Om Sweet Om

I was driving home from the supermarket one Sunday afternoon last spring and glanced in the rearview mirror. Son #1, then six, was sitting in his “pretzel legs” in his car seat, eyes closed, arms extended, palms upright and fingers encircled with the tips of his thumb and middle finger touching. He was quietly chanting, “Om” which was strange since we spent the morning at church.

I asked, “Scootch, what are you doing?” and he responded, “Meditating.” He then went on to tell me that the spirit of God entered his body in a dream.

“Mama, did you know that the spirit of God is in every one of your yoga poses? That’s what God told me.” He ended the thought with, “The spirit of God is really powerful.”

Whoa.

When we were in D.C. for Memorial Day a few weekends later, my girlfriend, Kim, who owns a yoga studio, asked him about his dream and how he “meditates.” He told her that he pictures things in his heart like the sun or a flower and he demonstrated, with his hands, a flower opening over his heart. “What kind of flower do you picture?” “People all over the world picture different flowers. I just chose a different one every time.”

He then ran away with his light saber to attack his little brother.

Makes you wonder, how does a kid know these things?

D.C. Bound

I’m leaving tomorrow to take the kids on our annual pilgrimage to D.C. for Memorial Day Weekend. It’s a long, but fairly scenic, drive from Upstate NY; however, the portable DVD player, Game Boy and Nintendo DS help the kids cope.

Three years ago, when Son #2 was just two, we were in MD, nearing the end of the trip and it was late. Instead of falling asleep in his car seat, Son #2 began frantically trying to tell me something. Because he was crying and not exactly enunciating well at that age, I couldn’t understand a word. “Slow down. I don’t know what you’re saying.” This chaos and frustration lasted for what seemed like an eternity until Son #1 spoke up. “He wants to hear AC/DC.” “What?? How does he know AC/DC?” “Well, he heard it in a record store with daddy and he loved it. So daddy bought him the CD.”

I called the hubby. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. I put the CD in the trunk just in case.” I pulled over, got the CD out, placed it in the player, and Son #2 promptly fell asleep. So much for Beethoven.

Since then, my little rocker has moved on to Green Day and now is the proud owner of his own acoustic guitar, electric guitar and drum set. We’ll see if I can get them to listen to Amy Winehouse this weekend or if that’s too mellow for their budding, Gwar-like taste. Oy vey.

Fallujammies

Riddle: What does a seven year old boy get from a bunch of first grade kids for his birthday at Chuck E. Cheese’s?

If anyone were ever to read this blog, that lucky person may answer “germs” and/or “ill” – both of which are likely to be correct. Another accurate answer might be “robbed” since there were a bunch of teenage hoodrats stealing all of the children’s tokens.

However, the real answer is “ready for Fallujah.” We left the house with goodie bags only to return home with spy gear, night vision goggles, a dart launcher that looks suspiciously like a surface-to-air missile, laser beam gloves, etc.

Why play with G.I. Joe when you can actually become him?

Kids Say The Darndest Things: Part 1

I've never kept a scrapbook or baby book for my kids. We just have heaps of pictures on the computer and in drawers or boxes throughout the house. And there are a million things I have wanted to capture but never did. But here's the first from my memory bank with more to come.

When Son #1, our oldest who is now seven, was in preschool, he went upstairs one afternoon and it was suspiciously quiet for a bit too long. When I went to check on him, he was lying in bed looking at one of his toys. "What's the matter Scootchie?" He responded, "My plane is broken. And I don't know what the h*ll is wrong with it." I gasped. He looked shocked. "Is that a bad word?" I assured him it was and he apologized. After a minute of silence, he then asked, "I don't know what the f*ck is wrong with it?" They don't teach this in Parenting 101 but I burst out in laughter. "Dude, that's worse!" I haven't heard him swear since.

The Night Sweats

All the good URLs were gone by the time I decided to write this little random blog. Mind you, I didn't search for long. I just kept trying things that I thought sounded a bit like me such as "random nonesense" and "pixiechick." I landed on "the night sweats" because it was the name my girlfriend came up with a few years ago for our new band should we ever decide to take up instruments and join Mamapolooza. Given that I lip-synch in church, I think I'm probably better suited for the drums. But since my desire since the 80s has been to become a B-52, the drums seem too limiting. How would I be able to dance like a banshee while making wild bird calls? Maybe the triangle would work. Or bongos.

So Cool

This is such a trip for me. A first. To write a blog that absolutely no one may ever read. For absolutely no reason at all. It feels both liberating and ridiculous at the same time.

I stayed home for a while this a.m. and actually put my first grader on the bus for the first time in months (since perhaps the first day of school). It felt great to be out with the other moms if even for a minute.

I came back in to a message from my boss and felt like I had been caught in the act. When I returned the call, she called me to task and outlined her expectations of me for the day and week in a "you need to close your office door and . . . " manner.

Which made me begin ruminating about all of the gorgeous, McMansion new builds v. my 1960's tract house with chipping paint and loose bricks. Is it possible that there is more money out there than I have allowed myself to believe in? How can I tap into it? Are these parents as stressed as I am? Do the housewives I see in yoga in the early morning realize how lucky they are? And so on. I began feeling really sorry for myself, coupled with anger at my boss, until my kindergartner walked over and gave me a big hug.

It was like a reminder from God. I have exactly what I need.