Well, it was a good day here at Mer's Playhouse and when I say good, I mean we got a lot of sleep in. For some reason, Owen does like to sleep in our bed about as much as I do and if someone told me a story every time I laid down with them and also rubbed their back so very gently while they did it, I would think I had died and gone to heaven and I don't know that Owen feels quite that way about it but he does seem to accept nap time here.
Thank god.
And no, when he's asleep, I do not get up and go do things like laundry or dishes, I just go to sleep too.
I am no fool.
But when we weren't sleep, we were doing all of our regular things which these days includes a lot of Owen testing me and me trying to decide whether the issue is worth arguing about or not. Some things are, some things are not. For both of us.
I showed him the bag of Reese's Pieces and he was immediately pretty excited about that but when he heard that he'd have to poop or pee in the potty to get some, he was completely disinterested.
"No way," is what I believe he said.
I think he would have said, "No fucking way," had he known that word and I am just grateful as hell and a bit amazed at my restraint in not using the F-word around him that he does not. I had a friend once who said fuck approximately once a sentence and was shocked, SHOCKED I TELL YOU! that one of her daughter's first words was indeed that particular one. Anyway, Owen does not seem to know it yet and his strongest curse word so far is "heck" which I have reported here and he uses it like, "What HECK?!" This cracks me up.
Anyway, we had a good time playing with some strange citrus fruit that a friend brings us which is sort of like a cross between a grapefruit and a lemon and I never know what to do with them. He swears he eats one every morning but I just don't think I could. The juice would probably make delicious drinks of the alcoholic and -ade sort but I am not Martha Stewart. Today, however, the fruits and a box of nails were in proximity and Owen began to stick the nails into the fruit and he did that happily for about fifteen minutes while I read an article about Queen Elizabeth in the Vanity Fair magazine. Why not? And let me say this- Queen Elizabeth may be a tip-top monarch but she sure gave her children short-shrift. I guess it's hard enough to be a working mother, much less the Queen of England AND a mother and thank god for good nannies.
Another thing we did with the fruits was play catch. That was fun and then I showed Owen how to throw them into a pot where flowers used to be until they froze and the chickens ate them all and that was enjoyable too, especially since every time we threw them in there, Owen got them out and wiped them off carefully and earnestly before he threw them back to me which caused me to say, "Oh Owen, I love you so much!" and he looked at me as if I was insane and immediately quit wiping them off and we went on to something else.
And of course we gathered eggs and I actually did a tiny bit of weeding in the garden while Owen dug holes with a trowel but then he decided to help me and began to weed up my sweet little lettuces and so we left the garden but it was great while it lasted. He played on Bop's trailered four-wheeler and when I tried to remove the key from his hand he threw it on the ground and it took me approximately twenty minutes to find it, all the while saying things like, "Owen! Bop would not like this! Bop would be SO mad!" which did not disturb Owen one bit although he did get down and try to help me for about two seconds and then he said, "Mer do it," and climbed back on the four-wheeler.
I was relating all of this misbehavior to a friend of mine via the e-mail and he, the grandfather of two, wrote this back to me:
"Kids are brats, especially boys, and must be dragged into civil
behavior, if not beaten. Try thumping him with your finger, firmly on
the head , but be careful not to hurt your finger."
I found that comforting and will consider it, especially the next time Owen is fighting me about changing his diaper and kicks me in the ninny, which he did the other day. I doubt I will actually thump him but I will think about it. This friend raised three sons of his own and they have all grown up to be good boys and fine men and so I know he must be right although I wonder what his wife would have to say about this advice. She would probably look at him and give him that look which wives give to husbands but maybe not. Maybe she would agree. All I know is that Bop is far less apt to accept behavior which I tolerate which is why it's a good thing for children to have grandfathers as well as grandmothers.
Of course Owen redeemed himself about fifty times and not just by wiping the grapefruit-oranges clean but with hugs and kisses and "pleases" and "thank-yous" and general clever and angelic behavior when he wasn't being a terror.
Here is a picture of that very same Sweet Wild Boy and the chickens:
He was sharing his apple with them, especially his best chicken-friend, Elvis.
His mama called and asked if we could spare some eggs to send home with Owen and here he is, holding the carton we got ready:
He did not break a one.
And while we're doing pictures, here's one for Michele R who wanted a picture of the gray cats:
Luna (top) and Ballsy, the one-eyed-fattest-feral-cat-in-the-world.
In a last and completely non-related topic, I would like to pass on a link which I think may be better than Ativan for feelings of anxiety and self-doubt. Hank has been telling me about this radio show forever and I'm always, "Yeah, yeah, yeah," but today he said, IT IS TIME! and so I went and listened to one of the archived shows and I'm not even going to try and describe it but if you are feeling stressed out and need the comfort of a good, southern voice talking about spirituality and puppy-murdering (not really!), I suggest you check out The Miracle Nutrition Show With Hearty White.
Hank just finished his last final of his first semester back at college and of course he got all A's and he's going to go eat a burrito and drink some margaritas tonight and I am SO PROUD OF HIM! Meanwhile, I am going to go cook some stir fry and brown rice and hopefully, Mr. Moon has found his phone in the woods which he lost yesterday and will come home soon with that and maybe even a deer.
Life is full of wonder and if you have nothing at all to do, go ahead and stick some nails in a citrus fruit while listening to Hearty White and get back with me on how that works out for you.
Love...Ms. Moon
This is one of my favorite posts in quite a while.
ReplyDeleteDTG- I am channeling Hearty White. I wonder if he would like me to do his radio show since he is no longer doing it. I think I could.
ReplyDeleteMy 6 year old Jonah often tells me, when I'm having a mental breakdown in Target or the grocery store BECAUSE I HATE PEOPLE "Mom, don't say "fuck." Say "I'm frustrated." Having been a preschool teacher and nanny before became a college professor, I was afraid Jonah would be one of THOSE kids, the swearing kind. However, it appears he's going to be a Republican or something (okay,probably not that, as that is too awful to imagine, and what Republican tells his father "two mens can get married, Dad. Love is love, why can't you understand that?").
ReplyDeleteYou are such a joy to read this finals week (well, you're always a joy to read, actually). And hooray for DTG and those As! You can't imagine how grateful I am for smart and engaged students.
Man, would I love a day at "Mer's Playhouse", feeding chickens and pretend riding tractors and stickin' nails in fruit.
ReplyDeleteActually I'm going to go stick toothpicks in oranges so that I can shove cloves in them...love that smell, but I think I'll listen to the radio guy first - thanks for the fun.
Thanks for the gray cats photo! Gave me a big smile! I forgot about the feral one. he sure is well fed! And what lovely coats they have.
ReplyDeleteAnd oh how I love that photo of Owen holding court with Elvis and the Chickens.
Sara- Thanks for that beautiful and funny comment. I love your son. If he does grow up to be a Republican, I will still love him.
ReplyDeleteliv- Enjoy!
Michele R- That fat boy is something, isn't he? You should see the balls on that cat. And he is all muscle.
God. I was so ready to detest Hearty White.
ReplyDeleteDo you think he needs a girlfriend?
It would seem to me that Owen has a bit of his mama's stubborn streak. That makes me laugh.
ReplyDeleteI could read you all day long. I have love all of your post, you do have a way with words. Your blog name is fitting you do bless my heart.
ReplyDeleteLove reading your adventures with a 2 year old! They are wild and crazy creatures. Congrats to Hank, and I will listen to that radio show sometime soon because anxiety--it is my middle name.
ReplyDeleteLovely post. Congrats to DTG.
ReplyDeleteI want a burrito :/
Rubye Jack- When Hank tells me I will like something, I always do. I don't know if he needs a wife. I was just thinking he might need a sister.
ReplyDeleteOmgrrrl- You think? Ha!
Shadow- That is one of the sweetest things anyone has ever said to me. Thank-you so much and please, come back often.
Lora- It's as unpredictable as a two-year old.
Jo- Sometimes I get on a roll, don't I?
Ballsy the one-eyed fattest feral cat in the world entrances me. I have a houseful of dogs and I am really a cat lover.
ReplyDeleteMary LA- I have a houseful of dogs too and although I am not a cat LOVER, I would rather have them than dogs. So much less needy.
ReplyDeleteI just love the picture of Owen sharing his apple with the chickens.
ReplyDeleteAnd he's a stinker - seems like he's normal to me :)