Letting Go

Logan isn't a baby anymore. He is 3 years old and becoming his own person. He is fiercely independent and confident trying new things. It is exciting to see this change in development but I'm still having trouble admitting that he isn't my sweet baby anymore. I think Trey's deployment during Logan's early period made me hold on tighter to the kid than a lot of moms. I didn't have family nearby (we were in Savannah at the time) and didn't leave him other than daycare. Since we've moved closer to home, we've had several requests to keep Logan for the weekend. I know he is taken care of and has a fabulous time on these weekends away but I still don't like them. I don't feel complete without having him with me. I feel guilty letting him go. As a therapist, I have seen so many kids not wanted or not properly nurtured and I hold on tighter to my little monster. Trey was headed to Arkansas Sunday evening and my mom offered to keep Logan until Christmas Eve, when the family is headed to my house. Reluctantly, I agreed. Logan was thrilled when he learned he was going to Sweet P and Granddude's house! He packed his bag and was ready to go...right then! I tried to not squeeze him too tight before loading him in the car. Sunday night was surreal. I was home alone with my two dogs; no husband, no kid. I had trouble sleeping and kept waking up thinking I heard Logan cry upstairs. Seriously, am I going crazy? The routine of work helped yesterday go by more quickly. I stopped by my favorite take out place for dinner and lounged on the couch all evening. I will admit that it was relaxing and nice to eat a warm dinner without getting up a million times to get more milk, pick up a dropped fork, or wipe up spills. Today, I'm planning to go to a movie after work. I might eat dinner in the living room! I may even pick up a long forgotten hobby tonight.

My dad sent several pictures of Logan's adventures yesterday which helped immensely. I called after work last night for a full report from my mom and could hear Logan playing with my brother in the background. I know he is having a blast and is in good hands. I still miss him and am counting the seconds until he is home. Until then, I'll take my husband's advise and enjoy the time alone without guilt. Logan will be home soon and I'll jump right back into mommy mode and there is nothing I enjoy more!

Life with Amelia Bedelia

Do you remember Amelia Bedelia? Let me begin with a brief children's literature lesson for those who have not...Amelia Bedelia is the title character of a series of American children's books written by Peggy Parish. The books were a favorite in my house growing up.

Amelia repeatedly misunderstood various commands of her employer by always taking figures of speech and various terminology literally, causing her to perform wrong actions with comical effect. For instance, the employer asks her to dress the chicken and Amelia sews a tiny chicken-sized dress for the bird. In my personal favorite, Amelia Bedelia Goes Camping, Amelia can be seen pitching the tent as though she was Nolan Ryan. (**Note to my fellow bibliophiles: I consulted Wikipedia for the author's name and learned a few interesting facts. First, the author spent time living in Cameroon and based the character after a domestic in her childhood home. Also, Peggy Parish died in 1988 and her nephew took over the series. There have been 3 illustrators for the series.)

Why are we discussing Amelia Bedelia? Because, I truly believe that my sweet son was abducted by aliens last night and replaced by Amelia Bedelia. We were talking in circles around each other creating chaos and mayhem at every turn. Allow me to illustrate. Logan and I were involved in a baking frenzy trying to finish Christmas gifts. The dogs (mainly Banjo) were attempting to assist with dish washing...a bit prematurely. Minus one batch of zucchini bread. I told Logan, who was crying because Banjo ate the bread, that it was time to "kick the dogs out." Oops. Poor Banjo probably has a nice sore spot on her ribs. Certainly an Amelia moment! Later, as we were working on cookies (which did not get finished due to mixer drama) Logan asked "Why are we making cookies?" As I continued to measure and stir, I said "Because it is Christmastime and..." Before I could finish with "we are making presents for people we love," Logan jumped off his stool, screamed "It's Christmastime!?", ran to the tree, and began ripping the wrapping off the first gift he could get his hands on. After tears and several failed explanations we rewrapped Daddy's present. We cleaned up our mess and headed towards the bathroom to try and scrub some of the dough out of Logan's hair (ok, mine too). I said "Hold on, let me pull my hair back." Logan started crying "Don't pull your hair, mommy! That's not nice!"

Add that Trey was out of town, the dogs kept howling some sort of canine chorus, I overfilled the bubble bath, and Logan was trying his best to demonstrated his independence. I was overwhelmed and frustrated last night; questioned my parenting skills. I'm blogging the chaos so I can someday look back and laugh at the experience. But for now, I'd prefer Amelia Bedelia stay on the pages of beloved children's books and my son and I have one evening of harmonious interaction. We'll see...

Bend It Like Beckham

Logan is obsessed with soccer. Seriously obsessed. I'm not sure what prompted this love as he only recently went to his first soccer game. When the weather turned cool this fall I had to tell him every pair of pants were soccer pants so he would wear them instead of his soccer shorts. Did you know corduroy pants are soccer pants? I found a cute pair of football pants at a consignment sale that matched his UCA jersey and planned for him to be a football player for Halloween. He wore the uniform proudly...but told everyone he was a soccer player. He was given a soccer ball and soccer goal for his birthday and the obsession has officially peaked since.

Last night Logan insisted on wearing his cleats to bed. I told him no shoes on the sheets so he made a pallet on the floor. When I went up to check on him, I found him without a pillow...balancing his head on his soccer ball. Some battles are not worth fighting.

This morning I had just gotten out of the shower when I heard the ball bouncing down the stairs with the pitter patter of Logan's feet following close behind. He dribbled the ball (very well, I must admit!) into my room and then dribbled it into the kitchen for breakfast. The ball was dribbled outside to the car when it was time to load up for daycare. Once at daycare he was reminded that toys stay in the car. He hugged his soccer ball and gave it a big smooch. I got a high five.

Perhaps this obsession will fade after Christmas presents are opened, or I may need to prepare myself to be a soccer mom!

The Great Pumpkin

I have fallen behind on my documentation of life events. I recently wrote about preparing for Christmas and am now traveling back in time to record pre-Thanksgiving goings on. Anyone that knows me understands that I live in a stream-of-consciousness state. My dad once told me that I talk with footnotes. On with the story...

Logan and I packed up one Saturday morning and drove up the road to Jones Orchard to pick our pumpkins. I was a little disappointed to learn that the pumpkins had already been picked and were piled on crates near the entrance of the orchard. The orchard was instead set up for the popular Haunted Corn Maze. Nevermind my disappointment. Logan leaped up and down clapping and shouting "Pumpkins, my pumpkins!" He pointed at another little guy picking out his pumpkin and said "Mommy, that baby is having so much fun!" We inspected all (and I do mean ALL) of the pumpkins and gourds. After trying to pick up every pumpkin, Logan finally settled on the perfect one. We carried our 3 pumpkins to the car and went to the stand to pay. We also picked up local peach jelly (good but nothing like we were able to get in Georgia) and a bag of peanuts. (yes, I know. Logan is supposed to avoid nuts but I caved and he later wheezed...lesson learned)
The following day Logan painted his pumpkin. He artfully layered black, green, and white paint before a final coat of silver glitter. The end product was a gray pumpkin. Perhaps his art skills will improve before next year. He was so proud of his pumpkin! He carried it all over the house and even asked if his pumpkin could sleep in his bed with him. He couldn't wait for Sweet P to visit so he could show off his creation.

Fast forward another day...Logan was in bed and Trey and I were watching television upstairs. I made the comment, "I wonder where Banjo is." Trey replied with something like "Probably downstairs getting into something." A few minutes later our sweet puppy came sauntering up the stairs and into the playroom. She looked guilty. Those sad hound eyes...Oh, and she had pumpkin goo hanging off of her chin. Trey and I both ran downstairs with fear in our hearts. The nightmare was real...Banjo had eaten Logan's precious pumpkin!

What to do, what to do? We put our heads together and came up with a plan. We did what any 3 yr old-fearing parents would do in this situation. We cleaned up the evidence, distracted the kid the following morning, and Trey bought a replacement and painted it before Logan got home from daycare. Trey was proud of his reproduction. All was right in the world until Logan got home. I held my breath and only looked out of one eye. The new pumpkin was considerably bigger than the original. Logan heaved and hefted the new pumpkin into his arms. He looked at me directly. Sweat began to form on my brow and the hair stood up on my head. In a seriously intimidating voice, my son said "Mommy, my pum'kin is growing big like me." WHEW! Someday we will have to fess up and tell him the tale of the great pumpkin. But for now...I know our secret is safe with you!

Personalizing Christmas

Logan is getting to the age where he aware of holidays and becoming inquisitive about celebrations and practices. It is important to Trey and I to establish family traditions while honoring some of the traditions we grew up with in our own families. I remember tree decorating as a funny experience. Mom usually attempted to make the decorating a family event but Dad would get frustrated with her desire for the lights to be perfectly spaced, David would be distracted, and I would want to do things my way. Our family would begin bantering back and forth but I most clearly remember the jokes. David and I would argue over which Nutcracker ornament was higher ranked and therefore would have a higher placement on the tree. Mom would move less attractive ornaments on the back of the tree and David and I would move them back to the front. Mom and Dad have accumulated several odd ornaments over the years....Elvis, a talking ornament from family friends that will need to be hidden from my son as to not teach him language I'm not ready for him to have, and a couple oddly shaped angels. Trey's family has a competition in which they try to beat the other family members in saying "Christmas Eve gift" on Christmas Eve. The reward for being the first to say it is that you get an additional gift.

The Tree: This year Logan and I began assembling the Christmas tree the Sunday after Thanksgiving. I had made hot cocoa and had Christmas music on the stereo. Every branch I put on (allergies = artificial tree), Logan systematically took off. We finally wrestled the tree up to discover our lights must not have made the move from Georgia. It is difficult to explain to a 3 yr old that lights have to come before ornaments (footnote: he calls ornaments instruments??). The following day we bought lights and were ready for ornaments. I quickly (ok, maybe not so quickly) decided that we wouldn't put any glass ornaments up this year (we only broke 5). Our 8 month old basset Banjo thinks it's fun to get under the branches and spin laps around the trunk. CHAOS!

Santa: Gotta love daycare!? Logan has had a few behavioral challenges this year. I am in (near) full support of the daycare providers use of timeout, playground consequences, and restriction of toys but am NOT ok with them threatening to call Santa when he misbehaves. The fallout of said action (which prompted 2 separate "Come to Santa" meetings with the daycare) is that Logan is petrified of Santa. Horrified that a man would sneak down our chimney while we are sleeping. Terrified that he is watching and knows if you have been bad or good. Traumatized by the meer suggestion that children are supposed to sit on his lap! We have finally gotten to a point where we can say "Santa" without the poor child bursting into tears.

The Nativity Story: I proudly put out our nativity scene in the living room and Logan and I have been role playing the story. It is important to Trey and I for Logan to know why we celebrate Christmas and what we believe. We have read books and told stories in which to illustrate Christmas for Logan. Here is what he knows...He told me that Jesus has 2 daddy's. (How else do you explain God and Joseph to a 3 yr old with no exposure to stepparents?) He thinks baby Jesus is adorable! He keeps getting in trouble for carrying our infant Lord around the house. His response has been "but he's so coot." Logan calls the 3 Wise Men the clowns. He thinks they have funny hats on and therefore must be clowns. We have talked about Mary and Joseph taking a trip to find a bed for baby Jesus. I overheard Logan telling the dogs that Mary and Joseph are going to Arkansas so baby Jesus can go night-night. Yep...that's our religious foundation. Cute baby Jesus was born in Arkansas. His 2 dads love him very much and the 3 kings brought presents from afar.

Maybe next year we can begin the tradition building.