I know I am the first to complain about being a parent, how tiring it is, and how absolutely frustrating, infuriating and baffling it can be. But, it is also one of the most awesome things I get to do. Here are a few of the highlights, or what I like to think of as the primary reasons I don’t murder myself.
How fast can you go?
They have installed a solar powered radar on our street that displays your speed as you drive by. If you are over the speed limit, a sad face is also displayed, if you are under the speed limit, there is some congratulatory expression thanking you for being a decent human being and not driving recklessly in both a residential and school zone.
A few weekends ago, Crazy was on his scooter and went flying by this stretch of the road (on the sidewalk of course), and registered 12 km per hour. There were no cars, this really was my crazy son. This morning we went for a walk, but didn’t make it too far because Hubby and Crazy took turns running down the sidewalk as fast as they could over this stretch to see how fast they could run. Crazy had a personal best of 10 km/h, and Hubby 20 km/h. Note: if you run on the right most side of the sidewalk, the radar doesn’t see you. This was the sad lesson Hubby had to learn when he gave it his all in a final attempt to break into the 20s.
How will Santa get to us?
I am a huge fan of everything Christmas, except actual Christmas Day ( for another post). I have managed to get Crazy into the same kind of crazy Christmas mood as myself. He and I have read Christmas books, made decorations and watched wonderful Christmas movies pretty much since his birthday mid-November. This past week however, he was quite concerned about the fact that we have no fireplace, and so there was no way for Santa to get to us. To right this wrong, all four of us sat down and made one (I am sucking Hubby and Squishy into my Christmas decorating frenzy as well – queue evil laugh).
Life’s harder lessons
Crazy, Squishy and I were outside on our tennis courts yesterday (yes, my apartment may be the size of a match book, but we do live in a residence with tennis courts), alternately running, playing football (ahem, soccer), and riding the variety of devices I had pulled out of the garage – bikes, scooters, strollers. Both suddenly stopped in their tracks as an airplane flew overhead. I am, afterall, raising two little aerospace engineers – just like their parents – so every time a helicopter, airplane and sometimes birds are within eyeshot or earshot, everything else is forgotten, and the pair of them stare in wonder. As the plane was flying by, Squishy suddenly started jumping, and by jumping, I mean bending her legs and pushing herself up while one or both feet remain on the ground. I thought she was excited to see the airplane until she suddenly stopped, dropped her shoulders and said, “I can’t catch it”. I got a huge mother of a cuddle after that disappointment.
I hear ya sister
Squishy has always been very strong at communication. Even before she could speak, she was very well understood by those around her. Now, she is trying so hard to develop language; she listens to everything and she repeats almost everything she hears. She is even pretty good at understanding the meaning of most words. She has a vocabulary of several hundred words in two languages. Beyond all that, she is incredibly patient with Hubby and me; we don’t always understand what she says. When that happens, she always turns to the only living soul who gets her without fail, her brother. She repeats whatever word or phrase she has been trying to say to us and he will translate it for us. This is often done with rolled eyes or annoyance in his voice, not because Squishy came to him for help, but because his parents are such complete tools.
All in all, my kids are pretty damn cool, especially right now, because they are sleeping.