Worry

I worry about my Peanuts so much.

Peanut One, especially.

He's having a tough time right now and doesn't have the words to tell me what is bothering him.

It feels like it is literally killing me to watch him go through this.

I want to fix it. I want to make it better. I want to make it go away.

What I realize is that I can't. Even if I could, something else would come up.

I need to merely be with him, let him know he's loved; care for him and let him know I'm here. I need to advocate when necessary, yet not step into everything. I need to relax and be a conscious parent instead of reacting and being a dazed parent.

It's hard.

Thankfulness

Each night we say prayers with the Peanuts. After a few of the standards, I ask them to tell me what they are thankful for today. Peanut One has had a tough time lately naming anything and tends to look around his room and state whatever his eyes fall on.

I'm thankful for . . .

geckos,

pirates,

my rug. . .

This morning, after a Sunday of snow in Atlanta (on March 1, nonetheless!), I woke Peanut One with the news that school was cancelled.

He grinned, rolled over and mumbled something.

"What did you say, honey?"

"Thank you God!"

At least he has his priorities straight.

Marketing Genius

Peanut One struggled to understand the concept of Daylight Savings Time.

He pondered the oddness of this special day that made no sense at all to him )except that he got tons of praise from his weary parents for not waking up an hour early).

Finally, last night he asked me why we didn't have Daylight Savings Time decorations.

He decided we should make them: suns, clocks, moons and stars.

I think I need to give Hallmark a call . . .

Fill 'Er Up

I sat on the floor last night as the Peanuts were doing everything possible to avoid getting ready for bed.

Suddenly Peanut One came charging at me with a huge hug.

I hugged him back and then he started blowing vigorously into my shoulder as he still held on with his hug.

"What are you doing Peanut One?"

"Filling you up with love Mom."

Does it get any better than that?

A Rose By Any Other Name

When we chose Peanut One's name (while not being super creative) we thought it was a bit different and surely wouldn't be the next Owen or Olivia or Madison.

He started at a new school this year. Whose cubby is next to his? A girl with the same name! As she was named after her grandfather, we had a little laugh with her parents and shrugged it off.

Today though, I opened the Pottery Barn catalogue. There, on the heavily monogrammed products, was Peanut One's name emblazoned for all to see.

Just as Owen was splattered all over the pages last year.

I must admit defeat.

We should have named him Bob.

So That's How It Works

Peanut One has been increasingly interested in how babies are made. A year or so ago he questioned me and I said that Daddies and Mommies make babies.

He asked if we made them on the grill or in the oven.

About six months ago he asked how babies got out of their Mommy's bellies. I told him the Mom went to the hospital and the Doctor helped get the baby out.

That sufficed for a few months.

Now he is persistently asking how babies get into their Mommy's bellies. I try to tell him:

That is hard to explain to a 4 year old.

You just learn how to do it when you are old enough.

I can't really tell you.

Nothing works. . .

Finally tonight I whispered in his ear, because whispering seems to make any explanation better, and told him that Daddy met Mommy, he loved her, we got married and then made a baby.

He thought about it for a while and whispered back that he got it.

Then he told me he was going to get a baby, shove it in his friend's ear and push it down into her belly.

Works for me. . .

The Thrilla' From the South

Peanut One has gotten really into dancing lately except that only a mother could call it dancing. It is really flailing, combined with jumping and hopping, combined with the head shaking thing that white boys do when they boogie.

Tonight I put on 'Love Is A Battlefield' by Pat Benatar, in honor of the haircut I just got which is a little shorter than I wanted. Peanut One began 'dancing' as Peanut Two looked on in awe. Suddenly he grabbed his crotch a la Michael Jackson, threw up his other hand and then continued dancing. Huh? Has he been watching this on You Tube?!

Another Strike Against Mom

Act One, Scene One (Contemplative silence in car as mom and son drive home.)

Peanut One: Mom, I'm beginning to like Dad better than you.

Me: Really . . . why?

Peanut One: Well . . . he carries me around more than you do.

Me: Hmmm.

Peanut One: And Mom . . . do you have any wood?

Me: No, I don't.

Peanut One (disappointed): Oh.

I Don't Recall

Oh how much I loathe love the: cheap plastic toys, coloring book pages, pieces of paper, 'art' projects, junk creative expressions my kids bring home from school or parties.

I admit it.

I tend to sometimes toss it.

Well . . . a lot of times.

I keep the projects that actually demonstrate some learning, that the Peanuts really love, and that touch my heart or funny-bone in some way. That still leaves about ten million tossable items a week.

As the Peanuts get more aware, I am beginning to have empathy for Roger Clemens, Bill Clinton and OJ Simpson:

Peanut: Mom, where are my two big bags full of rolled-up paper telescopes I made?

Me: hmmm

Peanut: Mom, I put them right in the middle of the living room here in my special spot!

Me: Oh, did you?

Peanut (agitated): Mom, did you throw them away?

Me: I'm not sure.

Peanut: Mom, where are they?!

Me: I don't recall.

Peanut (clamoring through the recycle bin): Maaaaahm!

Me: I can't remember.

Anyone know a good lawyer?!

Halloween Huh?!

Peanut One wants to be a hyena for Halloween. How on earth am I going to find a hyena costume - because I am not making one.

When he told me this two months ago, I assumed it would pass.

It hasn't.

Today I started my subconscious campaign talking about how it would be so fun if the Peanuts could dress up as characters from Winnie the Pooh.

Peanut Two loved the idea and claimed she would be Piglet and Peanut One would be Tigger.

Peanut One thought it was a great idea also.

For next year.

This year he wants to be a hyena.

Growing Up

Peanut One started a new school a few weeks ago. J and I were very concerned about how he would fare in a new environment (worrying about the Peanuts seems to be one of our favorite pastimes). We were all nervously excited as the big day approached.

He has loved it, thank goodness.

Something I've realized during these transitional weeks is that he is gaining control over his emotions. It is a bitter-sweet evolution to watch.

On one hand, it is exciting and moving to see him growing up - able to take a worry/anxiety/uncomfortable situation, add a deep breath and bust his way through it without tears or whining.

On the other hand, Peanut One's sensitivity is one of his strongest assets. As we developed our special mother-son relationship over the past four years, I often imagine him as an grown man with the sensitivity of a little boy - the willingness to wear his feelings on his sleeve and unabashedly claim his emotions.

Is this slipping away?

Is he on the path to monosyllabic grunts instead of conversation?

Am I losing my little sweetheart?

If so, who will he become?

Peanut One Asks

I'm at the beach with the Peanuts and having trouble with my internet access. While somewhat freeing to not have the option to go online all week, I'm glad to be back up.

I thought today I'd share some questions from Peanut One - in case you have any brilliant answers. As a solo parent this week, I'm sort of stymied!

What makes the wind?

Who is meaner, pirates or robbers?

Could a pirate beat Shere Khan (the tiger from Jungle Book)?

Who could crunch 139 people?

What if the kids had to throw their food and

knock the grownups off their seats?

What came first, fire trucks, police cars or ambulances?

As you can tell, I need some help!

Museum Melancholy

I thought long and hard about my decision and decided to go ahead with the plan. I took the Peanuts to the Fernbank Museum of Natural History. We had a great time taking in the new exhibit on Polar Bears, Penguins and other icy things. We spent a long time in the children's play area. We named every animal in the display cases along the hallway.

Then, against my own trepidation, we went into the 'A Walk through Time in Georgia' exhibit. This area takes you through all the different regions of Georgia and shows the animals and plants that live there. Simultaneously it shows the history of our planet from creepy sea creatures that used to own the ocean to the magnificent dinosaurs that Peanut One loves so much. (I always get confused trying to converge the two tracks, but it works for the kids).

The dinosaur room is always a big hit for Peanut One and when we got there he sat right down to stare at the life-sized models of his buddies. After much coaxing, I finally got the Peanuts to leave the dinosaurs. As we wove our way through the final rooms of the exhibit - seeing the wetlands and barrier islands in full force - I tried to shift Peanut One's focus to anything but the dinosaurs.

Obviously I still haven't learned the skill of distraction because, as always and on cue, the minute we walked out of the exhibit and into the museum Peanut One burst into tears. I gently asked him what was wrong (as if I didn't know) and he sobbed, "Why did the dinosaurs all have to die? Why can't they still be here? I love them so much."

Knowing from past experience that rational conversation about extinction and evolution doesn't work for a 4 year old, I carefully picked him up, gave him a big hug and told him it made me sad too.

You've got to love my sensitive little guy.

Beach Magic

We just returned from the beach for a long weekend and are heading out again this weekend, so the whirlwind of transforming sandy, wet clothes into clean ones to be packed and become sandy wet ones again has begun.

Our time at the beach was amazing. It was so perfectly wonderful to watch our kids play in the sand and water and wear themselves out with their cousins. With a deep fondness for the beach - arguably my favorite place in the world - it was such a joy to see the cycle of awe, joy and fun encircle the Peanuts.

Highlights:

Sitting in the surf with Peanut One as the waves

knocked us down to peals of his laughter.

Snuggling Peanut Two up in a warm beach towel

after we physically dragged her from the pool.

Peanut One chasing crabs at night

with a flashlight, shovel and a gaggle of cousins (he caught one!).

Peanut Two taking 25 minutes to walk 25 feet of beach

because of all the interesting things she wanted to pick up.

Peanut One's instinctive urge to swim in the ocean,

get out, and promptly roll in the sand.

Our last night we were sitting on our deck looking at the ocean and Peanut One said to J, "It is going to be hard to say good-bye to my cousins, but even harder to say good-bye to the beach".

I couldn't agree more.

Up in Smoke

For some reason, Peanut One is obsessed with smoking. We've told him how smoking is bad for our lungs and not good for our bodies and how back-in-the-day people didn't know that so they smoked.

This works, until he sees someone smoking in the here-and-now and then the questions begin . . .

Why are they smoking?

Don't they know it isn't good for them?

What does smoking do?

How do they smoke?

Why, why, why. . . ?

Fortunately, with smoking bans abounding and no one in our circle of family or friends that smokes, this doesn't happen often.

Even so, yesterday we were playing outside and he was holding a large stem to his mouth, putting it in and out and making puffing noises. I asked him what he was doing and he matter-of-factly said,

"I'm just smoking some grass, mom".

Is this how it starts?!

Social Skilz

Peanut One has always been a bit slow to warm up. Even at 6 months old, when I gathered with other mom friends, he just wanted to sit in my lap. No wriggling, no rolling, no crawling - he just wanted to watch from a safe space.

As I find myself doing, I often fell into the FOR THE REST OF HIS LIFE mode, thinking, worrying, fretting that he would be this way FOR THE REST OF HIS LIFE.

Now that he is older, I realize the grain of truth in it all. He won't be the most outgoing kid when he first meets people, but he'll make it work.

(Hello . . . apple not falling far from the tree here. . .)

Yet, whenever I see him making in-roads with his social skills I get a little proud and teary eyed.

After play school today, he saw a group of kids running around outside. Instead of sticking with me and heading to the car, Peanut One ran after them calling out and engaging in their play. I watched with joy as he made his own way in the group.

When I called him to go, he pushed my proud-oh-meter even further up by heading over to one of the boys to say good-bye.

Unfortunately the boy didn't respond.

Strangely he must not have heard Peanut One wave good-bye behind his back.

'What will my social butterfly do next?' I wondered.

Need I be suprised?

He promptly head-butted him and ran away.

Oh so proud.