Fears

Buzz has begun this insane fear of storms.  I say insane because I cannot recollect a recent traumatic event in which he would have grown such a fear.  I say insane also because storms have become a major obsession with him. 

When I am checking the important events of my day, I mean reading my favorite blogs, he interrupts every 3.2 seconds to ask to see the Doppler radar for the area.  He is well versed in the red color boxes (tornado warnings) and yellow boxes (severe thunderstorm warnings).  He has asked about the different colors in the Doppler so often that he can explain it better to my parents than I can. 

He also has issues with wind.  If he sees so much as one leaf flutter he is in full panic mode, with wide eyes, and is asking when the wind will end and if there is a tornado nearby.  He frequently asks about floods.

There are nights in which he refuses to go to sleep even though he was droopy eyed over his mashed potatoes one hour prior to bedtime.  He has been up with us until 10pm, which in my mommy eyes is way too late especially since it is cutting in to my DadOfAllTrades time.

 

I am truthfully not sure how to handle this.  DadOfAllTrades and I have tried a few things: 

1. Humor him and fire up the Doppler radar sites. 

2. Borrow books regarding weather and it’s causes from the library.  

3. Ignore and blow off. 

4. Explain calmly that we have never seen a tornado in all our combined 84 years even though we have seen many a storm.  

Frankly we are running out of resources and the fear has not subsided in any way.  While it has not gotten worse in the midst of this tornado season, it has not subsided and it appears he has not learned the science we are trying to teach him (like it must be a hot day for a severe thunderstorm, not a day where one must wear a sweatshirt because they are shivering.)

So, I know that tonight I will be glancing googly-eyed at the computer screen while Buzz is up late once again to wait for the storm to pass.  Sigh…another season of motherhood to learn to enjoy.

Buying a new car, er…truck

DadOfAllTrades has never owned a new vehicle.  He has happened upon many a car from an uncle, friend or acquaintance without so much as a whisper of car-based inquiry.  And he likes it that way.

Since he can work on everything engine related, used cars don’t scare him.  The only thing he does not like is having to fix gas line problems, so he farms those out.  But all in all, he has maintained our fleet superbly.  It is a relief to know that once I hear a funny noise, the problem will be fixed asap.  I may have to drive his car for a day or two while he works on mine, but we do not have to hand over the keys for an expensive repair.  This fabulous skill is why we have not had a car payment in over 7 years.

This winter we had a random conversation regarding our fleet and I mentioned that the next vehicle he buys, or happens upon as it may, needs to be able to tow.  We want to take the aluminum rowboat to the local reservoir to fish and one cannot do that with a Honda Accord.  We had also discussed using this year as a camping year- borrowing SIL’s pop-up camper and making a cheap week out of vacation time.  This being agreed, he began a hunt for the perfect truck.

He is the type that will mention something and then appear to have forgotten.  I don’t think I heard the word “truck” from his lips again until April, and I was afraid that June would roll around and we would have to tow the camper to Michigan with our own legs. 

But he tells me that he was busy asking his work buddies about the trucks they were driving and the trucks they had owned.  He was perusing the AutoTrader website while I was at karate.  So he begins looking for a used truck, one of the small to mid-size variety.  Like a Toyota Tacoma.  He felt we needed an extended cab with a decent amount of legroom as the boys cannot ride legally in the bed of the truck, and they are not getting any smaller.  He searches the dealership websites diligently behind my back.

So he asks friends for car salesmen names and heads out one Tuesday after work.   In the course of four hours he has driven three trucks and received three quotes.  Brave man.  After putting foot to pedal, he claims he likes the bigger truck better.  Hmm.  We discuss the options that night after the boys are in bed.  How would life be with only two vehicles?  What in the world? you ask?  DadOfAllTrades likes to have a contingency plan by having an extra vehicle to drive if one of the fleet goes down.  Buying a new truck would mean trade-ins and not having a back-up-plan.  It may mean having to rent a car if mine breaks.  I am ok with that.

DadOfAllTrades heads back out the next night with the other possibility of trade-in and stuns the salesmen.  If, with the trade-ins and whatever rebates, they can get the price down to a specific dollar amount, then they have sold a truck.  He says they stared at him for a long 5 seconds then got to their feet and started running.   It was fun for him to watch them make the deal happen.   Two hours and many texts later he signed on the dotted line! 

We now own this masculine baby:

I want to name him Tito, or maybe Vincent,  like a mafia name, but DadOfAllTrades says “No names”. 

Darn buzz kill.

The Coast is NOT Clear

I live in an area I have started calling “Couburbs”.  Not quite country, not quite suburbs.   A decade ago, it was all farms.  Now it is more houses, albeit they are further apart than the McMansions in some other newer cities.  Most folks around here own 3-plus acres so we DO have neighbors; we are just not close enough to smell what they are cooking for dinner.

 

There are a few farms left, though.  In several different plots surrounding us are the corn fields of a dairy farm, which is roughly 2 miles away from us.  The boys call it the “stinky cow farm” because one can tell we are driving past it just by the stench.  It is commonly used as a landmark between them: “Are we home yet?”  “Yeah-we are by the stinky cow farm.”

In the fall we can hear the combines harvesting the corn.  In the spring we can hear the tractors plowing and seeding.  It is kinda like a huge circle of feed for life that we get to see/hear every year.

The part that is not so cool is the fact that they spread the muck on the corn fields when they can.  If you have never been in the middle of a rotten egg, you cannot appreciate the truly world-claiming odor that comes from a cow.  As much as I like flinging open the windows in the spring to let in the fresh air, I first open the back door to see if "the coast is clear" on an olfactory level.  Our first year here I made the mistake of wanting to air out the house and got a face full of the odor.  The house smelled for days.

Guess what I woke up to this morning?  The coast is not clear…

Master of the Funny

My Buzz is a curious, talkative kinda guy.  He has kept me on my toes with his endless questions of topics like volcanoes and tornadoes. But the one thing he does that I like the most is his mixing up of words.  I sincerely hope it never ends.  Ever, ever.

Here are a few of my favorites:

Mick-cold:  He has known my 22 year old niece all his life.  Three of those years she has lived with us.  He cannot say her name, Nicole, correctly.  Cracks me up every time.

Bonk Bed:  DadOfAllTrades chose a loft bed set for Legomaster.  It is very cool, very boy.  Buzz calls it a Bonk Bed instead of a bunk bed (even though it is not really a bunk bed).  It is even funnier that now that the set is in Buzz's room -a whole other discussion-he keeps forgetting that he is close to the ceiling.  So close, in fact, that he keeps sitting up too quickly and "bonking" his head on the ceiling.  Hehe.

Tweezer:  He really means "tongs".  Like the kind one uses on the grill to flip the chicken.  Once I made oven fries and he asked for he tweezers to grab himself some fries and I busted with laughter.  I didn't correct him though.  If you are a mom, you know why.  Haha.

Grass Dogs:  He means ground hog, but again, why correct him?  The new name is pretty accurate.

Stinker-outer:  The fan in the bathroom that one turns on when they don't want to offend with odor.  As in "DadOfAllTrades!!  Come here and turn on the stinker-outer, quick!  I NEED it!"  Hawhaw.

So is me:  He started saying this when he could first talk.  What he really means is "Me too" and this one I have corrected over and over.  But I still like it.  Still makes me smile.

And I almost forgot: CHEST:  Know the game that one plays with a king, queen, rooks, knights, and pawns?

I hope this has brought a smile to your face as it does mine!  Cheers!

Thumbs up!

LegoMaster sucks his thumb.  He has done so since six months of age.  I can remember the very moment that he discovered he could act on his arm and hand in such a way to bring the thumb to the mouth for sucking pleasure.  If it was a cartoon, there would have been lights, an inspirational high note and cymbals crashing.  He has never looked back to a binky or to a blanket corner.

He has comforted himself with said thumb for seven years now.  I have been asked by more than a few folks why I allow such behavior and what am I going to do about it.  I am sure those folks are well-meaning mind you, but it always makes me pause.  Do I attack in an “it’s none of your business” way?  Do I humor them and discuss my parenting style?  Do I stare dumbly and pretend I have no idea that LegoMaster is doing it?

There is a part of me that wants to do all of those things.  

But I usually do the second, that is discuss why I feel it is no big deal and how I cope with it as a mom of a too-old-thumb-sucker.  I cannot drop that people pleasing bug that I have.

DadOfAllTrades and I have discussed this topic more than I care to share.  We have both come to the conclusion that we cannot make him stop.  He must decide for himself when to stop.  That being said, we both want him to stop and we want him to stop yesterday. 

He sucks constantly when at home.  When we are playing games, he frequently touches playing pieces with his saliva covered thumb and we gag.  (I have been known to lay out entire decks of cards just to spray them with Lysol.  So if you play with us, have no fear.  I know what grossness this may be bringing up in you.  Just know that I clean the toys, a lot.)  We are afraid that this behavior is extending to school and that other children who are not so nice will make fun of him. 

And, there is also the concern of germs.  LegoMaster has had strep three times this school year.  That is way too many for me as I am the one trying to adjust our schedule for a sick child.  Not to mention the fact that I usually get it as they give me goodnight kisses.  I am NO fun when I have strep. 

So, DadOfAllTrades and I have put a bargain in front of the master of all that is Lego.  If he can stop sucking his thumb in all places except the privacy of his own room then he can have the Lego of his choice.  This was not an easy decision to make as there are some Lego sets that cost as much as a car payment.  But DadOfAllTrades is willing to pay the price.  So I guess I am with him on this one.

I was a thumb sucker.  Mom tells me I sucked until I was around 10 years old.  She thinks I gave up the public stuff somewhere around first grade, but she does not remember the exact time.  She does remember the futile attempts to stop me as a baby.  By putting yucky tasting stuff on my thumb.  By not putting my arm in my pj’s (Dad says he checked on me that night only to find my little hand sticking out the head hole with my neck, both at an awkward angle, thumb securely in mouth).  I have been told it is genetic.  This I can see because he is following in my footsteps almost exactly. 

Some have commented on the amount we will have to eventually pay for braces.  The dentist is not concerned.  So I guess I should say that I am not concerned.  The frugal side of me cringes.  I know that paying for braces is something that goes along with having kids just like paying to have the car carpet cleaned every year.  She (the funny dentist) can tell he sucks because his palate is different on one side.  Again, she does not express concern although she has warned of the problems it could cause with permanent teeth.  DadOfAllTrades thinks she is not concerned because of the dollar signs she sees attached to LegoMaster’s thumb-teeth combination.  As a fellow mom, though, I think she is just saying in a tactful way “good luck with that” when she answers in a vague way.

As a mom I am betwixt and between.  I want it to end.  But I know how strong a habit it is.  I understand his need for comfort.  His thumb is like a love object for him just as much as his actually lovey (this washcloth sized, totally beat up and stinky taggy square that has been repaired umpteenth times).  I want him to have a place to go that is secure and comfortable, on his terms.  We all need comfort and a soft place to land.   How could I possibly take that away from him or beg him to not do it?  It would be like taking away his lovey and there is nothing on this earth that would cause me to do that intentionally.

However, there is a big part of my mom-hood that wants it done.  I want to stop asking him to wash his hands every five minutes.  I want to stop the mommy-worrying about him being made fun of and a brunt of jokes about being a baby.  I want to move into school age with no part of me back in toddlerhood.  I have, after all, not had to purchase any type of diaper-regular or nighttime-in over a month and I do not wish to relive that slice of time.  I want to stop hearing “SLUUUUPRP!” from the back seat when he answers a question in the car.

Biting the bullet is what I am going to have to do, I think.  I cannot make him or he will be resentful.  I feel like I cannot let it go on without saying anything.  And I most definitely will not take away his security.  

**I wrote this almost a month ago now, and I am happy to report that great strides are being made.  Thumb sucking has all but ceased in the regular family time part of our day.  If LegoMaster is idle (car, bed) thent he thumb is still in place and he is happy as a clam.  updates will continue.

Again?!?!

It is now May 3rd.  Usually I have experienced the sun on my face at least once by this time in the year.  However, that is not yet the case.  

I have been hoping against hope for a change in what is now the wettest spring that I can remember.  We have had ONE day over 70 degrees.  The ground is so boggy and wet, I cannot get anything done outside. I watch the news for the weather alone, wishing the weatherman would change his forecast.  But alas, it is not so.

More rain all week.

More sweaters and sweatshirts for me.

I am wondering when I will get to wear one of my beloved sundresses again. I am wondering when I will get to till the ground and start the garden.  I am realizing that I am glad I do not live where rain is the norm.  I am praying for light in my  mood.  Sigh.