LOOK WHO'S STILL IN CHARGE

As I've mentioned many times before, once a month I attend "mommy school" with a bunch of my friends. We head to the Westside to seek the advice and guidance of the renowned Betsy Brown Braun. Each month we focus on various issues that have arisen for our 4 year olds (everyone in the class has children within a few months apart- so we're all on the same "fucking fours," page, as Betsy calls it). Anyway, a month or two ago, I expressed to Betsy that I was having a tough time containing Jonah's energy-- that more often than not, he is wild. She suggested that we set up "wild" or "loud-free" zones throughout the house. She said we needed to leave a few rooms or areas open, but since I live in an apartment, that basically means he can only go ca-razy in his room and the living room. FINE. So, per Betsy's advice, I put up the "wild free" signs (exactly as she suggested) and here's what happened.

One day, I'll be in charge and rule the roost. I will.

JUST FOR CHANUKAH

Recently many family members asked me what Jonah wants for Chanukah. I would often respond with a "he doesn't need anything" (an answer that grandmothers cannot accept) and follow up with "okay, um....okay... he's in to robots and science stuff..." But at a recent westside "be a better parent" group, I learned from the jedi parenting master that 4 year olds are in such a "gimme gimme" stage, that now would be the time to talk to them about giving back. That instead of them telling us all the things they want and need, we should encourage them to think about what we can do or give to others.

So I tried that. I sat Jonah down... Told him how lucky we are to have so many family and friends and how nice it would be to give everyone something special. We went through and made a list of all our loved ones. For whatever reason, he thinks my my mom needs a new blanket, my boyfriend needs a mirror and my nana needs a new pan for making cookies. (All of this stuff may be true).

Of course, the conversation of gift giving didn't last long as his concern over how many gifts he would get this year prevailed. Just as he was getting in the bath, he asked me to go get a piece of paper and pen. "Why?" I asked. "Because I need you to write down all the things I want for Chanukah." "Ohhhhhhhh. Okay."

So, dutifully I obeyed.

***

Pen & Paper in hand.

Me: So. What first?

J: A volcanU thing. That were going to give Joe-Joe for his birthday. But I want it. A volcanU science explosion thing. I want that.

Me: Next...

J: A big shooter gun that would shoot people with a pretend bullet coming out of it.

Awesome.

J: ... and a ball to play with... Inside.

Me: Ok...

J: ... a big boat to sail... on the floor. (Pause). What else do IIIIIIIII want?

Me: Hmm... How about a computer game for you to play on Mommy's computer?

J: No. You don't have an app store.

Me: Oh. (Pause). How about books?

J: Yes, books. And dress up stuff.

Me: What kind of dress up stuff?

J: Scary dress up stuff. With masks. Like Count Dracula. Or Spiderman, or Batman.

Me: How about an instrument, for music?

J: Yes, I'd really like a guitar. And a tuba. And a keyboard. And a violin. And a trumpet.

Taking notes feverishly.

J: I need new play dough. Different colors. Like purple. Or blue. Or yellow. Or green.

Me: This is a great list. I think that's ----

J: Whaaaaat else do IIIIIIIIIII neeeeeeed?

Me: Jeez, that's a lot of stuff. I'm not sure...

J: I need more stuff.

Me: Puzzles?

J: Yes. New puzzles. A puzzzle of a volcanU to see all the lava.

Me: Okay, well this is a big list. So I'll let everyone know.

J: But, mommy, I need 100, ninety, 30, thousand presents.

Me: Gotcha. Alright, well last final thing... ?

J: Oh, I want a (cash) register. That's like the one at the Zimmer Museum.

Me: I'll see what I can do.

J: Is that a good list, mommy?

Me: Very good. BUT remember, the holidays are not just about getting. It's about giving too.

J: But mommy, we don't celebrate Christmas.

Me: That's true.

J: Because we're jewish.

Me: That's true.

J: So Santa doesn't bring me gifts on Christmas...

Me: That's right.

J: So you only need to get me all this stuff for Chanukah. Ok, mom? Just for Chanukah.

Me: Got it. Just for Chanukah.

Good thing there are eight nights.

LIKE A FIDDLE

As mentioned a few weeks ago, I have officially become a single mom. This change in status not only comes with a slew of complex emotions and sadly, hairier legs, but also an onslaught of incessant mommy guilt.... which, as a working parent, who happens to work in the world of parenting, it can feel a little overwhelming. So, with a 2.5 year old little boy, my sensitivity level to what might ultimately eff him up for life (due to said divorce) is at an all time high...

That said, I think it's gone too far and Baby-Ko knows it. The kid is playing me. He hears the guilt in my voice every time I say "no" (and then give in). He senses my worry that he may have issues some day as a result of the divorce every time he begs for "one more minute" (and then I give in). He sees the stress of a difficult year on my face every time he chucks my phone across the room (.... and I do nothing about it).

He's on to me. He's got me hook, line and sinker. Dialed in. Putty in his hands....

And he's starting to take advantage.

Please refer to recent events, if you will:

For a week or so, right before lights out, Baby-Ko would turn over in his bed and say,

"Mommy, I want my dadddddddy."

Gulp. "I'm so sorry. I, I, I--- I know. It's okay," I said trying to hide the knife ripping my aorta. "Okay, my love. Mommy's here. Let me pat your tushy." (Yes, he likes his tushy patted.)

But, one minute turned into 5 minutes. 5 minutes turned in to 10 minutes. And 10 minutes turned in to missing 30 Rock, Lost, and Baby-Ko never having to sit in a shopping cart at the market for the rest of the week.

Surely, you didn't think ME working in the world of parenting meant *I* actually know what I'm doing, did you???

About a week later... before lights out....

"Mommy, I want my daddddddy."

"I know you want your daddy. I'm sorry you have sad feelings. We'll call him in the morning."

"But I sad."

"I'm sorry you're sad," I said trying not to think about the therapy fund that I should have set up for him in utero. "It's time to go night night, Baby-Ko. Go night night..."

...And eventually, with more tushy patting then a Major League Baseball Game, he fell asleep.

It took a few more nights, but then it hit. I got it ....

"Mommy, I just. I just so sad."

"Why are you so sad?"

"Because, because, I just. I just miss my daaaadddy."

"I know you miss your daddy. We'll call him in the morning. It's night night time."

"But, but. I just so sad."

"Why are you so sad?"

"Because, because, I just. I just miss my Mimi." (Mimi is my mom. His grandma. A woman he sees about 4 TIMES a week.)

"Okay, baby. We'll call Mimi in the morning. Go night night."

"But, but, I just so sad, mommy!" He said dramatically.

"Why. Why are you sad, Baby-Ko?" I asked trying to be patient.

"Because, because, I just. I just miss my Ash-a-wee." Um.... (Ash-a-wee is his babysitter. A woman he sees about 5 TIMES a week.... And had left just 2 hours prior.)

"Oooo-kay, Baby-Ko. I know you miss Ash-a-wee. Let's go to bed. Mommy is going out of here now," I said as I turned to the door.

"Mommy! Wait!" He screamed.

"Yes, Baby-Ko."

"I sad!"

"WHY. ARE. YOU. SAD?" I said doing my absolute best to exude patience.

"Because, because, I just. I just miss my sisters...."

"Your SISTERS???"

"Yeah. My sisters. I so sad."

"Good night, Baby-Ko," I said holding in my laugh and patting his tushy one last time before I left the room.

That night my only child slept through the night. And I finally caught on to him AND caught up on Lost.

DO AS I SAY, NOT AS I DO...

Have you ever been at the gym and seen a really unfit looking trainer and wondered where THAT person gets off telling THIS person how to get in shape? Well, between you and me, I think I’m "that unfit trainer" in the world of parenting. As the Managing Editor of Parents Ask, I have access to incredible experts, information, and answers—I have resources on how to/why to parent this way or that way at my fingertips. I hear it. I read it. I know it. Yet, in my own little world of all things cheerios and triple paste, I can’t say that I always look and act the part.

I. Am. The. Fat. Trainer. At. The. Gym.

Like, for example, when Baby-Ko decided to lie on the floor this morning kicking and screaming because I wouldn’t let him open my Lancome Eye Makeup Remover…(oh, you didn’t think I actually removed said makeup from my eyes the night before I was going to reapply to that exact area, did you???) I could have taken a deep parenting breath and pulled from one of my many manuals or mental files and addressed the situation, but instead I blanked out and pretty much stared at him. What was I supposed to do? Surely, ignoring it is one component, but there must be some other magic little trick that GOOD parents know about it, right?

Every now and again, however, I do have a stroke of parenting genius... Like yesterday, when we left a birthday party (and stole a nice Mylar balloon on our way out, clearly not intended as a parting gift)… Just as we got to the car, Baby-Ko let go of the balloon…

Up, up, UP it went…

“Oh, no, mommy! My Balloon! I want it!”

Just in the nick of time, just before an all-out fit erupted and I would have to start wracking my brain for a contact at NASA that might be able to help locate the balloon (because, shit, sometimes temper tantrums are just not that worth it), I said:

“Oh, Baby-Ko! You’re sending the balloon to another birthday party! That’s so nice!”

He looked at me. Please go for it.

“Another boy is going to have a balloon at his house too now!”
“Another boy?”
“Yeah.” Come on, little boy....

“Not Baby-Ko?”

“Not Baby-Ko. You were already at a birthday party. Let’s go home now,” I said trying to change gears… And it worked.

Later that evening, his Grandma came over and ironically, brought a Curious George book that has George letting go of balloons at a park. Proudly, Baby-Ko told us that George (pronounced "Yorge") was sending them to another birthday party too.

Hey, I done good.

The point is, like my friend Sarah Maizes of Mommylite, for most of us, good mommy moments are few and far between. However, on the slight chance that you do consider me an expert and someone with valuable information, I won’t discourage you from believing it or me…. There are some things I know. And at the very least, YOUR abs will be flat for the summer….

PARENTING: I COULD LEARN A THING OR TWO...

No matter how hard I try, my mornings with Baby-Ko are usually a little harried... especially when he wakes up at 5:36am ready to play doctor. (Oh, have I mentioned he likes to pretend that he works at a "Hop-tical" now?) Despite my attempts to have everything from food, to clothes to morning rituals laid out and planned ahead, there is one thing I have zero control over: his mood.

This morning: He. Was. In. A. Mood.

Gave him the play dough (reserved for his table/ but played with on the couch).
Gave him a lollipop (reserved for dinner/ but given before breakfast).
Gave him a basket of my old makeup (reserved for the bathroom/ but deposited somewhere I hope doesn't stain).

"What is wrong, Baby-Ko? I have to get ready and you have to go to school..."
"No. I don't want toooooooo," he whimpered.
"I know, I wish I could stay home today, but I can't. I have to go to work. I have to get ready my love."
"Pick MY up," he said.
"Pick you up? Okay..." I picked him up. He rested his head on my shoulder. "I have to get ready baby, I'm so sorry," I whispered.
"Mommy, BUH-LAX."
"Huh?"
"I want mommy buh-Lax. On the couch," he said matter-of-factly.
"You want mommy....? To what?"
"BUH. LAX. On the couch!" he said pointing.
I paused. What the eff is Buh-lax. A light bulb went off:
"You want mommy to RELAX????"
"Yeaaaaaaah," he said nuzzling in to my chest. "On the couch. Mommy cuddle."
I pause. Take it in. Remember that in 10 years, I will be yearning to Buh-Lax with him.
"Okay, baby. For a few minutes."
"Yeahhhhhh...."

For the next 5 minutes, we sat closely and stared into space. The traffic, the morning meetings, the coffee that was not yet in my system... It all could wait. We. Were. Buh-Laxing...

Can't wait to see what life lesson my very own parenting expert has in store for me tomorrow...