I have a very weary soul.I guess you could say I’ve been a bit stressed the past couple days (my stressors are both technical and human)-I should be exclaiming "So hum" (I am that) and enjoying time with my family, but I’m muttering "Ho hum" and secretly hoping for some peace. Writing is just one of the ways I use to deal with all of this, and the other is cheesecake, but since cheesecake keeps my tummy gummy, I’ll stick with the writing (at least for tonight.)Just be prepared for a pretty jumbled post…
I am also realizing that my son’s little mind is a vast array of disjointed thoughts and unanswered questions, and the more time I spend with him, the more confused I get. I can’t quite figure out if he wants answers to his questions or not, even though he does ask me directly-it’s almost if he needs to ask the questions so that he can formulate his own answers, and our discussions have me going, "Huh?" Okay, here are some excerpts of a few of our conversations this past week:
I was getting ready to take the kids to the movies Friday afternoon when my son started asking or um, telling me about time.
"Mom, how long will the movie take?"
"The movie is an hour and a half, so if it starts at 1:55 it will be over around 3:30."
"Oh, so it will be half an hour."
"No, it’s an hour and a half."
"Okay." He sits and watches me get ready for a few minutes then says, "So if it’s a half hour it will be thirty minutes long since a half hour is thirty minutes."
I stared at him with my mouth hanging open and my brain went, "Huh?" Then my brain told me I wasn’t going to get anywhere with this one, so I numbly nodded my head in agreement. (Sometimes it’s best not to pursue that which cannot be pursued…)
Here’s another equally puzzling exchange that took place in the car. We were driving down the road in silence (a rarity I assure you) when my son asks me a question.
"Mom, who’s that lady who was born in the 1900s but died in 2000?"
"You know, the one who lived in the 1900s." And then my brain went, "Huh?"
Now being quite schooled in history, my daughter pipes up, "Is it Betsy Ross?"
So someone needs a little refresher when it comes to American history, but she was trying to help, so I just said, "I’m pretty sure she died quite a long time ago since she lived during the American Revolution."
My daughter was relentless, "What about Susan B. Anthony?"
My son was elated, "Yes, that’s her. Didn’t she make the American flag or something?"
Okay, history isn’t a big thing with my son either.
"She was a suffragette."
My son wasn’t letting this one go. "She suffered from what?"
"She was one of the first women suffragettes," (I was sort of a proud that I knew the answer to this one) "and she fought for women’s rights."
"But how did she suffer?"
Well, how am I supposed to know that? So I gave a decidedly sophisticated answer, "I don’t know," and my brain once again told me to just let it go… (I'll Google it later.)
My son’s thinking is not the only thing that puzzles me-his behavior these days has been unique. He develops these little habits, and one he started doing this week is "pretend" crying, making these breathless, whimpering noises whenever I tell him to do something. And when I tell him to do anything, his immediate response is, "No," and it’s aggravating, as, well, you know... The consequence for the first sign of a whimper or a no answer is to lie down on his bed until I say he can get up-and for a guy who doesn’t take naps or likes to sleep in general, this is torture, so I’m hoping he stops this soon (at least before daddy has a coronary!)
And let’s get back to the black hole, otherwise known as her room. Do you know where she finds most of her lost items? In her bed! We're talking pencils, items of clothing, you name it and she sleeps alongside it every night, and my brain once again goes, "Huh?"
I had wanted to add my husband in here as well, but he keeps looking over my shoulder, my neck is stiff, and it’s getting late so I will leave off issues with him for now. Sorry about the length of this post but I did warn you. Wish me luck as I add the stress of packing to my long list of stressors. Goodnight everybody!