Small Presents And A Melancholy Halloween

Believe it or not, I’m not much of a present person. It’s pretty hard to get me to give “you” a list for my birthday or a holiday. Oftentimes, my family hates the things I ask for so I always say, 

“Get me something you’d like for me to have.” 

"Oh, come on! You must want something!" 

"Spend time with me."

"That's it?"

"Yep!"

Then they groan (a lot). 

I suppose I'm not making it easy for them but, in reality, I am. I'm really pretty simple.

My favorite gifts? Little things. Those that come in small packages and I don’t mean the “little blue box” because I don’t really wear jewelry. I love pictures and letters and books the most.

Yesterday, I received the most timely gift from my BFF, “sister from another mister”, knows me like the back of her hand, girlfriend.

She came upon this picture and walked it over to my house (she lives one block over). It's a picture of Matthew from Kindergarten. He’s the blonde in the forefront. 

I can see the trim job he gave his bangs while I was somewhere else (bad mommy!). That kid he’s with became the biggest bully in the whole grade school and his bangs got “trimmed” in the same incident. Still sorry Robin!

The funny thing about this particular picture is that my friend's son, same age, wasn’t even in Matt’s class. I have no idea why she would have taken it but I’m glad she did so she could come across it yesterday and bring back a fond memory for me exactly when I needed one.

Halloween was a little melancholy for me. My husband left for a golf trip leaving me home alone (YIKES!!!) on the creepiest day of the year (why would he do that?), my kids are away at school, and the cutest ghosts, goblins, ninjas, football players and cheerleaders paraded across my porch.

My kids used to dress up like all those things. 

I used to dress up in giant hair rollers, robe and slippers pretending that I forgot it was Halloween and that the ringing doorbell woke me up from my nap (so I can act!). When they got older, sometimes my costumes embarrassed them like the one with the pink beehive wig, which by the way, is used at college now.

And the year this picture was taken, I’m pretty sure Matt was in his Power Ranger stage, which went on through 3^rd grade. He, then, rode out the rest of his trick or treating days as a football player.

I wonder what he was last night. 

I know his sister was a pirate.

I miss all that.

And I miss them.

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No! You Tell Dad!

Don’t be thinking toddlers are the only children/people who throw tantrums. I think it’s a personality type, personally speaking.

So I’m biting on Mama Kat’s prompt below and I’m hoping to properly convey a conversation I had with a high maintenance child because I have one (a boy, a college sophomore (who’s getting easier and more grownup by the way, thank God), who copes with lifelong dyslexia and other attention type issues)). Thank goodness my girl is wholly independent and very, very low maintenance (just like her mommy?). Don't get me wrong...I love them both equally just differently!

2.) What was the last thing your child threw a temper tantrum over? Write a blog post from his/her point of view.

Well, Matt and I had more of a whiny conversation last week, as opposed to a full blown tantrum which he used to be famous for, which went something like this…

“Mom. So the good news is that my mid-terms are going pretty well.”

“Matt, that’s awesome. But when you say good news, that means there’s bad news, too.”

“I hate my ‘Study of Eastern Chinese Religions’ class.”

“Why?”

“I don’t understand one thing about it. When they say one thing, it means another. When I read the book and think I understand, I don’t. The teacher mixes me up and confuses me.”

“That’s called metaphor, honey.”

“MOM! I don’t care what it’s called. My brain doesn’t work that way. You know that.”

“Did I mention before I didn’t think that this class was up your alley?”

“Yes but…”

“Okay, so instead of complaining about it, what are you going to do?”

“I want to drop it but Dad won’t like that.”

“I think Dad would rather you get a good grade in a class related to your Infomatics major than a bad grade in Study of Chinese Religion.”

“It’s Eastern Chinese not just Chinese.”

“Okaaaay! Drop it. Pick up a new class. Figure it out. Whatever you have to do.”

“Are you going to tell Dad?”

“No. Call him and give him the whole “good news, I’ve got great grades on mid-term in all my other classes” speech than casually mention the dropped class. It should go over.”

“Will you tell him for me?”

“Hell no!”

“So he’s going to be mad at me saying I don’t take school seriously.  He’ll say he took Astronomy and that wasn’t what he thought it’d be but he studied. Besides, he won’t get mad at you!”

“Listen, pal. I got a big door ding on my new car so I have my own fish to fry with Dad. You’ve got to cover your own butt while I figure out how to cover mine.”

“Did you park too close to someone again? Dad says you always do.”

“Be quiet, Matt. Don’t you dare mention it to Dad!”