Superheroes. Not Pirates.

Posted on September 24, 2012 by ashersmom

According to my 5-year-old, there is a profound difference between superheroes and pirates.

So much so, that they may not be stored together in a ziplock baggie.

I’m not much of a boy, so I’ve never really thought about it a lot.

But I do know one thing.

Superheroes did not do this to my family room.

And so, much to my chagrin, because I can’t stand banging my head against the wall – and if cleaning up after kids isn’t banging your head against the wall, I don’t know what is — we gathered together on Sunday morning to ~~put things up for 30 seconds before my kid started scattering them around again~~ clean up.

And I figured, as long as we’re diving into the disaster area, we might as well do it right.

“Stop!” I said to hubs as he tossed an armload of crap into the toy box.

“Let’s put this ~~shit~~ stuff where it’s supposed to go for once.”

So we started actually SORTING toys.

There’s a snake in my boot. And a woody in my box.

Toy Story stuff with Toy Story stuff.

Cars with trucks.

Plastic kitchen food with what I hope is plastic kitchen food.

After about ten minutes, I noticed that Ash had started his own categories.

The kind of categories that can only come from a 5-year-old mind.

And, of course, superheroes.

So I started to add things to his organizational piles, unnoticed.

But then I put some pirate figures into the Superhero bag.

Within seconds, he found a rogue Spiderman and scampered over to toss it in the bag with 18 other various superheroes ~~I’ve never heard of that he’s obsessed with and this is what it’s like to be the mom of boys when you come from a family of all girls~~.

He placed him inside, saw the pirates and said emphatically, “PIRATES??? NO!!!!!”

Then threw Captain Jack Sparrow and his two marauding comrades back on the floor where all nonsuperheroes belong.

So I made him signs for his fantastical categories.

Because I knew this was something we needed to remember.

And because I like the way he thinks.

Categories can be weird things.

I started off thinking this post was gonna be snarky.

Instead it turned out all squishy.

Oh well.

I’ll let the post be what the post wants to be.

That’s the kind of mom I am.

Milestones

Posted on September 17, 2012 by ashersmom

Current milestones at our home:

A, Age: 5

Started kindergarten

Didn’t get kicked out of kindergarten. Fingers crossed, 4 weeks in.

Decided of his own volition to start calling me by my first name instead of mommy, which puts me in danger of having an Amber Alert taken out on me. Especially when he screams things in public like, “I don’t wanna go with you, Toulouse. Leave me alone!”

M, Age: somewhere in the 5 1/2 – 8 month range; No, i didn’t steal him from a hospital delivery room – he’s a preemie. Serious preemie.

Sitting up when propped on his hands. Looks like chimp. Darwinists, debate.

Has achieved Olympic levels of sharting. Score 10. Times a day.

No longer has a heart monitor.

Toulouse, Age: are you kidding me?

No longer pees on self when laughing. Most of the time.

Wore pair of pre-pregnancy jeans out of house. Barely concealed muffin top.

Drove speed limit today. One way.

G, Age: Younger than me, older than the kids.

Is up to listening to 17% of things I say to him that don’t involve the words “sex,” “boob” and “money.”

The Last Day of School. Not.

Posted on September 14, 2012 by ashersmom

Last day of school? Not so much.

Asher’s been in kindergarten for a few weeks now and although he seems to like it and be doing well, a new theme seems to be appearing at pick-up time.

He jumps into the car, tells me about whatever book they’ve sent home with him, how many drops he got (don’t ask me, it’s some kind of behavior report) and then says, “Is this the last day of school?”

Ummm, no.

Not even close.

I’m not sure if this is some kind of residual from going to camps over the summer, where each one ended after a week or two or not.

But either way, he’s in for a rude awakening.

Speaking of awakening, now he says, “I wanna go back to bed” when he gets up in the morning.

To his credit, it’s completely dark outside.

And I wanna go back to bed too.

After requesting to go back to bed, he then generally says, “I don’t wanna go to school anymore.”

But the funny thing is I think he really enjoys it.

And one thing I know for sure, learning looks good on him.

So when he asks me if it’s the last day of school, I try to just emphasize the fact that the weekend is coming.

Something tells me that saying, “Yeah, buddy, in about 17 years…if we’re lucky.” might not be the most prudent answer.

It’s all about timing.

What Happened At School Yesterday. Or The Difference Between What’s Real and What’s Pretend.

Posted on August 21, 2012 by ashersmom

Asher had his first day of kindergarten yesterday. Very, very unexpectedly.

He seemed pretty okay with it.

In fact, for a kid that loves the word “no,” he never once expressed any negative emotion about leaving his preschool, which he thought he was going to until a few days ago, and heading to an entirely new, unknown, scary place.

But I was riddled with anxiety.

Before, during and after.

When I picked him up, he seemed fine.

In fact, he flashed me this (somewhat forced) smile in the car on the way home.

He couldn’t wait to show me his homework folder and pulled it out of his backpack immediately.

And he started talking about his “senses,” which they’d learned in class that day.

He even wanted to do his homework.

(As an aside. this much homework in kindergarten? Geez. What happened to duck, duck, goose.)

So I breathed a sigh of relief.

Then we got home, had a snack and I asked him about his day.

Reluctantly.

Because this child has his mother’s dislike for conversation.

The usual answer is, “I don’t want to talk about my day.”

But, for once, he actually was somewhat forthcoming.

At school, they wear uniforms. Asher was in a green shirt and the requisite khaki bottoms.

I asked if everyone was dressed like him.

He told me no. In fact, some were in white shirts.

He continued on to tell me his favorite part of the day was recess (no duh!), that he’d used a computer at school and they had headphones for their computers and that we should get some too because then it was quiet for everyone else but he could hear. (Good idea, little man).

And after a few more comments about his day that I THINK were real, he proceeded to tell me that they had a jumpy house at school (not), a fire on the playground (i think not), that a fire engine came and put it out, and that the REAL Perry the Platypus came to visit them.

Ahem.

So we had a little talk about Pinocchio and the growing nose and the telling of the truth and what’s pretend and what’s real and how, while it’s awesome to pretend and have an imagination, one must always tell one’s mommy what it real and what is not.

Then he flashed me a mischievous grin.

And once again, I was reminded of my parents’ wish for me whenever I was being obstinate (all the time), naughty (some of the time) or precocious (moi?): that I should one day have a child who would give this all back to me in due measure.

Plus some.

Mom. Dad. Consider yourself avenged.