Category Archives: Motherhood
My littlest man hates for his father to leave.
Every day, regardless of the the time of day, he slumps forlornly as his Daddy gives him good-bye love.
Every day, he follows us out to Daddy’s big green work van, reluctantly.
Every day, he makes up excuse after three year old excuse for his Daddy to stay just a few more minutes.
As we all walk back into the carport for Daddy to leave, he gets brushed past while the other children make a mad, hungry dash for the breakfast table. He stands as far out as I will let him, frantically waving bye-bye while he screams at the top of his lungs, “Bye Daddy! I love you! Be careful! Come home soon, Daddy, please!”
Every day, Daddy waves and shouts out the window, “I love you more, son! I’ll be home as soon as I can!”
And Daddy drives away.
Every day, my littlest makes a desperate sprint on his chubby little legs across the front yard, still screaming at the top of his lungs, “Daddy, I love you most!”
He runs and runs until he reaches the RV, his own boundary for being in the front yard, and leans as far as he can past it, desperately fighting the internal battle to follow his Daddy or to break his Daddy’s rule.
Every day, he makes the long walk back, slowly, almost painfully. His head hangs sadly on his chest. His arms swing despondently at his sides.
He sighs when he reaches me, standing there waiting with my arms out to sweep him into a hug.
“Momma,” he says, fighting back tears, “Daddy said he’d be back soon. When is soon?”
“Not too long, baby. He’ll be home before supper.”
My littlest man goes about his day, doing three year old things, and everything is to be like Daddy.
“I ate all my oatmeal, so I can grow and be big like my Daddy.”
“I built a house, just like my Daddy.”
“I want to do school and get smart like my Daddy.”
Through the lenses of his big, bright blue three year old eyes, his Daddy is his hero, the greatest man on the whole face of this gigantic blue planet.
He has his Daddy’s eyes.
Every day, his world stops spinning as he groggily rubs his eyes after his nap. He stands, longer than should be possible for a three year old, his little button nose glued to the picture window. It doesn’t matter how long it takes, nothing in the world matters so much as this moment.
His Daddy’s come home!
- Pink oatmeal tastes better than blue oatmeal every day but Thursday. On Thursday, oatmeal must be orange.
- Go Fish should be an Olympic sport.
- Transformer Band-aid are the only kind of Band-aid that makes boo-boo’s better… unless it’s Bob the Builder Band-aids, or unless they happen to be neon green.
- Playing on Leapster Explorers should count as schoolwork.
- The Princess and the Frog never gets old.
- One can always recognize a bayou when they actually see one because Tiana was a frog in one, NOT because of your carefully laid out and perfectly executed lesson plans on habitats.
- Never give a child an ‘impossible’ chore to keep them from doing something you don’t want them to do: that chore will become their new favorite thing, not only to do, but to barter with and you will get stuck letting them do what you didn’t want them to do in the first place.
- Never tell a child you can’t do something for them because you haven’t had your coffee this morning: they will promptly answer you the next time you need them to do something early in the morning with “I can’t. I haven’t had my orange juice yet.”
- Never pull rank for the television when Tom and Jerry is on: Your child will promptly explain that the television has picture-in-picture (yeah, but who can work the darn thing?!?) and proceed to use it… with your program in the little box. (Oh right- the kids can!)
- Sketchers are the ONLY brand of shoes. There are no other shoes in the entire world. Seriously… listen carefully now… if they don’t say Sketchers on the side they are absolutely not shoes and you are wasting your money.
- Putting a bow in your hair constitutes getting dressed in the morning, even if you’re running around in your underwear.
- If you have children, your bedtime is their bedtime. Do not, under any circumstances, try to stay up and get things accomplished after they’re asleep. They will wake up promptly after 9 hours of sleep, even if you’ve only had 4 and it’s 6am in the morning. You will live to regret it for days.
- Never tell the children “We’ll go outside later”- two minutes constitutes ‘later’ for a child and they will make you insane until your ‘later’ get here.
Hop on over to MamaKat’s Losin It where the inspiration for this post came from!