In six short days, my itty bitty wittle beeeeeeebeeeeeee will be 5 years old. Yeah, not such a baby anymore and he freakin’ HATES it when I call him one, which only makes me call him one more often and in an even more obnoxious voice- but that’s not the point. The point is that until his first day of school, I got to keep him pretty much to myself and no one else.
He never went to daycare to snot at and be snotted on by other germy little ankle-biters, very rarely ever had a babysitter to terrorize, and the longest time he ever spent away from me was when I was squeezing his little brother out of my vajayjay- and even then, Thomas went home to spend nights with him just so he wouldn’t be TOO traumatized.
Honestly though, it was more so WE wouldn’t be so traumatized by leaving him with someone else for such a long period of time. Kids are unpre-fucking-dictable. Or that’s what I thought anyway.
Every time we left him, we’d come back to glowing reviews of his behavior. I always found that odd, especially since I never left him, I figured he’d spaz out and not listen and do whatever a-holey things toddlers are known for doing. The 4 S’s: Screaming, Smashing, Spilling, and ‘Sploding (so I forced that last one to work in there. Doesn’t change the fact that it fits).
Then again, he was an UNUSUALLY well behaved toddler. Terrible twos? What terrible twos? Y’all are a bunch of liars! Two is awesome! Two is fantastic! I love two! Best kid EVER!
And then reality gave me a lovely baby- powdered slap to the face when my wonderful little two year old grew, and grew- and passed the threshold of the age of four and I was forced to realize that really he was just waiting until he had the vocabulary and lung power to use against me. Two was a holding cell before being convicted and sent to four year old a-holey child prison.
And with this new evil age upon me also came the nearing of the time where I would not be ABLE to keep him home and away from judgy prying “holy shit that’s an evil kid” kind of eyes- because unless I was going to homeschool him (SNORTGIGGLECHOKECOUGHGIGGLE)- he would HAVE to go to school and be around other people. Attitude, mouthiness, gigantic lungs and all.
He was no longer a ridiculously well behaved and mild-mannered toddler- but a mouthy, sassy, stubborn, attempting to be independent human (c’mon, you don’t always think toddlers are 100% human, do you? And don’t tell me that description sounds familiar or you will feel the spork because I am well aware of how obnoxious I am).
Off my child went to unchartered territory, surrounded by strangers, in an environment completely foreign to him.
It is not an exaggeration when I tell you that I kept the phone by my side all day, just waiting for it to ring. No, I’m not looking for a steamy Friday night hookup, but instead to be reamed by a teacher, a principal, another parent- for my Gremlin-after-water Child.
That call didn’t come until Yesterday, Holden’s 5th day of school. With this whole experience being new to me, I didn’t answer the phone when it rang, because if that shizz isn’t saved in my phone (and sometimes even if it is), I will not answer it. I hate the phone enough without having to deal with randoms calling me. It wasn’t until the phone stopped ringing that I had this tiny little inkling that perhaps it was school calling (though Holden had been home for an hour by then). The panic button in my brain didn’t go off until my phone blipped that I had a new voicemail.
Uh oh. What do they want? What did he do? Did he draw yet another picture that ambiguously looks like a peen? Did he call someone a “blister foot”, let a curse word slip, talk about poop more than is acceptable for a kindergartner? Did he randomly lick someone, or slap, or bite, or growl, or whine, or bitch and moan about something completely random that is really not bitch, moan or whine-worthy?
WHAT did he do? I know my kid, all of the good and bad and how big of a jerkwad he can be at home…
So I dialed my voicemail and awaited my fate.
Lo and Behold, it was Holden’s teacher. Once we got past the slaughtering of my last name- all I heard was praise. Praise praise and more praise.
He was named one of the “very best citizens of the day”- for his behavior and listening and helping and the message just went on and on but I think the shock blurs the later half.
All I could really think was: Did she dial the wrong number? I mean, the last name was so far off it’s possible. Are you really talking about MY kid? MY Holden? The one I pushed out of my crotch and has been the most stubborn ornery human being the world has ever seen for the past (nearly) five years? HIM? He is the very best citizen of the day?
And then the thoughts started swirling in my head like… maybe Holden has split personalities. Maybe he’s a pod-person. Maybe I gave birth to twins and the shock of pushing ONE out of my crotch was so much to handle that I blacked out and missed the birth of the second, and he was given to someone else, or stolen, and suddenly they are in the same class and decided that they could DO less if they were pretending to be ONE person.
And yes, I realize that vaguely sounds like the plot of The Parent Trap, but DAMNIT, they made two of those movies and it’s hard to shake it once it’s infiltrated your brain
but REALLY- MY kid?
Yes, I was absolutely proud, and flattered, and happy. ALWAYS it is better to get a positive call than a negative one, and I’ve been wondering since school BEGAN what in the hell he was doing all day, and just waiting to get some kind of report back only to find his agenda empty every day when I open it- so to find out he ISN’T being an asshole to everyone around him? I’m thrilled. That is, until I realized that what this must mean is that he saves all of his epic a-holey power for me.
Gee, thanks son. I love you too.
You wouldn't sniff a stranger's butt to see who pooped their pants.... so you probably shouldn't do these other parental things to strangers, either. holdinholden.com/2017/12/weir…
Weird Things you do for your kids but not Strangers goo.gl/fb/oVuwvG
Tis the season! pic.twitter.com/5VgMLnt22E
I am weak pic.twitter.com/LYdRQ6EZcC
You know that feeling when you don't chew a chip all the way and it cuts you all the way down and you swear it's gonna kill you, but you go ahead have another right after? That's what it's like when you decide to have another kid.