Monthly Archives: August 2011

T’was The Night Before School

T’was the night before school

And all through the city

The mothers rejoiced

Some even felt giddy

The backpacks were packed

By the door with care

In the hopes that the children

Would soon be out of their hair

The children were (finally!) nestled

All snug in their beds

After whining and crying

And shaking heads

Then the mommies had wine

The daddies had beers

And they all clinked their drinks

And said a big “Cheers!”

I know some kids around the country are already back at school and some don’t start until after Labor Day.  Mine, thankfully, go back tomorrow.  I’m happy about this for obvious reasons – we’ve spent a lot of time together these past few weeks. 

Some of it was wonderful – the beach vacation, leisurely mornings in pajamas and afternoon movie marathons.  Some of it wasn’t.  The boys’ new meal plan has been emotionally exhausting (and so far not very successful), and I’m fairly certain I lost some precious brain cells at indoor kid play spaces.  

The thing that makes me happiest about school starting, though, is that the boys are truly excited.  Riley is still young, but he gets it.  “Go to school?” he asks.  “With Dylan?”  He seems so grown up to me at times, but then he giggles like a madman when I do peek-a-boo and I’m instantly reminded that the little guy is still two.

As you know, Dylan is a complex creature.  He keeps so much inside (in his head and heart) that it’s often hard to know what he’s thinking or feeling.  In previous years, Dylan didn’t cope well with the start of school.  This time around, though, he’s visibly excited.  Every night this week, he asked me if we were going to school the next day.  “Not tomorrow,” I told him, “In four days.”  Then three days, two days, and today I had the pleasure of telling him, “Yes, you’re going to school tomorrow.” 

This newfound excitement about school gives me hope that one day soon he’ll wake up and ask for bucket of chicken wings for breakfast.  When that happens, I’ll write a few verses called “T’was The Day He Ate Chicken.”

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Choice. Words.

Here is a sampling of words overheard in the Runaway Mama’s house this week:

“If you try to give me new food, I’m not going to eat it.”
“I’m eating nothing.”
“If you give me new food, I’m going to go away from the house.”
(i.e.  I’m going to runaway.)

“Don’t ever ask me to make pizza with you again because I won’t.”

It’s okay to think this is funny.  It kind of is.  But the pizza line really stung, and on the few nights when Dylan went to sleep without eating anything for dinner (his choice), I cried.

At this point, I have a few choice words for Dylan, but I’m staying focused.  I can’t help but be reminded of the week I spent potty training him.  It took about five (very long) days to wear him down and get him to poop in the toilet, and after he finally gave in, he was so proud of himself.  I told Dylan this very inspirational story earlier in the week in an attempt to get him to eat a chicken nugget and his responses was, “Stop telling me stories.”  More choice words.

We’re on day five of Operation Chicken (or Turkey or Pizza or Fish or fill in the blank…) and he’s not budging.  Neither am I.

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