53 posts tagged “the bug”
(There are a lot of steps to this. I don't expect just anyone to be able to replicate it.)
Be woken up at a semi-reasonable hour, by a rested and good humoured Bug, climbing into bed with you to snuggle.
Have time for family time and a leisurely shower before you have to leave the house.
Go, as a family, to the Bug's school, for the special Saturday with Mom & Dad, where he gets to show us all the cool work* he does. He's not quite four, and he's working on reading and spelling!
Have the Bug help you make lunch. French toast, apple and carrots. He picked the menu.
- Baby carrots = no prep.
- Apple = the Bug shows me that he can use the apple slicer all by himself**, like they do at school, then cuts the slices into smaller pieces (with his own not-sharp-enough-to-cut-himself knife)!
- French toast = the Bug mixes up the egg & milk, sozzles the bread around, puts it on the griddle, flips it when the first side is done, and serves it onto plates when it's ready.
Have a little play time, and then get ready for nap. Read Everyone Poops and All About Scabs before lights out. Snuggle the boy, sing some songs, and fall asleep with him with for a bit.
Wake up and realize "Ohmygod, he's asleep! I have at least five minutes to myself!" Go downstairs and watch Mary Hicks on last night's Late Night with David Letterman. Remember why you love Bill Hicks so much, and appreciate Letterman's humility and sincerity in admitting he was an asshat fifteen years ago.
Knit and watch stupid tv while waiting for the Bug to wake up.
Realize you're supposed to be putting dinner in the slow cooker.
Start dinner, get almost done, and hear the Bug get up.
Diffuse potential tantrum brought about by the famous "I'm upset because I didn't have any dreams!" excuse.
Have the Bug help with the rest of the crockpot dinner preparations.
Play Bob the Builder with The Smartest and Funniest Boy in the World.
Watch a ridiculous TLC show about small children in pageants with the boy who plays princess with his two best girl friends at school.
Have a sit-down family dinner (which hardly ever happens at our house) where everyone likes what is being served (this is a miracle unto itself).
Don't kill the boy before bed time, no matter how much he doesn't listen. At bed time, read The Dangerous Alphabet, The Gas We Pass, and All About Scabs (yes, again).
Have a husband who is so awesome that he will go to the grocery store on a Saturday night, the night before the Stupidbowl, when it's sure to be teeming with people stocking up on chips and salsa and beer, so you don't have to.
Eat one of the fabulous Skinny Cow Truffle bars that your husband brought home, while watching home buying shows on TLC and looking for houses online. Then watch Flight of the Concords. Then interrupt the first five minutes of your husbands Battlestar Galactica episode with about thirty stupid questions.
At about midnight, leave your husband in peace with his scifi, and on your way to your own room, check on the Bug. See how sweet he looks, sleeping? Pull his covers up, put Elephante in the crook of his arm, give him a kiss, and tell him you love him.
Climb into bed, open up the laptop, and report to the internets on how awesome your kid is. Leave out the parts where you may have lost your patience and gotten a bit short with him. After all, you must be a good mom - how else coud you have such an awesome kid?
*"Work" being one of those Montessori terms. Yes, we are those people. It's a really good place for him and he is so happy there.
**"All by himself" in this case means "until it gets too hard and he needs help," which equals about halfway through the apple. Still, pretty damn impressive!
He looks good in all the fun sunglasses. Me, not so much.
When The Bug's teacher told me that he'd added piss to his repertoire of words she doesn't like, I acted like I had no idea where he learned it. I suppose I could blame it on the Sweeney Todd soundtrack - you know, that song where Sweeney says "smells like piss... this is piss... piss with ink." The Bug has certainly heard it enough.
But the truth is, I'm sure he got that word from me.
Many moons ago, there was a very unfortunate potty incident. The Bug clearly had to urinate, but he did not want to go to the bathroom. So I put him in front of the toilet and took his pants down... And that child turned away from the toilet and looked me in the face as he proceeded to pee all. over. the entire. bathroom.
It had been a... challenging morning... and I was pretty much at the end of my rope. I tried to physically turn him around and get him to go in the toilet, but he wouldn't budge. So, like many mothers before me, I completely lost it. I totally yelled at the kid.
"What is WRONG with you? STOP THAT RIGHT NOW!!"
He kept peeing on the floor, started to cry, and said "Mommy, I don't like when you yell at me."
To which I replied "Well I don't like it when you piss all over the floor!"
Three years ago tonight, I was in Brooklyn trying to sleep. I thought I had a terrible back ache, and was convinced that The Bug was going to be late - his due date, if I recall correctly, was March 14th. By one o'clock in the morning, I was at the hospital asking for an epidural, and somewhere around ten hours later, there was a large slit in my abdomen and we had a real, live kid.
And now, here we are.
From a tiny apartment in Brooklyn, where The Bug slept in bed with us, to a house in Chicagoland where he sleeps in his very own room, in his very own double bed.
From reflux and projectile vomiting to ohmygod how do we get him to stop saying fuck in preschool?
From a fully portable little bean that I wore around NYC in slings and wraps, who slept anywhere and could be quieted with a cuddle or some mama's milk to a hilarious, creative, strong-willed little man who will not go to sleep anywhere even in his own bed until he's damn good and ready.
What am I going to do with this kid? He's barely three, and he likes Spiderman and Sweeney Todd (just the soundtrack, don't get up in arms...). Every night at bedtime, he chooses a Winnie the Pooh book. Just a couple days ago, when I asked him to please not bang the back door open so hard, he replied I fucked it like a monster. He is giving his teacher apoplexy, with the swearing and whatnot. Yes, my kid is the potty mouth trucker of his preschool.
I can not believe that he is already three. And I can not believe that he is only three.
What I can believe is that I will probably be this tired for the next fifteen years, at least...
But I guess it's worth it.
Happy birthday, Bug.
When I picked The Bug up from school on Friday afternoon, the report was not good. Yes, he had taken a nap, but that was about the only positive thing that could be said. Where to begin? In no particular order, here are some highlights:
The assistant director had to speak to The Bug about appropriate behaviour at lunch. As in, it is not appropriate to sit on the table with ones knees on either side of ones plate.
He got up from his nap, and his teacher noticed that he had gum in his mouth. The Bug reported that he got the gum from underneath his cot. Ew. When instructed to put the gum in the garbage, The Bug swallowed it instead.
There was a small poop accident, so he came home with soiled underpants (in a plastic bag, inside his backpack).
The Bug and two of his friends were overheard having an animated conversation which apparently consisted mostly of the word "fuck."
He demonstrated that his listening skills are truly horrible by once again ignoring me outright when it was time to leave school. He did finally acknowledge that I was speaking to him, though. He told me "No, I'm not going."
When we left school, he ran down the sidewalk and expressed his affection for my car by giving it a full-on mouth-and-face-smashed-up-against-the-wintry-salty-muck-just-below-the-gas-tank-kiss. Again, I say ew.
Either right before, or right after, the kissing of the car, in the two seconds it took me to put his backpack on the seat, The Bug tried to run out into middle of the parking lot by himself.
He is what the experts call a spirited child.
No wonder I'm tired.
And today The Bug said:
I'm your fireman. You can help me turn my hose on.
hockey stick?
Yes, at our house, that's the way The Bug sings it. He's also developed a fondness for Queen's "Bicycle," and most of the Sweeney Todd soundtrack, which I've been listening to in the car. The usual cry from the back seat is "Mommy, turn it louder," and unless we're already at ear shattering volume, I usually comply, because, well, a lot of what we listen to nowadays is either loud or louder. But Sweeney gives me a chance to explain that not all music is supposed to be loud, and that what starts out quiet could turn loud later. Yup, we're learning about dynamics. He's getting it, too.
Well. Except the part about how it translates to an appropriate volume for speaking indoors. I'm afraid that's going to be a long, hard lesson.
We just spent some time with my brother and his family. That means my brother, his wife, and their four children. The girls are 10, 8 and 1, and my nephew, J, is 6. The first night we were there, the Bug slept in j's room. Here's what I heard on the monitor first thing in the morning:
Bug: How do you tell it's a T. Rex?
J: A T. Rex has pointy teeth.
Bug: What does T. Rex eat?
J: A T. Rex would eat you.
Bug: Nooo, they eat meat.
J: But you are meat!
Bug: But he won't eat my penis. That's where I go pee-pee.
I have a list of things to do as long as my arm, but the Bug and his dad are sitting on the couch, watching Schoolhouse Rock (which the Bug calls "Rock and Roll High School), so I might as well relax, too.
Let's see, what's been going on? Well, the Bug's musical taste continues to develop. Recently added to his singing repertoire:
- "Maxwell's Silver Hammer"
- "Search and Destroy" (we listen to the original Iggy & The Stooges version, thankyouverymuch), and the Bug stomps around with his guitar and sings "I'm a street walking napalm" We're working on the lyrics).
- "Manchester, England" (yes, from Hair). (He's been known to tell us he's a "genius genius.")
We now return to our regularly scheduled blog.
This morning, we decorated our holiday tree. Shiny, shiny! Photos later. The Bug knew immediately, without us showing him, how to hang the ornaments.
Last Sunday night, at bedtime, the following conversation took place.
Daddy: Tomorrow is a school day. You'll go to school and I'll go to work.
Bug: NO! You'll go to school and I'll go to work!
Daddy: Well, they really need me to come and do my job.
Bug: No! I'll do your job. How hard can it be? You do it!
