Remember when I complained about Riley's sleep patterns about a month ago? I was having trouble getting him to nap without me. That lasted about a week, and then he went back to the way he was before that; perfect. I don't know what I did to deserve this, but I have a perfect sleeper on my hands.
Now he's even better. I can feed him, give him a soother, and walk out of the room. Sometimes he'll stay up for a good half hour talking to himself and playing with his feet before he drifts off to sleep with no fuss.
He's perfect. N'cest pas?
He's just outgrown his cradle this week. He would cry out for me while drifting off to sleep and I would go check on him and his fat leg would be stuck between the bars. He's got some serious turkey thighs. Goose? Swan? Egress? What's the biggest bird out there? Pterodactyl?
Ah. This reminds me. Matthew told a friend the other week that she 'had a reddy fat tummy.' I about died. Remember when he told me, 'Mommy, you hab reddy, reddy, reddy, reddy, reddy big bum. You no fall in potty, right?!' Ah, kids. Slap some duct tape over their mouths and you'll have yourself some peace and quiet and no embarrassing moments.
I was walking Matthew to school and I wanted him to hustle. Matthew is V.E.R.Y. passive aggressive. You think working with passive aggressive people is frustrating, try RAISING one. So when he whined that I wasn't waiting for him I reminded him that, "It's not my job to wait for you. It is your job to walk faster if you want to keep up, remember?' This is my solution for lagging children which allows them some roaming room and keeps me from becoming a horrendous nag. I walk a reasonable pace and they keep one eye on my distance from them so they can run to catch up if necessary. I then waited for Matthew at a corner because we had to cross the street. Meanwhile he's whining that I am not waiting for him, and staring at the clouds, weaving back and forth across the sidewalk, taking forever. I reminded him again of our 'jobs' when walking. He looked at me full in the face and stopped. Passive aggressive anyone? So I marched the twenty feet to where he was, grabbed his arm, and hustled him across the street. Now his pouting turned to crying and a few feet onto the sidewalk on the other side, he fainted. Plop, facedown on the sidewalk. Awesome. Now his school pants are filthy and wet, and there is road rash on his face because he fainted with his hands in his pockets and had nothing to break his fall.
[FYI for those who don't know this of Matthew: when tantruming, he holds his breath until he faints]
Exasperated, I put my hands on my hips and glared at him.
'Matthew, get up.'
Dirt from head to toe.
Accusing look in his eye.
Seriously? For crossing the street faster than your heart's desire?
This child would test the patience of JESUS HIMSELF.
And now I look like the Bitch mom of the century because I have no sympathy for my fainting child.
Judge not, my friends. Judge not.
Playing into Matthew's M.E.L.O.D.R.A.M.A.S does not serve him well. Nor me.
Just another walk to preschool.
Would duct tape solve this scenario's embarrassment factor?
No. But it sure would make it quieter!
In good news regarding Matthew: he has astounded his speech pathologist again. We are now working on the pronounciation of the letter 'k' and the final syllable of each word, in addition to 'f' and 's' and grammar. His stutter is GONE halleluah praise JesusMaryandJoseph, what a sense of freedom we feel! And he feels! He is very proud of his words these days. Very.
And he is always gentle with his baby brother.
And he has the cutest, flung out, upside down and sideways sleeping positions.
And he is generous.
And he is FUNNY.
And he has energy to beat the band.
He's one of those kids who are REALLY HARD to raise but who go on to invent the Internet or Insulin, or forge a new theory of economics, or ride a bike really fast in the Olympics or something.
I hope someday he looks back on his life and feels happy with the path God laid for him. I hope he sees adoption as so positive and wonderful an experience that he goes on to adopt his own children, and that a legacy of adoptive love grows out of our one small boy. I hope he remembers more love than frustration in his mother's actions. I'm sure he will. I work hard enough on that relationship to know he will.
God has great things in store for that little boy; I've known that since I met him. He has already brought several people to toss themselves into God's embrace with total abandon...
I am excited to see what else God has in store for my brown baby. Amazing things, I'm sure of it.