Wednesday, June 29, 2011

You are now entering....

Something strange is happening. It's freaking me out.

I have a seven (and a half) year old. A seven (and a half) year old boy. Seven (and a half) year old boys like to play, and ride their bike, and build forts. They get dirty. They don't care. Often times, they're happy to wear the same clothes for days. And bathing? Well, that's optional.

A week (and a half) ago (haha), George gets up for church, asking to take a shower. Ok, fine. Gets dressed. Fine. Asks me if his clothes match. Uh... ok. .... Fine. (He's color blind so this is kind of an issue but he's never cared before.)

Then... THEN... he proceeds to the bathroom to gel his hair. GEL HIS HAIR. His OWN hair. And it's not even picture day. HUH!?!?!?! Ok. But I'm secretly thinking, is there a cute girl at church I don't know about?

This last Sunday, (the one 2 days ago), again. Shower. Clothes. Only this time, no hair gel. (Please note, I don't think he asked to take a shower anywhere in between then, and I'm not sure if I made him, either. This would indicate that showering is a special occasion. For what, I don't know.)

Last night, he goes to a friends house, and comes home a few hours later, saying he needs to take a shower. He played in the dirt and he needs to take a shower, and then in the morning he will need to take another one. Ok. I really didn't pay any attention to him until about the seventh time he repeated this when I finally said, Dude, if you want to take a shower, go take one. So he did. 

In the meantime, I was upstairs reading bedtime stories to the other kids. He comes up, after his shower, whips the towel off, parts flailing wildly, arms spread high in the air, and says, "Do I look shiny?" Covering my eyes, (Ok, not really. We're not very modest here.) I said, "Sure. Pretty shiny." And then I continued with the story. However, apparently he wasn't done with our conversation as he kept saying how he was going to take another shower in the morning. Sure, but, but I'm reading here.

Fast forward 11 hours.

I'm laying in bed, trying to eke out as much shut eye and quiet time as I can. I hear someone pass by my door and go downstairs. This is normal so I was not alarmed. Realizing that Huggyface was in no way shape or form going to go back to sleep nor going to be quiet about his being awake, I started getting out of bed. (Hey, after age 30, when you stay up too late, then have to wake a few times in the night to feed a certain peewee child, it's a process, the whole eyes open, body moving thing.) I manage to hoist myself and baby out of my bed, and upon coming downstairs, I hear this sort of jet plane noise that is unmistakably my shower. (Seriously, it's like this high pitched squeal, like a jet plane. The shower head is new, has been making this noise since we put it in a few months ago, and no, my husband did not "amend" it in any way. But seriously. Jet plane. It's annoying.) 

So I go into the bathroom and say, "Whatcha doin', bud?" 
"I'm taking a shower. I told you I was going to take another shower in the morning."
"Ok, but you're not dirty yet."
"Yeah, but I want to be shiny."

Ok. Whatever.

So I'm in the living room changing Huggy's diaper when I hear, "Mom, can you fetch me some clothes?" Huh? What the heck am I? Every one's personal attendant/slave? Is this what his father is teaching him? 

I don't answer.

A few minutes later he comes out, wrapped in towel and again asks, "So, do I look shiny?"  Uh, yeah, sure. He starts heading upstairs, and I hear him say, "The cleaner I get, the cleaner I'll be." True dat, son. But WHO ARE YOU?

Still, I'm shaking my head in confusion at these events. CONFUSION.

Suddenly, I decide I need to blog this whole thing. (Though, mind you, it's not done yet.) As I'm writing, he comes downstairs, dressed, and heads to the bathroom again, where he brushes his teeth. Unrequested. His teeth. With toothpaste. Then, he comes and stands next to me and I can clearly smell that he has also PUT ON DEODORANT. (Which he definitely needs to do every day but usually never does unless asked.) Again. Confusion. Standing there at my side, he says something to me but my brain cannot function. I know I responded, but I'm so dumbfounded that I can't remember the exchange. I do know it was good. As in, blog post material good. Darn my confused memory.

Now he's talking about going back to his friend's house for whatever fort building fun they had yesterday, and informs me he is going to pick up some friends. (I'm laughing. Some friends, huh? What "friends"? lol) But all this talk and preparation has got his sister interested, so she's now showered and dressed, and both of them have informed me that they've had breakfast... a banana. Also, he calls from the other room and tells her to brush her teeth.

Do you hear it? That up and down, haunting melody? Do do do do, do do do do.

You are now entering....

The Twilight Zone.

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Boys are funny.

Or at least mine is.

In late April, right after George lost a tooth, he comes up to me and softly says, "The Tooth Fairy isn't real. It's make believe. I figured out that it's your mom and dad."

Hm. Well, whatdya know. Still not sure if he gets it about Santa or the Easter Bunny but we're not asking. He's more than happy to play along. But of coarse, the Tooth Fairy is bringing him money, so why wouldn't he?

Since that time he hasn't mentioned anything like that, until he pulled out his 6th tooth in the last 2 months night before last. He had put it in a baggy, and whispered to me, "Mom, I just want you to know where my tooth is for, you know, when they Tooth Fairy comes, since that's you." LOL. Love that kid.

Tooth before this one, yeah, he ate it. Fell out while he was sleeping. He ripped his bed apart the next morning looking for it, even taking the mattress off. I told him if he really wanted to find it he'd probably have to look in his poop. He refused to believe that.

He has also started some new hobbies. We recently came upon a calligraphy set. Once I got the ink flowing for him, he wrote and wrote. There are guides and tracing paper and examples with it and he has followed some of them to a T. Sort of an odd hobby for a seven year old but he's always enjoyed writing and drawing so I guess that's not too far off.

Last week it was knitting. I took up knitting a few years ago as something to do for myself. Well the kids have always been fascinated by it and lately he has been asking me to teach him how. Well, every time I pick it up I have to reteach myself. I kind of thought that it would be too difficult for him but figured that finger knitting might be a better way to start. I brought up a video on YouTube, watched it, showed him how, and then he sat there and watched it and practiced all on his own. We all ended up with some very thin, long, light blue "scarves." It was cute, his fascination and concentration with it all, but sort of disconcerting. I mean, it's not many little boys that knit for fun, if you know what I mean. So the social ramifications had me a bit worried. But as I was telling the Kong about this new endeavor, he said, "Oh, yeah. I was just like that when I was little. Always wanting to learn new things." Phew. I was worried how much I would have to shield him from ridicule. But my hubs knows how to do, and is good at doing, many many things. So if that's where all this leads, then hey. Keep on!

Did I ever tell you he's color blind? Runs in my family on my mom's side with males. My grandpa (who was an electrician and also helped build many of the rides at Disney Land, e.g. It's a Small World and Pirates of the Caribbean.), both my brothers. Now George.

He has never been one to care about what he wears, except for some shirts, and the button up ones he likes buttoned up all. the way. Despite  how much we try to convince him otherwise. He doesn't really care if he bathes. But since we are still working on hygiene issues, I like him to bathe. Saturday I had him shower before bed. While in the bathroom, he gels his hair. I tried to explain that that needs to be done in the morning so it won't get messed up. He doesn't quite get it. Sunday, he gets up, comes down all dressed (which is totally NOT like him), wearing a rather nice shirt (also not like him), paired with some holey-knee-ed jeans. Now, I'm ok with holes in the knees but these are REALLY holey. And while we want to be holy at church, I'd prefer they not be holey. So I made him change. But it was clear that I was messing up his fashion statement. Say what? Well... then... he comes out of the bathroom and says, how do I look, mom? (HUH?) And he's kind of holding his head funny. Ah yes, He's gelled his hair again. So cute. And I'm thinking, is there a cute girl at church I don't know about? (not likely. He's pretty clueless about that kind of thing. So far.) 

Later, I discover his hair gel has made it not only in the sink but on the wall. I got a good chuckle from that. After church, I notice his hair gel job is like something out of the movie "Something About Mary." (If you don't know, don't ask.)

Friday, June 3, 2011

Lord help me

My kids are going crazy. The end of the school year has them completely jazzed and befuddled, and apparently, completely deaf. I feel like a broken record. A crazy lady (though that one is probably true). Kong is equally irritated by this phenomena. We say something, and it goes COMPLETELY ignored. Like we never said it. Unless of coarse what we're talking about includes some sort of treat.

I'm getting to the end of my rope on this.

I asked Miss Cheeks to pick up the blankets. She plays bowling with stuffed animals and a baseball. I tell he again. Still bowling, only now in another room.

So mama gets in her face. I grasp her chin, get down to her level and say again, pick up the blankets.

How does she respond?

"Mom, your breath stinks."

Thanks, kid.