Geek. Pirate. Mom

The Little Kidlet is a boy of few words. He didn’t say much at all until about 8 months ago- just a few words at a time (though I wasn’t worried- he knew a lot of words). Nowadays you can’t get him to stop talking when he’s excited. But if he isn’t in the mood, he’ll boil everything down to one word. Which doesn’t always work.

This morning, as we were getting in the car to go to school, the Oldest Kidlet was excited. “When I grow up, I’m going to be a doctor.” He leaned over towards his brother. “What are you going to be when you grow up?”

“Airplane.”

The car fell quiet for a moment, as I tried to figure out how to explain to my son that you can’t be an airplane.

The Oldest Kidlet laughed kindly. “That’s not how it works. You can’t be a plane, silly.”

“NO. I want to fly planes,” the Little Kidlet said indignantly as I finished buckling him into his seat.

“Then you should have said that!” His brother said as he finished buckling himself in.

A couple nights ago, we were watching The Muppets (one of their favorite movies now, I’m pleased to say) and the Little Kidlet ran off to grab a deck of cards from a drawer. The boys don’t play card games yet, but they do like throwing them around.

In this case, the Little Kidlet started to throw them in the air. “It’s snowing!” After a few times, it turned into, “I’m making it snow..”

I’m sure you see where I’m going with this, right?

All of a sudden it turned into “I’m making it rain!”

TheBoy looked at me.

“I swear. I did not teach him that.”

He just smiled and looked back at my son. “You’re making it rain up in here?”

Then he and I started laughing, and my son went back to making a mess, completely oblivious.

It’s raining! There’s something about rain that brings out the little kid in me. TheBoy was kind enough to stay up long enough for me to drop the Oldest Kidlet at school in the pouring rain, while he watched the Little Kidlet at home. There was just something about dealing with the rain, the cast and two kids that just seemed like it wasn’t worth the hassle.

It took a total of fifteen minutes to drive around the block, walk my son to his class and get home. It probably would have taken less time, but we walked very slowly to the class to make sure that the cast didn’t get wet.

My mother-in-law asked me what I thought of my peek at the future. It’s true. Next year, the Little Kidlet will still be in preschool. But the year after that? Both my boys will be going to the school right around the block. On days where I don’t have errands, I will be back home only 20 minutes at most after leaving to drop off kids at school.

This has been a rough month for me. Between OK breaking his arm, and LK’s trip to the ER last night…

…what’s that? I didn’t mention that particular ER trip?

Last night, just as I was getting ready to make dinner, the Little Kidlet started coughing and started crying. When I got him to calm down, he coughed some more and said “swallowed… coin.” (No, he doesn’t say much) He kept pointing to his throat, was genuinely freaking out… so we did what you’re supposed to do and went to the ER.

In what was quite possibly the speediest ER trip ever, we were whisked back after waiting for 15 minutes and put in a bed. They took us back for xrays, and then we sat and waited. There was no sign of the coins, and the Doctor believed our story (LK did chime in enough to support the story). Her theory was that he had swallowed it, but coughed it up and was so freaked out by the whole thing he didn’t realize he’d coughed it up. We were discharged about 2 hours after we got there.

So it was a non-event. On the other hand, after my trip to the hospital in December, and the broken arm… I’m over hospitals.

At least I had this to amuse me.

Little Kidlet: Knock, knock.
Me: Who’s there.
Little Kidlet: Dinosaur.
Me: Dinosaur who?
Little Kidlet: ROOOOOOOAAAAARRRRRRRR (He does a great T-Rex).

Yep. That’s what he considers a knock knock joke. He also did them for dragons, elephants and the silliest was a goldfish.

As I mention frequently, the Little Kidlet has food allergies. A lot of them. Not in any particular order, he’s allergic to: Dairy, Soy, Peanuts, Eggs and Wheat.

Today at his school, they were having “Green Eggs and Ham” day. After they read the book, they were going to make Green Eggs and Ham. Supervised, they would get to crack eggs, whisk them with the food coloring and the teachers would scramble them on a griddle. It’d be served with ham (cooked on a separate griddle).

His teacher is awesome. On normal days, he simply eats the snack I provide. But prior to class parties, she makes sure to talk to me so that he can have something comparable to everyone else, and see what of the provided foods he can have. She even keeps some ham lunchmeat in the fridge just in case I’m running late or they’re having their lunch early – so that he can have something to eat.

We had talked about today at length. She told me how the project would go, asked me if he’d be able to be in the room while they made them. Our best case scenario was that Reed watch. But, if he insisted he crack the eggs, he could do it, if someone took him to wash his hands right away. (Hey, he’s four. He knows he can’t have certain foods, but he doesn’t always get how sick they can make him)

So when I got a phone call from them, I was worried. As it turned out, in the split second his teacher turned to get his ham, he took some egg off of someone else’s plate before the other teacher could reach him. They gave him Benadryl, but wanted to see if I wanted them to use his epi-pen. Since he was breathing normally and didn’t seem to be breaking out in hives (his typical reaction to egg), I said no.

I admit, I’m scared to death of what might happen with my son’s allergies. But I trust his teacher, and it seems that I need to spend some more time talking with him about why he can’t eat eggs.

I do hope he outgrows this egg allergy. Just because there really isn’t a substitute for scrambled eggs.

Things have gotten awfully geeky in this house. In a way that has made me unbelievably excited. Right now, the boys are reenacting the duel from Empire Strikes Back (except that LK wants to win). The Oldest Kidlet, wearing the Vader mask, is doing his best to sound like Vader. “No, I am your father.” pause. “Now you say No. Say NO, [LK]!!!”

At least he actually knows the line.

They also got to watch The Phantom Menace. The Oldest Kidlet asks me to tell him when they get back to Naboo for the lightsaber duel. The Little Kidlet will watch the whole thing. And get this, neither of them find Jar Jar funny. At all. Instead, both of them are enthralled by Anakin and pretend that they’re “kids in Star Wars” too. So there, George.

The unexpected side-effect of all of this is that my Star Wars geekiness is rubbing off on my in-laws. My mother-in-law (who usually prefers chick flicks) watched The Phantom Menace with me and asked me right away when we were going to watch Episodes II and III. When I explained that those two were darker than the other movies, so we were going to wait, she asked if she could borrow the DVDs.

This week is “Spirit Week” at the Little Kidlet’s preschool. Today was Pajama Day (and the K-8 students were treated to a visit by the In-n-Out truck. Pajamas and In-n-Out? WOW), and tomorrow is “Nerd” Day – which doesn’t exactly sit well with me. I was (and am) a geek/nerd. I was fortunate enough to go to schools with substantial gifted/Honors/AP tracks, and because there were so many of us in the tracks… I wasn’t seen as too much of an outsider. But I wasn’t cool by any means. I was in choir in middle school, and found my home as a drama nerd in high school. Everyone knew me, but I wasn’t popular. I was just the girl you went to for help with science and math homework. Even after ditching my glasses for contacts, I wasn’t exactly dateable.

After consulting Twitter about what to do (I was leaning towards putting LK in a Star Wars tee and calling it a day), I got these wonderful tweets:

So I responded:

Which makes me want to run out right now and have the boys dress up like Edison and Tesla with awesome old timey hair and mustaches. I know. I’m weird.

When I mentioned Nerd Day to my oldest son, he looked at me. “But you’re a nerd. He should just dress like you do in a cool shirt and jeans.” Awesomely put, kiddo.

I’m sure I’m overreacting. But honestly, why pick a day for kids dress jokingly as a group that’s already being mocked?

Update: While dropping LK off at school, I saw a lot of kids dressed as stereotypical nerds. We went with a Star Wars shirt- and LK proudly told his teacher that he was dressed like his dad who knows everything about computers. (TheBoy works in data management, which involves a lot of scripting. And he wears geeky tees with jeans every day to work)

I was a bit miffed, but on the way home I passed the school’s athletic field. It’s a K-8 school, and the older kids have a walking club that meets before school. I saw lots of nerds. Then I saw two kids in Hogwarts robes (Gryffindor) and a boy chasing someone with what appeared to be a sonic screwdriver. He was dressed as Eleven, who let’s face it, is fairly nerdy.

While sharing about it on Twitter, Misa (@ILiveWith3Cats) wondered if maybe it was a Nerd Pride day. And for the nerdy kids at the school, it seems as though that’s the way they took it. And that? That I can live with.

I admit, I’m not the strictest of parents. While I don’t put up with a lot of whining, I have not made a firm stance against messes. I was a kid once, I know that messes are part of playtime. Of course, I’m a bit of a slob myself, and admit that I don’t necessarily have the urges to clean constantly.

As a result, neither of my boys likes to clean up much and I usually have to fight with them to clean up after themselves. We’ll have a couple of good days where they’ll pick up as they play, and then forget the rules and things get messy again.

However, I’ve been trying to get the boys to help more. They’re four and six, and when I was finally able to get the Little Kidlet to join in when I was cleaning I knew that I needed to make them pull their weight a little bit.

So I made a chart. Where I could draw stars on it, and when they got up to 10 stars they could pick a prize from our treasure box. It has Hot Wheels, pencils, stickers. Nothing expensive, but definitely fun.

We weren’t making much headway… but then I got to take Sunday off for my birthday. TheBoy and I went out (more on that another day), but when I came home, I was told that the boys both earned stars for cleaning. Not just their toys, but their bedroom as well.

The next morning, the Oldest Kidlet made his bed. Today, both of them made their bed! Weirdly, they didn’t insist that I immediately give them a star for doing this… I know I make a lot of references to the looking glass, but today I definitely feel like I’ve gone through the Looking Glass.

Non-parents, I apologize. Nobody really wants to read about potty training. So feel free to skip this post.

In the past I’ve talked about the Little Kidlet, and his stubbornness when it came to potty training. Yes, he’s four and still wears pull ups*. While he went through the motions in his class, he made it clear (with tantrums) that he wanted nothing to do with the bathroom here. And his teacher advised us to try, but not to force him. Because it’s not that he doesn’t understand, or is afraid… he just doesn’t want to do it. Since it’s a control issue, it had to be his idea.

My mom told me to keep doing that, but to keep finding new things to bribe him with. She said that every kid had their price. I was just lucky that the Oldest Kidlet’s price was cheap (yay Hot Wheels!).

I’d tried everything. Hot Wheels. Didn’t work. I withheld a birthday present that he’d been especially excited to play with. Didn’t work either. I actually gave him that when we weren’t sure if he’d actually peed in the toilet or not, and from then on, he just wanted cars for it (it was a Color Change carwash). That’s what finally worked.

Last night thought, I was running low on cars. I asked if he wanted a Skittle. “No, Skittle.” I asked if he’d want a toy from the treasure box. “No treasure.” I asked if he’d use the potty for a cookie. “A cookie? YES!” Then he jumped off the couch and ran into the bathroom. And he went! As excited as he was about that, he was way more excited about the cookie.

I know that we still have a long road ahead of us. But at least we’re moving.

*For those new to this blog, we held off potty training the Little Kidlet when he was 1 1/2-2 because he didn’t talk much. He just didn’t want to talk, so there was no real way to get him to acknowledge that he had to go. Then, once he did talk… he went from mild mannered to a Hulkling at the mere mention of the bathroom.

My sister, who is in Japan, asked me for help in getting copies of two albums. One is David Foster’s “The Christmas Album” (which I have) and Kenny and Dolly’s “Once Upon a Christmas” – which I can’t find my copy of, and apparently you can’t download anywhere. You can buy people’s used CDs… but it seems odd that it isn’t still being distributed. Still working on that one, Weird.

Over the weekend, we went to a friend’s daughter’s birthday party. She’s turning seven and had a Tangled themed party. I’d share pictures, but I really only got pics of one thing. The jumper. They had a bounce house with a slide off it, and the second the Little Kidlet saw it, he was taking off his shoes because he just HAD to get inside.

After a couple moments, he appeared at the bottom of the slide with a giant smile on his face and ran back to the inflatable step into the bounce house.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t climb up the giant step, and had to be helped up each and every time he went in… which was often.

Now, the Oldest Kidlet is quite shy at birthday parties. He took a few minutes to get the lay of the land, and sat next to me on the steps to the house. “Do you want to go inside?”

He watched the kids as I took off his shoes. “I think I’ll sit here for a little bit.”

Just then his brother stood in the net window of the bounce house. “Come in! It’s so much fun!” And just like that, the Oldest Kidlet’s shyness was replaced by the stronger need to have fun with his brother.

Watching them, they simply lit up as they played in that bounce house. When the opportunity arose, I snuck in and bounced for awhile- I even went down the slide! Then the Little Kidlet grabbed TheBoy and said, “Daddy, shoes off. Let’s go!”

So I watched my boys bounce with their father, and in that instant, everyone’s troubles melted away and there was nothing but happiness there.

The next time we’re all blue, I think we might just rent a bounce house and jump our cares away. And if I come into enough money, I’m just going to buy one. Seriously.

(Sorry, no pictures of them bouncing. I kept forgetting I had a camera in my phone for some reason, and didn’t take many pictures.)

My children are creatures of habit. Every morning, we come downstairs, and they have breakfast while I make OK’s lunch and LK’s snack. They get start getting dressed 15 minutes before we leave the house, and jackets are the last thing we tackle before heading out the door.

It’s been cold enough in the mornings that I’ve needed gloves and hats for the boys in addition to their jackets. I finally broke out the long sleeved shirts that I’d set aside for cold weather (dresser drawers are only so big), too.

LK picked out a bright red long sleeved shirt, not much of a different color from the red hoodie that he loves with all his heart. Seriously. Most little kids don’t like jackets, but it has to be at least 80 degrees for him to consider taking the jacket off. Half the time he doesn’t even want to take it off when we’re at home.

We dropped off his brother at school and drove to his preschool where I gave him an unfortunate case of hat hair (if anyone can offer tips for avoiding static hair, I’d appreciate it) and put away his hat and gloves in his backpack. I went off on my merry way, and came back just before noon.

There was my son, sitting at a table with his backpack and hat… but no jacket. Everyone swore he’d worn it, so I went outside to the yard where the little kids play. We looked under the boxes he was playing with.

I should explain the boxes. He goes to a great preschool with three separate play yards so that all the age groups can play appropriately. His yard is right by the kitchen, so if they get a delivery of plates or napkins in a big box, they’ll fold it flat and let the little kids turn it into houses. In my son’s case, I was told that he slid down the steps of the jungle gym (all three) on the box, and they hadn’t an idea where he might have learned this. His teacher asked if his uncles (she knows we all live in one house) showed him that. I said no, that it was probably from Home Alone. He really loves that movie and has it memorized. The teacher’s assistant said “I knew it!” loudly enough that she startled the two year olds having lunch next to her.

At any rate, the jacket wasn’t out there. We looked under a tarp that was out there, behind the little playhouse in the yard… and it was clear. It just wasn’t there. We searched all through the classroom, in every single cubby, and even in the bathroom.

By now, the Little Kidlet was in tears. He didn’t want to leave without his hoodie. But he did, and I thought things were fine.

But this morning, he didn’t want to go to school. He didn’t want to wear the other jacket we have in his size. He sobbed.

We dropped off his brother, and walked into the preschool classroom. Since he leaves in the middle of the day, often there’s artwork in his cubby that they put in at the end of the day. I checked, and there was his jacket! He dropped all his things, pulled off the blue jacket and begged to have his hoodie on.

All it took was his favorite jacket and the funk that had been following him everywhere this morning was gone. Being a little kid has perks like that.

Today was Little Kidlet’s first big school recital. They tend to have something once a month. It could be a parade in the schoolyard or a bigger show in the school’s chapel (it’s at a church).

Off I went with camera in hand. Despite being there early, there were people in rows ahead of me who politely promised not to lean into my camera view, and then did just that. I’m not sure how good the video actually is, yet. Next time I’ll just have to be there earlier- especially since the next one is the Christmas pageant.

Since LK is in the tiny kid class (confession: he’s 4 and has no interest in potty training. So he has to go in with the little kids. We’re trying some new tactics next week when we’re off of school), he got to sit down and snack on some fruit jellies instead of having to stand and sing. So I have a video that occasionally shows him chillaxing while wearing a turkey hat. It’s pretty awesome.

Afterwards, they were serving pumpkin bread the class made with some butter the kids made as well (they put whipping cream in baby food jars and let the kids shake them until butter formed). The parents are invited to come back to join in on snack time. Which might have been great if LK hadn’t spotted me right at the end of the performance. He saw me just before they were whisked out the door, and I couldn’t get outside in time to walk with them.

By the time I caught up, he was in tears. He went off to try to use the bathroom, but was insistent we leave. He didn’t want to eat the cookies I’d brought for him (Enjoy Life’s soft Snickerdoordles) and just kept insisting he wanted to go home. So I did the right thing. I politely excused myself and left him crying there with his teacher. (The other teacher later told me he only cried for 10 minutes, and that they all do that for the first play/party combination) It was painful, though. Especially since I just sat in my car and wrote for the final hour he was in preschool.

Of course, there’s a weird side effect to going to these programs. I find myself surrounded by wealthy families in their luxury cars/SUVs. Stepford moms with their high heels, perfect manicures and designer attire. Every time I’m there I just have this immediate urge to dye my hair pink, get a tattoo and buy a leather jacket. Just because I feel like something has to cancel out the Stepfordness. (I won’t even get started on how frustrating it is to listen to how self-centered a lot of them are, too. One bragged about how she knows they ask the parents to sit down during the program, but she’s going to stand anyways. Then she asked how the other mom liked her Louboutins. NOT MAKING THIS UP.)

I do plan on dying my hair some unnatural color soon. Maybe before Christmas! The tattoo on the hand, I’m pretty sure that’s a temporary desire.

Am I the only one out there that gets fits of temporary rebellion?

Day 16 of NaBloPoMo