Big, Fat Breaths

Sometimes Lulo is so cute, I call him ugly a la Shug, "you sho' is ugly".

And he is so skinny with little chicken legs, so I tell him to move his big, fat butt.

I know that this is probably not a great idea because one day he will call someone who is morbidly obese "big, fat, and ugly" and I will be really, really embarrassed but for now...it's one of the ways I joke with him. He seems to be saying it in jest too. Also, when he calls me big and fat these days, I like to pretend it's a compliment even though I am approaching maximum density.

Anyhow, I did not breast feed and my general opinion on breast feeding can be left to a whole different post. However, I think this may be why Lulo has not gotten the right word for "breasts" down. He keeps calling them "hips" and I have not wanted to correct him because (1) it is funny and (2) I really don't want him walking around saying the word "breasts" or other related euphemism/slang term to every female on the planet.

This is all relevant because tonight, after I tucked him in, he told me I had "big fat hips". And I said, "what is big and fat?" And he pointed to my "breasts" and I thought this was going nowhere good.

So, I told him, "these are not hips Lulo, these (pointing to actual breasts) are called breasts. THESE (pointing to actual large ass) are hips."

He says "THOSE TAKE BREATHS. HOW?" Eyes bulging.
"No, no, not breaths. Breasts."
"How do they take breaths?"
"They don't take breaths, they make milk."
"When do they make milk, how?"
"Um, uh, good night Lulo. Go to bed now."
"I want to call them hips since they don't take breaths. Big, fat hips."
"OK, Good Night."
"Good night."

Selfish

He's always been a good sleeper. He used to go to bed with less difficulty. He didn't used to need an escort to the bathroom. He didn't complain about the air conditioning being on. He didn't imagine noises or manage to find the movement of hangers in my closet to be a disturbing sound. He used to just go to bed. Now, there is a whole slew of nonsense that accompanies his bedtime rituals before nap and at night. I think it is worse because of the two flights of stairs to get to the little face that now can peer over the banister. Or maybe it's just annoying to take someone to pee only to have to run up again to escort him to poop not 3 minutes later. And then go up again to hear a "secret".

It's really irrelevant. Because after all that time getting him to go to bed and then finally, impatiently threatening his life if he comes out of bed again, I go in there around 10 p.m. I remove the door prop, I fix his blankets, I put all the askew body parts in place, and I kiss his temple. I suck in a deep whiff and fill up all my senses with his smell. I fill up my lungs with the newborn scent that somehow still accompanies him and the mildewy sent that resides on his stuffed elephant. I am, at that moment, aware of the warmth that rises from him and enjoy it. I don't miss him. I don't want to hang out with him. I don't want him to wake up. I really really don't want him to wake up. I just want to be there with him. Breathing him in. Enjoying his peacefulness. Appreciating his long limbs and how he developing into this little boy. Accepting how lucky I am to have him there, like that, as he is.

Make a Lovely Light

A friend of J's stopped by tonight because J had volunteered me to draft a stern letter to a clothing designer who is refusing to produce his daughter's dresses (yes, plural) for her Sweet 16 birthday party.

So, I am talking to the guy, who was the sweetest, most down to earth dude to ever. He was in messy clothes with dirty hands and tired from a hard day doing manly man's work. And then, to my shock and amazement, he utters the words..."two of her three dresses will not be ready and the quinciniera is only two weeks away!" Well, dear me.

So, because I have watched a couple (dozen) episodes of Sweet 16 on MTV, I jokingly say, "is she making her entrance on a horse?" And he says, "no, an ELEPHANT." And I had no words, for the first time in 15 minutes. Apparently, the dress in which she is making her "grand entrance" on the elephant is one of the dresses that won't be ready. You can't just go buy one of those dresses at the mall, he explains. OhhhhK.

After realizing that he wasn't joking, I ask him a few lawyer like type questions. Tell him he ought to have a Plan B, etc. etc. Then, I once again make a little jokey and I say, "so, are you buying her a Porsche to drive off in." His eyes got big and he said, "how did you know?" She will indeed be driving off in a Porsche from the first private event ever held at one of the Fairplex buildings.

The weird thing was he did not seem like one of those over the top, ridiculous Dads on MTV's Sweet 16. He had a twinkle in his eyes. He was tired and hard working and in love with his little girl. He was proud to his core of how she has overcome her learning disabilities and is competing in her classes, how she is now the Vice President of her high school class, how she is a good girl who is far exceeding his expectations. I don't know. I didn't get irritated despite being flabbergasted by a show of excess that I typically mock. I liked the dude.

Anyhow, let's just stick this on my list of why I like having boys. I can just go paint balling with them and let them drive off of the junkyard with a car that they can rebuild. Now, that's a Sweet 16 I can look forward to.

Driving with Joe Friday

We were driving home from school today taking the many twists and turns up the hill to my house and I was in my own little zone. I have, after all, gone up and down this his 12,000 times. Luk was mowing on a cookie in the back; I was thinking about how much needed doing when I walked in the door.

And all of a sudden Luk says, that was a STOP sign and you didn't stop. I was like, "um, yes I did." He said, "no you didn't, S-T-O-P is STOOOOOOOOOP and you didn't."

So, "Um, Uh, I slowed down."

"That isn't stopping. S-T-O-P, STOOOOOOOP!"

Frankly, it's too soon for him to be commenting on my driving and I didn't appreciate it.

You Can Take the Boy Out of Egypt But You Can't Take the Egypt Out of the Boy

Today, I went to go retrieve the boys from school. I got the twins first because Lulo was still eating lunch when I spied him.

When I got to the twins classroom, they asked me if the boys had slept alright the night before. I said that they had. She said that they were "out of sorts" and whiny. She then mentioned that maybe they were getting sick or something and to keep any eye out.

She also mentioned that Juju got frustrated and when the teacher turned around...he took his shoe off and chucked it at her.

Nice. Sigh.

Four

When I was pregnant with Lulo, the pregnancy was uneventful (other than the typical puking and the first time Mommy nerves.) Giving birth was as smooth as it could go. Recovery was fast. The OB told me that I was made to birth babies. Lulo was a hearty 9 lbs, 6 ozs. He ate (formula) like a champ. He smiled early, walked late. He slept on a schedule at 6 weeks. He played and jabbered quietly in his bed when he woke up. We had our moments but he was such a good baby that I was ready to try again when he was 10 months old. I was so, so dumb.

The minute after everyone left his first birthday party...I puked and puked and puked. I was pregnant again. Of course, that was the twin pregnancy...a pregnancy that made the 2nd year of Lukas' life a total blur. I watched him from afar as my Mom took care of him for several months while I was hospitalized. I think I will be making up for this lost year my whole life...for now...Lulo gets away with more, he is my Mama's boy. I am strict with him but he has a special place in my heart. I can tell already that we are alike in temperament, humor, and attitude. That means one day, we'll be at war. Sometimes we already are. But, damn, I like that kid.

Tomorrow my Lulo turns four. He has his moments but the other Moms tell me how smiley and polite he is. Isn't that rad? Everyone says that every time they see Lulo...he is smiling. I can't be messing him up that bad. He is a crack up who smiles all the time. The teacher is impressed by his focus and his memorization skills. He is a good kid. I am a lucky Mama.

Funny Little Things That I Want to Remember about Lulo on the Eve of his Birthday:

• He bites his lower lip when he is doing crafts. We've been doing little ones before bed lately. He thinks so hard but is so proud of his creations.
• He is still obsessed with elephants.
• He still sucks his thumb.
• He "reads" books alone when he wakes up in the morning.
• He knows his alphabet and numbers, is trying to read, knows every animal. Every. Animal. Scarlet Macaw, Tapir, Sloth, Pygmy Marmoset.
  
• He likes to sleep in his underwear. No more shorts or pants.
• He has to wear socks that are really stretched out. The older and crappier, the better. He calls them "cool socks".
  
• He asks me to tickle him. Then begs me to stop, over and over.
  
• He is starting to play with his brothers and really incorporating them in games and make believe.
• He sings and makes up little songs. He has a nice voice.
• He says "I am having a tough time" and "I need a break". Really.
  
• He loves sweets, fruits, and vegetables. He is picky about meats.

I love you, Lulo. These have been a great four years. I will always work to be a better person because of you.

Maybe One Day

This morning, I just needed to go diarrhea and not have two little midgets fighting and ripping the doorknob out of the door to get in. I needed to focus on the diarrhea and the heat that was rising up my torso. The burn in my stomach. The accompanying nausea. To not be able to go diarrhea in peace anymore, it's just not a good turn of events. I couldn't really put it off or hold it until I had some help. When you have to go, you have to go. And then after banging at my door incessantly, while I suffered, for about four minutes. I began to hear them throw toys around...grab for things to high for them. Make a mess. Fight with each other. And then, that was almost worse because someone losing an eye while I had diarrhea would also be a poor direction for the day to take.

How do you explain that to the ER? I left my three children under the age of four to kill each other because I did not want a pool of poop on my floor that belonged to me instead of them.

I haven't been well since Sunday and I am not pleased.