Epiphany

A few days ago, I was driving  through the parking lot at Publix and I braked and waved a mum and her 2 kids across the traffic. Her hand lifted in a ‘thank you’ wave and then practically leapt down and latched on to her 4 year old’s hand. Her younger child had a pained look on her face and her little fingers twisted and turned and fought the grip her mum had on her.

I literally had an epiphany.

Oh my gosh. It’s not just me. My son is not the only child in the whole world that hates having his hand held. It is, in fact, all children everywhere in the whole entire.

Funnily enough, this was really a kind of shocking epiphany. I think as you are parenting, it is very hard to remember that what you are doing is what all parents are doing everywhere. Even though it very well may be the most frustrating thing ever, or the grossest thing ever. Or the sweetest thing ever. Whatever those things are, they are being repeated endlessly everywhere.

So two days of really awful diarrhea? Yup, that’s going on somewhere.

A 3 year old, running carelessly around the YMCA pool deck with his father shouting at him? Yup, that too.

Asking for a hug before bedtime and getting “No, maybe later Mummy” as a response. Most likely this is happening in every single home around the world simultaneously.

And just to complain for a second, I had to force a hug from my child tonight. First time. Every night I usually get joyous hugs and smooches, without  even asking for them.

Tonight, Edward picked up Vince, handed him to me and then placed his arms around my neck, mimicking a hug. Half a second later, V wiggled out of my arms and proclaimed it was Daddy’s night and essentially banished me to the living room.

Hm. It appears as if my years of overly loving on my son might be approaching their end.

Nothing like a little Angry Birds to relax...

But, at the same time, it really does help to have these epiphanies. Because honestly it is really easy to forget that you are not the only one going through all of this ridiculous, dramatic, wailing, flailing, smart-mouthed, talking back, pooping everywhere (or nowhere) life.

Everyone else is too. Don’t forget.

xoxo a.m.

Conversations with my Husband

Gosh, do I ever have the silliest conversations with M. So ridiculous that I might need to make it a weekly topic.

M: “Just got home from work and V is tearing the house apart. He keeps bringing me things I haven’t seen before. Most of them are your shoes.”

J: “Ha! Wait. What? Where is he getting these shoes from? I don’t have that many shoes.”

M: “Sure you don’t. Ahem. Anyways, he just came out carrying a pink stocking…”

J: “….??? What? That must be yours.”

M: “What? That doesn’t make any sense.”

J: “Well, I know those aren’t my stockings as I don’t have any pink ones, so they must be yours…hahaha… you own pink stockings!”

M: “Your Christmas stocking? You know, the one that’s pink fake fur? That’s what I mean by ‘stocking’.”

J: “Oh. I totally didn’t visualize a Christmas stocking, I was thinking about stocking stockings. Like panty-hose. You know?”

M: “….Way to date your self. Hahahahahahahaha… what are you, 90? No-one calls them stockings anymore!”

J: “What? Ha! TONS of people call them that.”

M: “Sure Mildred.”

J: “Hahahaha… don’t call me that!”

M: “Whatever you say, Gertrude.”

J: “I liked Mildred better.”

And it went on from there. Am I really the only one that calls them stockings? Am I from 1912? Do I have too many shoes?

Tune in next week for more ridiculousness…

xoxo a.m.