I have four children, and I love them all dearly. I would die for them in a heartbeat. Sometimes they can infuriate me to the point of wanting to pull out my hair, but I still love them. Watching them grow is a joy, one filled with awe and wonder, laughter and feelings of utter accomplishment as I look at my children and think...I did that (with a little help from their father, of course) but mostly me. (Love you babe!)
Despite my feelings of happiness and contentment watching my children learn and grow, I have equal moments of utter shock and dismay, or just flat out WTF face, at things they do or say. Because, as much as I love my children no matter what...they can be so WEIRD!
Out of my four, it's my middle two that provide me with the most entertainment. My 13 year old is too cool for weird things. I mean, we went to the beach one day and he didn't even take off his shoes to walk on the sand with the rest of us. Need I say more? And my 9 month old...while cute is an understatement for her, she's a little too young to be weird just yet.
But my 6 year old and my 4 year old? It's like a revolving door of comedic relief where there's a new bit being performed every day, solely for my entertainment. I have to say, it balances out the temper tantrums nicely and keeps the days from becoming mundane. And during a pandemic, when new outings and new people and new things in general are few and far between, I look forward to the unexpected.
Even though both of my middle children have their moments, they have them in different categories. My 6 year old...he is my weird that makes me laugh and smack my hand against my forehead and say, "really dude?" He is either going to be in the World Cup someday, or on a stage doing stand up. And he's not really a talker, so his weird is completely random and unexpected, which just adds to it all.
For example, every Christmas, I get the kids new pajamas to open Christmas Eve so they can be cute and comfy (and lately matching is 'in'...so matching also) Christmas morning when we open presents. This year I bought the boys black/white/gray plaid pajamas, and the girls red/black plaid pajamas. They were super cute. But after opening them, and changing into them, my oldest and 6 year old were sitting on the couch next to my new pillows that also happened to be different shades of gray plaid. And out of nowhere, my 6 year old had tucked himself up into a ball and said, "Look, I blend in." He was right.
That's a laugh out loud moment. Like the time he was racing bikes with his friend on our street and I hear him yell out, "Not today son, not today." Or the time he was playing nerf war with his friends and his older brother, and his older brother and someone from his brother's team were at the top of the hill behind our house waiting out my 6 year old and his team, so my 6 year old said, "They're not coming down. They're weaklings."
Apparently I raised a trash talker.
Or...the time he came upstairs to tell me that he "hid" the baby. I laughed because, really, how could he hide his 9 month old sister. Then I realized who I was talking to and asked, "You really hid her?" When he answered with, "yes, I hid her" and a real big smile, I ran downstairs not really knowing what 'hiding' could mean. I found her...and as hiding places went, I've seen worse from my kids.
In addition to the LOL moments, there are the smack myself in the face because...how?...moments. Like this weekend, when I was on the phone with my husband, one of the few times a week we can facetime, and I hear screaming and crying coming from the garage so I drop the phone and run outside to find out where the blood is coming from and how to stop it. Well, there was no blood. There was simply my son, holding his knee on the ground, sobbing hysterically because he banged his knee, hard, on my car while they were playing. My parked car. So I brought him in, iced him up, and he was fine. (He's my dramatic one.)
The next day, he and his sister go out to play. My 4 year old comes running in about 5 minutes later (honestly, it was probably more like 3 minutes) yelling for me because her brother hurt himself "really bad". I asked what happened, as I started to rush downstairs, but when she told me I just stopped, walked back upstairs, and waited for him to come to me. He ran into another parked car. He was looking behind him as he was walking and walked into a tow hitch of a truck (granted, the truck was parked illegally and was sticking out into the sidewalk) but he walked into it, banged his thigh pretty good, and managed to somehow hit his face and scrape his arm on the way down. At the close of the weekend, it was:
Parked Cars: 2 / 6 year old: 0
Today, we worked on homework. He finished his online assignments and I had him read one of his take home books for me. As soon as he finished, I saw him messing with his T-shirt while I put the books back in the bag to go in his school bin. As I hand him his book he announces, "I have tiny arms," and takes the book and walks away. I'm suddenly flashed back to college with drinking games and T-rex arms, (If you know, you know), and I just bust out laughing as he walks away because...he's so weird!
While my 6 year old keeps me young with laughter, my 4 year old is my WTF kid. We moved into our new house in July of 2020. In the downstairs bathroom, I set up a small vanity with random bottles of shells and sand, to include one of the large conch shells. They stayed where they were until Thanksgiving, when I put them away to make room for our Christmas decorations. In January, when the decorations went away, out came the shells again. But shortly thereafter, I noticed the conch shell kept moving. It was constantly put either on top of the toilet paper rolls, or under the stool that the kids stand on to wash their hands. Finally I asked who was doing it, and it was my 4 year old. She decided that she didn't like the shell, because it might have a giant snail in it, and she needed to move it before she could go to the bathroom.
Now that I think about it, my 4 year old has the most WTF moments in the bathroom...huh...
If I'm in the bathroom doing my hair I have to have a fan on me because, well, I have a LOT of hair, and the bathroom can get hot from the blow dryer brush, which means I get hot. When I get hot I sweat, like most humans, which in turn makes my hair damp at the scalp and then it's a never ending cycle of dry, sweat, repeat. So, I bought a counter fan to have on to keep me cool while I'm straightening my hair. My 4 year old, upon hearing me using the blow dryer brush last week, runs upstairs and proceeds to stand in front of the fan yelling, "I am Wonder WOMAAAAANNN!" with her hair blowing in the wind like she's flying in her invisible jet.
She does not lack in the confidence department.
My kids...are my pride and joy. I love them. I love their different personalities. I love that I can see my twin sister in them with the way they act or respond to certain things (seriously Sam, take your son during homework please). I love that they are so confident and just have no problem doing them. Between fashion faux pas on the soccer field, vampire teeth from Halloween that we found in February (Lord knows where they were found or what they touched but in the mouth they went), green marker goatees, concerts in the shower or on the toilet (not pictured but, let me just say, some people whistle while they work, but my kids? My kids sing while they poop), my children are a revolving door of WEIRD.
At least I'll never be bored...
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