I haven’t written in a long time. Such is life at Christmastime. And the fact that things were busy and complicated but not really noteworthy.
Everything was wonderful. This doesn’t mean there wasn’t plenty of stress leading up to big day.
And I was left to bemoan the fact that I am that rare species of woman who doesn’t lose weight when stressed. Accurately measured, my stress level was def con supermodel. My body shape has remained def con mom jeans.
Life is not fair.
The father figure and I celebrated fourteen years of marriage of the holidays. You know you’ve been married fourteen years when you contemplate getting dressed up for your dinner date, but then don’t because that would require you shaving your legs. And you’re cozy. And it’s worth it in the end, because you end up not going out and eating take out in your kitchen, while X-Man and Cinco swarm you eating all the best parts.
Also, the father figure bought me a heavy winter coat to keep warm at outdoor soccer games and a car vacuum to suck up all the turf residue left in the car by the indoor games. It’s sad how excited I was by both.
I did have a new life experience over the holidays. We went out to dinner for the father figure’s birthday. The hostess was smitten the moment X-Man marched through the door. She announced “You must be a happy family because he is so handsome.” Um…sure, we’ll go with that. X-Man, in turn, discovered that he could actually be waited on, happily, hand and foot. She brought him water, and then an extra spoon. I mean, you can’t expect a handsome boy to eat the ice out of his water glass with the same spoon that he eats his soup with. I was particularly happy that she brought him an entire glass of ice cubes to eat, because that’s not a habit I’ve tried to break or anything. He asked her to feed him, and she obliged. At this point I may have tried to hide under the table, while our waitress gushed to X-Man “your family so lucky, you so handsome, eat just a little bit more.” Of course she brought him out dessert as well.
Cinco was unimpressed. And also confused by the lack of attention.
I have to wonder if this waitress would still be as impressed if X-Man had display his new trick for her. During New Year’s Day football games, X-Man dropped his trousers, backed his bare hinny up towards his father’s plate of food and announced “I’m pooping on it.”
The father figure is certain that this behavior stems from him being a four year old boy. And having an older brother. Not to mention the father figure has been mooned not once, but twice by his children. Well, each son has done it exactly one time. Each at the age of four. Shockingly, our daughters have failed to pass this milestone.
We both tried to regroup, struggling to understand that the child, who is in early intervention and struggles to use verbs, had managed a complete thought in proper context. Mac volunteered that X-Man had been doing this to him for the last several days. I’m pretty certain that Mac gave X-Man the reaction he was looking for, which was a far cry from his parent’s response.
Again, we were in for a shock. As the father figure, in his best fatherly voice, informed his pride and joy that this behavior was unacceptable and inappropriate, I joined in with the helpful observation “it’s rude.” Which wiped the smirk off of X-Man’s face. He frowned and said solemnly “no, it’s funny.”
Ladies and Gentlemen…..our verbally challenged son.