A Sticky Mess

It is our habit when we go Sam’s Club or Walmart to get Elijah a gumball out of the machine when we're done if he’s a good boy while we are shopping. He always hopes for a Mover Blue one but takes what comes out anyway. We’ve never had an issue with him chewing gum…other than reminding him not to chew with his mouth open. He always gnaws it to death and then throws it away. No problem…until last weekend.

I happened to walk across our dining room after a trip to the store and got a sticky feeling on my toe. To my surprise, it was a piece of his gum from that day. I peeled it off, threw it away and went to find the boy. After a scolding, he promised never again. He said it fell out of his mouth and he “forgot” to pick it up. Ok, no biggie. The only piece that was on the carpet was the one that attached itself to my foot. No damage done.

It wasn’t until later on that night at bath time that my daughter found the rest of his wad. In his hair. Thick-as-a-girl’s hair which needed cut badly. We tried combing it out after shampooing. Then peanut butter. Then butter. All we needed was bread for an Elijah PB sandwich. A friend suggested vegetable oil. Nothing doing. It was stuck to his scalp. Out came my clippers.

Now cutting Elijah’s hair is like trying to…well, let’s just say the boy can’t sit still for anything. He wiggles. He looks up. He looks down. He jumps. He shrugs. I’ve been cutting his hair for almost a year now because I can’t see paying $15 plus tip to get an uneven cut due to the aforementioned movement. I can give him an uneven cut for free. Actually, I do a pretty good job with my professional clipper/razor unit. I’ve even learned to move in time with his gyrations.

Anyway, back to the gum debacle. He had it ground in to the roots. I tried cutting it out. It just left gaping holes. So I trimmed, we considered, I trimmed some more. He wiggled and jiggled. But to get it all out, I finally had to put on my smallest attachment and more or less shave him almost bald. But the gum is out. And now he looks something like this. Actually he looks just like this…

 

He keeps rubbing his head and saying mournfully “I’m ba-old”. Poor honey.

When the boy does something, he does it all the way. Even if it's something like smashing gum into his scalp. At least his hair will grow back and as fast as his grows, I’ll be getting the clippers out again in no time. As for his gum chewing career? We’ll be sticking to apples as a bribe for a while.

As He Grows

Sometimes being a grandparent is so much cooler than being a parent, especially in the early stages of a child’s life. I remember being proud of my kid’s milestones but in the stress-filled haze of working full time and taking care of them, the exhaustion of being a mom was overwhelming. With Elijah, I can sit back and watch the fun for the most part. I’m fortunate in that he lives with me and I get to see most of his evolving first-hand. It amazes me how he has, from almost the beginning, focused on one passion for an unbelievably long time before moving on to the next. And, as he is four, he has had four major interests in his life.

In his first year, he was all about sports. He would sit on our laps from the tender age of a few months and watch the Pittsburgh Penguins play hockey. You did NOT get in between Elijah and the television. To do so would bring on a tantrum of epic proportions. He watched the entire Penguins 2009 Stanley Cup win even though he was only four months old. He learned to wave a Terrible Towel during the 2009 Steeler season and wore his Troy Polamalu jersey with pride…as much pride as a child that age can have anyway. Even today, although he doesn’t watch sports anymore, his Sidney Crosby Penguin jersey is one of his favorites.

Animals replaced sports in his second year. Cows say moo and ducks say quack. But sheep? They say baa! There was a sheep farm near his daycare center and Elijah knew it. He would start “baa’ing” on school days as soon as we put him in his car seat until we got near the farm. We would automatically slow down so he could look at the sheep while we drove past. One spring day, I drove out in the country and found another sheep farm. Elijah was thrilled when I stopped, took him out of the car and carried him to the fenced-in field. He baa’d loudly and soon enough, all the spring lambs came running to the fence hoping for food. He was ecstatic.

We also took him to the county fair for the first time that year. A young boy’s heaven…at least it was for Elijah. Barns and sheds full of cows, sheep, horses and pigs. Llamas, chickens and bunnies. Ducks and geese. He had no interest in the rides or food. Only the animals caught his eye. He wanted to pet everything so we had to have eagle eyes to protect his little fingers that seemed to be poking in to every cage or stall, regardless of what was inside waiting to nip them.

 

Age three brought on the construction equipment and trucks. Ditch diggers and bulldozers and rollers, oh my! Semis and tankers and dump trucks, holy cow! Our entire drive from Pennsylvania to Louisiana consisted of Imagination Movers music and ear-piercing screams of “Dump Truck!” Elijah knew what a truck stop was and we had to visit quite a few of them. I was willing as it made the long trip easier for him and more pleasant for my daughter and I.

 

Four is the era of the public servant. Every sheriff’s deputy that has been to our complex knows Elijah. We meet them at our numerous ER trips. Walmart always has one and each one there has been interrogated. We have one living in our apartment complex who is his best friend.

As I mentioned in a previous blog, we are currently visiting every fire station in our city and since it is a very large metropolis, we will be at it for the unforeseeable future. Every one we bless with our presence is amazed at the questions Elijah asks and the amount of time he spends looking at everything. From my point of view, you’ve seen one fire truck,  you’ve pretty much seen them all but not him. They are all new and exciting. And the station we visited last weekend had … OMG … fire poles! He was afraid to slide down one, even with the fire chief helping him, but he watched while the big man did it and was amazed and astounded. Well, maybe not that but he was pretty psyched.

Since it is the latest of his passions, Elijah is currently wearing a fire hat everywhere we go and has been for almost a year. He was a fireman for Halloween and wore the coat to his costume every day for the next week, taking it off only long enough for it to be washed. Since then, he wears it every time he goes outside or watches Fireman Sam (Sam is the hero next dooooooor….) He has fireman boots that he’s worn so often, there were holes in the bottom of them in less than six months. He has magnets, badges, stickers and coloring books given to him by the various firemen we have visited. He has a metal sign on his bedroom wall that says “Real Heroes Wear Boots” with a fire logo. Yes, he is enthused. Can you tell?

 

 

Since year number five is coming up quickly, I can’t wait to see what happens next. Knowing Elijah? Oh, it’s bound to be something epic and he will dive into it with boundless energy, determination and his own special brand of weirdness. And that is the greatest thing to watch.

If It Weren't For The Boy

I started my blog two years ago and as you know, most of them are about the little man in my life. Almost nauseatingly so. I was thinking earlier, as I started yet another “he’s so talented/smart/funny” story, whatever would I write about if it weren’t for him?

My job? Writing, tweeting or posting about where I work is forbidden. Since I don’t want to get fired, I pretty much don’t do it. Oh, but the stories I could tell…

My free time? To be honest, I don’t have much of that to speak of. What little I have is spent writing and spending time with him (and his mother, of course). It would sound kind of like “I went to work today. Then I came home and ate dinner. After playing with someone I’m not writing about just now, I turned on my computer and began writing…” See? Kind of like a fourth grade essay and hopefully not my style.

My family? That would be my girlies and, yes, my little guy. We love spending time together, although time with my younger girl is via Skype. I’ve written about my daughters (as much as I can without running the risk of making them hate me) but they really don’t do anything cute or funny anymore. I’ve already written about their childhood. Their adulthood is pretty much normal (read boring). Who wants to write about normal?

My life? Currently my life is all about fire stations as we are currently touring every one in the city. And NOLA after that. “Our” latest obsession. And if I wrote about that? Well, it would be just another story about the boy and that totally defeats the purpose. I added the photo because it relates to this paragraph, not because it's the guy I'm currently not writing about. Honestly...

 

 

 

 

My dreams? Oh, I have so many. Some are attainable. Some not so much. But I never want to give up on any of them. I will finish that novel. I will be published. I will win the Mega Millions…ok, maybe not that one. If I played the Mega Millions (which I don’t), I would have a chance of winning. Not a good one but a chance nonetheless. But if I write about my dreams, I’d be afraid that someone would read it and ask me in a few years “Weren’t you going to…?” Then I’d be stuck. 

All in all, I believe that I’m better off writing the “he’s so talented/smart/funny” story. My guy makes a good subject, is never boring and is always coming up with new ideas that make me laugh or cry or think. Besides, he's just so stinkin' cute, how can I resist?

 

 

 

 

Stay tuned. The boy will return for the next blog.

In Memory

I found this today while looking for some  photos of my mom and dad. It is a memorial I wrote for my girls about their brother two years after he was killed. It was published in the local newspaper on March 17, 2000. I didn't realize that I still had it and was very moved to read it again. I hope all of you are touched as well.

What's it like in Heaven, Connor?
Do the stars shine brighter there?
Do you sing with the pretty angels?
Do you miss us all down here?
Have you grown as much as we have?
Do you go to school each day?
Can you see us when we cry for you?
Do you hear us when we pray?
We wish we knew all the answers.
And God says some day we will.
But it's so hard to wait for that day.
When we miss you so much still.

Connor Lee
11/30/93 - 3/17/98

Dear Dyson

I just wrote the following letter to the powers that be at Dyson. I wonder what kind of response, if any, I'll get...

Dear Dyson,

Nearly two years ago I purchased a DC33 vacuum from a local Target store, the second I have purchased in five years. I have since wondered why I did so as I have had the same issue with the second as I did the first. No, it didn't break; I left it with my ex-husband during a generous moment. Actually, that's not true. It wouldn't fit in the truck and I thought taking the crib was more important. Ahem...moving on...

 

What drives me nuts about this vacuum is the hose for the attachments. It is stiff and uncooperative even after all this time. As I said, I had the same problem with the first one for three years. It caused many gray hairs to sprout and may very well have ended my marriage. Well, not really but... Using my current one is as difficult now as it was when it was new. Two years ago. I stretch it out completely and begin to aim toward what needs cleaned (ceilings, corners, etc.) and it retreats back to it's original length within a minute causing the vacuum itself to tip over. Every. Single. Time. On top of that, it is causing me to say things that my four-year-old may or may not be repeating to the preacher on Sundays. Definitely not a good thing since I'm otherwise very mild-mannered and I usually don't spout vulgarities unless I am under extreme duress.

 

Your commercials show how user friendly the onboard attachments are and this is just not true as I have spoken to other customers who have the same issue and will never buy another Dyson product. I don't want to go that far because, for one reason, with the exception of the $%@# hose, I like the way it works. For another, I'm flat broke and can't afford to buy a toy broom, let alone a new vacuum cleaner.

 

What I want to know is how can this be resolved? All I ever hear in your ads is about innovative design, how suction is never lost, blah blah blah. And that is true (unless you happen to suck up a toy soldier or too much long, red hair). You never mention lost patience with a machine that frustrates me to no end each time I use it. I am just tired of the struggle. I can't take it much longer and I worry that my poor, aggravating vacuum will suffer the consequences.

 

I hope you respond to my question and end my torment. I get extremely stressed when I even think about sucking the occasional spider web from the corners of my family room and it's almost that time of year when I need to clean out the dryer vent. I hope you have a way to end my anguish.

 

Sincerely,

Suzanna Kellye

See Ya Later

I remember many years ago saying goodbye to my mother at the Pittsburgh airport before I boarded a plane to Dallas with my husband and two-year-old daughter. We were leaving after a week-long visit. Tears flowed down my mother’s face and I felt bad but I was ready to leave the cold and the snow that had fallen during our time there and get back to my warm Southern home. I never thought about her pain, even though we were very close, until recently when I left my own daughter at the airport in Baton Rouge.

I hadn’t seen my younger daughter in nearly two years when she came to visit at the end of September this year. I started crying as soon as I caught a glimpse of her coming down the escalator at the airport. She was sobbing when she got to me. We aren’t an exceptionally weepy group; we just have a very special relationship, my daughters and I. A closeness that I cherish. Something that time and distance can never diminish. And I count myself as very blessed to have that with both of them.

My girlie’s visit wasn’t very stimulating. When asked what she wanted to see and do while she was here, she said she only wanted to spend time with me. With her sister and nephew as well. And visit the Super Target, something that apparently doesn’t exist in Southwestern Pennsylvania. We got a family portrait done while we were there, the first since 2008 and the only one done of just the four us. That was an adventure in itself as Elijah was “in a mood” and not inclined to cooperate. They turned out very nice in spite of that. We spent a lot of time in the pool, alternately trying to work off the meals I was cooking...all of her favorites...and get the Yankee a little color on her otherwise pale skin. Poor thing inherited her grandmother’s Irish complexion and was just as colorless upon her return home.

The only excitement we had while she was here was the hot air balloon festival we took in one morning before hitting the outlets. Unless you count the accident that Elijah had while playing at Burger King’s play area. He was having too much fun to come out and use the restroom so he used his pants and then slid down the sliding board. His mother wasn’t thrilled as she headed in with a bottle of Lysol and a handful of paper towels to clean it up. We won’t be going back there to eat for a very long while because, even though we cleaned up his mess, the management wasn’t pleased.  Perhaps they’ll forget about it in time. I rather doubt my daughter will.

Anyway, back to my mother… Mom and I spent a lot of time together after I moved back to the Pittsburgh area. Shopping trips, bird watching on the porch swing, lunches at the Italian Oven. My girlies loved being on the farm so we spent a lot of our days there. As I made dinner every evening after work, I would talk to her on the phone until my dad would say “Why don’t you tell her to just come over?” Since it was only about three miles, I did that a lot.

The distance between my daughter and I is easier to bear now due to technology. Skype, free mobile minutes, Facetime. I’m sure it was harder for my mom. I can’t imagine going weeks without talking to my girl as she had to do.

I thought of all of this as I left my baby girl at the airport. Without her sister and our boy with me, I would have had a rougher time but it was hard. The delay she had at the airport and subsequent overnight stay in Houston after missing her connection to Pittsburgh didn’t help. I wanted to drive to Texas to get her because, even though she’s an adult, my little girl was spending the night all alone in a strange city. After she finally made it home, I cried for two days. Her visit was too short, the distance too great. I now know what my mother was feeling all those years ago. The agony of saying goodbye (or “see ya later” as we do in our family) is almost a physical pain. I’m forcing myself to grin and bear it until April when she comes back again. With plenty of Skype in the meantime…

Commercials Are The Bane...

Lately I’ve been watching a good bit of television for some reason. I usually avoid it like the plague, mainly because I hate…really loathe…commercials. Except recently. Call it boredom, poverty or the fact that I pay a lot of money every month for the privilege, but I’ve been watching TV. Getting rid of the cable service would certainly help my poverty situation but that’s part of a different blog. So I indulge but only if I can find a decent program which requires a lot of surfing. Not easily done and I end up seeing a lot more of those dreaded commercials than I care to. And I’ve found a few that annoy me beyond reasonable limits, mainly because the lengths that some product manufacturer’s will go to prove society’s stupidity amazes me.

Case in point…Walmart. They have a bunch of fruit sitting prettily on display while an announcer whispers as if he’s at a pseudo golf match that the people we are about to see don’t realize that this fruit is from…you guessed it…Walmart. Enter stage left, gullible customers agog at how beautiful the produce is at this wonderful place. The announcer then drops the bomb. This fruit is from Walmart! Cue the amazement. They just cannot believe it. I mean They. Can. Not. Believe. It. I can’t either. I have been to Walmart in many states and I have never seen decent fruit at any of them. And Walmart doesn’t have enough money in the kitty to pay me to act that stupid in front of a national audience. Well, maybe they do. I can be amazed and astounded about food for the right price, I guess.

A commercial for any attorney also makes my list. I see a lot of those during the morning news and what I want to know where they find their “actual clients”. You know them. It’s always some backwoods hick who says (and I’m paraphrasing here) “I was on I-10 during rush hour traffic and I got out my car ‘cause I saw this hubcap laying on the median across three lanes. I was just pickin’ up that hubcap when, bam, this crazy driver just up and run me down. I ain’t been able to work my job for six years and that Lawyer Crookedness got me a whole million dollars.” Chew tobacca, chew tobacca, chew tobacca, spit. I stole that last line from a Blake Shelton song, but it seem to fit. They don’t tell you that 75% of which went in said attorney's pocket for expenses, contingency fees and just plain greed.  Hell, give me a million dollars (without the expenses, etc. ) and I’ll act as backwoods as you want in your commercial, man.

Ocean Spray Juice. The one where you have the two overall clad, hat wearing dudes standing in a pond of cranberry juice? Yeah, that one. First of all, just the thought of drinking juice that two men may or may not have been standing in (I’m being facetious here) just turns me off of their product. Second, those guys are just too redneck for words…see Blake Shelton song reference above. Not to mention they don’t say anything about the fact that their “juice” is more artificial coloring and water than actual fruit product.

Have you seen the newest Eggo Waffle ad? Can’t touch this? Oh, yes, I so want to tell that child to sit down at the table and eat what is prepared for him if he knows what’s good for him. Mother dearest in this one needs a lesson in parenting. Where I come from, the mom’s are who are in charge, not the child. And he is just this side of being rude, which would equal some special discipline short of a smack down. The only good part of this commercial is the little girl at the end shaking him off when he tries to steal her waffles. You go, girlie!

Last but not least is everyone’s favorite. Viagra. Oh, yes, I did bring it up. There’s not much I can say about it because it is just too blatant and nauseating for words. Besides, and you know you’ve asked the question, who sits on the beach in a couple of bathtubs? There is nothing about sex that would make me want to do that. Seriously.

Now that I’ve actually put it all down on paper (or screen, as it were), I wonder why anyone at all watches television anymore. Or maybe it’s just me. But I really don’t think so. I’d rather be at the dentist getting a root canal or walking through a hurricane.