Mother of an Only Child Syndrome

Every day I spend time swatting off the comments and pressure from people in my life (and society) to have more than one child, so recently I've been reading a lot of articles on “Only Child Syndrome” to learn more about the benefits and negatives of being an only child.  Although, none of the studies I have read have shown any negative-long term effects on an only child, it got me to thinking... There has got to be a "Mother of an Only Child Syndrome."  Symptoms include: hovering, having too much time on your hands and the ability to turn any naughty behavior your child exhibits into a positive. 

After pondering these symptoms, I fear I am suffering from this syndrome... I'm wondering if I should see my doctor about this (well a doctor or a shrink).

I spend my days, morning to dusk, hovering; hovering around my sweet, sweet 2 year old.  So much so, that he actually walked me over to the corner of the sandbox at a park and told me to stay as he gallivanted to the other end to play with other children (although, I still maintain the thought that Chase would have had more fun building sandcastles with me and not those dirty-faced kids with mismatched socks- after all, I don't reek of dirty diaper and urine soaked sand.) But anyway, glad he had fun.......

I realize that I have a lot of time on my hands now that my only child can entertain himself for several minutes at a time (but apparently never when I am using the bathroom) and can feed himself.  So with all of my newly found extra time, I enjoy spending it matching his clothes.  I believe that Chase has a better, more well-round day when his socks match his shirt and his shorts match his blankie and his blankie matches his clothes for tomorrow.  :) 

The other night during supper Chase didn't want to eat (like normal, he feels like my cooking is slowing killing him- and he may be right). He picked up his meatball from his plate and hurled it across the kitchen.  When I asked him why he did that he simply said, "I had too."  I immediately thought, well his meatball does kind of resemble a ball, and balls are meant to be thrown, so I get where he coming from, instead of scolding him for this less than desirable behavior, which would have knocked this naughty behavior to the curb before it became an issue.  Now I spend most nights dodging flying food (that may or may not resemble sports equipment).  But who am I to deter him from playing sports and getting some physical exercise? Any who, I have just learned to wear a helmet at dinner. 

  

I am fully aware that if I had another child I wouldn't hover, obsess over matching clothes that are going to be pooped through or make excuses for naughty behavior, but as long as the studies show that I'm not raising Norman Bates, I'm cool with it.  I am not going to hide in silence anymore, I am proud to say that I have Mother of an Only Child Syndrome and I am proud to be their spokesperson (Ya know, I do have some extra time on my hands so I have nominated myself to be their spokesperson).   

One-liners

Something that I absolutely love about kids is their one-liners.  They have the ability to make you crack-up with one simple, innocent statement and revelations.  Here are a few of Chase's statements from yesterday:

“Mom, you love me so you cooked bacon for me.”

(Yes, little one, I fry pork for everyone that I love.)

 "Mom, I picked my nose with my cotton candy."

(Note to self: remember to eat around the booger contaminated portions.)

“Mom, you a poopy butt head.” 

(I’m sure this is way better than what I will be called during his teenage years, so for the time being, I welcome the poopy butt heads.)  

“Mom, I put my finger in my nose, then I wiped a boogie on your leg.”

(Darn, this will force me to finally wash my jeans and I just got them to fit just right on day 46.)

Yes and No

Yes, my child once cried when an episode of The Real Housewives was over. 

No, that doesn’t embarrass me.  I understand where the tears came from- I, too, become saddened when the hour long episode comes to an end and I know I have to wait an entire week to see who will get into a verbal altercation next. (And plus, it’s a lot less pathetic when you are watching trashy tv with a buddy.  Although, I think it makes me more trashy since I’m letting my 2 year old watch it with me- oh well, at least I’m not watching it alone.)

 ___________________________

Yes, my child’s new favorite word is booby.

No, I don’t try and stop him from saying it (Seriously, have you ever heard a two year old belt out his own musical number entitled: “Booby, Booby, Booby” in the middle of a crowded park?  I have…it’s hilarious.)

 ___________________________

Yes, my child asks to go to a restaurant as he pushes his dinner plate to the center of the dining room table every night without fail. 

No, that doesn't offend me.  I am fully aware that my cooking is awful. I want to go out to eat every night too. (Last night I forgot that I was making a frozen pizza for dinner and burnt it.  Chase got a cupcake for dinner.  We should have just gone to Chucky-E-Cheese like Chase suggested in the first place.)

  ___________________________

Yes, I am a helicopter parent.  Anytime my child steps more than an inch out of my peripheral site, you can start to feel the wind from my propellers spinning overhead.  Make sure you bring a light coat if you are going to be at the same location as me. 

No, I don’t get frequent flier miles. 

 ___________________________

Yes, my child farts on me at least 10 times a day. 

No, I don't find that to be odd behavior.  I think of it as more of a term of endearment than inappropriate social behavior.  (I fear I may be on the path to raising a socially awkward child.  Which I'm totally okay with.  The less sleepovers he's invited too, the more nights I have a buddy to watch The Real Housewives with.- Totally, kinda kidding.) 

Who wouldn't want this little guy farting on them every day? 

Mall of America

Yesterday, Cory, Chase and I went to the Mall of America to Sea Life (But, I still call it Underwater World because I’m stuck in the 90’s, because frankly that was the decade that flattered me the most- I was under 80 pounds with a stunning bowl cut struttin' around in multicolored wind-suits- What was not to love?).

After we spent an over abundance of time dodging sharks and jellyfish, it was time to hit up the food court (which is actually the real reason why I enjoy going to the Mall of America.  Who doesn't love 15 restaurants at your disposal within spitting distance of each other?- it’s like an indecisive person’s dream).  Before eating, I took Chase into the bathroom with me to change his diaper and wash his hands.  While waiting in line for the changing table, Chase slithered like a snake out of the bottom of the stroller and made a break for it.  All I could see was his blonde curls flying in the wind, and his arms flailing in every direction. (Have you ever seen Febe from Friends run?  Yes, my child runs like a 30 year old gangly woman.)  However, I was able to cling onto the back of Chase’s sweatshirt just before he turned the corner to enter the Men’s restroom (I still maintain that Chase ran there on purpose knowing full well I couldn’t enter).  I felt like I was on a tv show playing in slow motion as I dove for him yelling, “Noooo,” ya know, right before someone dodges in front of a loved one to take a bullet for them.  Well, although my dive wasn’t nearly as heroic, I did end up wrangling Chase away from the restroom.

I marched him right over to Cory and told Cory what happened.  Cory calmly asked Chase why he ran away from Mommy in the bathroom and almost went into the Men’s bathroom.  Chase’s response, “Me a Man.” 

I guess it is hard to scold a child when he is just trying to decipher between which bathroom is gender appropriate for him to use- although, I do think you need to be out of diapers before security will be called on him for entering the Women’s restroom. 

Any who, our food court adventure doesn’t end there:  If I wasn’t embarrassed enough about my child’s ability to dart like a cheetah (and my not-so-cheetah like abilities to keep up with him) through the mall, I should be embarrassed about his lack of continental knowledge.       

As we were sitting down to devour Chinese food like the vultures that we are, Chase looks up at the sky (well, actually the skylights) and then back at me with his spoon, full of fried rice and asks inquisitively, “Mommy, is this the Americas?” I just looked at him, leaned down and whispered out of embarrassment of the question, hoping that the grey haired couple next to us wasn't following our conversation and said, “Actually Honey, we are at Mall of America, eating Chinese food.”  Well, I guess there is nothing more American than retail shopping while munching on foreign cuisine.   

We can chalk this up to another successful Mall of America trip (yes, I am claiming this trip as a victory because all 3 of us made it home).

I Swore I Would, I Swore I Wouldn't..

Over the years I have observed many parents, parenting around me.  From these observations, I created a mental list of things I swore I would do as a parent and things I swore I wouldn't do…

I swore I would:

Read to my child everyday and I am proud to say I am exceeding in this goal (Well, I am counting reading the TV guide channel out loud to my child.  How else is he going to know that Dora the Explorer and Sophia the First are his television options at 7 am?  Please note:  I offer my child shows that have a strong female main character to subliminally ingrained in him that women are in charge- otherwise I will be overrun by testosterone in my own home.)

I swore I would never….

Let my child watch Spongbob Square Pants.  I mean seriously, how many episodes will it take for Spongebob to realize he is a kitchen sponge and not a sea sponge? 

I have failed at this goal miserably.  My child has fallen head over heals in love with the porous character.  He will stand in front of the television sporting his over sized Spongebob T-shirt (that he insisted he needed from Shopko because he was sitting, “like a bog boy” in the cart- and who was I to argue- he had a point- he wasn't pulling items out of the cart one by one and chucking them onto the floor and he wasn't trying to scale the cart walls like a spider-monkey.) and his Spongebob crocs for an entire, grueling, episode. 

So I figured, if you can’t beat him, give up.  I guess there are some good qualities to Spongebob; Chase learns about the deep blue sea from the show. So ultimately, I guess, I would be a terrible parent if I withheld that education from him- right?- who knows, maybe one day he will want to be a deep sea diver or a shrimp fisherman. (Did I convince you? Because I’m not quite sure I convinced myself.)

I swore I would….

Offer my child a fruit or vegetable at every meal to encourage my child to have a healthy diet.  I have accomplished this goal with flying colors.  (Well, I am including candy orange slices and popcorn- those count right?)

I swore I would never…

Let my child have a DVD player in the car.  I used to peer into the windows of minivans as they passed me on the streets and swear to myself that my child would never have a DVD player in the car; my child could spend his time looking at books quietly as we drove off into the sunset (or towards Dairy Queen). 

As it turns out, books can cause serious injuries when they are unexpectedly hurled at your head from the backseat.  The DVD players were installed after one grueling, and bloody, book incident.  To all of the minivan mother’s out there- I apologize for my previous judgment.   

You win some, you lose some, and sometimes you just shake your head and walk away.

Knockers and Balls

Here are two of Chase’s statements this weekend that could be interpreted dirty if you didn't know the context behind them:

“I like those knockers.”

“These are my big balls and these are Grandpa’s little balls.” 

I know where your mind went (because mine went there too)... shame on you (and me)- this is a toddler speaking.  Curious to know what was behind those statements?

-Chase announced, “I like those knockers,” when he was watching a stranger look through a pair of binoculars and he couldn't quite mutter out the word binoculars correctly.  Honestly, I find humor in the fact that “knockers” is what came out and I didn't correct him.  

-Chase talked about the different sizes of balls while holding up his bag of candy whoppers and my dad’s bag of candied peanuts.  I guess boys learn to compare balls (no matter what kind) at an early age. 

Man, I love toddlers! 

Old Wise Man VS A College Frat Boy

I used to believe that my child had the soul of an old wise man (I pictured his soul to be spending his days on the front porch of an old country farm (painted white of course), sitting on an old rocking chair swaying to and fro, gazing into a wheat field, pondering the meaning of life and the reason for our existence.

I thought this because as a baby, Chase used to be calm as a summer’s evening and loved to wear hats and matching sweater-vests (Come to think of it, it’s not like my infant matched his hats and sweater-vests together- so maybe I was contributing to his old man complex.)  Any-who, I’m starting to think that nowadays Chase is more of a 20 year old frat boy at heart instead of a wise old man. 

Recently, my child has:

-        Asked his childcare provider’s husband if he likes “whisky.”  (What 2 year old strikes up a conversation about whisky? None- but a college frat boy would.)

-        My child cannot keep his hands off of his “man jewels.” It’s like there is a magnetic force going from his hand to his genitals, pulling them together at all costs. 

-        My child has told me that he enjoys “chew tobacco” on more than one occasion. (Can you actually picture a 2 year old with a huge dip in his bottom lip trying to sing the theme song to Barney and Friends, using his Mickey Mouse Club House sippy cup as a spitter? Of course he would need an adult to remove the lid off of his cup first.)

   

I rest my case. 

Chase during his wise, old man days- calmly sleeping, sweater-vest and all.