face value

So for most people, when you tell them that something works the way it does within society, they may ask why, but they understand that they must adhere to it because "that is how it is". I know I've talked on Johnny's literal side before, but I thought I'd share the funniest experience we've had as a result of it.

About the time Johnny turned 3 1/2, Steve and I decided that physical boundaries (in terms of visual) needed to be put in place. He was old enough, and it was time for him to no longer encounter mommy undressed. From birth and having been nursed to walking in on me changing, it was never a problem but he was old enough to start following that social rule. He took this new rule with his typical question, "why?" and we explained that boys and girls have different parts to their body in some places, and that when you're no longer a little kid, you have to start making sure you give girls (or boys if the shoe was on the other foot) extra privacy. Surprisingly this wasn't met with 20 more "why?"s and we moved on with our day.

Not even a week later, I forgot my towel in my bedroom while showering. I usually hang it there to dry after I wash up, and had not remembered to bring it in with me again the following day. (Side note: Steve says I do this more days than not. That is probably true. I'm horribly forgetful when it comes to the small stuff.) When I was finished with my shower, I called out for Steve, who was to my luck at home and off work with us that day, do bring me my towel. Not thinking anything of it, he went and grabbed it and opened the bathroom door. I was still behind the shower curtain, unexposed, but I heard Johnny starting to follow him. 

"DADDY! YOU CAN'T SEE MOMMY WITHOUT HER CLOTHES ON! IT'S THE RULE!" 

Coughing on our own laughs, Steve and I (me still hidden) began to explain the difference. Boys and girls who are married are allowed to see eachother not dressed. I won't go into why that isn't the most accurate statement once a certain age is reached, but I have a slight curiosity as to whether or not he will be a kid who sticks to the rules when he gets older in regards to that one. 

"Okay." No questions asked.

Wait for it... 

2 minutes later as he is working his way back down stairs, (and I am out of the shower and securely wrapped up, headed for my bedroom) Johnny's mental wheels have turned for long enough for his rational side to make yet another observation. "Then I can see Christy without her clothes on! We're married!"

Now, he's been claiming to be married to my sister for over a year now. We all go along with it because it is cute and he loves her. However, nothing could have prepared me for this awesome bit of ammunition for his future 13-year-old self. He was absolutely right; based on what we had told him, he could see Christy without her clothes on. 

We proceeded to amend the rule, (yes, still not entirely accurate) telling him that mommies and daddies are allowed to see each other undressed, but he can't see Christy without her clothes on. He didn't quite buy it, so I just told him that Christy wouldn't be comfortable with it and he shrugged before moving on with his day.

Conversation over. No big.

Less than a week later, Christy came in from Pittsburgh to visit, and as she was sticking around for a few days, she bounced between friends and family's houses. She came over one morning to hang out and went ahead and took her shower at our place. I thought nothing of it.

I was in the middle of a meeting with Erin and Ashleigh, the new behavioral specialist and TSS. I wasn't paying complete attention to Johnny while he was playing, and neither was Steve from the other room. Johnny was just sort of meandering between the kitchen (Steve) and the living room (me). Then all of the sudden, I hear him working his way up the stairs toward the bedrooms and our bathroom. "Steve! Make sure he isn't trying to go into the bathroom!!!" Thankfully, she had locked the door as I often forget to do myself. Johnny only knocked on the door, but I was relieved nonetheless. 

There was no more talk of personal visual boundaries until this past weekend. Friends of mine had come to town to visit for the weekend. We hadn't seen them since Johnny was about 2 1/2, so he didn't remember the couple. The first thing he asked my friend Kevin is who his sister was? Kevin explained that Claire was not his sister, but rather his wife. Johnny's response?

"YOU CAN SEE EACH OTHER WITHOUT YOUR CLOTHES ON!" 

Without a context, this was an even funnier proclamation. Yes, yes they could. And I somehow have a feeling that we will have quite a few more of these entertaining moments of enlightenment as we interact with other couples. 

blogging & choices

Turns out, I'm not the most optimistic person in the world. Well, I already knew that. As a result, I'm not the most optimistic blogger in the world. Makes sense, plus I know my blog has often been a place for me to rant about what is going on in my life.

Does this make for the best read? No. 

Does this make me sound whiny sometimes? Absolutely. 

Does it bother me? Not so much. 

And I'll tell you why; I didn't start out this blog with an audience. I fired up the computer (okay, iPad) and started essentially journaling in a public forum. -- A public forum that I hadn't actually let anyone in my life know about. Still now, only my husband and a close friend in South Korea know it exists. To my knowledge. They're the only ones who have asked, so they are the only ones I have sent the link to. I don't think pretty much anyone else in my life knows I blog anymore. Yet, I have a following of around 1,000 people. 

For the first two years of Johnny's life, I blogged at a decreasingly steady rate. I started a few weeks before he was born, and finally called it quits around the time he turned 2. The people in my life were constantly asking for updates on the kid, and it was easier than blasting them with emails. With a blog, they could catch up when they wanted to or ignore it altogether. I came to realize that they had moved toward that "ignore it" option, and since Johnny was beginning to exhibit some of the issues we are dealing with today, it was easier to just stop and focus on the kid. Now, 2 years later, I'm back at it for a totally different purpose: I need my own "calm down" time. I need a sounding board (that doesn't respond in resounding condescension, though I don't have any opposition to comments and questions) where I could both return to my passion of writing and talk things out with myself. 

I'm one of those people that process events in their life much better by voicing it. 

I think what bothers me most about discussing some of these things with people who are a part of my life but not actively involved is that I am either judged or dismissed as exaggerating. Yes, I have a side to me that exaggerates sometimes, but that is usually about the size of the line at the checkout or the intensity of a movie. When I say that I can't leave my kid with a normal sitter, I'm not blowing things out of proportion. I can't. I have a very small list of people who I trust can not only handle my kid, but be a positive source of help and lovingly correct him when he is doing something he shouldn't, working to guide him in the right direction. When someone doesn't understand my son, they just deal with him the way they would any other child. You can't do that with Johnny -- it is not simply a bad idea that causes more tantrums and meltdowns, it can be damaging to him. When I think of how adults treated me when I was a child, I can easily see how they had a huge affect over my self esteem. When you're always being told that you're bad or in constant trouble for something, it is hard to think you're worth squat. 

One of the biggest challenges in my life is also my most important goal: I will not treat my son the way I was treated as a child. While it is something you might think would come naturally because I am hyper-aware of the issue, it is still a struggle when I'm so used to being handled in that way. It is also sometimes hard to remind myself not to dismiss his actions as "bad" without looking at the root cause when I'm physically tired and turning into a puddle of mental exhaustion. I do make sure I always do one thing though, and it hasn't been hard to make this adaptation to typical parenting: I do not tell my child he has been bad. I do not tell my child he has been good. I make sure my son knows when he has been making good or bad choices. Because he isn't a bad kid. As with all kids, (and people in general) his actions come from a specific part of his interpretation of life, be it accurate or not. It should be kept in mind that while bad choices are easily pointed out, the good choices a kid makes need to be acknowledged as well. 

Did you make good choices today? 

hugs & kisses

I've known a lot of sweet kids in my life. Snuggle bugs, kids that always want everyone to be happy, kids that smile non-stop... but nothing could have prepared me for the way I feel when my own little guy wants to "fix it" for me.

I guess it makes sense that after countless times that I have tried to convince him that all of his troubles can be solved with a hug and a kiss, (I mean, come on, at this age it is a good philosophy!)  he would start to believe it. "You don't feel good, mommy? Don't worry, I'll make you all better." Hug, hug, hug, hug, hug (in rapid succession so I'm being patted on the back with both arms around me amidst tight squeezes) and kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss. "There! You are feeling better, you just forgot!" -- That's one of his favorite things to say when he thinks his father or I was wrong and need to change our minds about something; "you forgot". Couple that with "you didn't know" (another favorite when he thinks we are woefully ignorant about something of great importance) and you've mastered his two main phrases. 

Whether it is because I am depressed, my chronic back pain is worse, or I stubbed my toe, Johnny is always there to fix me. While his efforts don't make a lick of difference in relation to the root cause of why I am upset, they are my favorite aspect of being his mom. Somehow, with the grace of God, I have given birth to the boy in possession of the biggest heart in the world. 

Yesterday I very suddenly became violently ill. I'll spare you the details, but suffice it to say that I haven't been that sick since I went out on the town for my sister's 21st birthday party and forgot that I had taken a benzo when I'd been overwhelmed in a crowded restaurant at dinner. Bad mix. "Mommy, you forgot." -- Anyway, the whole evening (and so far today) all I could think about was how much better I would feel if I could only have my little man hold me for a moment and kiss away the pain. I'd still be sick, but I crave that overwhelming feeling of love that he radiates. Aren't we as parents supposed to kiss away the pain our children experience? How did he take on that role? 

Don't get me wrong, I give plenty hugs and kisses to my son and spend hours rocking and holding him when he is upset. I do everything I can to help him calm down and whatever is possible to make him feel better. But still, I am in awe of the fact that he has so totally mastered that skill at the age of 4. The otherwise on-the-go kid will slow down and snuggle for an hour if I'm having a rough day. If my back hurts, he tells me he will crack it for me like the doctor because he is going to make me feel better. His little hands suddenly find their way to my back while I sit there, allowing him to press as hard as he can (a gentle nudge, honestly) and then break into a big grin at what a good job he did. While I feel utterly helpless in the moments where I can't take away his pain, he is completely confident in his ability to make a difference in my wellbeing. 

I wish I wasn't possibly contagious. I could really use some Johnny right now.