Parentally Devious

This time of year brings out a lot of memories. Every Thanksgiving I think about the year we ate at a cousin's still partly unfinished house. I don't remember many details, except that they had a lot more snow than had fallen at home, and the unfinished portion upstairs seemed much larger than it actually was, and full of potential. I have a permanent image in my mind of my uncle emerging from some mysterious place behind a wall (and by wall I mean frame without drywall). I'm sure it was actually quite ordinary, but in my mind I am still in awe of whatever went on there.

Some of the fondest memories involve decorations. For three months, our house was adorned with all sorts of extra holiday novelties. Among the October knicknacks were a wax ghost-in-a-pumpkin that smelled like happiness, and a spider that I can only describe as sharp. November included a pair of squirrels dressed as pilgrims and a cornucopia. December, of course was the most ornate month of all, with trees and lights and candles. Putting up decorations--especially Christmas decorations--was always the greatest thing imaginable. Once I came home from a friend's house to find all the Thanksgiving trinkets already in place because someone important (probably grandparents) was on their way. I still feel the heartbreak some 2 decades later.

There was one thing I never understood about the decorating process however: my mom always made us clean the house first.

Why, if we are putting a Christmas tree in the corner of the living room, do we have to clean the kitchen? It was a baffling riddle. Nevertheless, it happened pretty much every time. Today, at last, I fully realized the beauty of that arrangement.

Mogli was (is)  desperate to get Christmas underway. He began begging to get the tree out before he had even had breakfast. I explained to him that we needed to clean the family room so we had a place to put everything while we rearranged furniture and sorted through lights and decorations. About 5 minutes later it was done. Not wanting to lose any momentum, I told him he needed to get his room clean before we could do anything fun (standard practice). He went right to it without so much as a "whyyyy-uh?" (anything but standard).

In fact, he barely complained all day. I just had to find some way to connect a request to the prospect of a Christmas tree, and he couldn't get it done fast enough. He vacuumed Captain Hook's mess of muffin crumbs three times, the second and third without even being asked.

I shamelessly exploited that kid's desire to have a Christmas tree all day long. As a result, there is a tree in my house almost a week early. And I'm okay with both of those facts.

Pee

So Mogli fell asleep in the car on the way home tonight. Naturally, I carefully tucked him in when we got back and went about the business of getting to bed myself. About thirty minutes later I heard him get out of bed and walk down the hall and into my room. I assumed he needed to pee and was, as he often does, checking to see if he can get in our bed, and, upon hearing that he cannot, asking to be tucked in after he relieved himself. “I’m in hear bubby” I called to him. But then I heard the tell tale tinkling sound and guessed he would finish and climb in my bed and I would move him momentarily. Something about that tinkle just didn’t sound right though…

He was still standing at the scene when I walked in (but what he was doing can barely be described as standing). In front of him was a Spin magazine with Paramore on the cover that had previously been dropped there haphazardly. It–and the floor around it–was soaked in urine.

“What are you doing?”

Just an unfocused stare and another wobble in response.

*sigh* “Go get in bed bro.”

After another unfocused glance, he attempted to comply. He made it halfway down the hall before he forgot what he was doing and began wandering, ending up back by my side a moment later. My second attempt at sending him to bed only earned a quick circle, starting toward the door and coming back to where I was standing in a few uneven steps. I carried him to his bed, where he immediately resumed his deepest sleep without so much as a sigh to hint at his escapade.

I suppose we’ll never know if the magazine was just the first target he saw, the unfortunate bystander in the wrong place at the wrong time, or if he has simply decided he doesn’t like Paramore. Regardless, I’ll be on high alert any time he gets up in the middle of the night from now on.

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Now playing: Paramore - Decode
via FoxyTunes

Shots

I recently mentioned several unposted posts. One of them chronicled the adventures of Mogli's 4th birthday extravaganza. It involved Chuck-e-Cheese, seven hundred some odd tickets and the cheap toys purchased with them, cake, ice cream, grandparents, and lots and lots of balloons.




Along with turning four comes a doctor checkup. Being that his mother is a nurse,not to mention he's already had his share of emergency visits, he isn't afraid of doctor's offices the way many children are. In fact I dare say he was excited. He has backed off on the growing thing, only in the 84th height percentile, down some 10% or so from last year. He was declared fit as a fiddle, and the doctor told him he could have his kindergarten shots if he wanted them. He told the doctor that he quite likes shots, and yes he would appreciate having them post haste. No sense waiting around to get sick when such a fun thing as shots are available, right? He came home and showed me the dots on his leg and was just as pleased as could be!

Well, I went to class, he visited Grammy, and by the time I got home he was singing a whole new tune. It went something like "you can't pick me up or put me down or make me go to bed or let me stay up or give me a hug or let me go or stay here or go in the other room and I can't hold still or move because my shots hurt me too much."

Maybe next time he'll think twice

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Now playing: Wilco - Shot in the Arm
via FoxyTunes before volunteering for early medical treatment.

Awake

...is not a word that should ever describe a three year old at 2300 hours. Nevertheless it does mine. He wants to sleep in my bed because Mommy's at work. When he sleeps in my bed however, no matter the distance between us initially, he invariably rolls over and proceeds to kick me in his sleep. He inherited that trait from his mother.

Often when he doesn't want to go to bed I will strike a bargain with him; if you lay quietly for ten minutes and don't fall asleep you can have the drink of water you've been asking for, for example. Well he just tried a bargain of his own: I lay down two minutes and if I'm still awake I can get in your bed! So I countered: You lay down and when you fall asleep if your still awake then you can get in my bed. He thought that was a great idea, and I haven't heard a peep since.

CFR 2K9

This is a story. I met Mrs Candid in May. We became serious rather quickly, attending one another's family functions and so forth within weeks. Her mother's family gets together the first Sunday of each month for dinner. They also have a family reunion every year over Labor Day weekend. July and August of that first year it seemed to me that was all they talked about. By the time the reunion came around we had only been dating for just over 3 months, I didn't feel very comfortable yet even at the monthly dinner, and was quite intimidated by the thought of attending this reunion, so I didn't go. You would have thought I'd done something truly horrendous, like murdered the family dog.

I cannot express in writ what a big deal this weekend is. Family members who may as well be complete strangers the rest of the year all converge on this summer cow pasture in south west Wyoming, just like they have done for some 20 years. The trailers, tents, and tables are always in the same places; the meals are always the same; the activities don't change by any significant degree. Violation of any of these traditions is not taken lightly, punished by all but disowning the perpetrator. Like Christmas, the moment it ends the countdown to next year begins. This event is not to be taken lightly!

Fortunately I somehow managed to earn forgiveness for my truancy, and we were married the subsequent March. Leading up to the next reunion though I still had some misgivings.A candid conversation with my father-in-law one evening eased my concerns a great deal, and I went into my Labor Day adventure with only a little apprehension left. Still though, I couldn't understand why it was such a big deal to camp for a few days in an old cow pasture.

Then I got there.

A little background now. The reunion happens in a field that a great uncle leases for his cows, adjacent to the old family home and property built and developed under the homestead act around the turn of the century by Great Grandpa. It was lost in the early 30's due to financial troubles. It is also less than 15 miles from a youth camp where my family used to do reunions and many of my fondest childhood memories were made. In fact, it feels almost like it was more than a coincidence that we went somewhere so close.

I cannot express in writ how great this weekend is. My first experience was indeed overwhelming, but at the same time fantastic. I learned the history, went with Mogli on a few bear hunts, threw rocks in the river, and just relaxed. This year was even better. I was working up there anyhow, so I got there quite early, one of the first to arrive. I went with Grandpa and Grandma to a dinner where I saw an old friend who lives up that way. I even got a special historic tour of the region. The weekend passed quite quickly, but we found time to go to a nearby lake where my family always went when we were up there, but hers didn't even know about. I found a three point white tail shed. Stayed up to all hours of the morning and played my first ever complete game of Phase 10 (I've previously never made it passed Phase 5 before people got bored). Caught frogs and chased squirrels with Mogli and a couple cousins. Made a little ground figuring out who everyone is (I have no hope of ever really getting it straight). And of course went on a few bear hunts and threw LOTS of rocks in the river!

As I was packing things up to head home I was making a list of what to bring next year, and yes, beginning to count the days until next year.

I still don't, and likely never will, fully comprehend what makes this reunion such an extraordinary ordeal to the In-Law family, but I will say that I look forward to it almost as much as they do.

Almost.