The Birthday Get-together

The air hung heavy and thick as we sat on my sister-in-law's patio on Saturday evening. Too hot to move, we sat languidly in mismatched chairs while our host & hostess served us chilled rose wine. It took effort to breathe, let alone eat, but we managed to polish off some fine barbecued fare and sampled not one, but two different types of cake.

The only one not slowed down at all by the heat, was, of course, Ciaran. The boy does not quit. Right off the bat he ran to his older cousins' trampoline, demanding that I help him climb inside and watch as he bounced up and down, sweat dripping down his recently scrubbed face.

It was the annual family get-together/late birthday party for our niece and nephew. Their actual birthdays both fall in July, but since their parents made the excellent career decisions of being teachers, they travel each year until mid-August and host a get-together upon their return. I totally kick my arse every summer for having not listened to my mother about becoming a teacher. For that, and also for not marrying a millionaire like one of my aunts once told me. Kidding. Kind of.

Anyway, as we sat there tired and lazy and arguing over whose turn it was to chase after Ciaran, I was struck by a few different thoughts - the first of them being this: I am so flipping OLD!

At one time, my sister and brother-in-law's backyard was filled with kids running wild, playing catch or tag while the adults (well, me, at least) clung tightly to our wine glasses. Since the grandparents were always fussing over the youngsters, we had a break for a good couple of hours.

But this year there was a notable difference. My niece, now 14 and my nephew who turned 12, have become more like grown ups and less like the playful, mischievous kids they were not so long ago.

Talk turned, as it inevitably does, to how our nephew was born just weeks after Tony and I were married and how quickly our little 2 year old flower girl had grown up. Of course, only the adults got all sentimental over this, and when my niece casually mentioned that she still had the flouncy little pink and white dress from our wedding, well, I swear I felt a lump in my throat.

And it wasn't because that sweet-faced, tousle-headed little girl had turned into such a lovely young woman, no, that wasn't really it. It's because it hit me for the first time, how old I'm getting. Seriously - how did time creep up on me like that?

I tried not to think about Ciaran growing up that quickly, but then something else struck me:

It is way more freaking relaxing eating dinner with a 14 and 12 year old. They actually sit still during the meal; there's no food being thrown, or spilled all over the place. At no point did I feel little hands grabbing my legs from beneath the table.

Nor did they announce loudly during dinner that they had to go poop - RIGHT NOW! And even if they did, so what? They could get up and go themselves without anybody wiping their butts, or answering a thousand questions about where the poop goes and how toilets work in general.

And the conversation? Delightful! Imagine, a whole hour where I didn't have to raise my voice, threaten or sigh in constant exasperation. My husband was thrilled not to see me holding my head in my hands and muttering under my breath for once, I'm sure.

But, when Sunday morning rolled around, I came to another conclusion; I kind of like my sleepy four year old climbing into bed to snuggle next to me, a pink stuffed pig in one hand and a bright green birthday balloon in his other. Even if, shortly after, he kicks me in the ribs and tells me to make him some pancakes.

I've been Tagged!

Remember playing tag back in grade school? I was such an introverted, geeky kid that I always despised being "it" and I was usually the last one tagged, which suited me just fine. But now I'm (semi) grown-up and it's been (never mind how many) years since I've been subjected to that kind of school yard humiliation. And fortunately I haven't been too traumatized by those childish games to reject participating in a nice, friendly, sitting-down-at-my-computer tag right now. In fact, I have to say I rather like this civilized version of the game.

I've been tagged by Tracy of The Daily Mom Diaries and instead of getting that old familiar feeling of being somehow contaminated, I'm proud to accept my tag & seek out a fellow blogger to spread the love around.

The only conditions of my tagging are that I list a few things that make me grumpy, which believe me, is not a difficult task for me. I will, however, cap it off at 5, and spare you all my irritable grumblings. So, here's my top 5 pet peeves (for today, anyway):

1.  Cranky people. I know, it's supposed to be things that make me cranky, but there's nothing that bothers me more than when I wake up in a decent mood, only to be surrounded by moody, sullen folks. It ruins what could have been a perfectly good day, and therefore makes me just as cranky.
2. Leaving my son in hubby's care for an hour or two and returning home to find my just-cleaned house in a shambles. 
3. Not enough sleep. I love to sleep. I used to be able to sleep anytime, anyplace. Not so now. Last night I got about 4 hours. *Sigh*.
4. Stupid drivers. In the city that I live in, there seem to be many. I have terrible road rage that I need to get under control. 
5. Crappy music. One thing I love about my job is I can listen to my fave tunes on my headphones pretty much all day. I'm very particular about what I listen to and have zero tolerance for bad music. I guess you could say I'm a music snob.

So, there you have the top 5 things that turn me into a Grumpy Gus. And now it's time to turn things over and tag a fellow blogger - Stefanie at The Blue Zoo - you're it! 

Hard Questions

Ciaran's been asking some tough questions lately. At first, I thought I was answering them pretty well, but the truth is, they've become increasingly difficult and I find myself struggling to provide him with knowledgeable responses.

First of all, let me define "hard questions". I'm not taking about stuff like How did I get here? or Who's this Jesus person Nona's always going on about? No, I mean impossible-to-answer questions, like demanding to know who lives in a random house that we happen to pass by.

I start out by saying, "Well, people live there." Then he wants to know, "What people?" Then I might say something like "Probably a family, a mother and father and maybe some kids." But he keeps pushing me for more and more information and refuses to except the answer I ultimately resort to, that I just don't KNOW!

Now, I am usually a very calm, relaxed person, but these constant questions are DRIVING ME INSANE! I know it's probably all very normal and that children must ask questions in order to learn, but really? "Who lives in that house?" And the follow up question to that was "Why do they live so far away?"

I've tried giving short answers and brushing the question off, distracting him, "Oh, look over there, honey! A doggie!" Or the old answering a question with another question trick. "Who do you think lives there?" But this child's insatiable curiosity will not be ignored nor is he easily fooled.

Instead, I end up repeating the same answer over and over until he finally moves on to a new series of questions at which point my breathing rapidly becomes more shallow and my left eye starts twitching like a madwoman.

And Then! There's the Then, what happened? game. It goes like this:

Ciaran: "Mom, Why is the vacuum cleaner loud?'

Me: "Because it has a powerful motor."

Ciaran: "Why does it have a powerful motor?"

Me: "To vacuum up all the dirt and dust."

Ciaran: "It vacuums up dwurt and dust?"

Me: "Yes, that's what it does."

Ciaran: "And then what happens?'

Me (keeping it nice and calm): "Nothing. After the floors are clean, we turn off the vacuum and put it away."

Ciaran: "But what if it doesn't pick up the dwurt? Then what happens?"

Me (mild frustration creeping in): "Well, it will, honey, because that's how it works."

Ciaran: "But what if it doesn't work?"

Me (taking a deep breath): "Then, we'd have to fix it."

Ciaran:  "And then what happens?"

These conversations can last ten, sometimes fifteen minutes. And depending on my state of mind, how much sleep I've had the night before, or whether or not I'm driving, I can become somewhat frazzled.

The only two child-rearing books I've read in my life "What to Expect When You're Expecting" and "What to Expect, the Toddler Years" have not prepared me for these constant questions. I'm a quiet person who likes to talk only when absolutely necessary. Perhaps it's time I revisit the Parenting section of my local Chapters and read up on the best way of handling this non-stop barrage of questions.

If I had to make an educated guess, I suppose kids ask questions repeatedly like this not only to learn, but for some kind of reassurance. I remember when he first started talking and he'd hear a louder-than-usual sound he'd say "Noise? Noise?" over and over and I'd have to keep talking to him about the noise until he felt better about it.

After that "What Happened?" became his catch phrase. If you so much as raised your voice slightly, dropped something or even sneezed, he'd come running over asking "What happened? What happened, Mommy?" And again, I'd have to convince him every time that no, the world was not coming to an end. I actually got really freaked out once when he said "What Happened?" like thirty times in a row. It was as though a fuse short-circuited in his little brain. Sometimes kids really know how to scare the crap out of you!   

Now that I've vented my frustration at my son's questioning nature,  I wouldn't be a proper Libra if I didn't look at the flip side of the situation. Often, his questions actually do make me smile and some have me biting my lip so I don't burst out laughing.  I also have to wonder, where's he picking up this stuff.  Yesterday, for example, he asked me "What's jail?" But I'd have to say, his recent inquiry "Where does piss come from?"  really takes the cake!