Always Being Bad Cop

No one wants to be bad cop all the time, right?  Well, welcome to single parenthood!  Whether you are divorced or have lost your significant other due to death or your significant other travels a lot (I will include you in this, my friends) or you have made the choice to go this road alone—no one wants to be the heavy all the time.  Well, maybe I shouldn’t say NO ONE!  I am sure there are some people who don’t mind being the disciplinarian ALL THE TIME!  But that is a different story all together, right?

However, when looking at Team Williams’ discipline path, it can be tough to feel like you are the only voice saying things like: Please be careful!  Please use both hands!  Please don’t touch the stove!  Please hold my hand!  Please climb into the car!  Please go potty before we leave!  Please sit down on the couch!  Please pick up your cars so that Mommy doesn’t step on them!  Please turn off the light!  Please keep the water IN the bathtub!  Please use your fork and napkin!  Please put your shoes on before you go outside.  Please stay out of the street!  We wear our helmet when we ride our bike or our scooter, right?  We don’t hit, do we?  We don’t scream unless we are hurt, right?  We use our nice words with our friends, right?  We listen and pay attention when teachers are talking, right?  Please say ‘excuse me’ when Mommy is talking!  We don’t throw sand because it could hurt our friends, right?  And on and on and on and on!

I am sure that married/co-parent people still have someone who is the more “dominant” parent when it comes to discipline, but since I don’t live in their homes nor does my son, I have no clue how they do it.  I can only wing it in our home and hope that the plan I have in place, right now, is working/shaping him!  And, do I automatically become a nag simply because the only voice he hears as a yay or a nay is mine?  Am I giving the right balance of “sure!” and “heck no!”?

Always being the bad cop sucks!!!

Would love to hear your thoughts/input/opinions!

Treyvon Bandwagon

So, you know I had to do it, right?  I know that this blog post won’t be about anything that y’all haven’t already heard, read or seen in the media, but still, as I sit here listening to my 4 year old son singing “Twinkle, Twinkle” in his room, I can’t NOT say something.  I am sad, frustrated, wounded and a little scared!

I know what African Americans have gone through in this country.  I know the history of this country and how minorities are treated today.  All I have to do is look at my own community and I can tell what’s going on.  I first heard about this story and obviously, I didn’t want to jump to conclusions.  As someone who has worked in the prison system and the daughter of a civil servant (retired fireman), I generally, think that police and the like do their due diligence!  I didn’t want to automatically think anything like this was race based.  I didn’t want to think that it’s another Florida death where the accused murderer got off.  I just didn’t want to assume anything. 

However, over the past few weeks, I can only think about what this inaction and confusion and finger pointing means for my son.  It also makes me think about our community and what our “friends” REALLY think about race and race related issues.  I have read so many posts on Facebook and Twitter and heard people’s opinions about how it was or wasn’t racially motivated.  I have read how people don’t “see” race, so they don’t understand how others can just assume that this was racially motivated.  I have read people getting mad and even incensed about people of color gathering around a cause and being frustrated or hurt or confused.  I have seen how some people just want to “sweep” it under the rug and get upset when we don’t just “walk in love!”

Well, I too am confused.  I too am frustrated.  How do I, a white woman who is OUTRAGED by this, explain this kind of thing to my son?  I know the simple answers and I am not looking for advise, but it does make me think!  Clearly, K and I are not having this conversation today, but someday, we will—this I know for sure.  How do I explain why talking about race is tough for some people but we do it all the time? 
I know that most of my questions (these and the other ones roaming around in my head) will work themselves out and when the time comes, I will be able to have a dialogue with K about such things.  I trust myself on that one.  I also feel that  even if I don’t have an answer for him, we can figure things out together or I will point him in the right direction or to the person who I hope can help him.  These are conversations that can wait for now, but this is a conversation that I need to add to the ever growing list of things that I know we will need to talk about; things we should most certainly talk about: Martin Luther King, Tsegaye Gabre-Medhin, Malcolm X, Rosa Parks, the Freedom Riders, Thurgood Marshall, Zora Nealle Hurston, Colin Powell, Alvin Ailey, Robel Teklemariam, Frederick Douglas, Sojourner Truth, Medger Evers, Langston Hughes, President Obama, Nelson Mandela and the like!

I don’t know… maybe this is just me brain dumping—it most likely is.  But please, parents, let’s have these kinds of talks with our kids.  Let’s open the doors of conversation about race and race related issues—not forcing them, but dealing with them.  Let’s celebrate how different we are, in a good way.  Let’s also put politics and religion and whatever aside and be outraged that this kid was killed. 

Things I Never Thought I’d Have to Teach My Kid

In my naïveté/ignorance, a list has grown of things that I never thought I would have to teach my lovely son.  I am not sure if I skipped the books on such things or if I was just so caught up in my adoption process that I didn’t think about the “after” he comes home part of parenting.  I mean, I thought about feeding him, disciplining him, getting him into school, and things of that nature, but…here is a beginners list of things that I have learned recently.

1.  How to brush teeth.  I mean, do you remember when you were taught to brush your teeth?  It’s just something that I have “always” known how to do. 

2.  How to be a friend.  While this might seem like a no-brainer.  I have found myself (with the input from Miss Debbie and Miss Kelsea) saying phrases like, “Being a good friend means we share!” and “A good friend allows ____________ to be in the front of the line some of the time!”  While we all know that we have to teach our kids to share, it’s also about teaching them that one of the reasons we do that is because we want to be a friend.  The Bible says—if you want friends, you have to show yourself friendly.

3.  How to chew.  This might now be the case for some of you, but my son came home at two years old and didn’t know that he had to chew his food.  Much of what he was given to eat was very thick broth/stew like!  He didn’t have to chew chicken or pasta.  He didn’t know that you couldn’t just swallow things like this whole.  Along with this goes…

4.  No biting.  While he did go through a biting phase (which I am told is normal), but I had to stress the difference between chewing your food (see above) and not biting your friends.  I frequently used the phrase “Teeth are for food!  Not friends!”

5.  How to properly wipe your butt after poop!  I knew I would have to change diapers but I hadn’t thought through the whole, you are now potty trained and you need to wipe your own butt thing!

6.  What the definition of spicy is.  Sweet Jesus this one is difficult to explain!

7.  We can throw sand at the beach, but not at school or at the playground.  It’s just not safe at the park or at school, but on a white sandy beach in Hawaii—sure, go ahead!!!

8. …more to come!

“I just want you to fix my worm”

As with most parents, we say things like “don’t pull so hard on that _______________!  You don’t want it to break!” or “Please be careful when you stretch that _____________________!  You don’t want it to break do you?”  Well, K got a glitter worm in circle time, at school, the other day!  He immediately wanted to hold that little worm ALL the time!  And because it’s “stretchy” he pulls on it and stretches it for hours on end (no, seriously, HOURS ON END!).

Well, this is what happens when you pull on a worm too much—it breaks!  He was distraught!  He was sad!  He was almost despondent!  There were REAL tears…it’s a friggin’ plastic glitter worm, Son!  Really?  Real tears?  But I can’t say that to his face in the middle of a worm crisis.

Initially, he didn’t say anything, but I noticed the silence.  And as all of you know, when you have a child—silence CANNOT be a good thing (unless they are asleep).  He had been chatting up the worm, asking it was it ate, and then answering for it.  He had created a dino-circle for the worm to hang out with them.  And then, silence!

I came into his room and he looks up (with those BIG tears running down his face) and sadly says, “I just want you to fix my worm!”  I want to laugh out loud because he sounds so sad over this glitter worm, but again, that’s not an option!  I sit on the floor and say, “Well, let me see!  What happened?”  He proceeds to try to blame the Stegosaurus and the Velociraptor that are sitting next to him but, it’s futile!  I know it!  He knows it!  He knows that I know that he had pulled and pulled and pulled on it until it broke!

After the hugging and the promises of “I will try to fix it Baby!” we both get up and I busted out the Super Glue!  I told him that he (the worm) had to rest—since when K is sick, he has to stay in bed and rest too, right?

Voila!  Today he took his little, fixed Glitter Worm to school!  Thank ya Jesus for Super Glue and for Mommy’s who get it—you have no choice, but to at least try to fix the worm!

I Am In No Hurry!!!

“I am in no hurry,” said the older lady at the doctors office today!  The moment she said it, I felt like saying, “Really?! I wish!!!”  Sadly, I feel like I am ALWAYS in a hurry.  I feel like I am always late.  I feel like I am always a dervish.  I am jealous of this woman who clearly had time for small talk.  I am jealous of her story time with the receptionist about her travels to China, when she was “your age” (the receptionist can’t be more than 23 years young).  I don’t know that I have always been this person—miss tardy pants.  I don’t think that I have always been in the “you are 5 minutes late” crowd. 

Since I have been blessed with the chance to be responsible for another human being, I have tried to find that balance of getting to work on time—and honestly, I am pretty close now, but it’s been over 2 years.  I have really tried to be on time to birthday parties and events where my son will have fun, but that isn’t always the case.  I have tried to make sure that we have all the “checks” as we head out the door—medicine, inhaler, shoes, jacket, snacks, water, race car, worm, truck, underwear (yes, K left the house once without underwear on—one of the first times he dressed himself and I didn’t check him), etc.   However, inevitably, there is always something that is forgotten and I have to rush back into the house, deactivate the alarm, find it, reactivate the alarm and make sure that K has locked and loaded himself into his car seat. This usually makes us probably somewhere between 3-7 minutes later than we would have been.

Then there’s work—meeting after meeting that I am rushing to.  Phone calls to return, emails to respond to (Lately, I have been getting, on average, 75-90 emails a day).  I give myself 24 hours to respond, but sometimes, I don’t hit that target.  Sometimes, I don’t respond at all, but such is life, right?  NOOOOO!  I don’t like being the person who lets things slip thought the cracks.  Don’t you know that I am Type A personality?  It irks me to no end to not be “perfect” (one of my many admitted flaws/quirks).

Yet, as we all know—there is no perfection when it comes to parenting.  It’s all about doing the best with what you got.  Sometimes it’s just enough to be stoked that they (the kids we are blessed to raise) made it through the week with no major injuries and no heartbreak.  Sometimes it’s a big sigh of relief to realize that we both made it through the week alive and well!  When it comes to being a working parent, aren’t we all just happy to make it to work without smelling like crap, pee, moldy milk, re-kisses of my own lipstick on my shirt, or his pizza that spilled down my leg onto my just back from the cleaners work pants!  So I will quietly envy this woman’s declaration of free time to chat it up and have the receptionist take her sweet time looking up if she had a next appointment already booked.  Yes, I will envy that she had time to burn and talk about how 75 is the new 50.  I will covet the fact that she is in no hurry whatsoever!

"It's Natural... Everybody Poops!"

Scenario: K in the bathroom a LONG time.  He usually asks for help by this time, but there is just grunting and deep breathing happening in there.  I open the door to ask if he needs any help.

Me:  You need any… (I see his head almost between his legs while he is on the toilet)  What are you doing?
K:  (Very matter of fact like) Trying to see my poop as it comes out of my booty.
Me:  (No response)…
K:  It’s ok Mommy! It’s natural.  Everybody poops!

*Thanks Son for that revelation!  I might never have known that, if you hadn’t told me!  Love this kid!

Teen Couple and Tongues

Scenario:  In line at Disneyland waiting to get on Pirates!  Teen couple in front of us FULLY making out.  His hands on her boobies and serious groans as well as “I love you so much” flying back and forth!

K:  Mommy, why don’t we kiss with our tongues when you give me kisses?  Like that!!!

Me:  Um… well… that’s a different kind of kissing.

K:  But we could do it like they are (pointing at the couple STILL making out).

Me:  No Baby, we can’t.

K:  But why?

Me:  *After a LONG pause… When you are an adult we can talk about it, ok?

K:  (tapping the boy who is STILL groping his girlfriend)—Excuse me!  Do you have to go potty?

TMG (Teen Make out guy):  Uh, hey… no, why?

TMGF (Teen Make out girlfriend):  Oooooh!  He is so cute!!!

K:  (Pointing to his crotch) She’s touching your penis and my Mommy says that when I grab my penis like that, I gotta go pee!

TMG and TMGF say nothing, but just smile and turn around and quit making out!  They ask to be on a different boat when we get to the front of the line!

*Oh to be 16 again, but my son is right, if she’s gonna grope your junk in line at Disneyland, maybe y’all need to take it to the bathroom!  Hrmph!

“What is your son’s ‘actual’ name”

My neighbors have shared a wall with us for about 6 months. While I wouldn’t say that we are “friends” we are most certainly friendly.  I know their names, I know what they do for a living, I have met their adult children, I know where they lived before they moved to Orange.  I know they are HUGE Green Bay Packers Fans.  I know a lot about them.  I have to admit that I don’t think they know as much about me, but I attribute that to me just not talking about myself to people too often!

However, one thing I do brag on is my kid.  Given the chance, even if you don’t wanna hear about him, I will give you the K-man update!  Clearly, since they live next door to us, they have met him and have engaged in several “conversations” with him.  Their dogs (that probably weigh no more than 4 pounds a piece) have “attacked” him on several occasions and Josie and Danny have patiently, at the end of their LONG work day, watched K ride his bike in circles, when he asks!

What’s so funny is that Josie, the wife, asked me the other day, by the trash bin, “I know this might sound funny, and I hate to ask this, but what is your son’s ‘actual’ name?”   I kinda laughed out loud because just in the 3 minutes it took us to walk over to the trash bin, unlock it and put our trash in while trying to watch K ride his bike, I had called him about 3 different things.

For those of you who spend any time with us, you know this is true.  I have so many nicknames for this kid it’s a miracle he even knows his name…  So here’s a list, just off the top of my head—I am sure there are more:
Kwali-bear
Yeh-nay Konjo (My handsome)
Konjo (handsome)
Gobez (smart/witty)
Jeg-ih-now (brave)
Yah-nay-lij (my Baby)
Yay-nay-mar (Sweetheart)
Sa-hi (Sunshine)
Kwali Robel-yay
Bugger boy
Moco Man
Fatty
Mr. Williams

Mixed into that are my basic terms of endearment/encouragement/instruction for him in Amharic:
Tiroo-sirah (good job/good boy)
Nah-fee-kay-ha-lo (I missed you)
Ee-ba-kah (please)
Aye-zou (it’s ok)
Eh-wud-dih-hah-lo (I love you)
Eh-bak-eh-tuh-ka-fell (please share)
Tuh-ka-met (Sit down)
Tuh-neh-sah (stand up)
Tuh-ten-kah (Be careful)
Yih-kil-kil-now (That’s not allowed)
Eh-zee-nah (come here)
Eh-kah-fen (Can I give you a hug)
Samen (Can I have a kiss)
And so on and so on!

So, thank you Josie, my new neighbor, for asking the question that I am sure so many other people have thought, but never wanted to ask.

Band-Aid, Shmand-Aid

Parents of toddlers get it!  I know you do!  My kid seems to be in constant pining for a band-aid.  Please tell me that yours is (or was or you know will be) the same way?  Please confirm that this isn’t a fetish for only my child (*and I know that there are worse things he could be begging for.)!  One of the things that I wish people had warned/educated me about when I was thinking about adopting was to buy stock in Band Aids!  Why not!  I would have made myself a LOT of money by just letting my son be who he is—a love of the band-aid!  Every random bump or bruise or scrape or scratch needs a band-aid.  Every “injury” (and I use that term loosely) needs immediate consideration and attention!  Bust out the triage center for Mr. Williams! 

While I habitually oblige him, I am almost mad at myself for doing so.  Does he need at least, no really, one band-aid day for some insignificant thing that happened to him while he was sitting on our soft couch?  Why, yes Mama, he does!  Does he need the Buzz Lightyear band-aid and the Lightning McQueen one after scraping himself with his own fingernail?  Oh yes he most certainly does.  Does he need to only keep the band-aid on for about 87 seconds before taking it off and claiming a full healing and restoration to the effected area?  Oh, why not.  Who wants to be restricted by a darn band-aid!?

While my kisses for these owies and whatnot are also part of the gig—it’s the band-aid that he is really after.  Yes, I have tried the “Band-aids are only for blood!” routine and that worked—NOT!  Yes, once when he had a stomach ache, I put band-aids all over his belly.  Yes, I have put band-aids on his head (by request) when his head has hurt!  No, it’s not causing me any harm. No, he probably won’t be psychologically jacked up if I do or don’t give him band-aid for his “wounds”.  Will this lead to not just a band-aid obsession but a “wound” obsession?  Oh sweet Jesus—might be time for an intervention!

Conversation about “dunder” clouds

Scenario:  In the car on the way home from a rainy day!

K: Mommy, are those dunder clouds?

Me:  Yes baby!  And what do THunder clouds do?

K:  They make loud sounds and crash us!

M:  Crash us?

K: Yes!  Dunder and lightning are loud and bright and can crash us!

M:  Konjo, thunder clouds can be loud, but they won’t crash us!

K:  They could though maybe.  They can be scary but we aren’t scared of anysing.  We are brave.

M:  That’s right.  And thunder clouds bring us rain and we love the rain!

K:  Oh yes Mommy!  I love rain! I can jump puddles and wear my boots and… look at that tractor!

*And done with the dunder cloud talk!

Potty Talk

I will admit it, this holiday break I have allowed K to watch large amounts of TV.  For those of you who I see often, you know how I feel about the zombie box (AKA the TV).  I limit K’s TV watching and take it away from him when he isn’t “good”.  Sadly, he LOVES it and is thoroughly bummed when I don’t allow him to watch!  But this break, I have really been lax!  He has been able to watch abundant amounts of TV and has loved every second of it. We have played outside each day for at least 2-3 hours, but seriously, our days have been filled with a significant amount of TV time!!!

The problem I am running into is combating the amount of potty talk that my “approved” movies have in them.  Now, when I say “potty talk” I don’t mean cuss words.  K isn’t allowed to say things like “stupid” or “dumb” or “shut up” and it seems like ALL movies and TV shows say these words.  While I still only allow him to watch PBS shows and DVDs, it’s still a problem.  No matter what the character says, I let him know that we don’t say those words.  He repeats it back to me, but…I have noticed that when he’s playing with his Woody and Buzz dolls or with his trains, he is mindlessly repeating sentences and phrases from movies that have these words in them!  It’s driving me crazy, but how do you combat it?  I don’t want him to be the weird kid who isn’t allowed to watch ANY TV (he’s already got a white mom and no dad!), but at the same time, I don’t allow him to say those words.

So… my friends, your advice?  Or Miss Debbie—have fun next week!  Or maybe I should wish you, K, the best of luck—you might be spending a lot of time in the red chair next week at school!

Who woulda thought that that woulda happened at IHOP!?

I am blessed to work at a place that gives me the week between Christmas and New Years off, and that it’s paid!  Not only that, my dad’s birthday falls during this week, so it’s been our tradition for me to take him to lunch (just the two of us) on his birthday!  Since I have become a mama, obviously, K has joined us and my dad loves it even more now, I think.

So, as per our usual, we went to a late breakfast/early lunch and it was his choice of where to go. My dad, being the decadent guy that he is, chose IHOP!  When I asked him why, he simply said, “I think K will like it because you can see the train tracks from the window, and I like the food, why?”  I wasn’t’ berating his choice, I just didn’t think that this would be his choice since I was footing the bill!!!

But as I have learned, everything happens for a reason.  K does love the view from IHOP.  He can see all the cars on the 6 lane road and the railroad crossing—it’s like a little bit of heaven for him!  Yet, this time was different. As we were walking out, this woman approached me and asked me where my son was born!  I could tell by looking at her that she was from the Motherland, but wasn’t sure if she was Ethiopian, Eritrean or Somalian (not saying they all look alike, so don’t send me hate mail, I just didn’t want to assume anything!!!).  After I told her he was born in Ethiopia, she said, “I am from Ethiopia too!  Can I ask his name?” 

Fast forward 15 minutes.  It was an amazing conversation in the parking lot of IHOP.  Come to find out, her son shares K’s birth name and she lives locally.  She was stoked to discover that there was a little Ethiopian community right here in Orange County.  I shared with her about all of our friends and that we were celebrating Timket in January and that we had just recently eaten at Tana Restaurant in Anaheim and that many of us have gone to culture class in LA. 

We exchanged numbers and she hugged both K and me.  As with most of my encounters with Ethiopians, it was beautiful!  But, it was not only a wonderful encounter; it was fantastic for my dad to see it as well.  Since my dad didn’t travel with me to pick up K in Ethiopia, he hasn’t seen much native, adult Ethiopian reaction to my adoption.  He has asked me, on several occasions, how Ethiopians feel about Westerners adopting “their” kids, so I know it’s a concern of his.  He is very aware of my feelings about making sure that not only K, but others KNOW that he is ETHIOPIAN-American! He was so happy to have had the chance to talk with her and hear her thoughts.

As we pulled out of the parking lot at IHOP, we were all grins and basically shared the same sentence over and over—wow!  Who woulda thought that that woulda happened at IHOP!?

K’s First World Problems—Things that, in his mind, really SUCK!!!

*In no particular order

When the pink computer (AKA the iPad 2) battery is low

When his light saber batteries are dead

When the batteries in his RC truck are dead.

Wailing and gnashing of teeth occur if I don’t let him push the “start” button on the microwave.

When he isn’t allowed to push the garage door button to watch the door close

When I let him choose which shoes he wants to wear to T-ball—he can choose between 4 pairs.

When all 4 of his Buzz Lightyear shirts are dirty and that’s the shirt he REAALLLLY wanted to wear to school.

Having to choose between his two sets of rain boots

Only getting to go on the Casey Jr. train at Disneyland 2 times instead of 3 (or any ride since we go at least once a week).

When I only let him play at the park after school for 30 minutes because, um, it’s DARK OUT!!!

Only going to 4 pumpkin patches instead of as many as he wanted.

And the list goes on and on and on!!!

PumpkinStein

K’s school always participates in the annual “Treats in the Streets” in Old Towne Orange.  Each year that class goes as a theme—this year was “Peter Pan and Friends”.  His teachers put it all together and they do an amazing job!  And the kids always look so cute!!!

Afterwards, we go back to school and do a pizza party, but this year, we did a new thing—a pumpkin derby!  When I got the flyer about it, I thought, “Cool, stab some sticks through a pumpkin and strap on some wheels and let’s do this thing!”  However, when I showed the flyer to my dad (AKA Grandpa), he told me, “I will take care of this!” I left this task in his capable hands!

Four days of brainstorming and measuring and researching and painting wheels and stabbing the pumpkin, and looking for the perfectly sized pumpkin and FINALLY, it was ready for us to “decorate”.  I had some leftover “potato head” pumpkin things from a party last year, but asked K how he wanted to decorate it.  He wanted to do the Frankenstein potato head stuff!  I was all for it—not having to whip out paint and brushes (and painting shirts and plastic for the table and…well you get the idea) was a dream come true!

Now once we got to see the competition, I admit, I was a BIT intimidated, but hey, it’s just all in fun, right?  Hmmmmm.  Even if ours sucked, no one would care, would they?  Well, I thought, at least our pumpkin had a cool name—PumpkinStein!

We were in the last heat, and I had witnessed some pretty serious contenders wipe out big time—like all the wheels disintegrating before it even hit the pavement!!!  So I wasn’t wholly hopeful that ours would kick butt—but WE DID!!!  In our first round, our pumpkin beat everyone for distance!  It was AWESOME!  And K (and my dad) were beyond stoked!  K chased it down the street but couldn’t keep up!  He was beside himself!

In the championship round, we completely kicked butt!  Not only did K win a prize for longest run, he also won the overall race!  It was so great—not only for K, but for my dad!  They are best friends, and I was so glad that they got to share this moment! 

*And not only that, the other dad’s were trying to pimp the winning info outta my dad as to how he built that mutha of a machine!  He certainly DIDN’T share any trade secrets!!!*

Just call me proud Mama (and daughter!).  Go PumpkinStein!!!  Go Team Williams!!!

Halloween Bliss

Since this is K’s only second time waltzing into the holiday season, the only one that really “stuck” from last year was…yeah, you called it—Halloween.  Let’s face it, Thanksgiving isn’t REALLY a holiday for kids under the 10 year old mark (getting days off of school really only matter for the tweens and up, right?!)  And ChritmaHannuKwanzaaKet (Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, or Timket) can be a bit overwhelming to a kid who just learned English!

I admit, Fall is my FAVORITE season (not the we get real seasons in Cali).  I love the colors of fall, I look good in fall colors and I love how Disneyland decorates for Halloweentime!  K loves it too!!!  Pumpkins are recognizable.  Last year, I kinda shoved the holidays down his throat and I wanted him to experience EVERYTHING he could—meaning that I think we went to like 7 pumpkin patches last year and went trick-or-treating like 4 separate times at various locations.  Hey, he was a cute Buzz Lightyear and I wanted to get my money’s worth for that darn costume!!!

Well, as we walk into this Halloween season, it’s ALL he can talk about.  As you have seen, he will be a dinosaur, and not just any dinosaur—but the Buddy from Dinosaur Train who just so happens to be, according to K, the biggest dinosaur in the Cretaceous.  He is in LOVE with Pumpkins of any kind, but doesn’t quite know what a Jack-O-Lantern is.  He has been to (this year) 4 pumpkin patches and can’t get enough of them, but can’t be bothered with trick-or-treating!

You gotta love a kid who enjoys the simple things—a good costume, pumpkin patches where the pumpkins remain intact, and growling like a dinosaur!  Forget the candy or the anticipation of knowing that once this Halloween gig is over, it’s on to ChritmaHannuKwanzaaKet!  It’s allllllllllll about Halloween with my kid!!!

36 hours…

A couple of weekends ago, I had a bad one.  No matter what I did, it didn’t seem like I could get it together, as a mom.  K was in a mood—and granted, everyone is allowed to have a bad day, but we were jam-packed with activities with friends, so public meltdowns and attitude is NEVER fun.  It seemed like no matter what I did or how I corrected him, he was contrary. 

Well, within a 36-hour period, I cried at least 10 times.  Not just tears welling up in my eyes, but serious tears.  After about the third cry, I started keeping track.  Why not capture each moment where I had mini-meltdowns.  *Coach Gray was very supportive, just want y’all to know that!*

Sometimes, I feel really confident about this “being a mom” thing and on weekends like this, I feel like I suck worse than a moldy piece of bread! 

So here you go:

Some random commercial about a show on Lifetime Movie Network

K telling me “You my favorite Mommy!”

Tarzan—conversation with his mom about how they are different, but the same, “See we’re exactly the same!”

Tarzan—conversation with his mom when he is about to leave and he says, “No matter where I go, you will always be my mother.”

K refusing to say, “I love you” to me when he went to bed after a day of discipline and punishments.

K telling me he loved me, first words out of his mouth when he woke up in the morning.

Ending of Toy Story 3 (gets me every time!!!).

When K got dressed all by himself—head to toe (even socks and shoes—and on the right feet).

K telling me, “Our life is super big awesome Mommy!”

After trying to utilize different discipline techniques with K for being rude and sassy and not listening and _______________, and nothing seemed to work—I just sat down on the floor and cried!

Bedtime: It’s Not a Secret

It seems as if every evening, it’s a surprise to K that it’s time to go to bed.  We start our “dance”, if you will, around 645 PM and it wraps up around 8 or 830.  Now, for those of you who know me—you know that I am a stickler for schedules.  I have him on a schedule, and I like to keep that schedule (as much as I can).  During the summer, it’s tougher since it’s lighter out longer, but this time of year, when it’s dark by 7 PM, it’s bedtime.  Not only that, during the week, it’s pretty much the same thing: come home from school, cook dinner while K plays, eat dinner together, watch 30 minutes of TV (but only if he was good at school), bath time, teeth time, reading time and bedtime. 

Nothing has really shifted for the past (going on) 2 years dude.  So why are you surprised when I say, “Ok, it’s time to go upstairs for bath time!!!”   Not only that, I try to remind him, “K, you have 2 minutes before it’s time to go upstairs and take your bath.”  This shouldn’t be a surprise, by the way!  This is what we do—seriously, 5 out of 7 days a week.  He always looks shocked when I tell him that it’s time to get ready for bed!  Really?  Really?

Here are the answers to the major questions that I get at least once a night:

Yes, you have take a bath.

Yes, you are going to school tomorrow (unless it’s Friday).

No, you can’t watch more TV.

Yes, you have to use toothpaste when you brush your teeth.

No, you can’t have juice!  We just brushed your teeth!

You have already had 3 (or 4 or 8) last sips of water!

Yes, it’s time for you to close your eyes and go to sleep!

Ok, I will give you one last kiss and hug for tonight! (After like 8 previous ones).

Once this kid is asleep, there could be a rave going on in this house and he wouldn’t wake up, but getting him there is a nightly effort!

Tuesday Truth-day! September 27, 2011

*I will use each Tuesday to rat myself out about something!  It’s all in good fun and I am sure that these “truth-day” revelations won’t be things people don’t already know about me!

Thank you lady in the Honolulu airport for your “kind” comments to me.  It would have been nice if you had just stepped to me like a grown up to share your thoughts about my raising a black child, but I guess not.  Sadly, you are clearly not a mature woman who can ask questions about our family, but make assumptions and then speak them loudly enough so that I can hear you.  And I know you were talking about us because, let’s face it, how many black kids with white Mamas were there at the Honolulu airport.  Jus sayin’!

I pity you, but at the same time, I have compassion for you, so that’s why I stepped to you and “confronted” you.  I know it caught you off guard, but oh well.  I know you weren’t prepared for me to want to sit next to you in the crowded gate area to ask you why you felt it necessary to make such comments about me or my child.  I know you were caught off guard when I asked you if you really wanted to know how we became a family and what I teach my son about his Ethiopian-American heritage.  I know it caught you off guard that I speak his native language and know how many countries make up the continent of Africa (not that this takes rocket science to know, but you didn’t know how many there were, so…).  I know you weren’t ready for me to tell you that I have taken my son to culture class, that we hang out with other Ethiopian-American kids, and that I take pride in and love his culture.  I know you weren’t prepared for my kindness towards you. Actually, you probably didn’t think that I would even say anything to you. Well, you were wrong.  And now you know that you were wrong on so many levels. 

So, thank you fellow traveler who lives in LA, but couldn’t tell me where “Little Ethiopia” was.  Thank you for making me even more determined to educate ignorant folks and to make sure that my son isn’t one of them!

PS—beware of the Mama Bear lady, and you best be thankful that I love God!  Believe that!