So, look at me writing three posts in a row! The world might be coming to an end.
And if it does, well, that would have been fine with me this morning because I was mortified. By my 2 year old. Totally embarrassed.
For those of you who don't live in our area, there is a great place for toddlers called Boingo Bounce. It is just a big room with bouncy houses and blow-up slides. You would think the perfect place for toddlers to run like mad and not get hurt.
That is until my 2 year old walks through the door. He might as well have been carrying a stun gun and one of those clobber sticks with the spikes.
You see, as great as Boingo Bounce is for kids, it is also very loud. Children are screaming, the music is at rock concert levels, there is the constant whir of air pumps blowing up the facilities. So, if your child has a sensory disorder and is prone to overstimulation like mine, then this place is like the Wild West. Limited law and order, children drunk with bouncy house fun, parents running to and fro trying to find their children in the chaos. For someone like my son, it can be crazy-making.
At one point, I was carrying Harry, my 10-month old, around the room trying to find Max. And then I saw her. Another mother lean down to a boy I couldn't see (he was behind a plastic palm tree) and ask him who his mother was. I walked over to the palm tree, praying that she wasn't talking to my son. The other mother looked up and said, "Is this your son?" As I looked around the palm tree, I was still praying. Peering, peering around... Crap. It was Max. My heart sank.
She told me, in a very sweet way which I very much appreciated, that Max had been pulling other kids down the stairs to the slide and had scared two little kids so much that they were afraid to play on the slide anymore. I was appalled. Embarrassed. Mortified. The other mother was kind and not rude whatsoever, but I wanted to sink into the floor.
And then I looked at Max. I know what he looks like when his senses are starting to spin out of control. His face was red, he was hot, his eyes were glassy, he couldn't focus on what I was saying, he couldn't think straight. We had been there for 45 minutes and it was time to go.
Now, I realize that this episode was my fault. I know better than to not supervise Max at all times. Steve and I have never been able to visit with other parents at birthday parties, BBQs, neighborhood block parties, etc. because Max is not one of those children who can be in a party atmosphere and not get overstimulated and aggressive. His senses can't work together efficiently enough to keep him balanced in loud environments. We always have to leave parties early.
But, I guess my excuse is that for once, I wanted to be like those other mothers I saw sitting on the floor of Boingo Bounce, playing with their babies and having adult conversations while their older children played in the bouncy houses. I wanted to sit down and actually get to talk to the mother of the little girl we came with. I wanted to have an adult conversation. I wanted to enjoy myself, too. I stay at home all day everyday with a toddler and a baby and I just wanted to talk, too. It's a poor excuse, I guess, but it's the truth.
I now know the sitting-on-the-floor dream of mine will remain a dream for a while. And that's okay. But really, what in the H-E-double toothpicks was God, the Universe, doing when He decided it was a good idea to give me two boys? And what were my boys thinking when their happy souls decided to come back to Earth and choose me as their mother?
I know nothing about boys. I didn't have a brother and all but one of my cousins are girls.
I am not hyperactive.
I am not aggressive.
I don't like loud noises.
I don't like sweating or dirt.
I don't like woodsy areas.
I don't like bugs.
I don't like sports.
I don't like camping (this kinda goes hand-in-hand with the sweating, dirt and bugs thing)
I don't think poop and boogers and farting are funny (okay, sometimes farting is funny).
I don't like peeing outside.
I don't have a well of energy that never dries up.
I like to read. I like quiet. I like poetry. I like being still. I like Barbies.
What were they thinking?
Maybe they were thinking that I would love them, which I do more than anyone I've ever loved before. Maybe they were thinking that I would try my best, which I do, everyday, although sometimes I feel like it isn't good enough. And maybe they were thinking that despite my shortcomings, missteps, and imperfections, I would be a good mother. And I hope I am.
And maybe someday, I will get to sit down with the other mothers, too....but, we'll see. Let's not get crazy, now.