Moon Crap

 

 

Three year olds aren't always the easiest people in the world.  I admit - I was fairly warned.  Friends.  Family.  Even Fuss' pediatrician said at his two year appointment, "Enjoy two.  Three is worse.  Two year olds are impulsive.  Three year olds push your buttons.  On purpose."

 

She was right.  Evidently, caring for hundreds (probably thousands) of young children has taught her a thing or two. 

 

Three year olds do a thousand little annoying things.  At least, my three year old does.

 

He doesn't pick up his toys.

He is a horrible sport.  This Saturday he started soccer.  He loved it.  Except for the goalie.  The goalie stops you from scoring a goal.  That is hardly fair.  Ask him - He'd be happy to tell you why he doesn't like the goalie.  He even insinuated that they cheat. 

 

He's eardrum shatteringly loud. 

 

He loves to wrestle.  And box.  And fence.  And hold things over my face.  He is a boy. 

 

Sometimes I want space and he wants to sit on me.  Like, on me.  On my head.  Over my shoulders at the table.  Hanging on my arm.  Sometimes I just want space.

 

He is stubborn.  Bribery only works sometimes.  Rarely.  Not nearly enough.

 

He is finicky about his clothes getting wet.

 

He's a trifle on the active side.  Sometimes, I think it is impossible for him to walk.  And he throws nearly everything,  "Sorry Mom..." is heard often.

 

He asked for food and when I ask him what he wants, he says, "You tell me."  Then he refuses every suggestion.

 

He won't let me show him anything schoolish.  God help me if he needs remediation.  I teach and I tutor, but my child already knows anything I try to show him.  Incidentally, he will take instruction willingly from his 9 year old cousin.

 

He rarely comes to get dressed, or get his shoes on, or get in his car seat the first time I ask.  Usually not even the second or third.  Often, he does when I'm about to start screaming like a banshee. 

 

He can be S.A.S.S.Y.  I heard today, "You said that a hundred times Mom.  I KNOW!"   For the record - I had only told him about 10 times that we were looking, but not buying a toy.  And, also for the record, he didn't KNOW because he gave serious thought to not leaving the store at all when I told him he couldn't have Super Mario Bros. 

 

Which leads me to the last...

 

He has a ridiculous memory of vocabulary and uses it against me. Shortly after he woke on Sunday he told me he didn't think it would be a good day because (and I quote), "You're probably just going to give me consequences all day." He was right, by the way, for many of the reasons I am listing right here. And today he told me, "I don't want to have a conversation about that. I just want Super Mario Bros." He didn't get it. Again, for many of the reasons I am listing here.

 

But, it's true - The quote on the picture.  It's just true.  All of these little things that annoy me will be the things I miss so much.  I know it's true.  It already is.

 

Some days or some moments I just think, "That was hard.  I'm glad it's over."  Or, "This phase is hard, I'll be glad when it's over."

 

Only, the thing is - I won't be fully glad it's over. I'm never fully glad anything is over. 

 

When he outgrew his car seat carrier I thought, "Oh good...That was a hassle."  Only it wasn't.   Because having a mobile child is another challenge and I missed that sweet little person in his car seat.  All buckled in and cozy and safe.  And, oh so sweet. 

 

See, that's how I remember it now.  Maybe it's just how I wish I had appreciated it.  Because, it was true - He was all sweet and cozy and safe.  But, he never loved his carrier when we weren't in the car.  He screamed like hyena while he was in it at a store, so I'd carry him and push the cart and my arms would be sore and I'd be all frustrated and wish that the phase would end.  And it did.  And now I am glad the hard is over, but I wish I hadn't wished it away.   I wish I could have it back for just a day.  That little baby who didn't love stores and longed for the safety and comfort of my arms.  Oh how I miss that. 

 

I miss nursing him in the middle of the night - But, once I was looking forward to sleeping through the night. 

I miss diapers.  I miss first words. I miss wobbly steps and hours of holding his hands while he learned to walk.  I miss childproofing.   I miss the frustration he once felt when I couldn't understand what he wanted.  I miss chasing him as he ran up every single houses' walkway.  I miss wrangling him into a car seat.  I miss how he clung to me when I tried to leave him.  I miss packing a bag of snacks and drinks and changes of clothes.  I miss rushing on errands between feedings and naps.  I miss cutting razor sharp and flailing fingernails.   I miss carrying him.  I miss standing behind him as he climbed at a park and sitting closely while he bathed. 

 

I miss nap time - But, once...No, never mind, I always loved nap time. 

 

I know that the things that make me lock myself in my bathroom practicing Lamaze breaths so I don't lose my shit, will be the very things I'll laugh at some day.  And sometimes I may think, "I'm glad that's over..." I won't be really glad. though.  Not fully.

 

I will laugh very hard at how ridiculous and stubborn and sassy and funny he was when he really, honestly, truly didn't know better than to insist upon the impossible.  That the world belong to him - Revolve around him.  Someday, I'll laugh that all he was really trying to do was get some control in a world where, he was slowly realizing, he has very little. 

 

The day will come when Fuss knows he isn't the center of the world even while he is the center of mine. 

 

He's learning it slowly.  Today he told me he was going to let his buddy's little sister catch him a few times when they played after swimming lessons so she wouldn't feel bad.  "I'll just stop and let her catch me Mom."  We talked about a few weeks ago, but hadn't seen them since.  But, he remembered she might feel bad if she could never catch him.  So, he planned to stop and let her catch him.  And I was so proud.  So happy to see a little bit of his self-centeredness crumble.  But, sad too because it meant a part of his childhood was beginning to pass.

It's good.  I'm glad.   But, not entirely.

 

So, today, I resolve to remember something every single day and to remember it without a condition.  Without a, "That was hard...I'm glad that's over."  Just something that speaks about the day and just is.  Something I want to cherish. 

 

Like Moon Crap. 

 

We were driving home and he said to me, "Mom, I know you don't 'fink' I can, but I know how to play Moon Crap.  Ian taught me."

 

Moon Crap?  He was right.  I didn't "fink" he could play that.  Mostly, because I had no idea what he was talking about.  Investigation ensued.

Minecraft.  A game his cousin showed him on his Kindle.

Moon Crap. 

 

I like that.