be-musings

It can be tough to parent. For me, so much emotion is wrapped up in it, from almost every part of the spectrum. There are definitely frustrations with parenting a busy, self-assured, obstinate comedian.

Last night at church I thought Matthew was being quite good other than disappearing in the bathroom for a long time. I didn't know he was in the bathroom until I was about to leave the stage to go look for him and I saw him coming down the hallway, looking at me and going "Phew". What was that about? Did he pass a train through his butt and was he then 'relieved'? A couple more trips to the bathroom ensued and I noticed a toy he had was wet. This was very suspicious. I filed that memory for later.
I myself had to use the bathroom before leaving, and noticed (oddly enough) that the floor was wet under the toilet. Remembering the wet toy, I used circumstantial evidence to isolate the guilty subject, and decided that it was more expeditious at that point to just clean up the water myself. As I did, I noticed that water was dripping from the lid of the tank. Weird. I lifted that lid, and the water from the refill hose squirted me in the face. More evidence. I fought with it, trying to fix the workings inside, calling Matthew while I did. He arrived..."What mom?" I confronted him with my question about him moving things around in the tank, and he thought about the predicament. Fortunately he fessed up, but that didn't reduce the angst or the "lecture". As the story unravelled, I found out that he had decided to put lots of toilet paper into the tank, then flushed it. It looked like it was going to jam, so he figured tampering with the workings inside the toilet would help it to flush better. He changed where the hose pointed, got the other little hose caught on the lever that opens the hole, and pointed the water sideways instead of down the tube. Minor stuff hey? This was discovered right after I had cleaned up his table, and thought the salt and pepper shaker felt weird when I picked them up. Yeah, he had loosened the lids, hoping they would fall off and overflow someone's plate with their contents. That was another conversation. He was definitely on a roll.

My boy gets into trouble. I know another boy who used to as well, perhaps in different ways. This boy spent all of grade 4 in the hallway. I think if he was at Matthew's school he would have been suspended. His grade 3 teacher wrote in his report card "Scott thinks he runs the class and frankly I'm getting sick of it." Sometimes I think of these things when Matthew is in trouble. Scott has turned out pretty good, which gives me hope.

I've had some great moments with Matthew today. We played swords with sticks. I love that. We went to the beach. We cuddled while I told him scary stories with funny endings. He was apprehensive during the suspenseful parts, but ended up laughing with his head thrown back. He wants more stories soon, with the same monster.
I wrapped my arms around him during the fireworks tonight. I kept saying "I think they're over now" (they weren't) and he kept saying "I think there's more" (there usually were). He was so happy to stay up later and to see the fireworks. Then we dropped mom off at her house, and Matthew went in with her in the waning light, to get something. As he came out from the back of the house while I waited in the truck, I saw mom's flashlight shine on the path, and my little boy running as fast as he could with an uncertain, excited smirk on his face. He ripped open the truck door and flung himself in to safety. I smiled and said "Were you scared of the dark?" He answered yes. I'm glad he wasn't embarrassed about it with me. I said "Well, a lot of kids are, so that's okay." He responded that some kids are afraid of the dark, to reassure both of us that it was acceptable. I told him that I was for years.

I get so wrapped up in the intensity of the bad stuff. It temporarily immobilizes me from seeing much good. But then, there are moments like we have had today. Those are good for the soul.