Archive for January, 2009
A cat terrorist that is. He’s obsessed with our little cat Astro. Where is he? What is he doing? Big J has no need for an imaginary friend. He has Astro. Astro is a bit of a reluctant friend to say the least, but he regularly finds himself pressed into service, having to perform duties that mostly consist of watching various TV programs and being carried from room to room. He really bugs the poor kitty to death, and on the one hand I feel sorry for him and think maybe I should stop Big J from pestering him so much, but that’s just a battle I am unprepared to fight right now. There are so many other battles that I’m fighting at the moment.
The thing is, Astro could stop the insanity if he wanted to, but I think he secretly enjoys it. He must, or he would hide under the bed all day like our other cat. He’d rather have too much attention than very little (which is about what I give him these days). He also clearly thinks that Big J is the Alpha Male, because his body language is very submissive. So, I let the terrorism go on, even though it is fraught with “teachable moments” about being kind and self-control. We’ll have plenty of opportunities to learn those lessons.
I am going to end up with a major injury sometime in the next couple of years. It’s inevitable. They don’t mean to hurt me, but by the end of almost every day, I feel battered and bruised by my two boys. Little D can’t do much, but what he can do, he makes the most of. He gets a death grip on my hair and in particular, likes to get ahold of those little hairs at the nape of the neck and brings me to my knees. Prying his little fingers open is more challenging than it ought to be it seems – he is only (almost) 7 months old after all. One of the upsides to not being able to breastfeed (I tried. I did. My mammary glands failed me. Or rather, failed them…) is that at least he’s not biting me now with his new little razor sharp teeth.
Big J has nearly broken my nose a couple of times and given me a fat lip. Okay… that’s a little teeny exaggeration, but it FELT like he broke my nose with that hard head of his, and I had to go check the mirror to see if my lip was swollen the other day after an accidental head-butting incident. He is just so physical- lots of excited flailing around and jumping on me unexpectedly. Then there are the times he wants to play catch and doesn’t warn me ahead of time, kicking while on the changing table, stepping on my feet… I really had no idea that being the mother of boys was such a dangerous occupation. Or, do little girls do this kind of stuff too?
This is Little D. He’s now 6 months old and probably the sweetest baby that ever lived (okay, I’m biased). Seriously though, this kid never stops smiling. All you have to do is look at him and he breaks out in a big grin. I’ve been trying to feed him solid foods, and he is having the hardest time because even when I get the food in his mouth, he just sits there and smiles because I’m looking at him and doesn’t even realize there’s anything in his mouth!
He’s sick right now with his first cold. He’s coughing a lot and it has made his voice a bit raw- he has a really manly cry when he can get his voice to work at all. I’m crossing my fingers we don’t end up with an ear infection.
My parents have become snowbirds, and are down here in the South to escape the Ohio winter. The house they’re staying in has a little toy closet that Big J enjoys raiding. Among the toys are these biblical action figures. They’ve always sort of bothered me for some reason. Not so much the Moses figure, but somehow a Jesus action figure just seems wrong. Here they are, waiting for the Elijah action figure so they can reinact the scene at the Mount of Transfiguration.
I was curious to know if there were other Bible action figures out there, so I checked out Amazon, and sure enough, there are many to choose from. The worst of these was the Deluxe Miracle Jesus
Speaking of transfiguration… it’s about time (well really LONG past time) that I did some transfiguring of my own. I’m trying a new diet. My mother and aunt have had great success with it. It’s called the Idiot Proof Diet. Basically, you choose from a list of foods and it spits out a menu for you of 4 meals a day. You get almost no white stuff (like my beloved potatoes), and it’s designed to keep your body from going into diet mode and hanging onto those unwanted pounds. It’s 11 days on and 3 days off too, so you get to take regular breaks. Sounds pretty good huh? Well, I’ll let you know.
I get this look about 100 times a day:
This is Big J and he’s 3.5 years old. While 3 is oh-so-much better than 2, it’s just another year of round after round of the Battle of the Wills. Big J and I are both “strong-willed children” but my will as a child doesn’t hold a candle to his. When things don’t go his way, which is like every other second, he gives me the evil grumpy look after he’s done screaming about things a little bit. He wants to get right in my face so he can shoot daggers directly into my eyeballs, and when I won’t look at him it infuriates him! He then yells, “it is not in porn!!!!!!” This is his warped imitation of me saying “it is not important.”
This is who he really is, when he’s not demon-possessed:
When the demons go to sleep, my sweet boy comes back. This is really who he is, and I’m looking forward to the day when we see this boy a little more often. It will be soon. Right?
I thought this was an interesting discussion. They’re both difficult, but I think parenting is far more difficult than being a spouse. Maybe this depends on the kids you get and the man you’re married to. What do you think?
