My Man-Child

So...as I'm standing in the living room the other day, Adam walks up and states, unbeknown to me, the obvious, "What's up, Shorty!" As I turn to look at him, my eyes naturally focus on where his eyes are usually located - eye level with me. That's when I realize that my eyes are now focused on his nose and my eyes need to travel ever so slightly upward to look into his. His eyes are smiling at the fact that he is taller than Mom. What the hell just happened? When did he get taller? Granted, I am somewhere between 5'1" and 5'2", so being taller than me isn't a huge feat. But Adam is my baby, not this "man-child" staring at me.

The signs have been there. I just chose not to acknowledge them. A year ago in January was my first realization that Adam was growing up. The poor kid had one of the worst flus I had ever seen. He spent 4 days with his head hanging into a bowl, garbage can, or toilet. Anytime he ate anything, he threw up. During one of his many trips to the bathroom, as he kneeled in front of the toilet, I witnessed the biggest feet I had ever seen. I should have been next to him holding his head, soothing him as he got sick for the umpteenth million time, yet I stood in the doorway mesmerized by his feet. It was amazing how big they had become. It was as if someone put clown feet on my then 11 year old.

Then there was his 6" growth spurt from June to December. His request for size 10 Pumas this Christmas. His deepening voice. I no longer have to play a guessing game when calling home to determine which child I am talking to. Neither one liked the fact that I didn't recognize their voice, but for the past 12 years they sounded exactly alike. Conversations began with, "Hi, Baby! Watcha doin'?" Generally, from their answer I knew who I was talking to. Occasionally, if their response was noncommittal, a little investigative questioning was required. For a while when Adam would call me he would start out with, "Hi Mommy. This is Adam." just to clarify who was on the phone. Now, there is no question. Adam's voice, when not squeaking, is deep.

Up until last year there was a voice mail message from Adam saved on my cell phone. It was a message he left when he was 5 or 6. In a very sing-song voice it said, "Hi Mommy! This is Adam. I love you! See you at 6:00". Verizon promised me the message would not be lost when I requested a new cell number. They were wrong. Although very apologetic, that precious message was lost. I was crushed yet I can still hear that sweet voice in my head. Just as I can hear his voice when he woke me daily as a pre-schooler, "Wake up, Mommy! It's a bright and shiney day outside!" Although I always wanted to pull the covers over my head at 5AM, how could that sweet sentiment not make you wake up and hug the little guy?

He has always loved coffee, but it was generally a splash of coffee with a ton of French Vanilla creamer and milk. Last month his mug contained much more coffee than creamer. Two weeks ago he announced we didn't have any mugs that were manly. All of our mugs were girly with flowers, or "Mom" or "Gramma" written on them. There weren't any "man mugs" around. He finally found a brown Bloomingdales mug. That is his mug of choice. His "man mug." While out shopping for a Mother's Day gift, I found some forest green mugs for him to use as well...just in case his "man mug" is dirty.

I knew this day was arriving, but it was always at a distance. Now...his maturity is staring me in the face...or, actually, over my head. He starts middle school next year and has requested more responsibility around the house. Where did my little guy go? In a blink he's no longer my baby. I'm a little sad. Yet, very proud of my son and extremely curious as to what Adam will do with his life.

Regardless, Kat still reminds him that no matter how tall he gets, or how old he is, she will always whip his butt.

It's beginning to look alot like Christmas - Part 2 - Christmas cards

I love my children. I do. I truly do.
If I sound as if I am trying to convince myself of that fact.
I am. I truly am.

Every year since Kat was born, I have taken a Christmas picture to put in our holiday cards. You would think by now, Kat and Adam would understand that this is a tradition. You would also think that by now I would realize my Norman Rockwell visions of these photo shoots are more along the lines of a Lohan or Federline/Spears family reunion.

It's not just the kids who have conspired against these events. When I was married, Kevin and my mother also wreaked havoc on these photo sessions. When Trina (which was what we called her then) was 2, I planned to take a picture of her in front of the tree in her jammies sitting on her red rocking chair with our cocker spaniel, Peppi at her feet. I gave her a bath, dressed her in a new Christmas red flannel nightgown with lace on the collar and cuffs. She looked adorable with her bare toes peeking out from her nightgown. When everything was set up downstairs, I realized that the camera was still upstairs. So, I bolted upstairs, grabbed the camera, extra film and dog treats for Peppi; knowing that neither my busy toddler, nor cocker may sit still for long. Fuzzy pictures and action shots of Trina getting up from her chair, or chasing Peppi was not the image I wanted to capture for our cards. I was upstairs all of two minutes. Two minutes!!! When I next saw my daughter she was covered with chocolate!! My mom gave her the chocolate and my husband allowed it. Neither one could figure out why I was so frustrated. A chocolate smeared face was not a look I envisioned for our cards. I considered murdering both of them but realized that the act was very un-holiday like and karma was gonna get me. Once clean with most chocolate stains hidden and two rolls of film later we had a very cute holiday card.

The following year, Adam had arrived. Trina was now 3 and Adam 3 1/2 months old. Again both dressed in Christmas plaid pajamas we were ready to try this Christmas picture thing again. I hadn't realized that we would have a running theme of chaos in these annual photo attempts. I didn't need to worry about Adam trying to climb off the chair as he wasn't quite mobile yet, but he was rather squirmy and Trina wasn't exactly gentle with him. There was never any malice to her actions. She just thought of Adam as a very realistic doll and she treated him as such. Trina didn't think twice about grabbing her doll by the arm and dragging it, so why couldn't she do that with this squirmy little guy? If I remember right, during this little photo session, Adam kept turning his head to look out the window. I asked Trina if she could please try to move his head toward the camera. So, being 3, and knowing Adam needed his head to face my way, she placed a palm on each one of his chubby cheeks and gently moved his head towards the camera. The only decent shot from that afternoon has Trina angelically looking down at Adam while she attempts to unscrew his head from his neck. The look is completed with Adam eyes the size of quarters with a deer in the headlights look, wondering what his big sister was doing to him. Yes, I still sent it.

For 15 years I have whined, argued, threatened, bargained and pleaded with my two favorite children; trying to get their pictures taken for the #$^&#(& holiday card. Tis the season to be Jolly...Fa la la la la la la la la. We did pictures at JC Penney. They always did a great job. One year we even included Peppi. But they got to an age when they didn't want to have "professional" pictures done. So for the last 5 years it's been me and my old school film camera. Last Christmas I received a digital camera, so this was the first "high tech" (or as "high tech" as I will ever get) Christmas.

Last year, there were moments of fun interspersed with drama. For some reason, Adam decided to "skate" (socks + hard wood floors) past the camera every time I tried to take a shot of Kat. Or he would dive through the air onto the couch. He was very comical and we laughed alot. Unfortunately, when we got the pics developed, Kat hated all of the pictures, stormed off to her room, slammed her door bellowing that she didn't care what I did. So, now that she gave me carte blanche permission, I went to Walgreens and ordered the photos I liked. Which she, of course, hated. More tears erupted when I reminded her that she "didn't care" which pictures I chose. Fortunately, she calmed down, we settled on two pictures (one she liked, one I liked). I called Walgreens and changed the order. We ordered half of hers and half of mine. The clerk was quite understanding. She was obviously a mom.

The other day, when the kids got home from their dad's, I mentioned that after dinner they would be participating in their favorite holiday tradition. Adam informed me that he suddenly had plans. He needed to wash the cat. Funny...we don't own a cat. Kat just asked if she had to change out of her sweat pants. Nope. I'll just shoot from the waist up. No one needs to know she was wearing her gray smiley face glow in the dark sweatpants...well...until now. Never being above bribery, I made them an authentic Mexican dinner from the cookbook they gave me for my birthday.

Sadly, Adam was angry before we even attempted to take one shot. Everything made him mad. One thing I have to say about my kids they rarely gang up on me at the same time. Last year Kat was the diva. This year it was Adam's turn.

Christmas music was softly playing in the background. The tree was lit. I started taking pics of Kat alone. Then Adam alone. He wouldn't cooperate - hated every photo I took until, finally, he settled on the last picture. Then I suggested they stand together in front of the tree. You would have thought I asked them to chop off their own foot! Comments were flying back and forth, some funny...some not.

"You mean I have to put my arm AROUND his shoulder?!"

"I'm not touching you, I'm not touching you!" (Adam says to Kat as he points a finger into her face - Thank you Brooke!!).

"Adam, you are such a brat. Mom, why didn't you stop with me?"
"Because she needed perfection, so she had me."

"Adam can you at least smile at the camera. Pretend you are having fun. It's just a smile!"

"So help me Adam, if Mom wasn't here, I'd beat your butt.  You know she's going to just keep taking pictures. The sooner you cooperate the sooner we'll be done!"

When I asked them to stand back to back, Kat asked if she was still taller. Uh, sorry, you're now the same height Hon. Next, they started bumping each other's butts. OH! MY!! GOD!!! At some point a shoving match ensued of which I should have taken pictures. The card would have been of my children trying to kill each other with the sentiment, "Peace on earth. Good will towards men." All the while a variety of Christmas music continued to play in the background suggesting peace, harmony and love.

It is these proud parental moments I'll treasure forever.

In every picture Adam had a similar deer in the headlights look reminiscent of his first Christmas photo shoot. Eyes huge and round and no smile...just A LOT more hair. He refused to cooperate, yet hated every picture. So I decided I would do the best I could with what I had. There was a great one of Adam which was snapped while Kat was making him laugh. I used that. He hated it. Adam stormed off stating something about looking stupid.

Who is his mother and how is she raising him?!! I then began questioning my parenting skills, why I had children to begin with and why I continue to torture all three of us each year. After a heart to heart with my son and my daughter off to the movies with her friends, I took a few more single shots of Adam which we both agreed we liked. He still looks a bit stern in the picture of the two of them, but I love the single shot of him alone.

So, the question that arises from all of this. Will they look back on this "tradition" and loathe me for the annual Christmas picture, or will they look back fondly at the silliness that had us laughing?

Adam - The Only Boy in Our Three Ring Circus

How do I describe Adam? He is funny, perceptive, slightly spoiled and extremely intelligent. When he is seriously sad, sick, or hurt, he refuses to show it, but if he wants to get out of school you would think he was dying. He just walked in my room to complain that his throat is killing him. It hurt this morning when he didn't want to go to school. It felt fine all evening while Nino was teaching him boxing, but as soon as it was time to go to bed, his throat was killing him again. He just "knows" he'll never be able to go to sleep from the pain. This is the same kid who went 30 hours with a broken arm before we had it set because he refused to admit it hurt that bad. Actually he didn't want to miss a sleepover at our house. I'm still feeling a little like Mommy Dearest for not taking him to the ER right away, but it didn't appear that swollen. I later learned that breaks don't always swell as much as sprains. Good to know...wish I knew that medical tidbit sooner.

I am very curious as to what Adam will do with his life. I see glimpses of a business mind, a sensitive soul, a creative side as well as entrepreneurial characteristics. He rarely cracks a book, or studies, but gets all A’s & B’s. At 12, he has a lot of time to decide. At the moment, he plans to form a band and be a chef, as well as author gory books on the side.

Yesterday while driving him to his guitar lesson, he told me a scene from the book he wants to write. The scene involved a werewolf who is hiding under a bed while his victim is sleeping. The werewolf shoves his arm through the mattress and rips the guts out of his victim’s body and dines on the blood and gore. He thought the look on my face was priceless, while I was trying to figure how not to throw-up in my car. Is this how Steven King got started? Is this how Steven King’s mother felt?

He is one creative tween. I forgot the current name of his future band. At one time it was Zero Negative, then Kewl Fyr, now it's something else...I think. He writes lyrics all the time and is quite perceptive in what he writes.

The restaurant he plans to open will be called Naked Pigeons (taken from pigeons flying in a lightening storm.) When he was younger he hated thunderstorms, so in an attempt to make him laugh rather than be afraid we started discussing birds flying in a lightening storm and what would happen if they were hit by lightening – their feather would probably fly off and they would be embarrassed and most likely barbecued. Picture a featherless pigeon trying to cover itself up with it’s wings – naked pigeons stuck. Although Naked Pigeons is unique, I am still unsure who would dine at a restaurant named after pigeons. I was pushing for a restaurant on a beach called Sandy Bottoms. (Admittedly, I stole the name from a burger restaurant on Amelia Island in Florida. I always loved the name.) Since it will be his restaurant, named from his own personal childhood fears, he should probably name it whatever he wants.

I once went to see a psychic who was uncannily correct on many areas in my life. I saw her in August, 2006. She predicted the features of the man I met in January as well as how I was going to feel about him, she predicted my mom’s health problems and the fact that I was going to go through a ton of money in the summer of 2007. I really wish she was wrong about that prediction, but she definitely knew what she was talking about. She also told me that I was going to get into a horrible car accident and if I paid her $350 she would make sure the accident didn’t happen. I didn’t give her the cash and the car accident has yet to happen, but she was so uncannily correct about everything else, I actually put a vial of holy water in my car. It may seem ridiculous to the masses, but honestly, she was too freakily on target with her other predictions that I was not about to tempt fate. She also asked to see pictures of Kat and Adam. When she saw Kat, she smiled and said that she had a ton of friends and to encourage her artistic side. When she saw Adam’s picture, she laughed and said while rubbing her thumb against her other four fingers in the universal sign of money, “He is ALL about money and he is going to make a lot of money in his lifetime.” From your lips to God’s ears Psychic Lady. Can you just make sure the horrible car accident doesn’t happen without me paying you the cash?

One thing I know for sure, the poor kid has no choice but to understand women. He has been raised with all girls…his grandmother, me and his sister. He has even asked if I would hurry up and meet someone as he is tired of being the only guy around. I'm trying, kid! I'm trying. It's just not that easy! As he so adeptly noticed a few years ago, even the pets are female. We obviously knew Sadie’s sex when we adopted her from Kat and Adam’s dad. When we bought JJ, Adam’s cockatiel, the bird was too young for us to determine the sex. JJ’s name even came from the ambiguity of not knowing the gender. JJ stood for either Junior, or Jewel. Adam really wanted JJ to be a boy. He hoped and asked daily when we would know. The bird’s features are rather fine, so I assumed JJ was a girl, but since Adam was hoping against hope that he’d have a testosterone laden buddy in the house, I couldn’t tell him my belief. I knew there would be a day when there would be irrefutable proof of JJ’s sex and patiently waited. And one morning…the sign appeared. At the bottom of her cage was an egg. Yep…as far as I can remember from physiology, no male bird was going to lay an egg. Boy was Adam crabby when he discovered the egg. The kid just can’t escape from estrogen!

Then Adam had a plan…if we got a boy bird we could breed cockatiels! Yeah…that’s gonna happen…maybe when hell freezes over! I can barely get him to clean the cage with one bird and he plans on adding another plus babies?! I don’t be thinkin’ so!

Both Adam and Kat are blessed with seeing the humor in everything. They probably get it from me as I have always found humor in life – even in the most inappropriate situations. Part of my charm? I'm not so sure, but if you can’t laugh at what life throws at you, you might as well be dead and buried.

One of Adam’s favorite jokes is: Why did the blond die after taking out her iPod ear buds? Because she couldn’t hear the recording, “Breathe in. Breathe out.” It’s a horrible joke, but he thinks it is hilarious! Besides, he is 12. The jokes aren’t going to get much better for awhile. At least the jokes aren’t about bodily functions and sounds…yet.

Adam does have a bit of a spoiled side. The other day I made tacos. He has eaten tacos at Baja Fresh as well as authentic ones at his friend Kevin’s house. Kevin’s parents are Mexican and cook authentic Mexican meals. The other day in a pinch for time, I made tacos but it was from a kit. If we wanted to eat dinner before 9PM, those tacos were going to be from a kit. Adam refused to eat the “fake” tacos. He would rather starve which, with that attitude, was perfectly fine by me. When he refuses to eat what we are having for dinner, I always remind him there is cheese, fruit or PB&J. He then reminded me that his best friend’s parents were from Mexico and he knew what authentic Mexican food was like and it didn't come from a box. I again mentioned the cheese, fruit and PB&J. I was not about to make another dinner. He whined about our boxed tacos, so I suggested that he and his sister buy a Mexican cookbook for my birthday and I would happily make any authentic dish out of it on any day that I didn't work, or have an open house - therefore any Saturday of their choosing. I am really hoping he takes me up on that suggestion. I'd LOVE a Mexican cookbook. Something tells me I should just go buy it myself.

Adam has told me more than once that he is the man of the house. Since the age of 6, he has always opened doors for women and lights up my world whenever he shows that winning dimpled smile and mischievous eyes. It is fun to watch Adam grow and develop. I do feel bad that he is the only guy in our three ring circus, but really don't know anyone who wants to sign on for a tour of duty in our little life of bedlam. Seriously, the guy would need to have his head examined to willing become involved in our family, but maybe we can fool him into thinking we are normal until it's too late...hmmmm...I wonder....