I Swear- At Home, It Isn't Creepy

Have you ever thought that you are turning your child into a creep? Well, this weekend I had an epiphany.... a parenting epiphany. (Of course I would never intentionally turn my child into a creeper, but I think it may have happened, on pure accident.) 

Chase and I often play a game we have named, "Paddle butt." (Well, I guess now when I say it out loud it sounds a bit creepy already).  This game consists of me pretending to "paddle" Chase's butt when he is walking and then he starts running to get away from the "paddle" (Side note: To anyone associated with Child Protective Services: Despite the misleading name, this doesn't actually inflict any pain and I don't use an actual paddle).  We may yell, "Paddle Butt," every now and then while we do this activity.  Well, at home, this game isn't alarming.  But in public (as it turns out) it sounds tremendously creepy.  Here is how I know that.....

The other day, we were standing in line at a local restaurant waiting to place our order when out of no where, Chase starts paddling my butt with all of his might (he even added in some grunting sounds to prove that he is strong).  I quickly turned around and asked him to stop as people were beginning to notice my child touching my derriere.  Then chase asked, completely innocently, in front of everyone, "Why? You like when I do this at home in my bedroom."  (Chase had a totally legit question, but I didn't want the strangers to know that we play games involving others touching our butts at home. (Okay, again that sounds a tad creepy.)

(Insert the sound of my facing turning beat red- if there is a sound for that.)

I literally felt the teller judging me (and I'm pretty sure I saw him fumbling to text social services to report me) with his disapproving eyes and greasy hair (okay, I don't remember for a fact that he was greasy, but to make me feel a tad bit better I am believing that he was).

I turned to Cory (who was clearly pretending he wasn't associated with us) and all I could mutter out was, "I swear, it isn't that creepy at home."  I am very surprised that we are still aloud to eat anywhere in St. Cloud (Although, I'm pretty sure I can't come within 10 yards of any elementary schools anymore). 

I guess now that Chase is getting older, I need to revisit the games we used to play, mainly for the fact that he doesn't quite understand yet what is appropriate to say or do in public (for instance, it's not appropriate to pick both of your nostrils so deep in public that you get two nose bleeds- learned that one the hard (and gross) way.  I wonder at what age he will learn that the most appropriate place to pick your nose at is clearly in your car at a stoplight.)

I don't know about you, but when I think of my great parenting skills I always think......."Nailed it!"

Uncle John the Squirrel

While driving home from daycare (which is when Chase and I have our best conversations) yesterday, our conversation went a little like this:

Chase: “Mommy, my Uncle John is dead.”

Me: “How did he die?”

Chase: “He got hit by a car.  His head broke. His neck broke and his arms fell off.”

Me:  “That’s sad. I bet it hurt. Wait, you don’t have an Uncle John.” (I can’t believe it took this long into the conversation for me to realize that Chase doesn't have an Uncle John.) In an attempt to try and figure out where he heard this (on television, a book, an episode of Criminal Minds?), I started to ask follow-up questions….

Me: “Where does Uncle John live?” (Hoping he would give a sweet answer that wouldn't make me feel that he has a creepy, dead, imaginary friend- but knowing Chase, I wouldn't put it past him.)

Chase: “Outside.”

Me: “Where does he sleep?”

Chase: “He’s not a squirrel mom.  He doesn't sleep.” (Not quite sure where he pulled squirrel from, but hey I’ll go along with it.)

Me: “Ok. What does he do when you are sleeping?”

Chase: “He’s outside, being a wood chopper.” (Hmm, I still got nothing.)

Me: “Buddy, I have no idea who you are talking about.”

Chase: “Mom (in an annoyed tone of course), Uncle John is a squirrel and he’s dead. That’s what I was talkin' about.” (He then let out a loud huff and started gazing out of the car window, as if he couldn't believe that I couldn't follow his story and was just choosing to give up at this point.)

I don’t know how I can’t get with the picture sometimes, and frankly, I’m sure it is quite frustrating for my child.  Next time he talks about a fictitious, deceased Uncle John, I will know he is talking about a squirrel who is a wood chopper.     

Church and a Dead Witch

One of my goals for 2014 is to get involved with a church in our community.  But Chase is causing some barriers to this goal.  Who would have thought a 3 year old wouldn’t want to sit in a pew for an hour listening to others speak, not being able to speak himself?  Below are two of the reasons our last two trips to church have been painful- for me.

Trip #1:  As we walked into church we could hear the gorgeous church bells singing their joyful chimes.  This sound melts my heart and brings me back to my childhood.  But what does my child do?  He starts yelling, “Ding, dong the witch is dead!”  And as quickly as we walked into the church…. We walked out.

Trip #2:  This last attempt at going to church was a little bit more successful than the first.  Although, my child didn’t sing about a witch being dead, he did follow up each “Amen” with a “Poopy Butt.”  After the first couple times of this happening, I caught onto what he was doing.  So each time I heard the congregation say “Amen.”  I started coughing loudly hoping to mask my child singing, “Amen, poopy butt.  Amen poopy butt.” This didn’t work.  Everyone heard my child's chants and probably thought I had emphysema.  We may be choosing to go to another church, if we aren’t asked to leave first.    

I do know, that my child is going to cause some sort of commotion at church every time we go, so in preparation, I dress him in kakis and a sweater vest. Because honestly, who can get upset with a curly haired tot in an 80 year old man’s sweater vest?  Certainly, not me. 

You Lose.

It is no secret that my child is strong willed and I admire this quality in him (most of the time), but come on buddy… sometimes I would like to win.  Just once.

The other week we were at the mall in the food court.  We were with Cory’s family so we fought the crowds to secure a table for our group. I decided Chase and I would stay at the table while everyone else got their food (and food for Chase), then when they came back; I would go up and get my food while Chase and everyone else started eating. 

Great thinking, right?

Well, I guess not. 

The plan was going off without a hitch until everyone was back at the table and it was my turn to go up and get food.  Cory laid out Chase’s food for him so he could start chomping on it while I stood in the gruelingly long line for my food at Panda Express (yum, yum!).  As I stood up, Chase realized I would be leaving the table for a while and apparently, that wasn't acceptable.  Chase started screaming and threw a huge tantrum (I mean… tears, yelling, trying to leap out of his chair, kind of a fit (On a side note: it turns out  my child isn't very graceful when trying to leap).  So finally, after I was beat red from the stares of strangers and trying to pry my tot off of my arm, I swooped Chase up and brought him with me in line.  At that point, I would have rather held him for 15 minutes in the buffet line than continue to fight off the disapproving looks of foodies chowing down on their overly priced meals, getting their free entertainment at my expense. 

Instantly when we got in line, Chase calmed down.  He glanced at the table where our family was eating, kissed me on the check and said, “You lose,” as if trying his hardest not to gloat.

I couldn't even respond because he was, in fact, correct.   I did lose.