Wordless Wednesday

What's in a name?

My name holds special meaning for my mother, she named me after a couple in Germany that helped her through some tough times and Tarzan’s middle name is that of one of his Great Uncles. Since our names held such significance for our parents we wanted Cheetah’s name to be equally unique and important. Tarzan and I were coming up with names long before we were even ‘trying’; we had come up with a system. We would bounce off ideas with each other but the final decision if it was a boy would be up to Tarzan and if it was a girl, I would do the deciding. We actually have two more names if anyone is looking for something meaningful yet rare.

In the time of names like Apple, Denim, and Pilot Inspector people are investing a lot in the names of their children. A great deal of consideration goes into this process. People name their children after aunts, uncles, parents, and friends. You go back and forth with your favorites and whittle down your list because of names of exs, people who were mean to you, or those who were just vile and idiotic. You look to friends, families, and acquaintances for feedback and after a few last minute changes you sign the birth certificate. Over time even though you’ve decided on what the child will be called, a few pet names will emerge and he/she may even ask to be called something totally different (like Snake or Optimus Prime). The name may become outdated for the times (i.e.; Doris, Thelma) or even comedic (i.e. Dick) and though the name seems to fit, there are bound to be critics. Maybe even a generation or two down the line.

While Cheetah was with Tarzan’s family this past week, names and who came up with them became a topic for conversation. Cheetah decided on his own to call one of his aunts, Sandy, Aunt Betty the whole time he was there. I asked why he was calling her Betty and he said, “She’s not a Sandy, she’s a Betty.” I argued that Granny had thought long and hard for the perfect name for her daughter. Matter of factly he responded, “Maybe naming people isn’t Granny’s best thing.”

Prepare the Novenas

It’s amazing to me that my four year-old has such a well developed personality, no matter his mood he can gather the attention of everyone in a crowded room. I am beginning to think that he will either be a thriving con-artist or a celebrated actor. One moment he is telling us how his friend’s dad shot someone in their front yard and in the next breath we find out that he has told his whole class that he learned karate from a sensei in Japan. The daily pick-up from school has become my newest comedy fix, I don’t know what else to do but laugh. Cheetah has become so good at ‘pretending’ that teachers and friends believe everything he says. He has told the teacher that his dad is on the television at night, I like to be called ‘Master’, I let my him get a real tattoo on his back (he had a tattoo that lasted more than 2 months), and that he gets to eat ‘packing peanuts’ if he’s good at school all week…I am sure that the school is building a file on us as I type away.

After one particularly entertaining evening of storytelling, pouting, and door slamming, I called my mother to rehash and vent. I began describing all the ‘I won’t be your best friends, ‘it’s not fairs’, and the ‘you are breaking my hearts’ when I began to hear laughter. I was calling for sage advice and she was laughing, “Mom really, I don’t know what to do, he has more attitude that most 15 year-olds and the pretending is out of control!” Taking a breath she replied, “I know Jane, I am YOUR mother.” Hmmm, never really thought of it like that…I was beginning to understand. Oh Lord am I in for it. Between my attitude and personality and those of my husband there better be a small country somewhere saying ‘round the clock’ novenas for us. We are going to need them.

I have tried to explain to him that pretending is when you act like someone you are not or do something you normally can’t do and that when you tell a story that’s not real it’s called lying. I was pretty impressed with that ‘rule of thumb’ I passed along until I was reading him his bedtime story and he asked if the monsters in the book were real. Of course I said ‘no’ and quickly he pointed at me and sang, “Ooohhh you are telling lies”. So I’m back at square one, apparently to a toddler there’s a thin line between lying and pretending. It’s like explaining why something is stinky; ‘It just is’. Maybe it’s good (this is me trying to convince myself not to worry) that he is having a hard time telling the difference. Maybe he’ll end up doing something incredibly creative, earth shattering even.

Wordless Wednesday

I AM THAT MOM: Jane

Check out my guest post to McCall's fantabulous blog!! SO much fun to visit her page, checkk out all the other "I m THAT Mom" posts too!!

Lee, Me, and the Girls: I AM THAT MOM: Jane

Merci, beaucoup!

Things in the Smith household have been running smoothly for quite some time now and I couldn’t be happier. And in the interest of science I felt I needed to pass along my findings from the ‘household experiment’ I was conducting. I have found the best tool at getting the appreciation and recognition needed to prevent any feelings of neglect or resentment. It all stems from enjoying some ‘female bonding’…

I was talking with a friend who was griping that all she wanted was a ‘thank you’ from her husband for taking on the responsibility of being the breadwinner of the family, she felt that he didn’t really appreciate the amount of stress that added to her load. Hearing her talk about how unappreciated she felt made me really take stock of my situation and do some serious damage control. Yes all I really wanted was for Tarzan to really realize what all I did for him and our family on a daily basis, but how could I expect him to take that step when I was unwilling to do the same.

What is it that makes saying ‘thank you’ so hard? All this time I was getting some sort of sick pleasure in knowing that I could do all the chores around the house, cook all the meals, get Cheetah ready for the next day, take care of the animals, and have some down time for myself. Why? To prove I don’t ‘need him’, that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Wasn’t that the whole reason why I married him?? Not because I needed someone to help me live my life but because I WANTED him there, in my life, so why wasn’t I letting him be present in our life we had built together? Was the way he folded clothes, spiced supper, walked the dog, or cleaned the house really that important? No. What was/is important is that he DOES fold the laundry, cook supper, clean the house, and love Cheetah and I wholeheartedly.

That night I sat down beside Tarzan on the couch and held his hand, I looked into his eyes and smiled. I went on to tell him how much I valued the stress and worry that went along with being the breadwinner and how I knew I would never be able to understand what it’s like being in his shoes every day but that I appreciated him getting up every morning and going to work…for us and for our life. I wanted him to know how much it really means to know that someone is that invested in Cheetah and I, and that he makes his choice every day to work so that we can buy food, clothes, books, cds, and go on trips. He then went on to say how easy it was when I was there to make sure food was on the table, clothes were clean, the house was clean, and that he could count on me to help with Cheetah.

I really went about this whole ‘experiment’ in the wrong way. I didn’t need to find ways to trick him into doing chores or make a point (at his expense) so that he learns to do things on his own…I need to say ‘thank you’. What a difference two little words can make.

Arguing like a 4 year-old

In the past I have taken many speech classes and have contributed in a few debates, but it wasn’t until recently that I have found myself in the ‘ring’ with a very ardent lobbyist. We spend hours, if not days, arguing our sides and bargaining to get our desired results. I’m not proud of this fact and honestly I have no idea what brings it about, I have become an active participant in a daily arguing match with my 4-year old. All I know is that my usual eloquent points and witty quips have been replaced with a ton of because I said so’s, I’m the Momma’s, and Nuh-huh’s. I am a very well-read, bright, and decently educated woman so how am I letting my own child reduce me to the antics of my not so distant past? Haven’t I used these tools on my own mother? Don’t I know that my combativeness is only adding fuel to his 3 foot fire?

Maybe it’s brought on by the constant rapid-fire form of interrogation that my 4 year old captor uses on me: What’s fog? Do fog, dog, and hog come from the same thing? What’s a rearview mirror? Can you see rears with it? Why did a bird poop on your car? Is all bird poop black? Why not? What color is cricket poo? If you ate it, would it taste like grass? Are alligators like vampires? Then why do they eat blood? Are we driving on the grass? Why is water underground? Why can’t we eat rocks? What’s diarrhea? All of these questions in a span of 12 minutes and he gives me less than a second to begin my response, half the time my response is met with a resounding, “No it’s not!” Oh really…well if you know why are you asking me!!! Oh yeah it’s the questions, defintly the questions.

For now I am perfecting counting to 10 and TRYING to remember that I want Cheetah to be smart and I want him to feel comfortable coming to me with all of his questions, but if I don’t find a more productive means for arguing I may find myself using other gems from my arsenal. Not sure he’d know what to do after hearing, “I’m rubber, and you’re glue…”