As I watched T.Puzzle pummel his clothes into submission, there was little I could do to improve his laundry folding techniques. Neatness was not the objective here.
I let it go.
This is the key to happiness in life and in motherhood.
In this house, especially in regards to T.Puzzle, it also helps to have thick skin. You see T.Puzzle was born without a filter. While he is softening the crusty edges of his soul a bit as he grows older, he still needs direction when it comes to matters of the heart. I decided to take it upon myself to share a little guidance when it comes to signing my upcoming Mother’s Day card.
“Keep in mind, try not to only highlight the things I do for you, but rather what about me as a person that you love.”
Immediately, a lightbulb went off and he shared his plans to sign his card to me this way:
“Thank you for giving birth to the greatest human alive.”
Wow. I really am special.
Here’s to hoping all your ‘greatest humans alive’ honor you in the way you so deserve.
T.Puzzle needed me to sign a paper in his folder. I use the word ‘folder’ loosely here. While my occupations as a stay-at-home-mom and writer/dreamer/blogger have their busy work, I often have very little need for folders. Therefore, when I saw T.Puzzle’s ‘folder’, I wasn’t exactly sure what I was seeing:
Apparently he ‘stores’ it at the bottom of his backpack.
This may be where all paper-based products go to die.
Speaking of dying, this segues nicely into our little family weekend adventure. I have to preface this by saying that of my three boys, Mad Dog normally requires the least amount of supervision. I may have to change this policy to preserve his safety.
On Friday, Mad Dog had a routine root canal. He seemed to have the pain mostly managed and overall, had everything ‘under control’.
Shortly after when he took the allotted four ibupofren to manage pain, he realized he accidentally ingested four of his antibiotic pills instead.
He should have taken 300mgs, but decided to go all out with 1200mgs.
To save you time, here is what Google said:
1200mgs is the very top of what a doctor would prescribe and only in a dire, life-threatening bacterial infection kind of way. It said nothing about ingesting the 1200mgs as a way to threaten your own life in a general, absent-minded way.
Thankfully, Mad Dog made it safely through the night. Unfortunately, he nows move to the top of the list as being the most supervised of my three boys.
I am taking this opportunity to announce my plans to officially change my name to:
What’s For Dinner
Why you may ask?
This is because I have been asked this question so many times a new neural pathway has formed in my brain convincing me that this, in fact, mustbe my name.
The point I’m making is that a sure-fire way to get on my bad side is to ask me:
‘What’s for dinner?’
It isn’t that I’m opposed to the question in a general sense, but if that is the question you lead with 999 times out of a thousand, I’m not keen to respond in a pleasant manner. At least lead in with a ‘How was your day?’ or ‘Your yoga pants are particularly stylish today’.
Therefore, after a long night up with a dog with seemingly endless diarrhea (it all came out fine in the end), I explained to T.Puzzle over his after school snack I may have a short fuse as the evening progressed.
I was beyond confused. While my eyes were seeing Full Speed line up with his teammates near the high jump area, my mind could not comprehend it. It was like if you were at my house and I walked down my stairs wearing a Cardinals jersey. It would make absolutely no sense. If you were a Cubs fan, and odds are if I let you in my home, you were,… well, at the least you would be anything but a Cardinals fan…, first you would feel confusion, then as it sunk in, you would feel angry and upset.
That’s exactly how I felt: confused, angry, upset
First of all, Full Speed up to this point in all of his entire life, had never even attempted to execute a high jump. Secondly, he barely cleared the waist of one of his man-sized teammates. I wish I was exaggerating for effect, but sadly, I am not. This kid towered over Full Speed. He looked like a line-backer while Full Speed looked like a scrawny equipment manager (albeit a highly adorable one).
Thankfully, the high jump took place well off the main area. Most of the crowd was focused on the excitement of the relays that circled before us. The bad news is, Full Speed’s high jump attempts played out exactly as you might imagine.
For his ‘warm-up’ jump he actually went under bar. Yes, you read that right….under. For his remaining three attempts he managed to at least level himself out with the bar to a degree, mainly shouldering the bar and launching it off the two poles that held it up. There was no grace to be found in these movements, mostly it looked like he was being electrocuted as his arms flailed around helplessly. I have to give him props for consistency, I mean he demolished that bar every single time. I also appreciated the polite way he helped replace the bar to its proper positioning for the next kid in line.
This was a parenting moment that I had to go big picture. This is where what you see before you is so off-kilter, you just shrug your shoulders and say, ‘no big deal’. This is just a blip on the road of life and let it go. I secretly held on to hope that he might get a chance to compete in another event. One hopefully, that required his feet to stay planted on the ground.
Shortly after, the ominous clouds that had been gathering decided they were done with this particular track meet. Within moments, rain was pummeling its way through the crowd and we all scattered like ants to safety. I was separated from Full Speed for a bit while the fate of the track meet was determined. Eventually, as mother nature continued on with her very bad mood, the meet was called and I caught up with him.
Once we were back at the car away from the noisy rain, I asked him point-blank, “Why on earth did they ask you do to the high jump?”
“I volunteered,” he replied.
Turns out, four members of his team were no-shows and there were lots of gaps needing to be filled. As his coach had run through the litany of events that needed a fill-in, Full Speed volunteered for every single one.
He was denied on all counts.
That is until the high jump was called out. No one was willing to step up so what did Full Speed do?
He stepped up.
Can you imagine the amount of courage this must have taken? Since Full Speed has a pretty good hold on reality, he had to have known it was going to end badly for him.
He did it anyway.
This kid may have lost the high jump that day, but he won my respect.
He has all it takes to be a winner. The kind that matters. The kind that isn’t afraid to take risks.