A Geek Parent with a Jock Kid

I always said if I had a kid, it wouldn't matter what they wanted to do I would support them. If, for example, they wanted to be a ribbon dancer, I would help them to be the best damn ribbon dancer ever. And this is still true.

I just never thought I, a creative geek, would end up with a super athlete kid. Not really. I mean, I thought it would be funny....but...I didn't think it would ACTUALLY happen.

My husband jokes that he is the least athletic in his family. This is true, however when we say the least athletic, this needs perspective. This is a man who taught himself how to spear fish, who has strung marines up by a single ankle and shook them, who chopped off the heads of baby rattle snakes with a hatchet at the age of 11. He is, in my estimation, a sort of Paul Bunyon type. This is my picture of my husband.

So then, I can tell you about his sisters. His sisters, one of whom had a full ride scholarship to play soccer. Another tried out for the basketball team without never having played, and was placed on varsity as a sophomore, without EVER HAVING PLAYED.

Oh, and did I mention his dad? Kiddo's grandfather? who STILL holds track and field records at his high school? STILL!

Sigh.

So my son, my darling boy, has this in his blood. He watches an inning of baseball and starts trying to pitch. He hits balls off the tee, with a bat that is as big as he is. He dribbles soccer balls without trying. He runs EVERYWHERE. This is the kind of boy I have. An athlete. And I don't even know all the rules to these games. I don't know all the stances. But you can be sure I'm going to learn.

Kiddo will stay still to watch sports. Golf. Baseball. Basketball. Football. Soccer (actually, he doesn't sit still for soccer - he runs around kicking the ball like the players because he thinks it's super fun).

Oh, and then there are motorcycles. He LOVES motorcycles. And bicycles. Pretty much anything with wheels. He likes how they work - another inherited trait from his father's side.

However, he also loves music. And fabric. And animals. And colors. And telling stories. And walking around looking at nature. So at least we have that to bond over.

It is funny that I ended up with an athlete. The irony was too good for it NOT to happen. And that's fine. Even though I don't know much about these sports, I will support Kiddo as he pursues them. He has his uncles and aunts who played all manner of things and will enjoy sharing that with him. And I will go to the games and I will take him to camps or whatever he finds enjoyable. I am committed to that, because that is where his interest lies. That's part of what it means to be a parent.

And he is still extremely young. He could end up being really into writing too. That could happen. Or he could go in a completely different direction. Who knows? Life takes all kinds of twists and turns. However, I'm pretty sure, whatever direction it goes for Kiddo, there will be sports somewhere in the mix. He loves them too much for it not to be the case.

In the mean time, I have to figure out ways to weather all the sports related events. And the other sporty parents - you know, the ones who were into sports themselves and have nothing in common with me except the fact their kid plays on the same team as mine.

Tips would be welcome. I'm going to store them up in preparation. Until then, I'll play ball with my limited skills, hoping I've got at least a few years before Kiddo outstrips me. And then I'll start outsourcing the play time to more competent family members. In a few years. I hope...

Remembering Gifts

We were walking around the neighborhood, holding hands. Kiddo had been telling me stories in toddler gibberish, which slowly trailed off. It was quiet. No one was around. The only sound was the wind blowing through the trees.

"Do you see the pretty flowers?" He looks. "And hear the wind through the leaves? How wonderful is that?!"
Then, he looks up at me, and gives me a beaming smile of such delight in that moment, my heart completely melts. Just thinking about it makes my eyes water.

Kiddo is a gift. This is the thing I have to remember always.

In some ways, my time that I've had as a stay-at-home parent has been stressful. It has been stressful to not contribute to our family coffers directly. It has been stressful to be isolated, both by being a SAHM, as well as through my writing. Neither one of these occupations screams "social." It has been stressful to try to manage those two occupations, which frequently conflict with one another.

How many times has Kiddo come to my arm, as I'm sitting at the computer, and pulled on my sleeve? How many times have I had to shrug him off because I had to get something done that day in order to feel like I was progressing?

I can't count. I don't know. It's too much. It's too many. It makes me feel a little ashamed to admit it in this public way.

Because there are warring priorities. And there is only one resource. Time. There is never enough time. There is only so much time. How is one considered wealthy? By their use of time.

I made a promise to myself. I would write - or at least, work on whatever it was that needed work that day - in the morning. And this work continues through nap time. After nap time, I try to devote my afternoon to Kiddo. Completely.

And sometimes that is hard. Sometimes it is really hard. I get bored doing toddler things (although that is growing less so) and will often catch myself flicking through something on my phone. Sometimes I get really irritated - truly stuck on a bit of formatting or marketing. Eventually I recognize it would be better for everyone if I paid exclusive attention to Kiddo, and I come around. And that is good. Everyone ends up happier.

And I love being a writer. I do. I love doing it and focusing on it completely. And I love being a mom. I do. I love doing it and focusing on Kiddo completely. Trying to do both at once however, is an abysmal failure.

So I try to separate them. This allows me to spend time doing the thing I feel called to do, the thing I must to stay sane, as well as spend time with the little boy I love, my son. It's the closest to a win-win I can get.

And times like this, make me think about how I allocate my precious resource. They make me wonder about what I am willing to give up, and what I cannot live without. They make me question what kind of memories I want to have. When I look back at my life, what story will be there? What will I have accomplished? What relationships will I have built? What kind of a person will I have been?

Part of the answer is my writing. But a bigger part of that answer is the relationship I want with Kiddo. I want to experience him fully. I'm still not sure I want a second kid, and I will only have one chance with Kiddo. He is one person - my precious little boy. The child who makes emotional and abstract connections constantly, who sings and dances, and whose smile lights up even my darkest moments, that is a person I always want with me. That is a person I want to make and share memories with, always. And every single moment - the wild energy bursts, the silly expressions, and the intense tantrums - all of that is a gift I have been given.

There are not words to express my gratitude for my time with Kiddo. Parents understand this feeling - it is unique to the parenting experience. I have never felt it to this depth as I do with Kiddo. Of course, I am grateful for all the wonderful people I've had the pleasure to meet, who have been in my life at one time or another. Of course I love my close friends, my parents, my husband. Of course. And they are each gifts.

But they are not Kiddo.

Earlier in the day, Kiddo was taking a nap. I was exhausted. I was cranky. He fell asleep in the car, and I couldn't move him because moving him wakes him. So I stayed in the car, and dozed myself. When he woke up, I carried up the stairs into a sitting area and we nursed. Of course, the couch was in the sun. Of course, he fell asleep on my lap. Of course I was extraordinarily thirsty.

I got so irritated, I set him down. I couldn't handle the heat any more. I got a glass of water. He woke up. He sat up. He said a few gibberish words.

I sat down.

Then, for some reason, I look across the room and our eyes meet. Kiddo's face cracks into a huge smile - that beaming perfect smile that reflects all his joy and love and light in a single look, and I remember.

Alien Energy: Better Than Caffeine

Kiddo is hyper. I mean, I knew he was active, but I didn't realize how much more active he was compared to other kids.

When nursing, I can get hands and feet in the face. Sometimes Kiddo gets his butt hiked into the air and wiggles so much, he collapses back down again. When he wakes up in the morning, he climbs everywhere, all over - tumbling and jumping, singing, and telling stories.

This is the kind of kid that doesn't just have a second wind, he has a third, and sometimes a fourth. In order to make sure he sleeps a full night, I have to actively run him ragged. I have to force him to walk uphill and climb playground equipment for several hours if I want to ensure a solid night of sleep. Otherwise, it's anyone's guess how much he'll sleep.

And of course, once he wakes, all cylinders will be running.

But I thought this was just how toddlers were. I didn't think he was above average in his energy levels. I mean, when he first encounters people, he is often hesitant, and reserved. I thought that meant he was average.

No. I was wrong. Completely wrong. Kiddo is WILD.

I know this because we went to the park yesterday and he chased after a strange boy and threw his ball at the boy, almost knocking the poor kid down. He ran around screaming his head off (for fun, not throwing a fit). He ran the entire time. He drummed his ball. He threw his ball. He giggled and squealed and sang. And the three other kids stared at him. They functioned at a fraction of his energy. And this was after walking around the block and playing with Grandma's dog.

And at home? He ran around again, throwing all his toys every which way. He did laps for 5 minutes straight around the second floor. He squealed. He told stories. He played with his figurines. He sang songs. We had to persuade him to get a bath with heavy references to specific bath toys. And he only agreed to bath time grudgingly.

Losing my earlier baby weight took a little effort. My continuous inches lost... is no wonder. I chase a toddler. I play with a toddler. If you had a kid as active as mine, you'd be losing weight too.

Now, if I could just bottle this or develop some kind of silver bullet system, I might have something here...

In the mean time, I'll settle for watching Kiddo fixing to be some kind of alien superhero with his magical energy reserves.

And honestly, I'm okay with this.

Mother Heartbreaker

Mothers' Day has a lot of different meanings for people. It is only my second, and even in the middle of family gatherings, I found myself reflecting on how the day has changed for me. I found myself thinking about the changes I experienced in becoming a mother.

When I was younger I never thought of myself as a mothering type. In fact I thought I was cold, reserved, and awkward around children. I was convinced I would be horrible. Actually terrible.

I learned how to be around kids by being around kids. I started tutoring elementary and junior high students. During that time, I learned a lot about children and realized that while children are at a different place in development, they are people. They are jniust people.

Yes, they have specific needs. Yes they have smaller vocabularies and may struggle to understand some abstract concepts BUT for the most part, they just need love, support, and security.

And I did not understand that once you become a mother, all the training you took in subconsciously from your own mother kicked in. I did not understand that at some point in pregnancy your brain changed in such a way that marks you. Childless women and men do not understand this transformation. It is a biological change that occurs. There is nothing else like it. And I did not know its depth.

I cannot watch children being hurt. The idea of a child going without breaks my heart. Going without food, or shelter, or clothes, or education, or parents, or love. It all hurts my heart. It constricts my chest.

And I cannot breathe when I hear of a parent losing a child. That pain is unnatural. Wrong. But I did not understand how it would be so before I became a parent. I did not understand how gut wrenching even the idea could be.

I know it bothers Christian more now that he is a father, but I wonder about the way it impacts a mother, one whose brain changes during pregnancy...who bonds through breastfeeding.

So when I look at my son, I find myself a stranger. I turned into a super lovey mom. I have to kiss his cheeks. I have to hug and cuddle him. I have to tell him I love him several times a day. I have to pick him up when he is sad and put words to his intense feelings. The sweetest sound is his laugh, or maybe him singing, or just telling a gibberish toddler story. And I know he has more power over me than any other human in this world. Because more than anyone, he can break my heart.

The Wild World of A 20 Month-old

Kiddo is 20 months old. I cannot believe we are only 4 months away from 2. It is wild to watch him every day.

Now he wakes up singing or telling stories, and about half the time they are understandable. He picks his clothes. He requests certain foods and books by name. He calls "Mom" like Stewie from Family Guy to get my attention. He throws a tantrum if he isn't allowed to help vacuum and takes great delight in helping with laundry. He follows simple instructions and often does things just for a laugh. He can eat from a bowl with a spoon and needs minimal supervision.

His three favorite things are cars (he calls motorcycles cars too), sports with balls (baseball, basketball, and football are his absolute favs), and of course music (specifically drums and stringed instruments). When asked what he wants to play, he always says guitar (though a uke is a guitar to him). Kiddo also regularly says he will play basketball and baseball.

A requested activity!

In addition to this, he LOVES Sesame Street. His favorite characters are of course, Cookie Monster and Elmo. He has a figurine of each. He has them ride animals, take baths, drink pretend soup, and give each other hugs. Sometimes he shares his Cheerios with them.

Kiddo's favorite foods at the moment are Cheerios, crackers (a rare treat), broccoli, strawberries, noodles, cheese, cauliflower, chicken tenders, plain yogurt, and brussel sprouts (although he does eat a lot more).

Can I ride?

He is always smiling, laughing, talking, and running full tilt. That said, he is painfully aware of others' moods and will pout or cry if someone, even a stranger, is upset. He also gives hugs and kisses when someone is upset, or just because.

I can't believe 2 years ago he was just a ball of cells in my womb - not even a person - and now he is an independent, curious, loving little boy. Wild.