Ask me how to strap a giant whale to my minivan and drive 1600 miles home with it! I'll tell you how. Ask me to define the word sharing. It's different than what you might expect. Ask me how to get your child to learn there's more to life than pb&j. Wait, don't ask me that. Ask me what it's like to have an autistic child. I'll try to help you understand. Ask me to show you my Mom of the Year award! Oops, usually I'm out of the running for that about 10 minutes after getting out of bed.
Yet, it's all good. Sure, the paycheck is lost in the mail but I still wouldn't trade this life, quirks and all. In my posts, I'm hoping you'll find humor and honesty and that you'll be able to relate to my humble acceptance of motherhood's ups, downs and in betweens.
Welcome to my world!
FEED ME!
If someone ever asks me how I’ve managed to stay reasonably slim after having three kids and climbing up the 30s ladder, my standard answer is always this:
“There’s never anything left in the house for me to eat.”
There’s a lot of stereotypes about boys that float around out there, and while not all of them are true (a later post), one of them is dead on and that is that they are hungry. All. The. Time.
They seem to have some kind of red alert that goes off if even one tiny corner of their stomachs free up. I picture an instrument in their brains that resembles my gas indicator in my minivan…a warning light turns on within 10 miles of running empty.
They also watch the clock like hawks and seem to be in danger of expiring if 5 minutes pass over the time that they have appointed “feeding time.
But don’t think that their stomachs HAVE to be empty for it to be feeding time.
On Saturday, our family returned from a post soccer game trip to the grocery store, where we’d allowed the boys to choose some donuts to eat when we got home. I was putting the groceries away while they stuffed long johns in their mouths and practically swallowed them whole.
I haven’t had a long john in years. But I know that they are filled with frosting and I could see that they are still about the length of my forearm. Which, for me, anyway would dictate that if one entered my mouth, nothing else would need to probably for the rest of the day.
Not so in the case of my boys. I can’t imagine that Ryan’s donut had even made it past the esophagus stage of digestion before his eyes lit up at the sight of the time…
“Hey! It’s 11:45, it’s almost time for lunch!”
It’s a good thing they have lots of energy…
I raised four boys a long time ago, and can attest to the fact that they all have bottomless pits! hang in there!
Comment by Bee — March 23, 2009 @ 9:13 pm