Friday, July 8, 2011

(Back to the past) Moving again, more kid stories

So, may I just point out here that households involving children (and pets) are not meant to be relocated every few years?!  Between the necessary furniture and baby gear and clothes and toys and books and EVERYTHING that must be packed, and the advance preparation of said children for MONTHS beforehand, and having to find a new dentist and veterinarian and hair person and grocery store and eye doctor and any specialists your child may need, and getting said children (and pets) from point A, on one side of the country, to point B, on the other side of the country (quite similar to getting a baby out of your body:  there is NO GOOD WAY to accomplish this without a LOT of pain and suffering!), THE WHOLE EXPERIENCE IS A NIGHTMARE!

Ahem.  It was time for us to move again.  Husband drove our van with Ian and our cats, and I flew with the other 3 children and my mother. 

My mother complained and complained and complained about the carry-on suitcase I had packed for each of the children, packed with snacks, baby supplies, and things for the kids to do, but those suitcases SAVED us after our flight had been cancelled and our big suitcases had already been checked. 

While we were waiting and waiting and WAITING, before our flight was cancelled, David (5 years old) was getting antsy and kept asking me how long it was until we were supposed to leave.  So, being the loving, thoughtful, understanding mother I was trying to be, I took my watch off and gave it to him to hold.  I showed him where the hands on the watch would be when it would be time for our flight to leave, and then I had to go change Joseph's diaper.  When I returned, David had smashed the face of my watch WHILE MY MOTHER WAS STANDING THERE WATCHING HIM.  Moving was ALREADY stressful, David didn't usually destroy things, I had been TRYING to help him by giving him the watch to look at, and seeing my favorite watch with a smashed face just made me want to cry...

Well!  That's enough of the joy of moving.  Suffice it to say, we all made it to the other side of the country alive although some of us were a bit more crazy than when we had left.  Ian, especially, adjusted to the move much better than we had dared hope.  We noticed, however, shortly after we moved, that David was pulling his hair out in one spot at the back of his head, so we could tell that he was having a little trouble adjusting.  Marie would occasionally say, "I not like our new house;  I want to go back to our old house!", but Joseph seemed fine.

A few months after we moved, Joseph turned 1!  Instead of singing "Happy Birthday" to him, we sang "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" because it was Marie's favorite song at the time =).  He provided me with my favorite birthday cake pictures, possibly of all time:

What IS that?

You have LOST YOUR MIND if you think I'm putting that in my mouth!
A few weeks after his first birthday, Joseph learned to walk.  We had noticed that he had a very bad habit of whacking his head on anything that made him mad.  Shortly before we got around to taking his one year old pictures, the sidewalk made him mad:

In the middle of his forehead, you can see the consequences of trying to teach the sidewalk a lesson.  The fact that this did not discourage him from hitting things with his head when he was mad was an immediate warning sign that we had yet ANOTHER strong-willed child on our hands.
*We went somewhere, and I ended up taking Marie to use the potty while I was holding Joseph.  The potty was huge, and Marie turned to leave as soon as she saw it, but I knew she needed to pee, so I put Joseph down (on the other side of the stall...oh VAIN, VAIN hope!) in order to hold onto her.  He, of course, made a beeline for the toilet as fast as he could, and I was stuck!  I HAD to hold onto Marie because I knew that she would NEVER use the potty again if I let go of her and she fell in.  Of course, despite my pleadings, Joseph stuck his hands right in the potty.

*Out of the blue, David asked, "Mom, are you going to die when you turn 30?"  I told him I didn't think so and asked him why he asked.  He answered, "Because you'll be SO old when you turn 30."

*I took Marie with me to run errands, and we ended up at a craft store looking at fabric.  While walking up a certain aisle, I heard Marie say, "It's Thomas (the Tank Engine) cloth!"  She was so excited and started naming all of the characters that she recognized, and then she noticed that it was Christmas fabric, and joyfully exclaimed, "It's 'We Wish You a Merry Christmas' cloth!  We take it home?"  I laughed and consented because she was so excited, and, luckily for her, it was on clearance.  She insisted on carrying that bolt of cloth all over the store while singing, "We Wish You a Merry Christmas".

*A few weeks later, I took Marie and Joseph with me to the craft store.  Marie was getting wiggly, so I set her on the counter while my cloth was being cut.  A woman approached me;  I thought she was going to say something about Marie being on the counter, but she leaned close to me and said, "Do you know that your shirt is on inside-out?"  I looked down, and, sure enough, even though I had looked in the mirror before I left, and my husband had seen me before I left, she was right!

*Marie went through a phase where, even though it was 80 degrees IN THE HOUSE, not to mention the temperature OUTSIDE, she refused to wear anything but long pants and long sleeved shirts (usually sweatpants and sweatshirts) and often a jacket over that.  She insisted on dressing like this even when we went to play at the park, although, she would usually take her jacket off once she started playing.  She also refused to wear any short sleeved dress to church...
...until we found a sweater she could wear over it....

...and I made a poncho she could wear if she didn't want to wear the sweater.  (She preferred the sweater, of course.  So much for thinking she would like something MADE BY HER MOTHER SPECIFICALLY FOR HER, not that I'm bitter or anything....)


josefinalouise said...

That Marie sounds so, so sweet.

When my older son was two, he had a fit and broke our car windshield with his head. It's a long story, and the only interesting part is the fact that, yes, he was furious enough to break the windshield using his head and not even register a bit of pain, at the time or later. He is also VERY strong-willed.

Also, the moving...I just, well, I can't even imagine.

Doing My Best said...

josefinalouise: WOW! AND HE LIVED?

Mrs. Irritation said...

That picture of the birthday cake showdown is awesome!