Shy Boy

Before I had Sam, I always just assumed I would have super outgoing children.  I am fairly outgoing myself and Jon, well he doesn't even know what the word stranger means.  We went to Shoe Carnival a while back and Sam and I went in the direction of the womens' shoes and Jon in the direction of the mens' shoes.  After I looked around for a good 20 minutes, I went to see if Jon had found what he was looking for.  He hadn't even made it to the men's section yet.  He was standing at the cash register talking to some guy that works there.  I don't remember what they were talking about, but it wasn't even shoes!  I have too many of these same stories to count.

The thought that we may have a shy child hadn't even occurred to me.  Enter my little Sammy.  He is my sweet, shy, sensitive little boy.  Say we're out in public somewhere.  Sam will be asking me "what dat? what dat?" about anything and everything or making funny sounds and cracking up at himself, and then a stranger will stop to smile and say hello.  Sam immediately freezes like a deer in headlights, and hides his head in my shoulder.  He totally disses them.  In which case, I always feel awkward and say, "oh, he's just shy," and give the stranger a big smile and walk away.

I don't know if this is normal, but it always makes me feel so bad, like I want to call out after them "Don't take it personally!  He really is so sweet and funny, he just doesn't know you!  If he had a little time to warm up , you would see!  Got a minute to hang out with us at the park down the street?!"  And then they run away from me.

 I wonder if all parents of shy kids feel this way or if it's just me.  All I know is that Sam doesn't have the outgoing personality I expected, but I wouldn't change one tiny little thing about who he is.  Especially since his safe haven is with his mama.

Cat Fight

Sam and I usually take a leisurely stroll over to the centralized mailboxes when we get home in the evenings.  One evening I noticed a bright yellow sign posted on the boxes.  I figured someone was looking to cut lawns or advertise the next neighborhood association meeting.  But then I started reading.  Someone was not a happy camper.

Wow.  I like how she (I just assume this is some crabby old woman) continuously says they walk on our cars and dig in our flowerbeds, like all the neighbors have been having pow wows discussing how to take out the gang of neighborhood cats.  There is not an excess of stray cats wreaking havoc in the neighborhood, by the way.  I occasionally spot one taking a snooze in our bushes, but that's it.  I thought about responding, simply for my own entertainment more than anything.  Maybe something like this:

 

But before I had a chance to sneak this little piece of comedic gold on the mailbox, someone beat me to it with a response of their own:

 

While not as entertaining as my response, I have to give the lady who wrote this props for signing with her name and number, and even included her address.  I'm way too big of a chicken for that.  Obviously I would have gone the more mature route with a picture of talking cats.

For the Love of Shoes

I love shoes for a plethora of reasons, but the best reason I can think of is that I never get too fat for my shoes.  They never make me wish I hadn't had that second helping of potatoes or feel guilty for not going on that run I thought about.  (I'm looking at you, pants.)  This weekend I decided to honor and celebrate shoes for never shaking my self esteem and always keeping my feet nice and healthy.  What better way than by buying new shoes?

 

So I used to think Sperry's were ugly on girls because they are "boy shoes."  But they've grown on me.  I think they look really cute with a pair of jeans and a flowy cotton top or with a pair of beach shorts and a t-shirt.  Not to mention, they are the most comfortable things I've ever put on my feet so I think I'll wear them a lot.  Also, I really needed a pair of spring/summer shoes that were not dress shoes, but dressier than flip-flops or tennis shoes.  (Welcome to my brain while shopping...justify, justify, justify!)

Ok, so these little beauties are going to be a little harder to justify.  I will admit they're not super practical.  I can't think of too many outfits I own to pair these with, (which obviously means I need to add a few pieces to my wardrobe, no?) but they are really really cute.  But, the main reason I had no choice but to buy these?  They were $99.00 boots that I got on sale for $21.00!  I mean, come on, it would be a crime to not buy them.  Amiright or amiright?

A Proud Idiot

Sometimes I have these moments of clarity as a parent that make me feel proud and like an idiot at the same time.

The other day I was running around picking up the house, back and forth from the living room to the kitchen to the bedrooms, putting things in their places, and Sam was crying for me to pick him up and trying to keep up with me.  I kept saying things like "no whining, not right now, watch out," but none of my words of wisdom seemed to satisfy him.  This went on for a good 10 minutes.  And then I had a light bulb moment.  I picked up a pair of my shoes, handed them to him, and said "can you put these in mommy's closet please?"  His face immediately lit up and he was thrilled to run to my closet with the shoes, and even made sure to line them up evenly on the rack (I have NO idea where my child gets his neat freak tendencies.)  Before I knew it, I had him putting away laundry, putting all his toys in his room, and scrubbing the toilets with an old toothbrush.  It was awesome!  I'm kidding about the toilets, for now anyways.

But really, these sort of moments make me proud that I figured out a solution without causing a tantrum, but also like an idiot because really, why didn't I think of that in the first place?

Cooking dinner has also proved to be much less stressful if I find a way Sam can help.

My Cahs

So let's start this new blog off with a story, shall we?  This story is actually what inspired me to start blogging again.  You see, this young lady, who shall remain nameless, (only because I really have no idea what her name is) she is the nemesis of moms with toddlers everywhere.  She is the childless, not a care in the world, judgey lady who makes you want to retract everything you've ever told your toddler about how violence is not acceptable.  She is the lady who needs to be ousted to the world (since the world reads my blog, you know) so that one day when she has a toddler who is being less than cooperative, we can all point and laugh, offering no sympathy as punishment for her days of judginess.

It started innocent enough as I decided to peruse the aisles of Marshalls as I'm wont to do when I have a little time to kill.  Trouble is I had Sam, my 2 year-old, in tow.  Don't get me wrong, he is usually my little angel face love muffin.  However, things can get dicey trying to shop after picking him up from daycare.  He is just ready to relax and go home.  Apparently shopping is not relaxing for toddlers, not to mention humans of the male variety (hence my no shopping with the husband if I want to stay married rule.)  I know this about Sam.  I am well aware there's about a 75% chance I will regret going shopping.  Why I didn't listen to the little voice in my head telling me not to do it, I don't know.  Because I'm a glutton for punishment?  I suppose.

So back to Marshalls.  Sam wasn't being terrible, just fidgety and antsy.  We passed the kitchen aisles where he found a bag of apple chips he wanted.  I thought "perfect, an easy way to keep him occupied while sitting in the cart."  So I opened the bag and let him munch on those.

Here comes my fatal mistake.  I passed the toy section.  He immediately spotted a package of toy cars, reached out from the cart, and grabbed them declaring "my cahs!"  My child has approximately 137 cars.  He does not need anymore.  These cars were also $9.00.  I told him these are not his cars and asked him to put them back on the shelf.  This is when every frustration he has ever had in his 2 plus years on planet earth boiled in his little body and exploded out of his mouth.  "Mmmmmy caaaaaahs!  Mmmmmmy caaaaaaahs!  Mmmmmy caaaaahs!"  You get the picture.  You know, I could have just given in and let him have the cars, but for some reason, I decided this was the moment I had to teach my child you cannot get everything you want in life.  Like I said, glutton for punishment.

I tried to calm him down with more apple chips, a piece of candy I had in my purse, a video of Mickey Mouse on my phone.  Not only did these offers not satisfy him, they only made him madder, which of course, made the screaming louder.  At this point, I'm willing to guess everyone in Marshall's was looking at me.  I wouldn't know, however, since I refused to look up for fear of the judgey eyes.

Maybe you're thinking "why didn't you just leave?"  Because I had to pay for the damn apple chips, that's why!  So I abandoned my cart in the toy aisle, scooped up my screaming toddler and got in line with several other patrons.  Meanwhile, Sam is still screaming for his cahs.  I avoided eye contact at all cost and am beyond relieved when it's our turn at the check-out counter.  I am clearly stressed out, irritated, embarrassed, and you want to know what the young lady checking me out says with a snooty look on her face when I hand her the bag of apple chips?

You already opened the bag?

So then I punched her in the face and decided to blog about it.  It's good to be back!  The end.