My Purple Hayes Daze

I hope that Hayes grows up to be thankful for everyday things.  So, in an attempt to instill a sense of gratitude in him, each night before he goes to sleep, I ask him to tell me about his favorite part of the day.  It’s quite heartwarming to hear what sticks out in his mind, and what he finds important and exciting in an otherwise uneventful twenty-four hours.  Then, I always ask him to turn the best part of the day into a thank-you prayer.

Tonight, he prayed a particularly interesting prayer.  It went something like this (my thoughts included):

Dear God,

Thank you for me riding down the ramp on my scooter.  (Hmmm…I never would have thought to say thanks for something as simple as that.  But, hey, I’m learning a lot from this kid).  And for me sharing my scooter with Kimani.  (Umm…not entirely true, little one.  Actually, I had to force you to share your scooter.  You didn’t want Kimani anywhere near your scooter today, remember)? And that Kimani came to my house.  (Sweet).  And that I punched him in the face really hard.  (Wait a minute…What?  Where was I when that happened?  Omigod, is Kimani OK?  Should I call his mother)?

Well, I didn’t call Kimani’s mother.  And I didn’t question Hayes at all about the alleged incident.  Instead, I decided to give it the good belly laugh it deserved and sleep well tonight, knowing that my boy is on his way to becoming the appreciative man I had always hoped he would be.

I’ve been biting my tongue for way too long.  Normally, I don’t have much to say about reality shows because, by now, we all know they are far from real.  But let me tell you something about those Real Housewives. DeShawn, NeNe, Kim, Sheree and Lisa managed to, collectively, make women with children on TV look just as awful as women without children on TV do.

To be fair, a lot can be said about reality TV production.  I mean, the original Orange County crew was depicted as the cute and cool Cali girls they are supposed to be.  And the NYC women were as straight-talking and snooty as everyone thinks New Yorkers are.  But this season’s Atlanta bunch took typecasting to a whole new level.  And Bravo managed to highlight all the southern stereotypes and pump them full of steroids.  For example, after a paternity test, NeNe still doesn’t know who her biological father is.  (Was that episode supposed to remind us of a Jerry Springer show or what)? Sheree actually threw a fashion show without showing a single fashion.  (Um…Duh). When asked how to spell cat, Kim responded K-A-T and kept on talking as though she had spelled it correctly.  Oh…and she also has a really bad hair weave that might actually be a wig.  (Gasp)! DeShawn said that growing up, she always knew she would be somebody.  (What does that mean)? And Lisa actually admitted that she doesn’t do anything that doesn’t make her money.  (Who says that)?

I swear, I’m not making any of this up.  If you haven’t seen the ladies in action, there’s one more mud-slinging episode left.  The reunion is airing soon.  (Warning: Make sure the kids are in bed first).

Today, like every day, I woke up bleary-eyed and walked directly into the kitchen.  I made breakfast for Hayes.  I set the table for Hayes.  I filled a tea cup for Hayes.  And pulled out his chair.  I prepared his lunch.  I spread toothpaste on his toothbrush.  Set his toothbrush by the sink, and his lunch bag by the door.  After picking out his clothes and laying them out, I was free to do me.

Then, like every day, Hayes sat up out of his sleep.  He rubbed his eyes, got out of bed, and walked into the kitchen.  He sat down in front of his freshly-made spread and perfectly-made tea.  Then he looked at me and said good morning.

The only thing different about today was that he decided to ask me if it was time for me to eat now.  Indeed it was.  And how did we know?  Well, because Hayes’s breakfast was on the table and his lunch was by the door.  His toothbrush was by the sink and his clothes were ready to put on.

It was a string of happenings I did not even realize had become a habit until it was pointed out.  And I stood there buttering my bagel with un-brushed teeth, an un-washed face, a disheveled mess thinking about how I had not considered myself first from the time I woke up.

Wow!  Motherhood does change a girl.  And I sure have come a long way.

About a week ago, Hayes came down with a fever.  That’s the freaky thing about kids; one minute they’re perfectly fine, laughing and playing and being cute.  Then the next thing you know, they’re miserable and fussy and clingy with a full-blown sickness from a bug you never saw coming.  It only proves that kids are such troopers.  It really takes a lot to get them down.

Well, Hayes’s sudden fever was followed up by a few days of coughing and a runny nose.  It turned out to be just a nasty cold.  And, of course, between the nose blowing and wiping sneeze particles off of my face, I caught the bug too–even though I attempted to medically boost my defenses.  Alas, such is the viscious cycle of the cold virus.

I knew even as I cooled Hayes’s hot body with a damp face towel that I would, more than likely, be next.  And I knew as he slept beside me moaning from discomfort that it would soon be me laying there in misery.  But the crazy/beautiful thing about being a mom is that none of that stops me from holding Hayes’s snotty tissue in my hand until I can find a trash can, or drying his tearing eye with my bare hand when a tissue cannot be found.  We moms endure all the spit-sprayed coughs and sneezes that our children have inside of them with little more than a firm reminder to “dude, cover your mouth!…please.”

Yes, we’ll do anything for the children we love and love to take care of.  Even if it makes us sick.

First it was Halloween and talk about costumes and trick-or-treating that threw a wrench in my plans to keep Hayes in the dark about Halloween for just one more year–until he’s knowledgeable enough to make the time, effort and expense worth it for me.  Now it’s Thanksgiving and a circulating international dinner sign up sheet is really cramping my style.  But I figured out it’s not the holidays that are driving me crazy.  Actually, it’s Hayes’s school that’s about to make me loose it.  The expectation is that Hayes and his classmates bring a traditional dish to school for a holiday feast in observance of Thanksgiving.

No doubt, I understand how this is relevant and fun for a bunch of preschoolers.  But Hayes is vegan.  And no matter how it turns out, it won’t be a fun feast for him.  Either he will accept everything his friends offer him (i.e., turkey and things made with butter and milk) and I’ll be up nursing his aching belly all night.  Or he’ll be the only kid eating the vegan mac ‘n cheese getting colder and more stale by the minute.  Perhaps we’ll avoid it altogether and make a plan to spend the afternoon watching Spongebob and Avatar rather than attend the international feast at school.

I can only hope I’m not scarring my child for life.  (Who’s kidding who.  Of course I am.  How could this not)?

Hayes loved the film Madagascar.  (What’s not to love about talking zoo animals when you’re three years old).  And when I saw the previews for Madagascar 2, even I laughed.  This is enough to qualify the movie as a win-win.  Because, of course, Hayes would love it.  But even better is that I would not have to spend an hour and a half hoping he would fall asleep so I could scoop him up and sneak into a better movie (see Alvin & The Chipmunks).

So, I googled the nearest cinema and sent Hayes with Stacey so I could jump on the train and buy tickets two hours in advance.  I went back for Hayes, made a quick detour to the pizza shop to scarf down a bag of garlic knots–that I didn’t mean to end up becoming dinner.  (Shame on me).  Then back to the train on the way to the cinema.  Straight to the restroom, of course.  Tinkle-tinkle, wash-wash.  Arrive to the theater just in time…to find all of the seats are taken…except for a couple…in the very first row.

Hayes did not seem to mind that we had to position ourselves on the edge of the seat and throw our heads all the way back on our necks just to see the screen.  In fact, he prefered it.  Because when I tried to convince him to move with me to two vacant seats in the row behind us, he told me ‘no.’

And that’s how Madagascar 2 gave me a major crick in my neck.

It’s amazing how much we women get asked to report on what’s going on in our pants.  For instance, if you’re child-free, inquiring minds always want to know… Why don’t you have any children yet?  What are you waiting for? And… When are you going to get started? Then when you finally please the annoying masses it’s, Oh!  You only have one child?  Well, you gotta have another. Really, it’s enough to make a girl wanna curse someone out.

You know, I’ve been doing this child-rearing thing for more than a couple of years now.  Three and a half, to be exact.  At first, parenthood was daunting.  The learning curve is steep.  And the tests are all in real time.  So the pressure is certainly on.  Then eventually, with practice, I got used to being called mom and the hard stuff became easier.  But not so easy that I would seriously consider having another kid.

If only the annoying inquiring minds could understand that I’ve got something important in my pants.

Yes, children are lovely and usually go together nicely when paired, but, for me, having another one would be like taking a turn off of this familiar, single-lane road that I have paved…onto a busy, double-lane highway.  There’s more traffic and road rage–and less time for me to pull the lip gloss out of my pants pocket and apply it without compromising my whole look or getting in a wreck.

While I realize there could possibly be other things to discuss–you know, besides today’s presidential election–who’s kidding who.  Obama, McCain, electoral votes, and popular votes are the only things on my mind.  Just like everyone else’s.

But since at this last hour, seriously discussing politics can be ugly–not to mention that I am way too anxious about the results to discuss a thing about it anymore, I’m not trash-talking a single soul today.

Instead, I would like to share something totally nonpartisan straight from the streets of NYC.

Yes, that’s Obama looking like a young and skinny Arnold Schwarzenegger.  And McCain looking 100% more attractive as a black man.  Who knew!

Well, after fretting over $30 costume options all week–which I now recognize is a bargain–Hayes and I arrived at my dear friend Allison’s Halloween gathering fashionably late this past weekend.  Of course, our tardiness was totally unintentional.  And we had a very good reason for not arriving on time.  But I couldn’t help but think the delay could not have been better planned.  My dear friend Allison was bold enough to tell me that I could not come to the party if Hayes and I were not going to show up in costume.  However, I knew she would have a hard time turning us away at the door–even if she wanted to–for not dressing up at all.

That’s right.  I resolved my Halloween angst by deciding not to participate at all.  Well…  That’s not entirely true.  The night before going to Allison’s, Hayes and I discussed all of the cool Halloween costumes we had seen (just like I had planned).  I asked him what he would want to be if he dressed up for Halloween.  He told me Ang, the Avatar.  So, that morning, I made a quick stop to purchase a set of face crayons.

The next night, when Allison opened the door, she asked me about Hayes’s costume.  I told her that he was the Avatar and pointed to the light blue arrow I had drawn on his forehead.  She laughed.  And let us in.

Whew!

In anticipation of Halloween this year, I agonized over whether or not to go through the effort of dressing Hayes in a costume that would be worn for all of about two hours.  I wouldn’t think twice about the money spent and the effort made if he were more experienced, or at least a four-year old.  But he’s three and doesn’t even know what Halloween is.  Furthermore, the sole festivity of the weekend is a small Halloween gathering that was organized at the last minute by a handful of very good friends.

I figured this would be the perfect time to ease Hayes into the Halloween spirit.  This year, we could check out the trick-or-treat scene, discuss all the cool costumes, eat candy, and be ready for next year.  And later in the evening, we could meet our friends for some laid back version of a Halloween party.  Perfect.

Well, my ingenious plan was thwarted when I was told not to show up without a costume.  And herein lies my dilemma.  I respect the stipulation, but I’m failing miserably at this.  I’m trying to make this Halloween a low-key intro for Hayes.  But I’m finding out that this holiday is one that you either fully commit to or you don’t.  There is no in-between.

So I’ve been thinking…

Happy Halloween to all of you mommies out there who know how to do it right.