Alerting All Motorists!!

Since his birth, people have noticed the physical similarities between Carter and my husband. Both are extremely tall and look like the New Orleans Saints offensive line. But there's an equal presence of genes in this child. Where this all collides is in driving abilities.

Today was the first day that was, as Carter says, "a shunny shine day" and no one was sick.  Carter and I decided to spend the afternoon outside playing with his truck from Santa. As I sit here watching him, I am quickly realizing what my future is going to look like.  I don't know that American National will have enough coverage for the Boyd family.  I must first disclose that I  have a tendency to speed and have been in 5 small wrecks in my life, one recently on the day before Halloween with Carter (don't listen when Carter tells the story of the other car was going too slow and momma was going fast and crashed so the other car would get out of the way), and Dain's boat that was left in the driveway! Now on to his father: Dain,  although acting superior about his driving skills (prompting many heated discussions in the car) doesn't have the cleanest driving record himself. Dain has hit the house four times that I know of, my car (that was parked in the garage), and a light pole at KFC!!   We could star in the insurance commercial about "humans aren't perfect"!

I  have sat on my love seat outside and watched as Carter has destroyed two toys, almost hit the house, the swing set, the pool, the shed, an independent structure, and myself. He takes off so fast that it throws his head back, and is currently dragging a stick from the axel of the Powerwheel all while blaring the stereo, with his tongue sticking out. So, watch out fellow travelers, the Boyds are gassed up and ready to roll!!

P.S. Make that 4 toys destroyed....

The Hook-Ups

For the last week, my house has been transcended by the plague.  A horrible cold has passed it's way through each of us and then back again putting Carter and me into a relapse that was worse than round one.  I do not do well as a sick mother.  The combination of  wanting sleep and having things needed of me are not a good mix.  It has been one of those weekends where I felt terrible and took medicine that then upset my stomach.  There is just no rest when you have a constant cough that is now compounded with the fear of that one cough that could cause loss of control resulting in a very bad day! It's bad enough to be 32 and continually keep your bladder empty in the event of a hard sneeze or cough, but this takes it to a whole new level!! 

So today I woke up (about 2 hours after everyone else, thanks to a wonderful husband) to a very healthy and energetic little man.  He pounced and jumped and dug knees and elbows into me that caused shooting pains into my already sore body.  (If you have not yet given birth, are an adoptive mother, or a man, know that the physical pain of having a child continues....seemingly forever.....through the bumps, jumps, and head butts!!)  I knew with Dain leaving for work this morning that I needed to find a way to entertain this burst of energy; this bearer of inertia; this living example of Newton's first law. So we got up and headed to the mall theater for cheap, seated entertainment.  I felt very proud of myself in timing both lunch in the food court with movie then following. We worked our way through people to get in line for food, and then a mother's nightmare came true.  

I felt a tug at my arm and I bend down to see what Carter wanted to say. I'm expecting to hear things like, "I want pizza" or "why is chick-fil-a closed" or "I don't like corn dogs , but instead it's words that send chills up my spine: "I'm gonna throw up."  I panicked! My body went numb for a minute.  How could this happen? I was not prepared for this! I'm not well enough to handle this....then, mom-mode took over.  My chills departed, my headache subsided, my cough ceased (probably because I quit breathing, but none the less).  I grabbed  him by the arm and did everything but run to the bathroom, praying and watching him as his feet only skidded every few feet like a raft bouncing behind a speeding boat.  Carter was making "the face": the, if I say a word, something might come out, face.  In an instant the hall to the bathrooms seems 10 miles long.  Like in some cliche horror film, the faster I walked, the farther my destination seemed.  We made it. I flung the door open, slung him in front of a commode, and told him it was ok and to just throw up in the bowl but don't touch anything (you know, germs!!).  He stood there for just a few seconds and then looked up at me with both perplexity and intuition and said, 

"It's ok Momma! It was just a hook-ups! (hiccups) We can go now."

So much for low-impact entertainment...

Birthdays, Spidermans, and Egos

On September 10, my angel in disguise turned 4 years old.  This year was much different on the birthday agenda than previous because of the insertion of opinions.  For the last 3 years, I have been able to plan, influence, and create the birthday party of little boys' dreams while Carter just sat back and enjoyed.  I didn't need to consult or check in with anyone and felt the freedom to plan a party that Pottery Barn would be proud of.  But this year was different; there was a smell of competition in the air... Carter felt the need to replicate his best friend's birthday party.

For several months, Carter talked about his birthday like it was only days away.  He became excited after attending his best friend Brandon's party.  Brandon had a "Spiderman Bouncy House" party, and Carter wanted one too! So we planned for months about what he wanted at his party. For Carter there were only three things on the list: Spiderman, Water-slide, and Friends; but, that just wasn't good enough for me.  I was the only child, you go all out, "It's my party and I'll cry if I want to" kid and I married the, never had a party, you got a present and cake and favorite dinner, man.  Whether he admits or not, Dain lives through his inner child with Carter, and loves going all out!! Birthdays are big; Christmas is big; Tuesdays are big! Any excuse to have fun and spoil Carter has been well planned and orchestrated to the fullest extent.  So, as you can imagine, the two of us together are sometimes over-the-top in our planning of birthdays.  We started with our lists: Spiderman theme, cool invitations, biggest water-slide appropriate for a 4 year old, cotton candy (as spiderwebs, of course), the list went on and on.  I began buying and stocking and storing and sketching and buying....did I mention buying? Then began the phase of bringing everything together. Now is where I must explain something to you: I think I can do everything myself! That's right, I said it. I'm just conceded enough to think I can do any task I want, and that everyone is staring at me in the gym when I workout! I will say, I am a wonderful copycat crafter.  I can see something I like, and begin a plan to save money and do it myself.  The problem comes in facilitating everything at the same time.

As the mother of an over-opinionated child, I find many things challenging to know when to overlook and know when to take it to heart.  It's like Kenny Rogers said, "Know when to hold 'em and know when to fold 'em"!!On Carter's birthday, Monday the 10th, we went as a family to Chuckee Cheese to celebrate, but Carter's birthday party was not until that Saturday.   Knowing Carter has two-cents about everything, I sat in the backseat of the truck on the way home thinking about all of the things that I needed to come together before Saturday at 3pm.  We are not the housekeeper kind of family so my list included everything from clean the toilets to make the cake.  I feel my breaths become shorter and shorter.  My head begins to hurt with anxiety as I am filled with regret in taking on so much.  Here I stood, the week of, and there was no turning back.  I began to prepare my friends and family for the much needed support and lies if everything went to hell in a hand basket. "Just lie to me and tell me it all looks great and talk about me on your way home", I would say.  But on the moonlit ride home, I realized I forgot my biggest critic.  The young man who laughed when walking in the bathroom and said, "look at that big booty." The one known for telling me I stink and refusing to eat what I have cooked.  The young man who did not hesitate to let me know that he doesn't like it when I dye my hair and that he thinks "it looks ugly."  That child of mine who responds to me saying I can't do something with "because you're too old, or you're too big?"  There he sat next to me, my New York Times critic; and I had not prepared him for my level of exhaustion that led to increased levels of sensitivity. I gently turned to him and said in my softest, most matronly voice possible, "Carter, Momma has worked so hard on your Spiderman birthday party.  So I need you to be really excited and happy on Saturday and stroke my ego a little. Ok?"

A look of confusion spread over his face that was quickly replaced with a look of pure, shitty sarcasm and he said (with his eyebrows pushed together in the middle and raised on the outside), "That's weird..... That's really, really weird...." 

A Week with My Son

Last week, my family took our annual vacation to the beach.  Carter has been dragged through the sand since he was 11 months old and up until this point, he wasn't real sure about what to think when it came to the sand and ocean.  To my greatest hope, this year was different.  He was relaxed and confident all week long, but as you all have come to expect with my stories, he was a little too relaxed and WAY TOO CONFIDENT!!  

Dain and I are laid back parents and don't fret over little things with Carter anymore.  We had our moments in the beginning, but like Carter's first year of insomnia, we got it out of our system and were on a stable track.  We have always laughed and talked about how funny he is and just how funny this age of development can be, but we also had not spent day and night with one another.  We've had our moments with Carter when we walk away knowing he won the argument. But we work to regroup and be prepared for next one. In no way were we on our game for a week's vacation together.  

I had always wanted a smart child; one that would not struggle and would have education and social situations come easy.  What I did not realize came with that wish was verbal dominance and strong-willed personality that did not allow for the occasional, parental white lie.  I was not given the child that you can say, "It's all gone" when wanting too many cookies, or "It's out of gas" when wanting to ride on the lawn mower. Nope, not Carter!  He almost laughs with disdain at our attempts to fool him with trickery!  We are met with responses like, "No, the cookies are right here in the cabinet behind the bread. (While grabbing stool and moving objects in pantry) SEE?!?" I've always said that it was like raising a 3 year old with a mind of a 30 year old.  I know what you are thinking, too, that he is just mimicking what we say, but I stand here with all honesty and integrity and say, "Not completely". I'll admit to the occasional quick-whit at Carter, but do try and watch attitude, language, and tone when addressing him.  After a week together, I realize that I need my whit to be on my toes with what this one might throw at you!

For an entire week, I cringed, corrected, and laughed at the randomness that spewed like word vomit from Carter's mouth.  He referenced my mother as "the old lady", responded to conversations and commands with "you've got to be kidding me" and "WHAAAAT?"  I was told I was "ridiculous", and that he couldn't pick up his toys because his "foot was broke like Mimi's" (my mom recently broke her foot). Every decision was a negotiation: "4 more days", "3 more minutes", "just oooone more cookie" in a dominant tone that might infer that it was not open for discussion.  Then, there came the flirting. "Flirting???" you say, "how can a 3, almost 4 year old, really be flirting?" Well, it happened, and not with age appropriate children, but 16-20 year olds! I had to pull my son back from chasing, falling in front of, Meow-ing at, and just plain hollering at girls in minimal clothing!!  By the end of the week, we entertained others, made some new friends, and creeped out some young girls.....All in all it was a great vacation!

So the next time you are in the store and hear a mother and son arguing with one another and your hear a child's voice say "You are really getting on my nerves!" followed with "You are really getting on my nerves too, but I'm not buying you a toy or candy. Now come on!" please come say hello!! 

Move Over Ms. O'Hare

For the last several weeks, I have thought about how quiet things have been around my house.  Some of that could be contributed to Mononucleosis, but overall there has not been any new "stunts".  It's summer, and we are all just a little more relaxed.  Bedtimes are not so strict; diet has been lax (for Carter, not me! I refuse to die FAT!!); swimming in the evenings; you know, the stuff memories are made of.  I began to think that maybe, just maybe, I would begin to experience the "Brady Bunch" lifestyle that we all fantasize about.  And like a bolt of lightening, I have been jolted back into reality!


Like I said, Mono hit our house.  Everything was extremely laissez faire: no interruptions, no interference, just relaxation for the ill and focus on getting better.  Carter had a rough time with a sore throat, and was subsequently cranky, but only for about a week.  Lincoln Hill Drive was quiet. Then, in a whirlwind that a tornado has nothing on, I found myself wondering what the hell happened.  All of a sudden, I was having adult conversations with Carter that he would understand and respond appropriately....and INAPPROPRIATELY!


I was under a false assumption that girls were the dramatic ones.  Drama Queens, right?  Well, I am here to tell you there is a Ying for that Yang!!  The sass-mouth that took over my son's oral cavity is one of a caliber that could hang with the big boys (or girls, so I previously thought).  The huffing and puffing, "Oh My Gosh"s, and my personal favorite "Well, Shoot!" overtook my son's vocabulary.  I couldn't ask anything of him without some level of interjection. Although they were not disrespectful, they were really becoming annoying. I really wondered where many of these sayings came from because they are not anything from our house/family.  If it were worse (my personal favorite since the age of 3 has been shit), then I might hang my head in shame, but these were just at a Scarlet O'Hare level; thankfully, no Richard Prior! I tried to overlook most of it, but we all have our breaking points.  As I began to crack, Carter and I came head to head one night with full sarcasm:


     "Why do you talk like you are 30?" - me
     "Why do Y-O-U talk like you're 30? - Carter
     "Because I AM 30!" - me
     "Well, I'm 3!" - Carter


Of course I laughed, what else was I supposed to do? Guess what.....that was NOT the right way to handle a child's dramatics.  So, this past weekend, while enjoying a visit at his Mimi's, he decided to step it up a notch.  You know, test the ground with someone else.  He arrived in Monroe, LA with his latest:


"You're getting on my last nerve!"


And to that I say, "Touché, my son. Touché!"

Purel, the god of sanitation

Weekend before last, Dain and I celebrated our 11 year anniversary.  And like all happily married couples the only way fitting to celebrate was to go somewhere without our child.  (I love my child, but know that I love him more when we have some apart time!)  We headed out to the gulf coast in hopes of getting nestled in somewhere on the beach.  All I could imagine was living out the words to some country song where my only goal for the day was to drink, tan, and watch people in bathing suits that shouldn't be made in that size.  There would be no crying, arguing, negotiating, begging, or bribing this weekend.  It was just for the two of us.  So naturally, I in no way expected to have anything for a blog about the adventures with my son.  How could I, when he was not even there? Right? WRONG.  My story this time is not one of my own, but rather one played out through someone else. 

Dain and I drove into Mobile late on Friday night with the intention of hitting the beach first thing Saturday (even before the condo was ready for us).  About 30 minutes outside of Mobile is a gas station that we seem to frequent every time we make this trip.  As I walked into the Women's bathroom, I was surprised to find that it was not as clean as I remembered. Although there were two stalls, one remained unoccupied due to the urine on the floor and pregnancy test on the back of the toilet (I'm hoping for that child's sake it was negative)! So as I waited for the one remaining stall to clear, I found myself with front row seats to a show that I had seen before. 

I could hear that there was a mother and small child in the bathroom.  Before even hearing the child, I could recognize the tone of a mother.  The firm but gentle way of trying to convince a slightly more independent being to follow instructions.  I listened as they talked, "are you finished?" "Wait just a minute, let Momma go now." "Yes, Momma's teetee'ing just like you." I smiled with a warm feeling about the relationship between mother and child and thought fondly of my child when all of a sudden the conversation shifted.  The mother gasped for air, and squealed, "Oh my God, no, stop!" I held my breath for her, as though in some mother to mother telekinesis, I supported her in her frantic state.  "Oh my God, please, Bailey, NO! STOP! DO NOT TOUCH ANYTHING! OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD! THAT'S NASTY! DON'T TOUCH....OH MY GOD!" The stall rattled; her panic rang out; and there I stood, laughing my ass off! The stall door flung open and a disheveled mother and toddler emerged as she yanked him in one quick swoop to the sink to wash off what could only be imagined as the worst possible bacteria/disease lurking on the commode.  And in that moment, while trying to hide my laughter, I realized as mothers we are all the same.  We fight the same battles, have the same fears, and pray to the same god of sanitation, Purel!

I Think I've Lost My Owner's Manual

I remember as a child my mother telling me that there was no instruction manual for parenting.  She always told me that you just learned as you went.  At the same time (usually when I was busted at something) she talked to me about mother's intuition.  An instinct; a feeling; that guttural response to your child and their well-being.  It was during the time of pregnancy that I began to understand that instinct.  That feeling inside that let's you know that you would do anything for your child.  While I was pregnant, I remember thinking about all of the things that parenting would be.  I reminded myself what an enormous responsibility and read in an attempt to prepare.  I read and read and read. I read books. I read magazines. I subscribed to this crap on the Internet that sent me updates to my baby's progress.  I bought  What to Expect When You are Expecting and What to Expect the First Year.  Needless to say, after the first one scared the s*%t out of me, I have never cracked any more What to Expect.. books.  I thought, I'll just learn to expect the unexpected.  I mean how bad of a parent could I possibly be.  I don't do drugs. I don't drink too much.  I don't curse in front of others. I go to church on Easter and talk about how I need to "get back in a routine." And most importantly, I'm not crazy.....RIGHT?!? 

What I never expected was that being a mother could make me crazy.  As I sit here thinking about Mother's Day this Sunday, all I can think about is how dramatically my life has changed.  There are so many things that are different about my life in such a short time.  Things that I swore I would never say; I say.  Hearing my own mother's words exit my mouth happen quicker than I can retrieve.  Before I knew it my good son was "Carter" and bad son was instantly called by his full name, "Aiden Carter Boyd."  (I have told all of my friends that before they decide on a name, stand in the living room and yell it to see how natural it feels) There was also some confusion with his name. Yes, I forgot my child's name.  I spent months planning and choosing a name, and insisted it had to be just right. Then, when cracked out on pain meds after 20 hours of labor, weeks prior of no sleep, and recent worry with no sleep because my child was put in the NICU, some idiot thought that would be the best time to ask me to fill out paperwork.  Several months after he was brought home, I began to worry.  I came across my scratchings of name variances for Aiden and panicked!! I will not tell you whether it was right or wrong, only that his birth certificate states "Aiden"!!

Then, lastly, there have been the unexpected phrases.  Not the things that I planned NOT to say, but the things that I never dreamed I would need to say.  Here are a list of just a few for your pure entertainment:

"Is that poop or chocolate?"

"How did you poop through your clothes onto the floor, but no poop is in/on your clothes?"

"Get the dog's toys out of your mouth!"

"Spankings ARE NOT funny!"

"No, you can't go to school naked."
"Do not moon your friends at school. It's not nice. Funny, but not nice."

"Only dogs poop in the backyard, not little boys."

"Is that a Fruit Loop on your testicle?" followed with "Why is a Fruit Loop on your testicle?"

"Did you poopoo or did you just fart?"

"No, your leg is not broken. Go feed the dogs!!"

"You MUST wash your hands every time you touch your woowoo." RESPONSE: "No I don't!"

And the one I seem to be saying more and more these days....

"GET YOU HAND OUT OF YOUR BUTT!!"


So, when you begin to question your parenting abilities, or better yet, think you are ready to become a parent....know that you have been warned!