Skip to main content

My how my standards have dropped.

As with any exhausted mother of an incredibly spirited toddler (read: holy f-ing god this child will not quit moving), I signed Cletus up for gymnastics class. Parents & Tots gymnastics class, if we're being specific.

Now, my number one rule of parenting is "don't sign the kid up for anything where I'm required to perform physically." Well, no, actually that's not true. My number one rule is "don't let the kid sleep with anything that might potentially strangle him in his sleep; especially a pull toy" (thanks to my mother who watched a movie where that happened and forever traumatized me with the details). My number two rule is "don't sign the kid up for anything where I'm required to perform physically."

Except this kid will. not. quit. moving.

The two sweet girls I birthed before him sat nicely. And played quietly. And never ventured to far (or too high) away from me.

The boy runs along the back of the couch, swings off towel bars and jumps from kitchen counters.

The girls played with dolls that had elaborate set-ups with furniture arrangements and multiple wardrobe changes.

The boy throws golf balls at my television set, skateboards down the hall and crashes his bike into the dining room table. On purpose.

And so, it was inevitable. I had to do something to break up our Saturdays.

Lucky for me class consists of 45 minutes of racing after a kid who just bolted across the room because he doesn't feel like stretching to the I like to Pike rhyming song. Two kids are signed up for this class: my 2-1/2 year old brute, and the smallest, daintiest 18-month old girl I have ever seen. You know how they have teacup poodles? This is a teacup baby. I swear the mother pulled her out of her pocket and placed her on the mat for warm ups. It's my job to make sure my child doesn't kill her by sommersaulting into her fragile cranium.

*sigh*

Let's just say 45 minutes was not enough time to wear this kid out. Which completely sucked because Dotter had a class immediately after his that we had to sit through. Originally, I planned on taking Cletus for a nice long walk while Dotter was in class, but I was exhausted. All that crawling through tunnels and jumping through hula-hoops and falling off that stupid beam (even though it was only half an inch off the floor) made me tired. And kind of sore.

Instead of pushing Cletus in a stroller I chased him down a flight of stairs to obtain what is referred to as Mommy's Magic Trick in the form of an overpriced Cheddar Chex Mix snack pack from a vending machine that refused to accept my dollar bill until the thirty-eighth try. Then I chased Cletus back up the stairs and back into the gym where I sat on the bleachers watching as he rolled around on the floor lapping up dropped goodies off the floor and listening to the judgmental rolling of the Perfect Parents' eyes.

But here's the thing. I know where my kid is: right here. Laying at my feet picking up fallen Chex Mix from the disgusting gym floor with his tongue, occasionally spinning himself around like a top before skooching over two inches to lick up another crumb. And he laid (and ate) at my feet for the entire time. I call that a win, people. I call that a win.

Comments

This post had me sighing in mutual knowing and daily defeat by my TWO boys who are exacltly like your one.

The teacup baby that mother pulled from her pocket and sat on the mat thing was brilliant.
Chiconky said…
OMG. Love this! I am right now trying to figure out how to bail on a Mommy and Me dance class. What I thought would be adorable chaos is turning out to be a bunch of awkward looking moms doing "princess walks" and "beautiful turns" in an attempt to entice their toddlers to do something other than scream "Mama! Hold me like a bear!" And I say that anytime you can sit through a whole class, regardless of what your kid's doing, is a success.
Anonymous said…
I am exhausted just reading about this. Wow, you need a 3 hour long class or something. I recently considered signing my son up for gymnastics. I think he would dig it. He is small but he's not that wild, so not sure how that would go. Soccer last year was not a hit. He just wanted to stand there. Maybe a college sports scholarship isn't in his future. He better get really smart, really fast then.

It is a total win when they stay in one place for an extended period of time. Disgusting chex mix or not! Parenting win.

Popular posts from this blog

The House that God Built

in·stan·ta·ne·ous /ˌinstənˈtānēəs/ adjective 1. occurring or done in an instant or instantly.
synonyms: immediate, instant, on-the-spot







The thing is, she died so sudden.
I didn't have the chance to plead with God, to make all the irrational promises. If he would just let her be okay.... I would start taking better care of my health. I would be nicer to the neighbor that drove me crazy. I would always let someone else go in front of me at Walmart no matter how long the line was. I wouldn't complain. Ever. I would volunteer at the Homeless Shelter. I would clean up after pigs. I would clip the toenails of the elderly. I would do anything and everything He would ask me to do....
There is a box on her death certificate that captures the amount of time between the initial injury and the time of death. It reads "seconds." I wish it read "instantaneous" because she deserves a clever word like that.
Fast forward five years.... definitely taking MUCH longer than "…

Seeing Avery All Grown Up

One day I'll tell you about the freezing cold we left and the heavy bags we lugged, full of supplies and medicines. I'll tell you about arriving in Port au Prince and walking across a cracked concrete parking lot to board an old school bus with a flat tire. How the heat was suffocating after months of below zero Wisconsin winter weather, how the people crowded and walked too close to moving traffic as we searched for a tire shop that was barely more than a couple men sitting on overturned 5-gallon buckets on the side of the road next to a pile of old tires, everything covered in dirt.

I'll tell you about waiting on the bus while they removed the tire and I'll recall the loud explosion that rocked the bus and scared the life out of me and how I was relieved to learn it was just the tire blowing after being filled too far. (They didn't have any gauges.) And then I'll tell you about the fear I felt when I realized we didn't have a tire and we were stuck on th…

When Your Imagined Life is Nothing Like This One

There were so many ways I imagined my adult life would be....THIS is not one of them.
I posted that on my Facebook wall last night. It might have been seen as funny except my choice of hashtags gave me away:
treading water getting nowhere piles of disappointment not many successes worn out and exhausted out of options

I always imagined my life would be thrilling. Full of exciting adventures and people from all over the world. I would dine at Ethiopian, Thai, and Indian restaurants. I would write books, teach English, coach forensics and direct the play. My husband would be charming and funny and not care about gender roles when it came to household chores. He would beg for at least six kids and I would fall in love with him all over again each time I caught him giving good life advice.
I would take photographs and travel the world documenting the people I came across. I would adopt a sibling group of three or maybe four and work on foster care policies because the ones we have aren't work…