Showing posts with label Boys. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Boys. Show all posts
Friday, August 12, 2011
Squirrel!
"Mom, I hit a tree."
I stayed calm, despite the enormous amount of blood.
Because even small head wounds bleed a lot.
Because head wounds are not uncommon here.
Because flailing my arms might have ruined the pizza dough.
"OK, honey, go to the bathroom so we can clean you up and see how bad it is."
Berg had a small puncture, right between the eyes. I cleaned it up, put on a Steri-Strip, and asked him what happened.
"Well, I was running laps (around the house), and I got distracted by a baby squirrel, and I ran into an aspen tree, and a branch poked me in the head."
No response from Mom.
"Do I have to clean up my own blood?"
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Juggling
"Mom?" Berg asks. "How do you spell computer?"
C..O..M..P..U..
"That's too hard. How do you spell work?"
W..O..R..K
"How do you spell Mom?"
M..O..M
"Thanks."
Two minutes later, Berg tapes a sign to my office door. It says "Mom" at the top, and "Work" at the bottom. In between is a drawing of a computer, with Berg's attempt at an international "NO" sign drawn over it.
"I made you this sign. Now you don't have to do any more work, Mom."
I try to compartmentalize my day into little pieces of time that can be doled out carefully to everything and everyone:
C..O..M..P..U..
"That's too hard. How do you spell work?"
W..O..R..K
"How do you spell Mom?"
M..O..M
"Thanks."
Two minutes later, Berg tapes a sign to my office door. It says "Mom" at the top, and "Work" at the bottom. In between is a drawing of a computer, with Berg's attempt at an international "NO" sign drawn over it.
"I made you this sign. Now you don't have to do any more work, Mom."
I try to compartmentalize my day into little pieces of time that can be doled out carefully to everything and everyone:
- Start laundry.
- A snack for one boy.
- A book for the other.
- A gap analysis here.
- Help cut out a paper catfish there.
- Make lunch.
- Do dishes.
- Call client.
- Write quote.
- Update financial spreadsheet.
- Pack for picnic.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Who says they should be seen and not heard?
People often look at my sons and say “Wow, you have your hands full.”
Often, as in all the time.
This is not meant as a compliment.
I used to move on quickly after these comments, chagrined. No more.
Yesterday, in Home Depot, Berg asked an employee in the garden department if he could plant carrot seeds directly in the ground, or if he had to start them indoors. The employee said he could plant them in the ground, and Berg asked if it was still OK if we lived in the mountains where it was colder.
The employee didn’t know.
Kai interrupted Berg to ask the employee if deer eat carrots.
Followed quickly with:
“Do deer eat spiders?”
“Do deer eat rabbits?”
“Do deer eat children?”
Followed by Berg telling Kai that he is ridiculous. And telling the employee: “Don’t mind my brother. He’s three.”
At which point the employee said to me, “Wow, you have your hands full.”
“Yes,” I said. “My boys are awesome.”
When I take my sons out in public, I explain to them carefully what we are going to do before we go do it. Most of the time, they comply with enthusiasm. They do not break the merchandise, or wrestle in the aisles, or trip old ladies trying to cross the street.
They DO ask a lot of questions:
“Why are artichokes so pokey?”
“Why are artichokes named after the dog?”
“When can we get another dog?”
“Why is Daddy allergic to cats?”
“Why am I allergic to cow’s milk?”
“Do cows like to be milked?”
“Would you like to have cows?”
“Would you like to have goats?”
“What if we had a goat farm?”
“Do you know how to make goat cheese?”
“Would I be able to eat goat cheese?”
“Do goats eat artichokes?”
Apparently, neither of my sons came with a volume control. But if loud and inquisitive are the worst they throw out, I’ll take two hands full, please.
Often, as in all the time.
This is not meant as a compliment.
I used to move on quickly after these comments, chagrined. No more.
Yesterday, in Home Depot, Berg asked an employee in the garden department if he could plant carrot seeds directly in the ground, or if he had to start them indoors. The employee said he could plant them in the ground, and Berg asked if it was still OK if we lived in the mountains where it was colder.
The employee didn’t know.
Kai interrupted Berg to ask the employee if deer eat carrots.
Followed quickly with:
“Do deer eat spiders?”
“Do deer eat rabbits?”
“Do deer eat children?”
Followed by Berg telling Kai that he is ridiculous. And telling the employee: “Don’t mind my brother. He’s three.”
At which point the employee said to me, “Wow, you have your hands full.”
“Yes,” I said. “My boys are awesome.”
When I take my sons out in public, I explain to them carefully what we are going to do before we go do it. Most of the time, they comply with enthusiasm. They do not break the merchandise, or wrestle in the aisles, or trip old ladies trying to cross the street.
They DO ask a lot of questions:
“Why are artichokes so pokey?”
“Why are artichokes named after the dog?”
“When can we get another dog?”
“Why is Daddy allergic to cats?”
“Why am I allergic to cow’s milk?”
“Do cows like to be milked?”
“Would you like to have cows?”
“Would you like to have goats?”
“What if we had a goat farm?”
“Do you know how to make goat cheese?”
“Would I be able to eat goat cheese?”
“Do goats eat artichokes?”
Apparently, neither of my sons came with a volume control. But if loud and inquisitive are the worst they throw out, I’ll take two hands full, please.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)