Conversations with Kenny

Over the last week or two, I have noticed that my sweet little son has been more and more creative in answering questions or during general conversations. I started to keep track.  Here is a sampling:


CONVERSATION 1
ME:  Kenny, want to sing me one of your songs?
KENNY:  I can't
ME:  Why not?
KENNY: It is compli-crated
ME: Try to explain it to me.
KENNY:  You are not enough people, mama.
ME:  How am I not enough people.
KENNY: I can't sing unless I have a audio-ence.
ME:  But you can sing to both Sissy and I, that is two people.
KENNY:  That still isn't good, Mama. 

Then my adorable son shrugged his shoulders in sadness (as if his horribly stupid mother will never get it), sighed and walked away.

CONVERSATION 2
I had just returned to the living room after my shower. Felicia was still napping.
ME:  Kenny, did you throw these blankets on the floor?
KENNY:  No. Sissy did it.
ME:  How did Felicia do it? She has been taking a nap all afternoon..
KENNY:  Well she did it when you were in the shower.
ME: Are you lying to me?
KENNY: No. I am a big boy.

Believing I would stump him, I confidently asked,

ME:  How could Sissy come in here and throw the blankets on the floor when she is sleeping?
KENNY:  This is how it happened, Mama

Can you see the shock in my face at that line!

KENNY:  You got in the shower and made a lot of noise and it woke up Sissy.  She crawled through her stripes (I am assuming he means the bars) on her bed and came in here, she pushed me down cause I told her 'no no' and she got on the couch and pushed the blankets on the floor.  She went back to sleep.

I honestly stood there shocked.  My God this kid just told me the most detailed lie I have ever heard come from the mouth of a 4 year old.  Before I started to laugh, I sent him to his room for a time out...then I laughed my ass off!

CONVERSATION 3
ME:  Kenny, please stop putting your hand on my boob when you come over to give me a hug!
KENNY:  I have to, Mama.
ME: No.  Put your hand on my shoulder or arm.  Don't just grab my boob when you come to give me a hug or to get my attention.
KENNY: Mama, I have to touch your boob.
ME:  Why?
KENNY:  Cause boobs stick out farther than your shoulder!
ME:  (trying not to laugh) I know baby, but please try!
KENNY: ok.

I remember.....

September 11.  I remember too vividly.
Please read my other blog.
VentRantBreathe
Please Remember with me

Crash Cart

Please tell me I am not alone.  Tell me that my children are not unique in their attempts to kill themselves several times a day just to give me a coronary...Tell ME that I am not losing my damn mind!

Huh hmm.  Sorry. 

So, I decide this morning that it would be fun to take the kids to the local diner for breakfast and then on to the store to pick up a few items.  A little routine break.  A little socializing.  A little fun.  I shower, I dress.  I attack Felicia's hair and Kenny's shoes and we are ready to go. 

Things start out wonderfully.  Kenny is learning to buckle his own seat belt, saving my back.  Felicia still hasn't pulled out the clip holding her hair from her eyes, she is adorable.  Small miracles are always the best.  The diner is fairly empty and we chat with Jen, the waitress and friend who dotes on us as if we are royalty.  Everyone cleans their plates and the sticky fingers brigade heads to the bathroom to wash up.  A smooth, sweet and relaxing break in the routine of life.  A treat.  (ha ha, the diner's name is Treats Cafe)  I am so funny.

Heading back to the truck, we sing "Hup 2, 3, 4," marching along with giggles in our hearts and smiles on our faces.  On to the store.  We hold hands across the parking lot and enter the store.  Greetings come from all sides since we are regulars, and this is a small town drug store.  Most comments center around the kids.  They must...they are so damn cute and just love being the center of attention. 

Felicia gets deposited in the cart, buckled and kissed.  Kenny, the big boy, stands at my hip just like he is supposed to.  What a great kid.  We chat as we pick up lightbulbs.  We debate the best looking paper towels and argue about needing a new broom.  How do you explain to a child that a fancy, flashy display of new items doesn't mean we need that item?  Anyway, we are having a good time.  We stop in the toy section and Kenny chooses a few new HotWheel cars to add to his collection using the money he makes doing his chores.  I grabbed a little dolly for Felicia.  La Dee Da.  What a wonderful day.

We make one last stop in the office supply section so I can pick out a new whiteboard.  As I am weighing my choices between price and size, I see my son jump on the side of the shopping cart out of the corner of my eye. Before I could even yell at him to get down, the cart tips sideways, landing on Kenny and pushing him into the hard, sharp metal display shelf.  Felicia, buckled in, gets slammed into the upper part of the shelf as the cart comes to rest on it's side, pinning her arm and her brother.  In a flash I drop everything and scream their names as they just begin to cry from the shock.  With super-mommy strength I grab the cart, full of stuff and pick the whole thing off the ground and right it on it's wheels.  I squat down, gathering Kenny up in a baby hold while I rub Felicia's leg with my other hand to calm her down a little as I assess the damage. 

A very nice gentleman, ran up to us and asked if the kids were ok.  I barked and hissed at him as I ran my fingers over Kenny's back and the scratches and bruises I found.  The poor guy walked away silent.  It didn't even register in my head that he was there until he was gone.  He most likely thinks I was an evil bitch.  Hum.  "Sorry Mr Guy-in-Yellow-Shirt"  but the world honestly disappeared the moment my kids were in trouble. Gee, now that I am writing this I feel even guiltier.  ick.

A full scale body check found:  Kenny, large bruise and small scratches on his lower back, knot on his head and a little scratch on his cheek.  Felicia, little bruise on her arm and one on her knee (although that could have been from yesterday's picnic).  They crying was short lived, we all calmed down and went about our way.  During checkout, both kids were a little fussy, but a stop at the Coffee Shop for a mocha (for me) a chocolate milk for Kenny and a Strawberry milk for my little Felicia, stopped that and spirits returned to normal. 

My spirit did not go back to normal so easily.  I spent the next two hours trying to figure out why my children are bent on killing me by attempting to kill themselves!  This last hour I spent thanking my stars that there was no blood, punctures or ambulance rides. 

Tongue in Nose

I can officially announce that I am no longer feeling Crappier than Crappy.  Instead I simply feel like crap.  Woo Hoo, that means I am improving!  Today is my third day taking my oral steroid...just 13 days left.  Good news is that the dose decreases from here.  The bad news is that I stay up very late into the night (the time of this post, 3 am).  When Jason needs to come in to nudge me awake before he leaves for work he uses a few little "mommy threats" to get my butt out of bed.  His favorite is, "Kenny is up and is sitting all by himself in the living room."  What he fails to mention....(as I  get out of bed with only the energy behind my guilt to power me)....is that Kenny is content in watching cartoons and he is most likely hoping that I don't get up since I usually limit the cartoon viewing time. This is what has transpired for the last three days.

This morning the routine was just a little different.  Jason could not motivate me by guilt, threat, anger or fear. He exclaimed he was going to be late for work.  My groggy thought, " So!"  With no options left, he recruited Kenny to help.  As I lay comfy, cozy and warm I hear the sweet voice of my son. "Mommy, it is time to get up. You have to come and take care of me."  You can't tell me this child was not prompted by his father. So,  I pray quietly for strength as I extend my leg to roll my big butt out of bed.  My big toe comes into contact with Kenny's adorable nose.  Kenny says, "Owe mama, you kicked me in my nose!"  I sat all the way up and told him I was sorry.  He looked at me like I was a malicious feign.  I say, " You want me to kiss your nose to make it better?"  He looks at me sadly and says, "Ok but I don't want your tongue to stick in the holes like when Paris kisses me.  It is gross."  I kissed his nose (kept my tongue in my mouth) and ran for the bathroom because laughing that hard with a morning bladder is dangerous.

Paris: we adopted a 2yr old puppy a few weeks ago.  She is very affectionate and sweet. Loves to kiss...just ask Kenny's nose.

I put the duck tape away.

I feel crappier than the crappiest crap you can imagine.  What ever the hell is wrong with me needs to stop.  I have no time to be sick.  My kids and large child-like husband count on me.  Ugh.  I feel like crap!

So, since I am feeling rather crappy, my mood has not been as even as I would like.  In other words...I have been a stark raving lunatic bitch.  As a mother, I feel guilty for my lack of patience.  The kids have been a little "loose" mostly because they know that Mommy can't catch them, let alone get up fast enough to remember what  she was chasing them for in the first place.  They say when you lose one of your five senses...the others tone up to compensate.  To compensate for my physical inabilities, my mouth takes over and I holler and yell, but I am really really good at it.  The children don't seem phased at all.  In fact, they giggle at me.  What a sight I must be laying on the couch dying slowly as my daughter runs up and jumps on my chest.  It must be fun to be a fly on the wall when my four yr old son (60 lbs of football-player-to-be) comes at me at a dead run to slam into me hugging me...then covering his tracks by saying, "you are the bester mommy on da panet, mama!"

The moral of my little rant.  A few hours ago I changed a diaper, swept up the raisins from the floor and wiped the peanut butter laden half of samich off the wall before pronouncing, "Nap Time."  The kids squealed and giggled and ran around the kitchen bar at a NASCAR pace.  All I wanted was for my little sweet angels to go to bed so that I could die alone.  I couldn't get them to stop running.  They just giggled when I grabbed em and told them to go to bed.  Then my patience officially ran out.  I opened the junk drawer and grabbed the small roll of duck tape screaming, "If you two don't stop I am going to tape you to your beds!  Get in your rooms for Nap Time."  It was a slow giggle-ridden walk down the hall after that. 

I tucked in Felicia.  She cooed and giggled and threw her doll at me.  Lovely.  I went to Kenny, tucked him in, kissed his head and told him to stay in bed because, "Mommy doesn't feel good today.  Be a big boy and get a little rest." He smiled at me and lay his head on the pillow.  I blew a kiss to him and started leaving.  He hollered at me and when I turned around he was holding his little throw pillow out to me.  Then he said, "Mommy when you get sick you havta lay down and rest.  YOu wanna rest with me in my big race car bed, I have a little extra pillow?"  My heart melted.  I told him I would be back in a minute to rest with him.  I ran to the potty and then to the kitchen....I put the duck tape back in the drawer.

An Angel in Sleep

You can't tell me that I am the only mother who frequently sneaks into the room of a sleeping child several times during the evening to smile at, cover or coo at her children.  I don't overly dote on my kids, but God knows (and you should too if you read this blog) that these two little angels of mine are my world.  AND, yes I do check to make sure they are breathing.  I will do this until college, I suppose.

I have been sick.  Icky, crappy, tired, hit-me-with-a-frying-pan-to-put-me-out-of-my-misery kind of sick!  Doc is concerned I have a touch of pnemonia. Yeah.  Feel the excitement?  Onward.  Today the doctor decided to prescribe me a heavy round of antibiotics and oral steroids to help get me back on board with the living.  The pharmacist told me to take all of the first days dose at once...I did that at 7 pm.  Now, it is 3 am.  I am so wired and "Green-Hulked" up I swear it is taking every ounce of energy I have to stay still!  I think I can see Antartica with my x-ray vision!!  :)

A few minutes ago, on the way to the potty (yep she's a mom that says potty) I stopped in the kids' rooms for a peek.  My son was curled up around his little teddy bear without his blankets.  I pulled up the blanket, kissed his sweet head and made a stop in my daughter's room.  She too had kicked away her blankets, however she was curled up even tighter.  Poor little chlly thing.  I quietly leaned over and tucked the blanket back around her...she wiggled her little butt, eyes stilled closed and whispered, "Dank Ooh Mama." 

My heart lept!  Instantly tears rolled from my eyes as a warm feeling slowly spread throughout. I was just honored with the sweet whisper of an Angel.