cafe mama

finding magic every day

four years old is better, right? . july 16 . 2006

Everett turned four today, and around 2 a.m. we both woke up from our prodigious naps. I told him about how, this time four years ago, I was about to be prepared for surgery. We sat there, telling stories of birth, remembering the long fascinating adventurous -- but oh-so-short -- years between now and then. Four years. Could it be?


It was one of those mother-son moments that deserves to be celebrated with dim lighting and an operatic score. Not so much the day previous, when I'd had to drag him, kicking and shrieking and throwing bark dust in my face, from the play structure at Laurelhurst Park to the bus stop a block away. When I'd had to carry him, screaming at the top of his lungs, onto the 75 bus to eye rolls and "oh, jeez!"'s from the entirely not sympathetic passengers. There was kicking of the windows, there was sobbing, there were even a few "I don't like you any more"'s. I may have threatened to cancel his birthday party ... a move which would have shocked me even a few years previous. A bad parent thing.

Finally he settled down, that time on the bus, and we talked about his behavior. "Tomorrow, you'll be four, and you're going to be good then, right?" I asked him. "Yes," he said seriously.

"Forever?" I asked. "You're going to be a good boy forever, once you turn four, aren't you?" He nodded solemnly.

Maybe it will work out. Either way: I need to get this boy an agent. He has drama like no one I've ever seen (except maybe from his friend Jackson, whose mama and I often commisserate about the theatrics we see from our gorgeous, sensitive, dramatic boys).

And even if he's not all better as of today (4:35 a.m., to be exact), well, I suppose I'll keep him for now. For those times he throws his arms around me and tell me he loves me. For the princesses who are his constant companions, sometimes running along beside our bus (8, 16, 24 of them!). For how he sometimes calls his baby brother "little fella" and pats him on the head. For the way he says, "YEEESSS!" when I put the right kind of super cereal in the grocery cart.

For all the soulful, funny, silly, loving parts of him, I'll put up with his other side. For now.

paying the bills

read my previous post . car diet wrong (but oh-so right) . july 10 . 2006