Dad

Happy Father's Day, to the father of my boys.

Here are the recorded words of your three sons:

Ben: I love dad because he loves me and he rough-houses me.  He's just so cool.  He lets me go to work with him sometimes, which is really cool.  I love the Ferrari game and racing with him outside.  That's what I really I like about him.  I love it when he tells me stories at night and sometimes we make up silly stories!

Mitchell: I love that my dad is a business man and he works.  That's what I like about him.  He gives me special treats.  He sprays whip cream in my mouth!  I love it when he tickles me and plays with me.  He's pretty good at rough-housing.  He's not very good at brushing my teeth though.  He lets me play in his car.  I like it when we sit out there and have dude time.

Jack: He picks me up! He reads stories with me! And last morning one time I wiped my boogies on him! *cue the crazy laughter*

Dad!!!

I am doing things a bit opposite with Jack than I did with my older boys. Both my older two were sleeping in "big boy beds" before they were potty trained. As I don't need the crib for a new baby and I am not moving at the moment, I am in no hurry to move Jack out of the confines of his crib. So although he is potty trained, he is not able to get himself up in the morning to take care of business.

What does he do about this?

Well, since I was gone all weekend, Jack became quite attached to and used to his dad, so when he wakes up and needs to do his duty, he immediately starts yelling, "Dad!! Dad!! I need you! Come through my door! Open it! I'm ready to get up! Get me out of bed! Dad!! I need to poop! Dad!! Poop!" For those Will Ferrell fans out there, picture him yelling "Mom! Meatloaf!" and you will get the idea.

I love that he calls for dad now. It's too cute. I also love that he no longer wants to poop in his pants. However, I don't always love to rush into his room immediately after he wakes up at 6am. I miss the days when he would wake up, poop in his diaper, not care, and just sing and play and talk leisurely in his bed.

So what does he do now that mom is back on duty and dad isn't rushing in first thing in the morning? Well, he doesn't want to poop in his diaper, so this morning, after calling for dad and telling him he had to poop and no one showed up, he took his diaper off and pooped in his crib!

I heard that all on the monitor as well. "Dad! I need to poop! Dad! I'm pooping! Dad! I'm making a mess mess mess! Help, Dad!"

I really have no one to blame but myself. I am the one who keeps him trapped in his cage and I am the one who ignored his pleas for help. It is only fair that I am the one who had to wash him, his clothes, his sheet, his blankets, his giant stuffed dog, and his bibi.

As I was cleaning Jack up, he looked at me accusingly and said, "Mom, I needed dad! I pooped!" Glad Jack at least is blaming someone else...

You'll Shoot Your Eye Out!

I know a lot of moms (and some dads too) are anti-guns and weapons when it comes to play things for their boys.  How you keep them from making their own weapons out of sticks, pieces of race track, and toilet paper tubes is something I'd be interested in hearing about though!

I don't feel very strongly on the subject.  I do give them some boundaries and rules regarding their use of weapons, but I do I allow them to mock fight and use foam swords and to let their creativity abound when it comes to fashioning their own weapons and hunting down "bad guys" in the back yard.  Their world is full of sticks and strings and interesting-shaped things that are just begging to be used in this manner!

So my boys play with weapons and feel quite heroic while doing it, I must say.  Today, they watched a bit of Robin  Hood before they tired of that and decided the day was just too beautiful to sit on a couch watching cartoons and they'd rather BE Robin Hood out in the backyard!

That is how I left things when I took off for the grocery store.  When I returned home, they had fully emersed themselves in the game and even enlisted the biggest boy: daddy (who is also a HUGE Robin Hood fan.)  Ben was busy shooting arrows at multiple targets with his home-made bow fashioned out of a piece of race track and a string (don't think that toy will work as a race track anymore...)  

Mitchell and Dad were up to worse though - they had out Matt's pellet gun and were shooting little yellow foam things all over the yard!  Now, these do not come out very fast and Mitchell was heavily supervised anyways, but that gun does not look like a toy and I cringe every time all three boys play with it together.  Although it looks it, it is not actually a dangerous toy - not unless, that is, you shoot it at your or someone else's eye!  

Boys are boys and, in my opinion, it is healthy for them to pretend to fight bad guys.  I love to watch them rescuing each other and other pretend characters.  But every time that ominous-looking toy gun comes out, the words of all the adult figures from "A Christmas Story" echo in my head: "You'll shoot your eye out!"  Someday that gun will mysteriously disappear and I will claim no knowledge of it's whereabouts...

Dad, Watch!

My boys are no fools.  They know when you are paying attention and when you are only pretending.  It is difficult to give them the real kind every time, especially when I hear "look, mom!" and "hey mom, watch!" and "watch me!" at least once a minute, but I think we hit a pretty good ratio of the real kind to distracted kind.  It works for us.  

Mitchell especially, maybe because he has more recently made the discovery that there are two different levels of paying attention from his parents, is more insistent on the real kind.  I often hear something like this from him, "Hey mom, watch me!  Mom, really watch me!  Mom, turn your face to me!"

The whole "watch me" really gets amped up a notch when Matt returns from a trip.  The boys climb all over him, both talk at the same time, getting louder and louder to drown the other one out, and insist on his "real" attention.  Matt is usually pretty excited to see them as well, so while figuring out how to pay attention to both who are going in separate directions is somewhat difficult, he at least has no problem with being distracted by something else.  Sometimes though, he just wants to talk to me or has paid attention for a while and now has moved onto the other kind - the distracted, pretend kind.  

This last time he returned, Ben and Mitchell were very excited about a new movie we had rented and were just positive Daddy would feel just the same way when he got home.  They made him sit in "their" seat (the one closest to the TV which they both sit on top of each other for) and watch it with them.  Matt is not so into the kids' movies so he lasted about 3 minutes of really watching, then attempted to sit with them, but not actually watch it.  Mitchell noticed this pretty quickly and took care of it.  Ben quickly joined the fight for daddy's attention and he was trapped.  "Watch this, Daddy!  Watch!"

Every time he'd try to turn his head, Mitchell would physically turn his head back in the direction of the TV and scold him for not watching.  Ben joined in the battle for attention by sitting on his head so he couldn't turn it.  You're not getting out of it easily this time, daddy! 

I Guess Some Rules Are Just Mom's Rules

I never quite know what to expect on the weekend when Matt is home and playing with the boys. The boys get to do things with daddy that I would never even think of letting them do.  I have many reasons why certain things are not allowed, among them safety concerns and more often, trying to keep the messiness to a minimum.  

But when I am gone and daddy takes over for a while, they get a bit...creative and always end up doing something that is borderline naughty.  I don't think Matt or the boys sit down and think, "Now, which rule can we break and what will make the most mess here?"  I think Matt just turns back into a little kid himself and they don't alway think about what I would do or allow if I were around.  I always return home to find plenty of laughing and often quite a mess.

This time, the mess was minimal, and they cracked me up, showing me that some rules really are only in place because I don't want the mess or clean-up, not because of a real right-and-wrong issue.  I am OK with some rules being bent when daddy is in charge.  Why not have special things to do only during "dude time?" 

They were all upstairs and when they heard that I was home, there was plenty of shushing and whispering, "Dad!  Mom's home!  Shhh!"  They snuck to the top of the stairs and then called me over to check them out.  They had decided facial hair could not wait a few more years, so they got out the non-permanent markers (I have to hand it to Matt for finding these markers instead of the Sharpies) and speeded up puberty a bit (yes, Matt is still awaiting puberty when it comes to facial hair as well.)

Notice them proudly clutching their weapons of defacement here.  The look on their faces says, "Mom, we are getting into so much mischief and daddy helped us!"  True true, boys.  You would never have gotten this one past me had you asked me first.  Good thing you have a dad who loves mischief almost as much as you do and who encourages you to be the crazy boys you are.  Don't try this one when I'm around though, and don't let me catch you drawing on Jack!

When I Grow Up To Be A Man

Mitchell has a thought stuck in his head that he often brings up and wants reassurance about.  He is concerned about becoming a man.  It began with, "Mom, will I be a man?"  I assured him that he was, thinking he was excited about the idea, but his next question suprised me - "Do I have to be a man?"  Over the last week or so, he has been loaded with questions about "being a man" and he's just not sure it sounds like what he wants to be.  Some more of his questions have been "Why do I have to be a man?" and "What is a man?" I clearly have not made it sound like a good idea - this turning into a man business because after these sorts of questions, he makes statements such as "I don't want to be a man" and "I don't want to be a man, I just want to be Mitchell."  

I have been unable to figure out what his thinking is on this whole issue and what he actually thinks "being a man" means until he finally asked this question: "Can I turn into Mitchell again later?"  Ahhh...I think he believes that a "man" is something he will magically turn into, completely changing into something else like a dog or an ogre or a dinosaur.  Now that I have an idea where his apprehension is coming from, I can figure out better answers to his questions and more effective ways of painting a more positive picture for him.  

Because of all this "man" talk (he is talking to me about this instead of Matt because he has been out of town during this), I have had a song running through my head quite a bit.  I even sing it to the boys and while they only understand a little of the lyrics, they love it anyways because of the title and chorus:

When I grow up to be a man

Will I dig the same things that turned me on as a kid?

Will I look back and say that I wish I hadn't done what I did?

Will I joke around and still dig those sounds

When I grow up to be a man?

Will I look for the same things in a woman that I dig in a girl?

Will I settle down fast or will I first want to travel the world?

Now I'm young and free, but how will it be

When I grow up to be a man?

Will my kids be proud or think their old man is really a square?

When they're out having fun yeah, will I still want to have my share?

Will I love my wife the rest of my life

When I grow up to be a man?

What will I be when I grow up to be a man?

Won't last forever.

It's kind of sad

Won't last forever

It's kind of sad

Won't last forever.

-Beach Boys, "When I Grow Up (To Be A Man)"

Oh, Mitchell, you have so much ahead of you!  Most of this song doesn't yet apply to you, but it will!  You will grow into a man, but still stay Mitchell and I can't wait to see how it all turns out!  You have a wonderful, strong, and confident daddy to guide you along the way and make the process exciting and meaningful.  "Becoming a man" might be scary at times, but Daddy will be there to show you how to do it!  Cheer up!

At Last, I Become a Track and Field Fan

Matt is a long-time lover of track and field, but I have never been a true fan, I admit.  So far, it has really just been a distraction from fatherly duties, as far as I am concerned (sorry, Matt.)

But today, Ben participated in his very first track meet, and I, his mother, became a fan of the sport for the very first time.  I packed my kids up, despite nap times and dinner times, drove way down south, and suffered the heat to watch my oldest son do the long jump and 100m.  

I have been waiting for something like this since my very first baby boy was born - sitting in the stands or crouching on the sidelines snapping pictures while my kids try their hardest at their chosen activity.  I love it.  I have never been an athlete myself, but am loving living vicariously through Ben.

The excitement began when he received his very own number to pin on his shirt - making it all feel very "official."  He was so proud of that number - we actually still have it hanging in his room.

For me, the best part, by far, was his warm-up routine alongside daddy.  Watching Ben excited about what his daddy is excited about and mimicking his every move was far more entertaining and touching than the actual events.  They skipped, jumped, high-stepped, side-stepped, stretched, river-danced (ok, maybe not, but it looked like that to me) up and down the track, warming up for their events.

His first event was the long jump.  I have no technical knowlege of the event (I should, with how much I have listened to talk of it) but it looked like he rocked it to me!  He had such a look of supreme concentration on his face before his take-off: he really seemed like he knew what he was doing!  He hit that white line and launched into the air, feet out in front of him, landed in the sand, rolled, and then sat there as if he deserved a break after such a performance.  Mitchell and I were close by, cheering him on, which brought on the biggest smile from him.  It must be nice to have such a devoted following :)

Next up: 100m race.  Now this is the event he was most excited for, but it is a bit of a long race for a first-timer.  He lined up with all the other boys his age, "shook out his muscles," got into position, then proceeded to miss the start.  He started a good 3 or 4 seconds behind the other boys, then ran from lane 7 across to lane 1, which lost him even more time.  Let's just say he didn't finish first, but by the look of triumph on his face, he beat the other boys by a mile!  By the time I caught up with him, after packing up the other boys and all the junk we have to carry everywhere we go, he was still jumping up and down in celebration of his awesomeness.  

I just have to say, I am so overjoyed to see my oldest son having so much fun competing in something that is so important to my husband.  I hate to write this, in case Matt is reading, but I may have become a track and field convert overnight.  I hope this is just the first of many things they do together and get excited about both personally and together.