MaK!MeJ!

“Once upon a time, there was a boy who wanted to travel to places. One day, he thought of making a helicopter. He went to the hardware to buy screws, bolts and nuts, metal sheets, lights, wires… When he came home, he gathered all his tools - like his pliers, saw, wire cutter… And started to build a helicopter.”

Stories of creation.

For reasons I could not explain, I always tell my son stories of creation when he prods me to tell him a story. Usually but not always at bedtime. He’d say -Mama story of the …please. Example, he’d say “Story of the helicopter, please”

One time, while lying down on our bed, I asked my son: “What story do you want Mama to tell?”

I had thought  maybe it’s the helicopter again. Or the story of the plane. Or the candle like he’d sometimes ask. I was certain it would be any of these.

But

when

I heard

my son,

 I. couldn’t. believe. my. ears.

“Mama, story of the bowl please.”  

The bowl? I was taken aback.

“Uhm, you mean the toilet bowl?” I think my voice slightly wavered then.

I was really stumped when my son said yes. For the life of me, I could not think of anything to say about the bowl - the toilet bowl! Not a degree in engineering has prepared me for that kind of question!

I thought and thought and thought as my heart echoed bowl, bowl, bowl… And I think my eyes nearly popped out of their sockets with all the thinking.

P.S. In case you’re wondering, I did tell him something about the bowl - good mother that I am. *smirk* I hope he’d remember it so that one day, I can tell him how much effort I put into weaving that story.

Sounds familiar?

Oh, kids! They love to get hanged upside down, walk on either a tightrope or on shards of broken glasses and eat fire. An exaggeration. But aren’t they cute attention-seekers little entertainers?

My son is no different and I find myself playing along a willing audience to my cute daredevil’s antics. Imagine, the proud mother waving pompoms in the air! Though sometimes, with terror in my eyes. But generally, I don’t mind. And more so if the show is mental in nature - like identifying flags, opposites etc… I couldn’t be more ecstatic knowing that his mind is absorbing things like a sponge. I really don’t mind him showing off what he has learned - especially when he does that on his own accord. No prodding from anybody, no outside forces.

I only mind when someone prods him to. Like the affectionate grandmother.While I’m so grateful that I don’t have to leave my son to a stranger when I go to work (Thanks, Ma!), it bothers me when she starts showing off what Matt can do to guests who come by our house. I know she’s proud and amused that Matt knows this or that but my throat would start to hurt (as I swallow jagged and chunky words) everytime the affectionate grandmother turns into a ringmaster and directs the grandson like a circus star.

You just won’t hear me say “Tickets, anyone?” for this.

We all know what Lactacyd is. You know Lactacyd, right? Raise your legs if you know.

But in case you don’t know, this is Lactacyd.

Yes. Lactacyd, the feminine wash. That’s what I’m talking about.

I’m treading dangerous ground so okay, I’ll be careful.

One night, while I was talking with my son, he suddenly muttered.

“Lactacyd. For the va–”

Okay there was no pause. But I honestly held my breath for few seconds after the word “Lactacyd” came out.

Every cells in my body were listening to what he’s about to say next. Muscles, all tensed.

“…For the va-dy,” he finished.

One… Two… Three seconds.

Va-dy? Did I miss something?

Boy. Book. Band. Bag. Ball. Bad. Bbbbbb. Ba-be-bi-bo-bu. I’m sure he knows his B. I heard him enunciate Bs correctly.

But va-dy? Is that a new term or is there a new part now called va-dy?

“Lactacyd. For the va-dy.” That night, I left it at that.

Va-dy ha! Maybe I should start teaching the proper names of the Body Parts. Hmm? Tsk.Tsk.

In a recent press release, French Health Minister Roselyne Bachelot has made his concerns over the use of cellular public and urged parents to limit use, and reduce children’s telephone calls to no more than six minutes. Six minutes!

Although there’s no specific evidence to its threat, all the same, this tidbit is fodder to my paranoid self. Perfect excuse to not want to know or read anything at all.

Okay. I do share his concern on the use of cellular phones, especially with children. I’ve always been concerned. I even wrote something about it. I’ll pretend you’re interested (please, humor me), so here’s an excerpt.

… I’m really not so keen on letting Matt use my mobile phone. Any cellphone, for that matter. I don’t completely trust its safety, radiation-wise. No matter how much I try to be all-accepting, all-believing, there’s just this niggling doubt that refuses to get squashed. Maybe I’m the only one who works in the telecoms who is cagey on letting her kid use a cellphone. I’m cagey, I’m crazy, I’m wary. Maybe I am overly, overly, overly cautious. No. not maybe. I AM overly, overly, overly cautious. I’m crazy, I know. It’s okay if it’s me, but not if it’s my son. Don’t ask me why. For someone who works under radiating microwaves 8 hours a day, 5 days a week. It’s funny. I’m funny. Certainly ridiculous.

But while I share Bachelot’s principle of precaution, I’m not so immune to my toddler’s advances to speak with his father over the phone. Nor could I begin to explain the 6-minute limit. He doesn’t even know what minute means but he does know how to count up to 10. And beg. And negotiate starting with the hold-only-please plea.

Remember my apple picking adventure in my son’s nose? Now, I only get on with that because I know it works in making him sleep.

But I’ve been looking for other ways. Because I thought to myself if this goes on for - let’s say, two years minimum. That would be 365 days multiplied by two. And how many times in a day do I do that? Two, each for approximately 5 minutes. Now calculating, that would be total of 7300 minutes.

Seven thousand minutes! At that time, I’d have made something on his face. Really. I’m sure I’d have dug a well on his face by then. Que horror!

So I gotta to find a way- fast. And after few experiments, I found the way. An obvious one.

“Mama, want tickle my nose. Pleeeease.” And off I tickle the tip of his nose - in. a. gentle. rythmic. motion.

^^^o^^^

I know this is so late. Anyway, last week’s Carnival of Family Life was hosted by  Modern Sage Online.

“Matt, please don’t pick your nose.”

I’ve always heard myself say this. Plead, actually. But late last year, I observed something out of ordinary (well, to me) with his nose picking. I observed that dear son usually does more of the nose-picking right before he dozes off to sleep. Well, more often than not.

And after seeing him do it nth times, I was led into conclusion that picking his nose. is. making. good. old. Makiko. sleep. Ain’t that cute? Cool ey? Yikes! But no sooner had I formed the conclusion than I started noticing Matt’s been doing less of it already. So I thought - okay, I must be wrong then.

But last Friday, I was with him during his wanted-to-sleep-but-will-fight-sleep time. You know -kids! They are adorable little creatures who love to torture their mothers refuse to go to sleep even if their lids have dropped to the ground.

So I was having one of those moments with Matt. And then I noticed his cute little pointer slowly reaching for his nose. I wanted to tell him “Please don’t.” Half of me wanted to. But it’s almost noontime and to say that I was a little desperate then was an understatement.

I was thinking about our chocolate-stained floor, a stack of used plates on the sink, a huge mountain of soiled clothings in one corner of our house and piles of clothes to fold and stash, not to mention lunch to prepare. They were all there waiting for me. I couldn’t give Matt a sleeping pill so excuse me, I did what a mother should do. And that is to gently put dear son to sleep.

And what better and simpler way to do that than to pick his nose. Myself.

But there’s no more of that today. I have my dear Houston at home. And I trust that he has lots of tricks up his sleeve. So for now, I can chill and let him do all the works. But we’ll see what happens tomorrow (when he goes back to his workbase).

^^^0^^^

Carnival of Family Life is up and running at  AChildChosen.

I’m hugging you now. Maybe holding on should really be the word. I know you could sleep without me carrying you in my arms and rocking you gently. But. Let me do this now. Let me do this for those times I wasn’t able to do this.

As you lay here in my arms, sleeping -and me, trying to maintain my balance, I cannot believe that there were times when I had wished that you could go to sleep on your own. I will not deny of those times I had longed for the moment to come when all I have to do is put you on bed.

It has come. Now is that time. And just when I have what I longed for, sadly, I keep on wishing to turn back the hands of time to when we can both go to sleep, tummy to tummy, chest to chest. Time to when I can feel the beats of your heart synchronizing with mine.

You are growing up so fast so let me just hold you now - before you leap to teen-dom with a blink of an eye.