Oh, transcription for those who can’t make it out:
HAYDEN ONLY.
REBCCA ONLY TOO.
RACHEL ONLY TOO.
DADY ONLY TOO.
MOMY ONLY TOO.
HAYDEN’S ROOM ONLY.
.A.N.T. JASMINE TOO ONLY!
NANA AND RARA P POPO PO [Papa/Poppa]
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Tag: hayden
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This one little thing
Every once in a while, I get fixated on this one little thing. It might be having my son participate in his preschool Christmas program, or my daughter take dance lessons (okay, that one hasn’t happened yet). I want my child to do this thing that really isn’t all that important in the long run, but for some reason it means something to me, like singing “Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer” in front of 75 strangers proves 
I’m raising a well-adjusted three-year-old.
Um, no?
Yes, it’s not asking much. But it seems like when I get so excited about these supposedly fun little things, they never go how I want.
The same thing seems to happen with little things that might not be so little—the small gestures I anticipate, like that first smile or first Mother’s day card will be the one little thing that convinces me this motherhood thing is worth it, that I’m not driving myself nuts watching Curious George and teaching the alphabet and trying to get! them! to! share! completely in vain.
Those are the little things that are really dangerous, because I can become so fixated on them that they become the reason for motherhood itself. And when they don’t come—and it seems like they never do—I’m so ready to give up. “All I wanted,” I want to scream at the heavens, “was this one stupid little thing. This one gesture to tell me I’m doing the right thing—one tiny tender mercy. Why are you withholding it from me?”
I’ve gotten better about these little things, but sometimes they sneak up on me. Hayden was “keeping a secret” about his Mother’s day gift at school (not really at all): a book he was writing for me. (It’s his second. He’s pretty prolific; he gets it from me. 😉 ) It was supposed to be a book about how great I am.
I knew better than to get my hopes up. I mean, the child is six. For Christmas, he got me an airhorn at the dollar store, an “attention-er,” he called it. I’ve never received a gift that filled me with so much guilt: my first thought was that he was under the impression that I yelled all the time and needed the help. (Ryan set me straight: he was five. He thought it would be fun. Therefore, he reasoned, I must have thought it would be fun. Child logic.)
Still, Hayden was very excited about his book. A few days before Mother’s day, I arrived to pick him up, and he was distraught. “The wind blew your book away!” he pouted. And it had, the staff verified: this four page book he’d spent all week on had been taken by the (surprisingly stiff) wind.
I was not going to accept this! We marched four blocks, scouring in yards and under cars, looking for that book. And I’ll admit it, my mind really wanted to go to that “Why are you taking this one stupid little thing from me?” place. That “Why can’t I get the smallest vote of ‘thanks, Mom, nice job’?” place. That “Do you not care?” place.
The search seemed to mollify Hayden, at least—my biggest concern at the time (yes, it was). He told me what the book said (I’m a great cook and I give him hugs), and said he’d make another at school the next day.
After we’d been home for a while, I remembered his teacher was sending home a certificate for some award he’d earned. I didn’t know what it was, exactly, so I was pretty surprised to find the president’s signature on the certificate:
As proud and as happy as that made me, though, it paled in comparison to the other homework he brought home:
Yep.
It’s not about these little things. It’s about the sentiment behind them. And that will be there whether I get the book or the air horn or nothing at all.
How have you found fulfillment this week?
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Busy times!
Hayden has “graduated” from Kindergarten (though he still has a little school left):
Rebecca has gone undercover:
Rachel? She should be dancin. (Yeah!) (RIP, Robin Gibb.)
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Hayden’s a ham
Hayden should start working on his stand up routine. This is from the last week:
“I’m a fan of Phineas and Ferb. I have been since I was born.”
Discussing weather appropriate attire: . . . “Short sleeves, which I’m wearing, and short pants, which I’m not wearing. . . .”
“I’m a fan of monkeys.”
“Why do you always have to go putting the brakes on my fun?”
But I don’t find this funny at all—I find it adorable:
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Can you say “Precocious”?
I had someone say that to me about one of my kids this last week, but I think it might apply to all of them. Yes, even the one with a twenty-word vocabulary.
This week, Hayden told Ryan (AKA Daddy) that he wanted to work on his birdhouse this weekend. Ryan agreed, but that wasn’t good enough for Hayden.
“Put it in your phone, Daddy.”
Ryan said, “Why do I need to put it on my phone?”
“Because,” Hayden replied, “your phone is smarter than you.”
Ouch.
Last night while we were finishing dinner, Rebecca picked up a picture of Jesus and pretended to read the information on the back, as if she were delivering a talk in Primary (which she hasn’t done yet—she keeps volunteering for prayers). About twenty minutes before, she discovered Rachel had absconded with her milk cup and finished it off. I finally appeased her tears—or so I thought.
After introducing her subject, Deezus, she continued on about Him for a while before I realized what she was saying:
“An’ he wants us to be nice . . . and kind . . . an’ not d’ink ouw big sistay’s d’inks. . . .”
Not on the subject of talking, but last week, Rachel was playing with her baby doll when she suddenly ran into the kitchen, opened the silverware drawer, and ran back:
(She actually got the baby’s mouth most of the time. She also shared some cereal later.)
Rachel is still working on words in general, so we applaud any of her efforts, even “yah” and “suh.” Unfortunately, her latest phrases have taken a sharp turn toward the negative:
When she gets upset, she flaps her hands like a floundering flightless fowl and wails, “No waaaaaay.”
And last week on a road trip, she realized we all found it hilarious when she answered any question with “Ummmmm no.” It’s a lot less cute the 45th time.
What’s your favorite precocious moment?
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Hayden’s sayings
Hayden is a smart kid. Sometimes, a little too smart for his own good.
Hayden has been working on behavior incentives at school. Every morning before school, we review what he needs to work on that day. His first day, he did a good job. The next morning as we walked to school, I told him, “You’re doing so well, Hayden. We want to keep it up, right?”
H: “Well, I don’t want to keep it down!”
Watching a crane at work
“Mom, that car [he might have said “Vehicle”] over there is taking a lot of gas. It’s an S-U-Vay.”
From time to time, Hayden requests to play a CD of Primary music. One of these times, “I Love to See the Temple” was playing in the background as the kids were playing. Hayden found a golf ball.
Rebecca: “Hayden, I want to see!”
Hayden: “You want to see the temple?”
Rebecca: “No, I want to see the gowf baww!”
Video of the above photo:
(Turned out to be a supply closet, actually.)
He sometimes watches a PBS Kids Go webtoon about nutrition. The cartoon has drummed it into his brain that sodium is the big bad evil lurking in most foods—so he insists on checking the sodium level on every nutrition label.
He’s taken this so far that one of his favorite meals, Spaghettios, must be eaten in moderation, because half a can has around 25% of the DRV of sodium.
I hope he lives a long, funny life.