert and Laura on Saturday morning. They came up to see Mario’s football game. We took Rocco to the vet at 9 am to hear that he was looking good and then rushed to Tim Horton’s to get lucky timbits for Mario to eat pre-game. The line inside and out was ridiculously long so Jon took me and the kids home and drove to another Tim Horton’s while we changed. The ovens at that Tim Horton’s were down so there were no donuts. You would have thought Mario was just told he would never be able to walk again. He lost it. Flailing everywhere. Bawling.
Once he calmed down, I told him we could get some magical donuts at BP and a cereal bar. Maybe they would work even better to allow him to score touchdowns. We stopped for them and got on the highway at 10:15 – his game started at 10:30. The highway we needed was closed. We spent the next 20 minutes trying to find an alternate route that wasn’t busy. I was irked because Jane and Steve had come to see the game and we were late. Jon was irked because I was irked. The kids, luckily, were oblivious listening to Radio Disney on their headphones. I was telling myself the whole way that I cannot control the situation; stay calm; breathe. I eventually convinced myself when we were two minutes away.
It was great having Jane and Steve and Robert and Laura at the game – they completely got into it jumping up and down and yelling for Mario as he ran for a touchdown.
I had ice cream with them later and reminisced about the good ol’ days when I rode in the trunk of the station wagon with no seat belts and played in the deep water with no life vest!
When we got home, Jon swept Mario away to Big Mario’s and Aunt Vickie’s house to fish and go four-wheeling. Mario’s dream come true. He got treated like royalty between cookies and pasta and a coyote skin that Big Mario had treated just for him. He couldn’t wait to show it off when he got home Sunday night.
Meanwhile, Ri and I got her present ready for her sleepover at the Hyatt. Yeah, a hotel sleepover. The birthday party detail continues to be raised up notches. Pretty soon you will be expected to rent out a ballroom and boy band for an eighth birthday party.
After I dropped Ri off at 4:00, I had the night to myself. I got a massage at 4:30 and then spent the rest of the night with little dude.
I was like this with Cy, too. I would make big plans in my head to go to the movies or the coffee shop to read but then Cy would look out the window at me and I’d turn around and spend the evening with him. So Rocco and I enjoyed the evening together with a walk to Pet People that took two hours with all the stops we had to make (between sniffing, laying down, and people petting) and watched a Sarah Polley documentary (which was quite good). We hit the sack at 10:15 pm and started all over at 6:30 am.
Maria texted me from her friend’s mom’s phone at 9:30 am asking me to pick her up. One of her friends had called her “heavy” and not let her participate in a game. Ugh, girls. But Ri is such an old soul and was able to process that her friend was probably mad about something else that had happened at the party and took it out on Ri. Pretty impressive intuition for an 8 year old.
She wanted time with her mama anyway – we took Rocco for a walk, bought a pooper scooper and a toaster at Target (she loved that I combined these two things in one sentence), and got a pedicure!
As the night wore on, and Rocco got in his chew stage (Maria’s friend came over to apologize and Rocco accidentally caught her little brother with those sharp puppy teeth while chasing him), I started to get testy. I made Ri get on Xtra Math and she complained. Then, once on, she did poorly. She was not answering simple subtraction quick enough and I let my end of day fatigue take over.
“Come on Ri, you have to get these more quickly. This is why you have to do Xtra Math everyday. You aren’t getting simple problems right.”
She started crying as I peered over her shoulder and watched her every move. I let out a sigh when she missed another and she jolted up and ran upstairs crying and yelling “you are the worst mom ever!”
I sat on the kitchen chair staring at the computer. I definitely could have handled this better. I know how much Ri hates pressure and stress so why did I stand over her shoulder? Yea, I know why….
I called her back down to finish Xtra Math, which she did. Then I swung her legs around to meet mine, looked her straight in the eyes (those beautiful blue eyes) and told her I loved her more than anything. I also apologized for putting undue pressure on her. She reached out and hugged me and apologized, too. We both decided that the fight warranted an ice cream cone so we headed off to UDF for double dip peanut butter ‘n’ chip.
And we both concurred that ice cream solves all problems.
I remember when Maria was born and didn’t sleep for more than an hour and a half at a time. Jon and I were so sleep deprived we could barely muster a “hello” in the morning (I’d walk past him with a grunt and a scowl to hand off Ri so I could sleep for two hours and then the reverse would happen when it became Jon’s turn to sleep). I remember looking in the mirror at 3 pm and swearing I was looking at a ninety year old version of me. I experienced every single effect noted in this sleep deprivation article.
My mom came up from Cincy one evening about three weeks after Ri’s birth. She didn’t bring food, toys, diapers or blankets for us like other visitors had done. She brought something much more valuable – sleep. She allowed Jon and I to go up in our room, close the door, and sleep for seven hours straight. At that moment, I would have paid 1 million dollars for such a gift (sorry mom, too late now). We woke the next morning and were actually pleasant with one another. We gave each other a morning kiss and skipped downstairs. Our moods were massively changed after just one full night of sleep.
Fast forward to present. Both kids sleep through the night. They don’t wake to be nursed or held or walked. It’s beautiful. What we’ve been waiting for after years of sleep deprivation torture. So what do our smart selves do? Get a puppy and start the process all over again!
I was seriously sporting all of those sleep deprived “effects” on Tuesday after a weekend of crate training and whining. Jon was out of town for work and it was going to be me and the kids and Rocco for the week. But my sis pulled through and told me she’d come to Columbus for a few days. She arrived Tuesday afternoon and left Thursday afternoon and it was the same renewed and refreshed feeling I had when my mom came up to watch Ri. I went to bed at 10 pm on Tuesday and slept until 6:30 am. Pure Heaven. Sarah stayed up with the puppy and got him out of his kennel to pee in the middle of the night. I was so close to making out with her when I walked downstairs the next morning.
Energy had flowed back into my body and I could actually process a thought. I was ecstatic! Sarah whooped that puppy into shape walking it and playing with it and getting it to stop chewing its leash. She is a born puppy master. I was so sad to see her depart on Thursday afternoon (as was Ri who begged her to stay so they could keep going to Stauf’s and making cookies). But she left me in a much better place – awake and alert, pleasant, beautiful and loving this little butterball of a dog.
We got our new puppy Friday night! Jon decided on a breeder six hours away in Bad Axe, Michigan. We’ve spent the last month trying to determine whether we want a female or male. We opted for a male because we had good luck with Cy and the majority of the last twenty sights I viewed opined that male labs were better than females. Then we spent days trying to decide whether to get a light one or darker one. Pathetic. By the time Jon went to get him on Friday afternoon, I gladly turned the choice over to him.
He Face Timed me for a few minutes when he got there so I saw the yellow one and the white one. They were both adorable, of course. Jon spent an hour running around with them before he chose our honey boy.
He was the most mellow of the group; he didn’t bark a lot and was just playful enough. He whimpered just a tiny bit on the way home for Jon. The kids and I waited anxiously on the front lawn waiting for the newest member of our clan. We rushed the truck when Jon pulled up. He opened the back door and there was this little chunk-a-lunk pumpkin seed boy curled up in his kennel. I did not expect him to be so small but I also didn’t realize he was only 7 weeks old. He flopped around in the grass and allowed all of us to pet his belly and rub him all over. His eyes are little almonds and his puppy fur slightly hangs over them. He’s got a honey waxy coat with patches of light streaked throughout his tiny body. He’s got the shiniest black pads on his paws and when he lays down on his belly and spreads out his legs, we all melt. In sum, he’s gorgeous….
And he’s tiring. I stayed up with him all night just like I did with the kids when they were newborns. I went to sleep at midnight. He whined a bit and I of course stayed up to surf the net about crate training. I fell asleep only to be awoken at 1:30 to more whining. I waited until he stopped and then I got him out of his crate to go outside. He peed and I was ecstatic (just like I used to get when Ri and Mario burped – what a life!). I crated him immediately and heard nothing. Alleluia. I went upstairs and checked on the crew who were all sleeping soundly. I woke Jon and he told me to just go to bed. But I was awake because I heard him whimpering. I went downstairs and laid on the couch waiting for him to stop. He finally stopped about fifteen minutes later. I woke him at 4 am and took him out again and he pooped. And pooped. And dragged his butt on the ground. And dragged it again. I’ve had too many dogs to not know that’s a sign for the dreaded worms. Sure enough, I walked back in with him at 4:15 and lifted up his tail and a little white worm was waving at me. I was at once disgusted and validated.
I went upstairs to tell Jon who was anything but caring at 4:15 am, and laid in bed beside him hoping worms weren’t lethal (knowing very well they weren’t but having nothing more to fret about).
The kids woke at 6:15 ready to see their pup. We took him outside as the sun was slowly rising and watched him do his business. The kids tumbled around with him and held him like a baby. They are already seriously hooked. Jon and I met eyes and didn’t have to speak. It’s happening all over again. Interrupted nights, early mornings, constant pee breaks… just when we had the kids potty trained and fairly independent we turn back the clock. But it’s all worth it.
I started Mario’s birthday off right yesterday. I brought him home a chocolate long john donut after my run (of course, I brought me one home, too, which defeats the purpose of the run but how can one resist?!). He was on the living room floor in his boxers playing on the iPad. I serenaded “happy birthday” to him and got a big ol’ Mario grin from him.
I took cupcakes into school for him. The night before, three moms asked if I was making homemade cupcakes as if buying Kroger brand ones was a sin. Sure enough, as soon as we walked in the room, a mom of a little girl in Mario’s class held a box full of homemade goodies with colorful stickers pronouncing “Harriet is 6!” I shot her a look and continued on with my synthetic neon-colored iced cupcakes with my chin up high.
I returned to Mario’s school at 1:30 to help pass out the cupcakes. I juggled three calls and document drafting from 12:30-1:15 to get to the school on time. I swore a while back that when I made a commitment to my kids it would take a major catastrophe for me to not show up. And it was worth the juggling. Mario beamed when I showed up and took me all over the playground.
He even let me get a picture of him with Harriet. It took all my might to explain to him I had to leave and come back to get him but he finally let me go. I ran home to mow the grass so my folks and Patty would not see a jungle, and went straight back to pick him and Quinn and Maria up. Ri ran up to me and asked “did Mario get his name called on the announcements for his birthday?” I told her I didn’t know. Her flippant response:
“No, he didn’t. Do you know who did? Ms. Harriet. That is who. She has the nerve to have the same birthday as Mario and she took all the credit. I marched down to Ms. Bauer’s (the office assistant) office and told her they forgot my brother’s birthday.”
“Will they announce him tomorrow?”
“They better” she replied. Then she added “Harriet may not make it to school on Friday….” My mouth dropped and I started cracking up. She is her father’s child. He is Mr. Protective over his family and she is just like him. Of course, she started laughing too and meant no harm towards sweet Harriet but if you didn’t know her, you might think…!
Mario hugged Quinn like it had been years they were apart and we headed home. I went back into work for a couple hours while Ri and Sophie decked out the house with birthday decorations. Grandma Ionno came to help. We met up with Mama Meg and Peepaw and Sarah and Jorge at Barleys for dinner. We reminisced about the time Mario was in his crib and Jon went in to get him. He asked if I was home and Jon said no. Then he pulled out his binkie and said “well then I want Grandma (Ionno)”. Gotta love him. And the times that Sarah would come in town and Ri would cry “No Sarah” whenever she got near me. Ahh, fun times.
After dinner, Maria had a game “for people age 18 and older” when we got home. It did not involve alcohol unfortunately. But it was precious. She had paper slips in little wine glasses and each couple had to fill out the paper based on the question she gave us. Each question related to Mario’s future. Jon and I got “how many kids will Mario have?” I wrote 5 (Jon wanted 0). Sarah and Jorge got “what kind of pets would Mario have?” They wrote a “guinea pig named Spike, mini pig named Porky, fish named Fluffy, and dog named Pirate.” Pirate is now a leading choice in pup names for us. Meg and dad got “what will Mario do when he gets older?” They wrote “be an acrobat in Circue de Soleil.” Love it, and weirdly perceptive.
Patty got “where will Mario live?” She wrote “in Rome Italy with me.”
After the game wrapped up, Ri quipped “This boy of ours is going to have an interesting life.” Indeed.
Ri asked Mario the same questions we answered and he said he’d have 1 kid, 3 dogs, be an acrobat, and live in Marion with Grandma Ionno. Meg and dad won with Patty a close second!
We ate sheet cake and laughed at these crazy little beings we call our kids. Mario opened his presents and fainted when he got Skylanders from Ri (she used her gift card from Christmas to buy them).
He got a Ninjago t-shirt to go with the Lego set Grandma Ionno got him on Sunday. She spoils him rotten. He about fell over again when he opened Grandma Meg’s and Peepaw’s gift – a Mario Bros. wii game. Sarah and Jorge brought him coins from all over the world (he will appreciate those when he’s a world traveling acrobat) and a bullseye and stand for his target shooting! We got him shoes and undies (definitely a parent gift) and a new bike. He certainly is loved.
The party had to close down at 9 since school was happening in the morning. Jon left with everyone else to pick up a kennel from Sherry. Nothing like stepping from one party to another – Jon brings home our new pup tomorrow night.
A few days ago, Jon took Mario to his eye doctor appointment at 8:30 am and then took Maria to her dentist appointment at 3:20 in the afternoon because I got caught up in work. When we both had a chance to sit on the bed and talk for two minutes (while the kids showered), he chuckled “I was Mr. Mom today.” I immediately hurled that comment back at him. “Really? Mr. Mom? I do this all the time when you are gone!”
It was a knee-jerk reaction. Something I’m used to laughing/lamenting about with my girlfriends (“he does the dishes and its a big deal”; “he gives the kids a bath and he’s a savior”). After all, who hasn’t read studies in ten different articles on how much more housework and kid-work women typically do over men?
And Jon would completely agree that our situation confirms those studies.
But we make it work. I love running around outdoors with the kids, and would much prefer that over taking the cars in for oil changes, which Jon gladly does. I love mowing the grass and washing the floors over paying the bills on-line and heading to the bank, which Jon would much prefer. Are there times I am annoyed at him for not folding laundry? Yep. But are there times he has no desire to drive to the library to return the videos? Yep. We know each others’ strengths and preferred activities and have an unwritten rule as to who typically does what.
Jon’s reaction that night was not so much one of anger and defensiveness as it was hurt. He simply wanted me to acknowledge what he had done – moved meetings all around in order to take Mario to the doctor for an hour and a half, drive him to school for an always less-than-pleasant drop off, drive to work, drive to Ri’s school and take her to the dentist, and head back to work. Not so much to ask. I’d be looking for the same acknowledgment if I was him.
And, he would have given it to me. He’s the first one to tell me and anyone else in the room that I’m a rock star and that I’m the best mom and wife ever. He tells it to me all the time. So put away the studies and the stereotypes for a minute and stick with the basic human need to feel appreciated. That goes a long way in a marriage… and friendship.
Yesterday morning, I had to be at a 7:30 am meeting so Jon had to take the kids to school. He did not complain about it even though I know he was stressed with work and other issues.
So tonight, when we finally get a chance to sit down together and talk about our day, I will definitely make sure to address him as “Mr. Mom.”
Mario’s buddies came over this weekend. They wanted to play Legos or build a fort. But Mario had a different idea.
P90X Yoga and Abs workout.
At one point during crunches, Quinn started whining “this hurts my belly so much!”
Mario’s response: “It’s gonna make you strong and have big muscles. Keep going.”
I see personal training in his future. Of course, it will have to be training the stars cuz he will want some publicity. Remember how he punched out his bedroom window with the hopes of getting on Channel 4 news?
After their intense ten minute workout, Mario hopped up and pleaded for some food. “We need to put energy back into our bodies after that workout!” I was impressed since he usually eats nothing. The only problem was he wanted donuts instead of steak. We compromised on spaghetti with lots of garlic bread. I have a feeling we will see a 180 degree turn in a few years related to his eating, especially if he continues to workout like a maniac. I think he gets it honestly….
Ri took this picture earlier this week at drop off to kindergarten. I was trying to console Mario who was completely distressed at the thought of going to school. Jon and I were taken aback with this behavior because Mario has been so excited to start at Maria’s school.
Every single day was awful. He cried and pled to leave with me. He asked to be “disqualified from Kindergarten.” He begged to stay home “just one more day.” It was heart-wrenching to look in his tear-filled eyes and see that baby boy pout. The worst was Friday. The guidance counselor came in to be with him while I left. She asked him if he wanted to draw. He shook his his head no. Then she said;
“Let’s go see Mr. Hopper, the bunny rabbit.”
Mario shook his head no again.
The counselor said: “Come on, it will be fun. You can even take a friend with you.”
Mario’s response: “Ok, I will take my mom.”
My heart crumbled. I’m his friend. I so can’t wait to use that when he is a teenager.
In my mind, I know that he is going to be just fine and we will look back at this transition and find humor in it. After all, he runs down the steps after school in a great mood. But in my heart, I am sick to my stomach as I walk out the doors every morning. I just want to start my day with a smiling child. So, I am dedicating my free time to researching every website about how to deal with a child that hates kindergarten. I know it will likely be a task of futility because every kid is different and I need to just figure out what Mario needs… but it makes me feel better. Probably by the time I have researched every site, Mario will have acclimated to Kindergarten and all the techniques I read about will be useless. Let’s hope….
After a week of tugging and pulling, Mario lost his first tooth last night while eating a chicken nugget in the back seat of Jon’s truck.
“I felt something hard in my chicken nugget and it was my tooth!”
He had made it bleed earlier in the day with me and I had told him to stop pulling at it and let it come out naturally. So much for listening to mom. It was welcome excitement after spending most of the day at Children’s Hospital getting his left eye examined due to a cut that his best friend Quinn gave him while dancing.
He has high expectations for the Tooth Fairy. He woke up this morning and found five single dollar bills under his pillow. He counted them out one by one and when he got to the last one, he sighed and said in an exasperated tone:
“I got five dollars.”
“Five dollars! I only got 25 cents when I was a kid.” (I have to add my “I walked ten miles uphill and barefoot” stories in as much as possible).
He looked at me with an understanding expression but then quickly added “Dad still owes me $5 for allowance so at least I will have $10.”
I’m worried he is going to start yanking at all of his teeth in order to get up to $25.
I have further confirmation that Mario is my son. Previous confirmation: his desire to take a run first thing in the morning; his love of chocolate donuts; his hatred of driving long distances; and his crazy personality. Present confirmation: his love of a P90X workout at 8 in the morning. Nothing like watching your five-year old pump up his biceps and do V sit-ups as you get ready to head to work.
His reason for doing them: “to be the strongest boy in his Kindergarten.” I love ya, kid.
"MOM!" 