Kid Talk

So – you know what it’s like… you’ve had some kids and you know you’re not going to have any more. This is the last one.

And the last one outgrows that cute little outfit that someone gave you and you have to decide whether to give it away or save it or take it to a consignment store. *sniff*

And then he outgrows the tiny onesies.

And then she outgrows the swing. And the bouncer. And the crib. And the cute little baby rattles.

*sniff* *sniff* *sniff*
~~

When we came home from taking Jenn and JMP to the airport, someone had (nicely?) cleaned up all of the baby toys. I know whoever did it (my guess would be Rebecca) thought she was doing something nice (and she was) but it made me sad to see everything stacked up in a corner — obviously no longer waiting for JMP to play with them.

*sniff* *sniff* *sniff*

I’m going to have to clean them up — put them away, for reals. And, put away the pack-n-play. And, send the clothes his mom left behind. And, the baby food sitting on the counter.

*sniff* *sniff* *sniff*

Yes, he’s going to come and visit again. Many, many more times. But… it’s still sad.

Melancholy-making.

*sniff* *sniff* *sniff*

During the drive to take the girls back to their dad’s house, the conversation made its way to friends who aren’t touchy-feely and don’t like hugs. Elly said, “People who don’t like hugs just haven’t found the right hug, yet.”

Which caused RJ to say “Yea, like those lesbians who just haven’t found the right man, yet.”

Which caused me to roll my eyes, again.

Which led TW to say, “Elizabeth, you know I’m one of those people who doesn’t like hugs, right?”

Which caused Elly to say, “Yea, you just need to go around hugging random people on the street until you find the right hug.”

Which caused me to roll my eyes again.

Eventually, the conversation turned to Mike Ditka. We had to explain to the girls who Mike Ditka is and then we told them about seeing Mike Ditka in O’Hare on Sunday night. After much laughter and joke making, Elly piped up with… “Mike Ditka! You should have hugged Mike Ditka! I bet that was your hug, mommy, and you missed your chance!”

Poor TW, she’ll never love hugs because she missed her chance to hug Coach Ditka. *sniff* *sniff* Maybe we’ll run into him again someday and she can give it a try. A hug from Ditka could change everything!

It’s really nice to be able to hand JMP back to his mom when he’s tired or hungry. Really, really nice — because then I can take a nap. Or sit down and write a blog post about how nice it is to hand him back to his mom.

It’s also nice to be able to watch his bath time rather than to be the one on her knees on the bathroom floor, bent over the tub, giving the bath. My back and knees hurt just watching Jenn do it.

Also, JMP is HEAVY. I’d be in shape again if I had to tote is 20lb chunky, cute self around all of the time. As it is, my right shoulder is kind of groaning. When I said yesterday that I couldn’t believe how heavy he was, TW rolled her eyes and said he wasn’t… she’s changed her mind because her shoulder is feeling a twinge, too.

It’s awesome to be able to just play with him or watch others play with him and take photos and leave all of the real work to his mom. This grandmother gig is freaking awesome.

I love it. And I love JMP, tons.

When Jenn called me a few weeks ago to say they might becoming to the mainland, I was very excited but didn’t talk about it because it was a big “maybe”.

When she called me again, a week later, to say they were coming but the dates were a muddle, I was very, very excited but didn’t talk about it much because it was such a confusing mess.

When she called again, with more specific dates, I was over the moon, but didn’t talk about it a lot because she also called to give me some sad news and that over-shadowed the over the moonieness of it.

I did, however, start to prepare!

I ordered cold weather clothes, because JMP gets cold if it’s 60F or if the fan blows on him. Oy.

We went to Target and bought more cold weather clothes, because JMP gets cold if it’s 60F or if the fan blows on him. Ugh.

We bought a wooden farm toy thingy. I went digging in the closet for toys I’d bought to send him for Valentine’s Day or Easter or his birthday.

We bought diapers and wipes and baby food! We bought a sippy cup.

We cleaned out Prince J’s bedroom (sort of) and I decided he needed a pack-n-play, so I ordered one (on sale!)

TW decided he needed more toys and maybe a Jenny Jumper since he loves to bounce and jump. So, we went to a couple of thrift stores and a used clothes/baby toy shop. We hit pay dirt at the used clothes/baby toy shop.

We came home with a box of blocks, a drum, a panda rattle thingy, a Fisher Price Little People school box, a circus car, a board book and… I over-ruled TW and insisted on the bouncy car instead of the door frame jumper. Heh. Totally ridiculous, but it’s cute! And it was only $5 more than the jumper.

I cleaned all of the toys. I’m washing the pack-n-play sheets and his cold weather pajamas right now. The house is trashed, but it’s always trashed because we have a puppy who shreds anything she can get her teeth around… hopefully she won’t shred JMP. His shoes, toys, socks, diapers etc… I’m pretty sure she’s gonna LOVE those.

I cannot wait to cuddle JMP… and hug his mom, tight. After spending a month with her in May, I’ve missed her a lot. Like I missed her when I left her behind in NJ after high school graduation. Sniff.

Did I mention JMP is COMING???!!!! I hope you don’t get sick of me posting photos and videos for the next week…

Well that was fast.

Michelle’s friend and her boyfriend arrived mid-day on Wednesday and left last night at around 9:30pm. Fastest stray children ever.

It was almost like they weren’t even here and that’s never happened before.

I sure am glad I took Susan’s photo in the high chair on Thursday otherwise it would have been easy to convince myself she’d never been here at all.

Who ever heard of kids moving to Chicagoland with no job and no place to live — and finding a place to live in less than 48 hours? That’s just madness. Not that I’m complaining. Or that I’d have been complaining if they were still here?

It’s just unusual. Very unusual.

A long time ago, we were out for dinner with the little kids and TW’s ex — back in the days when we thought we might be able to have joint celebrations of big events. By the time we headed home, I’d pretty much had enough of Figlio-togetherness and was just ready for everyone to shush for a few minutes and chill out.

But no. The small children have always known exactly how to push my buttons (and the buttons of every parent/parental unit in their lives) and they were out-of-control on the drive home. TW was not much better, encouraging the wild screeching and storytelling and game playing IN THE CAR.

I hit my limit when Prince J argued something I said with an explanation of why he was right that included the phrase “singing in a bomb”. A totally ridiculous argument to what I said. A totally ridiculous idea that makes no sense under any circumstance. Something way, way out there — even for Prince J, who was (is?) good at pushing the limits of imagination.

“Singing in a bomb” is a very common phrase in our house, now. Unfortunately, only TW and I understand the phrase — the small children were too young to remember that hell night.

~~~

There are some songs or musicians that remind me, strongly, of one of the big kids.
– Nirvana reminds me of Chris.
– Smashing Pumpkin reminds me of Michelle
– Oasis, Vanilla Ice and Gloria Estefan remind me of Jenn.

I could go on, but you get the picture, right? You probably have songs that remind you strongly of people in your family, too.

When I hear those songs on the radio, I turn them up just a little and I say their names. A little prayer sent to them across the country (or across town)? Sometimes I ask TW to text the child, if I’m driving. Sometimes she just takes it upon herself to text them when she hears one of their songs. Sometimes I’ll call shortly after I get home, after I’ve heard one.

The kids have been known to ignore those texts. Or answer with a laugh. They sometimes roll their eyes. But they get it. They understand why these songs remind me of them. They understand that it’s a connection between us.

~~

A couple of weeks ago, we were riding in the car and Suicide Blonde came on the radio. TW suggested that Prince J might have gotten the lyric of this song just a wee bit twisted and turned “Suicide Blonde” into “Singing in a Bomb”.

And, it all clicked into place.

This would have been a song Prince J would have heard quite often in our house, at that age. It was a popular song in his early, formative years, so he would have heard it on the radio, too. He would not have recognized the word “Suicide” when he was a wee thing. He also would have understood both “singing” and “bomb”. It makes sense out of something that has never made a lick of sense.

~~~

Today, driving to the hospital, Suicide Blonde came on the radio. I asked Siri to text Prince J, just like I would have asked Siri to text Chris if Come As You Are came on. Suicide Blonde is on the radio — so Hi!

I turned the corner and… there were two large diggers, another Prince J thing, so I told Siri to text Prince J… and a digger, too!.

He responded a little while ago with… What?

The boy is determined to drive me over the edge, isn’t he?