I Hate the bus stop

I do. Hate is a strong word, I know, but I do. I hate the bus stop. Every morning bright and early at 7:30 AM there are bratty little mongrels running wild on the bus stop making me crazy! And poor First Son, he just wants to be part of the crowd, but he's not a bratty little mongrel.

We share the corner with two other families, the aforementioned smokin at the bus stop Gang-bangers (although no more smoke) and another family I will call the Wild Rovers. The WR are an Irish American family with two boys, one in 1st grade and one who is 4 and just takes the walk to the bus stop - both boys are nuts - especially the little one. The parents are out of their mind. These kids are always out in the middle of the street, riding their bikes without helmets, the 6yr old has a skateboard and a ramp thing - and again no helmet, in fact I wouldn't be surprised if these kids light firecrackers too! Little Jose Gang-banger is nutty too, in that he is just a wild "boy". First Son on the other hand is much more mild mannered, not to say that he can't stir up a ruckus with the best of them.

This morning, as we approached the bus stop, we could see these boys running WILD. Running all around the street, chasing each other with sticks, and screaming! I called First Son over before we even got to the bus stop to have a quick chat. I told him " Remember, you are responsible for you. It doesn't matter what anybody else is doing. If other kids are being wild, that doesn't mean that you have to be wild too." He said "I know" So, we get to the corner and I say my good mornings to the oblivious parents, then set to watching the chaos unfold. These boys are body slamming one another, jumping on top of the tree stumps on the corner, then in order to keep their sticks safe from the other, throwing their bellies down on top of the stump and then piling on top of each other. They are laughing, and screaming as their parents stare off into space. My hair is standing on end. First Son is smirking to himself, to him, this looks like fun. Someone is about to get hurt, I am sure.

Just like the maniac motorcyclists who come up behind you on the parkway at 100mph, who cause the accident, but are never the ones in the accident, who is it that gets hurt this morning? That's right. First Son. Argh. He decides he can't take it anymore, he must be a part of this brouhaha that is unfolding before him. He starts to take off running behind the other boys, but he gets no farther that three steps before he falls, flat on his face. Then of course, there are tears. Seriously? Why can't people be more civilized at 7:30 in the morning?

I calm First Son down, wipe away his tears, tell him that he's okay. He says, can I try again? What!? No. I tell him, loud enough for the other parents and kids to hear, "I don't like running wild at the bus stop, it's not a good way to start the day. When you go to recess, or when you go to gym you get to run. Not now when you have a heavy back pack on your back, and there are cars driving nearby."

The poor kid wasn't even hurt that bad, I think he was just so embarrassed. He was embarrassed because he fell down in front of his friends, and I think he was embarrassed because he knew that he didn't make a good decision.

I love kids, I do. I just hate parents. Seriously, our corner is a pretty busy street traffic wise. What is wrong with these people? Tell your children to "stop it". If you don't I will. Actually, I think I may just start driving to school. That way we can all sleep a little later, and no one gets hurt. Keep looking for that For Sale sign, I really think it's gonna show up soon!

A funny kid

Yesterday afternoon, in part to escape the frenzy of phone calls that followed my previous post, in part to try to soak in the beautiful autumn weather we were having, I packed the cherubs and mother in law into Rosie and headed to the park for a nature walk. We went to a lovely spot nearby with a very big pond and a nice wooded trail. As we approached the pond there were lots of water fowl, some were in the water, others were standing on the shore. There were a few Canadian geese who were standing just on the edge of the water staring intently out towards the pond. As we got closer First Son pointed and said "look Mom!" I said something like "oh yeah, look at all the geese" He then says - "I think they're the lifeguards."
First Son is one funny boy.

Big News, small package

So, I know I haven't really been blogging much lately, but it isn't because there is nothing going on, quite the opposite in fact, there is a tremendous thing going on. Life changing events are unfolding. I am not quite sure how to deal with it, some days I am so full of joy and other days I am full of dread and then, inevitably guilt. It's a weighty issue. There are so many different levels of emotion involved, and I am just trying to work through them all. Even though I have done this four times already, this time I am thrown for a loop. This time is different.
I was hoping that before I sat down to blog on the subject I would have some clarity, I would be able to tap away at my keyboard and be articulate and eloquent about the situation I face. I have come to the realization that that might not happen for a long time, and that writing about it may be the only way for me to gain the clarity I so desire.

I AM PREGNANT. About 9 weeks. Due May 20th.

To quote First Son - "What the Heck!"

The thing is, I am a planner. I am always planning the next event even before they've played The Last Dance. If I don't have a plan I can't function. I need to know what I am doing now, and then after that, and after that. I carry my calendar with me everywhere so that I can make plans. This was not planned. Hubby and I have been pretty sure, no I'd say even more than pretty sure that we would someday want to have another child. What we didn't have however was a plan to do this now.

I did have a plan. I had plans to adjust to having three kids for a while. I had plans to adjust to having a kindergartner, getting used to PTA meetings and school bus dramas, and homework. I had planned a trip to Ireland at the end of May for my cousin's wedding. I planned on enjoying a sailboat/wine cruise around Manhattan and actually enjoying the wine. I had planned on having boundless energy this fall and completing lots of household projects. I had planned on having my body to myself for some time. I was pregnant for more than a year, minus one month in between my miscarriage and Paddy boy. My last pregnancy was tough because I had pregnancy induced bronchial asthma and gall bladder issues. I was planning to just be a Mom to the three little children who need me! I was not planning to do this now!

There's a lot of irony involved in this pregnancy. In the past (and definitely in the future) whenever anybody would ask me about my plans for future children I would always answer that it isn't really up to us, it's up to God. My reasoning for this response is because I am so acutely aware of the unfairness of maternity. Who gets to be a Mom easily and who has to suffer the indignities of infertility treatments or blighted pregnancies? Why are there so many good loving couples who would give anything to be able to welcome a sweet child into their arms and hearts struggling while there are teenage girls and drug addicts dumping their newborns into dumpsters?? This is not a question I can answer, and I won't try. I give it all to God because surely it rests in His hands only. And so, the irony is that my response has now become so true in my own experience. This pregnancy was not really up to me, it was God's doing.

Well, I am of course accepting of this child. I love this child already. I have seen the heartbeat. This child is part of me. I have a deep faith. I know that everything is going to be okay. I am going to be okay. My heart is full. My brain is full. I will find joy, and I will find hope. I will be writing much, much more on this subject. Now that the gate is open the flood waters will flow. Check back frequently, and say a prayer for me.

Spectacles

There's the bit about First Son and his spectacles. First Son got eyeglasses last year. He needs to wear them when he is reading, writing, coloring or doing any kind of close-up play such as puzzles, or trains, etc. Basically, he needs to wear them when he goes to school.

Well, the first full day of school (which is also the first day that he rode the bus home with 1st graders) he comes home and starts throwing a fit, throwing his glasses around. He's never shown any hostility toward his glasses before, but he does sometimes have trouble communicating his needs when he is tired and/or hungry. So, we figured that this was just the manifestation of his exhaustion from being away from home for a full 7 hours. We got him some protein and some rest. Things calmed down.

A few days later First Son tells me that there is a kid on the bus who wants to fight him for his glasses. WHAT!? Who is it? What's His name? (where does he live, I am going to kill the little maggot!) Of course he doesn't know the kid's name. I am incensed. I am totally unprepared for this type of situation. I try to get more information from First Son, but he doesn't give things up easily. OK, we tell him that he should tell this person to "LEAVE ME ALONE" and then of course, to tell Mommy & Daddy if it happens again. (So that I can hunt the little maggot down and crush him).

Things continue on uneventfully for a little while. Then, First Son starts getting off the school bus without his eyeglasses on his head. "Where are your glasses!!" ( you know, the eyeglasses that you have to wear -or else I am a bad parent - the ones that cost $150, which is $150 more than I have to replace them with if I had to right now! - I am going to have to stand on a street corner and sell my body just so that I don't send my son off to school de-spectacled like a bad parent - those eyeglasses!) He tells me that he has decided to take them off, because then the bully doesn't bother him, he's even a little bit nice. First Son put his glasses in the case in his schoolbag. Oh, okay. Well, I figure, at least he is figuring out solutions to his problems, he is coping. I take this as a good thing. Until...

One day last week First Son gets off the school bus sans glasses, only this time they are not in his case! He doesn't know where they are. We search the schoolbag, the lunch bag - nothing. We search the house top to bottom - nothing. I send a note to the teacher asking her to check the lost and found - nothing. I am starting to panic - I am about to slip on my fishnets...then we ask the bus driver (duh - why didn't I do that first??) - glasses found. Hooray, fishnets, back to the back of the closet! But wait...more drama...

The bus pulls up in the afternoon , and the bus driver tells hubby that there is another child on the bus trying to fight First Son for his glasses! The driver had a talk with the kid, but he wanted to let us know in case it "comes up". "Comes Up"? First Son is on the verge of tears, quiver lip and all. I give him a big hug, assure him that he is NOT in trouble and ask him to please tell me what happened. The kid was kicking him! Suddenly I am channeling Miss Hannigan "Kill, kill, kill." We determine who the kid is and try to develop a plan of action. First Son says that yes, he would like me to talk to Stephen's Mom (yep, that's a real name - I have no interest in protecting minors if said minors are guilty of harassing my kids!) I call my neighbor who shares the bus stop with the culprit to ask her what she knows about the little delinquent. She is actually quite surprised to hear about this but then tells me that I probably won't get anywhere with the parents since...I took French in high school when I should have taken Spanish! Argh.

That night, first Son is awake in the middle of the night for about 2 hours because he is having nightmares that someone is putting stuff in his eyes!! Oh I could seriously hurt someone. How dare you torture my kid like this?? First Son goes into school late the next day because I let him sleep after the nightmares. That afternoon and since he says there have been no problems on the bus. Maybe the bus driver has taken care of it, but I don't know. I just don't understand how this happens, these kids are kindergartners and first graders, how do they even know how to be so mean?

Well, if it happens again I have decided that I will go knock on these people's door. I will just bring my gang banger friend from down the block (who doesn't smoke at the bus stop anymore, BTW) with me! Oh I am so mad!