This month has been rough with everyone being sick. Both you and Liv had high fevers that lasted for days and made you both irritable, tired and unpredictable. On one particularly rough day, you were just not content. You were constantly whining and crying about every little thing. Yes, you do this anyway but when you’re sick, this behavior is just amplified. Deciding you needed some fresh air, we took a walk to the park where you did fairly well until it was time to walk home and you threw yourself on the ground proclaiming that you just couldn’t go on. We took a break at the bench where you flopped around like a dead fish whining that you were tired and your head hurt and your feet were itchy, blah blah blah.
We returned home where you asked for a full lunch–bagel with peanut butter, sliced apples, a cheese stick, yogurt and animal crackers. I’m preparing your lunch as fast as I can while you roll around at my feet crying that you’ve never been hungrier and you just might die from being so famished. I sit you down in front of your huge lunch where you poke at it for a bit before announcing that you’re just too tired and need to take a nap. Whoa. Something is seriously wrong when you refuse to eat. That’s like me turning down chocolate or your dad turning down alcohol–won’t happen unless we’re actually vomiting at the moment someone is offering us either of those things.
You nap on the couch for a solid couple hours which is unheard of these days. I receive an important call while you’re resting which as a result, requires me to go to the bank pronto to take out a very important cashier’s check and run it over to an office before we pick up Liv from school. I quickly awake you where you sob and whine that you’re too tired–just leave me alone! You feel warm and immediately I can tell that you’ve come down with something. Unfortunately, I have to get to the bank asap. While you’re crying, I manage to push you into the car against your will. As I’m speeding en route to the bank, you continue to moan and cry that your head hurts. As I pull into the parking lot, I hear,
I’m starting to throw up!
NO, YOU’RE NOT!
Yes, I am! I’m throwing up!
I’m pleading with you to hold on for two seconds as I try to find a parking space. As I’m parking, I notice a bewildered woman wandering in the parking lot and because bad luck is on my side that afternoon, I make eye contact with her which is not at all what you want to do when you’re dealing with crazy-eyed people.
I jump out of the car to prevent you from permanently making the inside of my car smell like the depths of Hell and at the same time I see this woman approaching me. She walks up asking me if I have a moment to hear about why she needs help. Listen, perhaps you’re the one who needs to listen why I need help. I might of yelled back at her saying something like, “I’ve got no time. VOMIT!” She stood there for a few moments wondering if that meant I’ll think about it. She must of gotten the clue when I threw open the car door and your shrill screams blanketed the parking lot. After she descended upon the next victim, I was able to get you to calm down with a few helpful deep breaths. Once you seemed stable and vomit-free, we went into the bank.
I’m holding you as we make our way in but once I get talking to the teller, I need to set you down so I can free up my hands. You don’t want to stand so you lay at my feet making moaning sounds. Strangers around me are starting to take notice. The teller is moving a bit slow for my liking but the only thing I can do is be patient and remain hopeful that we can exit before you lose it again. Your moaning is starting to get a little louder and now I’m hearing a little bit more crying. She’s just about done when I hear you crying, “I’m throwing up!” Seriously, the teller will be done in thirty seconds and I can’t leave this transaction. Not sure what to do so I stand you up and kind of hold your head back in the off chance that maybe what ever is coming up will go back down. The teller with a giant smile asks, “would he like a lollipop?!” Good God, no! Give me my money, woman! Finally we’re done and again I hear, “I’m throwing up!” With one hand on your back pushing you outside and the other hand pushing back on your forehead, we rush outside where I push your head into a planter where finally you do your business. Customers are walking past as you’re making all the sounds in a freshly planted floral display. Good day, strangers! Nothing to see here.
Minutes later, I feel a little tug at my pants and I look down to see a giant smile on your face. With both hands on your stomach, you announce, “I feel much better now. Can I have some fruit snacks?” I’m going to find crazy eyes so you two can help each other out.
Your first official little league season is just about to wrap up and I’m happy to report that you played catcher recently without whining and sulking. You must have been feeling extra peppy that day because you decided to slide home at every at-bat. I guess the fear of getting your uniform dirty is a thing of the past.
We recently attended little league day at the Oakland Coliseum that included pre-game activities in the parking lot which basically involved a couple throwing games, a few bouncy houses and loads of advertisements. Included in little league day was an opportunity to walk around the field before the game started. We thought this would be an awesome experience for you to partake in so dad agreed to take you on field as Liv and I cheered for you from the stands. Apparently everyone else had the same idea because you were roughly one of one thousand who showed up for little league day. Given your dad had just run Bay to Breakers just before arriving at the stadium and then had to carry you through the stadium, he was done and vowed never to participate in little league day at the coliseum again. Hope you enjoyed yourself.
You’re a loud little terror that barrels through life and I often forget how simple and boring my life was before you came. You certainly make mundane tasks like going to the bank more interesting. Let’s also not forget how paranoid I am when using a public restroom–you with one hand on the lock, prepared to open it when you’ve deemed that I’ve officially taken too long and you’re ready to move on. You have an amazing surplus of energy that makes anyone suffer immeasurably when you don’t get enough physical activity. You have started asking dad if you can go on runs with him at the end of the day. On one particular evening, dad took you and Olivia out and to your father’s surprise, you booked it up a hill with no intention of stopping. Once you returned, you still wanted to run so we had you do a couple sprints up the court. After a few makeshift races, you finally announced you were tired. HALLELUJAH!
The Livermore library recently held a Star Wars celebratory day which included various activities like make your own lightsaber, Jedi training, a scavenger hunt and an opportunity to meet Darth Vader and the Storm Troopers. You were stoked. You have actually told me that the sole reason you want to return to Disneyland is so you can shake Darth Vader’s hand. “I like his work” were your exact words. We arrive at the festivities and immediately upon entering the room, you see Darth Vader and the Storm Troopers and you immediately decide not to meet them this time. In all honesty, they were rather large individuals with very realistic costumes complete with heavy breathing and large weaponry. You wanted nothing to do with them or the other kids who came dressed up. I came close to having you take a picture with a nine year old dressed as Darth Vader but you ultimately decided you wanted to do the arts and crafts instead.
As we were leaving, you decided you were ready to meet your hero. Unfortunately, it had appeared that the characters decided to call it a day because there was no one to be found. You were bummed and I felt bad because apparently all you needed was time. As we’re about to leave, in walks the entire cast and your moment of shining glory returned. You were nervous but walked up and shook the man’s hand. You appeared a little taller and were certainly proud of yourself for having had worked up the courage to meet them. One of the most adorable moments I have witnessed appeared shortly after this meeting. As we’re leaving the library and approaching the automatic doors to exit, you run up ahead of us and moved your hand in the air to the right as if to use “the force” to open the doors. Once the doors opened, you turned to us with a giant smile and announced, “I’m a Jedi!” You’re adorable is what you are.
A perk of being a parent is enduring all of life’s crazy moments with you. I particularly like the moments at night when you’re sleeping, for obvious reasons, but I love taking just a few minutes each night just to watch you sleep. In those moments I’m content because you’re at peace. I’m not worried about you vomiting in public or jumping off a rock that is way too high for my comfort level. I watch you and just take you all in. Unfortunately for you, sometimes you catch me and I startle the hell out of you. You suffer a brief moment of panic and I’m ok with that. Again, perks of being a parent. Sweet dreams.