Persuading a Toddler

I find that my children are full of contradictions.  Malachi could sit for hours in front of the tv without moving a muscle, but he also jumps at the chance to go outside and play.  Izzy, on the other hand, can't sit still for more than a few minutes, and yet he never seems to want to go outside.  Malachi always wants him to come out and play with him, and I always want him to go out so I can have some peace.  Malachi and I will both try to convince him and the conversation will go something like this (as a side note, Izzy can talk a lot, but in the tradition of toddlers, his favorite word still seems to be "no"):

Me, "Izzy, don't you want to go outside?"
"No!"
Me, "Don't you want to go play hockey with Malachi?"
"No!"
Malachi, "Izzy, you want to come outside and see the airplane swing?"
"No!"
Me, "I bet Malachi would push you in the airplane swing if you went outside...."
"No!"
Malachi, "Izzy, do you want to go see the ship (a fort of sorts that Malachi built)?"
"No!"
Me, "You want to go out and ride your trike with Malachi?"
"No!"
Malachi is now tired of trying to persuade him nicely and tries threatening him with something like this, "Izzy!  If you don't go outside you're getting a spanking and you'll never see your blankie again and then you'll die!"
Izzy is not moved.  "No!"

In the end, I bribe him with a cookie.

The Airplane Swing

Sometimes I don’t feel like I’m that great of a mom. I find myself short tempered, tired, and wishing I was somewhere else—or maybe that the kids were somewhere else…like the moon. I don’t get to spend time with the boys individually very often, but every once in a while I do get that opportunity.

Recently, I had that opportunity with Izzy. The day was chilly, but clear, and the sun was shining. Izzy wanted me to push him in our red plastic airplane swing, which is, without contest, the highlight of the dilapidated swingset we’ve inherited from someone. I think I pushed him on that swing for half and hour straight—he was having such a good time! We talked about how we liked trees, and I tried to explain that he was going to have a cousin soon, that Aunt Katie had a baby in her tummy. He said he wanted a baby in his tummy, so then I tried to explain that boys don’t have babies in their tummies, but that maybe someday his wife could have a baby and he could be a daddy. Which led to talking about his daddy and how he likes his daddy (this can also lead to conversations like, “He’s my daddy. Not yours.”) I told him that his daddy loves him and would love to be there pushing him on the swing if he could, but that he had to work. Toward the end, he just wanted to enjoy the ride, and he told me, “Mommy, say ‘woohoo!’” So I pushed him and said “woo hoo!” and he would “woo hoo!” back like my little echo, and it was just pure joy on his face.

While he was swinging, I was thinking, “I hope this is what he remembers.” I hope they remember the times I pushed them on the airplane swing. I hope they remember when I read books to them and sang to them or spun them in the living room. I hope they will remember those times, instead of when I lost my temper or had no patience and yelled at them or told them “no” for the fifteenth time when they asked me to do something with them.

Realistically, I know they will remember both, the good times we have, and the bad ones, but I hope, and pray, that the good moments will outshine the bad ones.



Later, I was zipping Izzy’s coat for him to go outside and wrapping him in a scarf when he asked, “Am I superhero?”
“Definitely,” I said.

Saturday Morning

Saturday Morning

6:22 am

My son all jittery

He knows that this should be a day that Daddy is home

But Daddy is working

“Let’s go downstairs” he whispers loudly

I turn on the TV and get him a “snack”

It consists of apples, cheese, and mini berry-flavored rice cakes

Go feed baby

Come back and eat oatmeal

Attempt to curl up on the couch and sleep

“Not today!”

This is his internal mantra, I think

Periodically, he jumps on me, just as I am drifting off

He leans his face into mine and breathes on me

“Don’t do that.”

Brief respite, and then

A strange, loud, nonsensical utterance

“Be quiet, Mommy is trying to rest.”

He gives up…sort of

He begins to pick up all his toys, which means he loudly throws things into the toy box, causing me to wonder what in the world he is doing

He’s cleaning?!?

I feel guilty, so I go and finish gluing these little animal crafts we started the other day

The glue it came with didn’t work

Neither did super glue, unbelievably

It’s time for the hot glue gun

Third time’s a charm

He is happy

He wants to use the squirrel as a hockey puck for the other animals

I guess that’s the difference between little boys and little girls

Wake up, son number 2

“You want some bamanas?”

(Yes, I said bamanas)

Yes, no, yes, no

He’s two, he has no idea, or can’t express it

Right now he screams at me for giving him what he asked for

“It’s just a phase”

I tell myself

“Mommy can you make us a tent like you did yesterday?”

Chairs and blankets and the couch and the doors from our armoire that were beginning to come off anyway

A little lamp so they can see to “read” their books

“Mommy, I don’t really like this tent. I like the one from yesterday.”

Some thanks I get

10 o’clock

It’s only ten o’clock?

Saturday morning