Too Funny - Again

In February of 2004, I shared a few stories with you about everyday life with my kids. That column was one of my personal favorites because it captured the wonderful joy and frustration of being Mom. Lately my kids have been very sharp witted again and their stories have filled my conversations with other mothers and close friends. I wanted to tell these stories like I did last year, to spread the joy around and assure all of you who are raising kids that you’re in good company.

Ding Ding Ding – You Just Won!I hate our van. I mean, I really hate it. And with good reason. It’s loud and it breaks all the time. Even more than that, it dings. The van believes, with all of its little computer heart, that there’s a door open, all the time. I’ve had the sensor replaced, tried pulling the fuse and begged local mechanics to snip the wire. But nothing works. It just dings on and on with the “door open” chime. The good news is that it stops dinging when we get over 20 mph. The bad news is that it starts again as soon as we get back down to 19 mph. This is enough to make me crazy some days, especially if the kids are feeling chatty and the radio is on. Add the ring of my cell phone, and it’s a recipe for Mom to go mental.

On one particularly frustrating day, we were stuck in stop and go traffic for over an hour, the dinging incessant. “GRRRRRR, I hate this van!” I yelled over the cacophony in my car. My kids all looked up, startled. I shook my head and apologized. “Sorry kids. I don’t really hate it. It gets us where we need to be. I’m just frustrated.”

A sweet voice from the backseat said, “What if the dinging meant something good, Mama? What if it meant that we won something every time it happened? Then maybe you wouldn’t hate it.” Emma was right. And in her usual Emma way, she was reframing things for me, making lemonade. I nodded in agreement. As we slowed back under 20 mph again, she said delightedly, “Ding ding ding, we just won!”

“What did we win, Emma?” I asked.

“Hmm, let’s see. How about, a trip to the beach and a cabin to stay in and new swimsuits and lots of sun block?”

She’d come up with the perfect fantasy to escape the cold gray of early March and the dinging of an overused mini-van. The other kids couldn’t wait to dream up fabulous prizes; our reward for tolerating the capriciousness of the Windstar. It’s still our favorite car game and I’ve won millions of dollars, a new house, several new (and quiet) cars, vacations, extra hugs and kisses and so much more.

Helping HandMy window air conditioner stayed in my window well past the end of the summer. Okay, it was still there after Christmas. When we were taking down the tree, I decided I wanted to move it to the attic at the same time. Several taller, stronger people agreed to help, but no one could do it right then and I was feeling impatient.

I stood and looked at it for a few minutes, assessing the situation, having decided to do it myself. My 9 year-old watched me warily from over the edge of the book she was reading on the couch. I reached down and wrapped the cord up to keep it out of the way, confirming her fears. “Mom, you’re not going to carry that yourself, are you?”

“Sure am. I’m strong, and it’s not that far. I can always take a break if I need to but I’m sure I can do it.”

Lena eyed me with strong skepticism. “You have a bad back, Mom. What if you fall? Can’t you just wait a couple more days? Daddy said he could help you later.”

I shook my head in reply. “I can manage.”

“Okay, then. Can I help you?”

“I don’t know what you’d do, Lena. It’s kind of a one-person job.”

She smiled her best sassy-girl smile at me and said, “I could always just follow you with the phone and call 911 when you need it.”

I laughed. I’d wait till the weekend. We had hot chocolate instead.

“All The Way To Outer Space…”My four year-old, Jeffrey, loves me. I know because he tells me all the time. He murmurs it as he falls to sleep; when I pick him up from school he shouts it with a run-pounce-tumble into my arms. In those moments, I know I’m the luckiest mom in the world.

Recently, he started trying to quantify his love for me in words à la Guess How Much I Love You, a children’s picture book. It started with a simple, “I love you all the way to outer space and back again,” but before long, that wasn’t enough. The descriptions of his love grew and grew until they were impossibly long, “I love you in and out of every door and every window in the world and through every tree in the world and over every piece of grass in the world…” etc., etc. But no matter how he starts it, he always still ends with, “…and all the way to outer space and back again.”

A couple of weeks ago, Jeffrey had a bad dream and came into my bed in the middle of the night. I pulled him close to me. He rolled over and snuggled right up against me so I could smell his hair and hold his hand at the same time. We hummed “Twinkle Twinkle” until he dozed off.

In the morning, I was awakened by a sweet, tiny whispering voice. I was still very groggy, but I could make out a few words. As I struggled to bring myself around, I felt a soft touch on my cheeks as I heard Jeffrey whisper, “…and all the way to outer space. And back again.”

“Well, I love you too, buddy.” I opened my eyes and reached out to hug him. He dove at me and kissed my cheeks over and over. “And this is how many kisses I have for you, too.”

Lucky Tomaszek is a mother, certified doula, homebirth midwife, childbirth educator, La Leche League leader, member of the Care Network and freelance writer. Her hobbies include catnapping and knitting. More information about her midwifery practice is available at http://www.laborgrrl.com