Peanut Grows Up (And So Does Mommy)

Call me Mother of the Year.

It has been quite the weekend for Boy Wonder. On Saturday, we went to a local festival and decided that we did not need to be the only gluttons for punishment. So all the grandparents came along. And there was much rejoicing. Peanut discovered the carnival, complete with rides his size. And there was even more rejoicing.

Peanut blew through a roller coaster (at least twice), airplanes, motorcycles, a "giant slide" (keep in mind, we're dealing with preschoolers here), a merry-go-round, and racecars before finally allowing himself lunch. Thus fortified, he went for the motherload: the Ferris Wheel. And Boomer, who was his companion on this adventure. I was happy to allow this, considering I have both a medical condition (pregnancy) and a phobia (fear of heights) that does not let me do well with these things.

Peanut was quite happy to hang out with Daddy while in line, and then clutched Boomer for dear life once he realized just how high this thing was going. He survived, and so did I.

Today was another delightful experience. Mommy Cohorts gather for lunch and water slides. And Peanut behaved beautifully. No temper tantrums, only one warning, and one minor fuss when it was time to leave. Great job from Boy Wonder.

It hit me on the way home that my hypervigilance is no longer necessary. Peanut gets what good behavior means. My habits die hard, however, because I still smart at the looks and comments I dealt with before his transformation. So now it's time for a new change: mine. My kid needs all the credit I can give him, and it's time to start.

So now we're hanging out, bonding over vanilla Oreos, air conditioning, and PBS Kids.
It's a great day here, and I'm basking in our mutual non-frustration.

Call me Mother of the Year.

When Daddy Laughs

Call me Mother of the Year.

To the amusement of most of my cohorts, I'm finally showing that yes, thank you, I'm pregnant. It's become a bit more obvious because every time I sit down and relax, one can see my stomach moving with the baby. Kinda like Alien on speed. My guys are fascinated by this, which makes my day. Peanut's still a bit confused, but we're working on that.

Last night, Boomer and I were hanging out lamenting over the Cubs/Sox rainout, and the baby started getting its groove on. This invariably happens when I'm feeling like sleep is a good idea. Mommy doesn't need sleep, I need to party! Payback will be swift in the teenage years. So Boomer, being an excited daddy, reaches for my belly.

Boomer: "Holy crap! Your stomach is vibrating!"
Me: "Yeah, this is pretty normal."
Boomer: "I sired the Tasmanian Devil!"
Me: "Duh. How else do you explain Peanut?"
Boomer: Uncontrollable laughter. I'm amazed Peanut slept through it.

At this point, I have no clue if it's a boy or a girl. And I still don't care. Based on the movement, I'd say boy. Based on gestational size, girl. Flip a coin, kids.

In the meantime, Boy Wonder is requiring a bike ride. It's finally decent! And there was much rejoicing.

Call me Mother of the Year.

Confusion

Call me Mother of the Year.

So far, the first couple of weeks of summer have gone well. Compared to this time last year, there is a distinct lack of temper tantrums and hitting. There is also a major disdain of Pull-Ups. Long may both of these last. We've been investigating new strawberries (once again, Peanut is chief Tester of Yumminess), riding our big boy bike, and attacking crayons.

I'm noticing a new questioning bent in my small son. "Why?" and "But Mommy" are heard rather frequently these days. No subject is safe, but one is particularly interesting and funny.

My belly is moving. And try as I might, I cannot explain this sufficently to Peanut.

Peanut (and his preschool teacher, family and various strangers) is aware that he is about to be a big brother. He has a standing invitation to feel the baby moving, and I've tried to talk about how the baby is growing without completely confusing or scarring my son. Right now, Peanut has one concern.

"But Mommy, I can't HEAR the baby!"

Now I'm confused. Hear the baby? Why are we concerned with that? If this one is anything like it's mother, I guarantee hearing the baby will be the least of my concerns. Then I put myself in my four-year-old's shoes. The babies Peanut hangs out with now are, well, outside of their mommies' tummies. You can touch them, see them, hear them. Peanut can do none of these things yet, and is perceptive enough to be worried.

My son is brilliant.

So I'm doing my level best to explain to Peanut that while we can't hear the baby now, we will in a few months. Meanwhile, we can tell the baby we love it. And feel it beating the daylights out of Mommy's insides. If this doesn't work, I'm calling for backup. Maybe Boomer has some ideas.

Call me Mother of the Year.