10.  Put the gun down!

9.  I’ll pay you a dollar if you get me a Diet Coke from the fridge.

8.  Sorry honey, no, you can’t marry me.

7. Seriously Ben, put some underwear on.

6. Are you done reading yet?  I want to watch American Idol with you!

5. Nope, I was never married.  Yes you can have kids without being married.  No that wasn’t me as the bride in those pictures.  Really.  NEVER married.  How do you have kids without being married?  Um, do you want some chocolate instead?

4. STOP shooting at me!  One more dart shot at me and I’m taking that thing away and putting it in Toy Jail!

3. No, you can’t have gum for breakfast.

2. Ben!  Stop doing CPR on your friend.  He’s laughing and breathing.  Not dying. 

and finally…

1.  Because I’m the Mother and I SAID SO!  THAT’s why!

On a cold snowy Sunday morning, a mother got out of bed and was about to go brush her teeth when she heard the sleepy crackled voice of her young boy saying, “No Mommy.  Come snuggle with me.”   Even though her teeth were screaming to be brushed, Superman himself couldn’t have walked away from the sweet boy and the warm bed.

So in she climbed and snuggled close. 

“Mom, I had some really weird dreams last night.”  The boy said with a far off look.

“Ooh I did too!  You tell me yours first!”

And off the boy went, describing with much seriousness and attention to detail, every aspect of his dream. 

The mother realized that normally there is nothing more boring on this earth to her than listening to another’s dream.  Some one else’s scatological thoughts in the unconscious mind no less, are sure to be painfully dull.

But on this morning, at this time, there was nothing else the mother wanted to do than to hear what happened next in this boy’s caveman dream.

At the end of his monologue, he looked at his mom and said, “OK now what were your dreams about?”  And not only did he hang on to every word of the mother’s nonsensical dream, he even asked follow up questions. 

As the boy and the mother were finally up and brushing their teeth, the mother reflected what a sweet moment that was.  It doesn’t always have to be the big grandiose things. 

The morale of this story is that right now, while we are in the throws of the holiday season, stop and listen to your loved ones.  Go back to bed and just listen. 

I guarantee they will remember that way more than how clean the kitchen floor is, how even the lights on the tree are or how you stayed up until midnight making twelve different types of Christmas cookies.

Benjamin Franklin once said, “In this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes”.  Except Dr. Franklin forgot one other constant of life.  That my son will end up in bed with me at some point during the night.  

This little tradition started, oh, as soon as he was sprung from his bedtime jail, a.k.a. his crib.  And now, 7 years later (yes, I was one of those suckers who thought it would be so cute for him to have his own little bed at the age of 1 1/2.  STUPID STUPID STUPID!  To any new mothers out there, keep them locked up as LONG AS YOU CAN!)  he still loves to sleep with his mama.

Minus the year exemption when I was living with my ex, this has been a nightly occurrence.  He always starts in his bed but at some point, “sleep walks” as he calls it, into mine. 

This was fine, somewhat acceptable even, when he was little and snugly and soft.  But now?  Now it’s like sleeping with a over-sized fish out of water. 

Flip.  Flop.  Flip. 

Make that an over-sized fish with super pointy sharp elbows and knees who loves to act out his dreams and therefore kick.  A lot. 

Make that an over-sized fish out of water, with sharp edges and a deviated septum.  Yes, THAT is what it’s like to sleep with Ben.  Any takers?

See this child?

He started out the night in his bed.  I know because I put him there.  This picture is taken in the morning.  Not in his bed.  In mine. 

I’m sure you are all saying, “Lady!  Get a grip.  Just put him back in his bed.”  Right.  Great.  Thanks.  It’s just not that easy.  We live in a loft where I sleep upstairs and his room is downstairs.   So I do feel a little bad for the guy.  He says it’s scary.  He says he believes in monsters.   I’m a sucker.  I believe him.

The other problem is that since I have a king sized bed, I often don’t notice him creeping in, until the snoring fish starts kicking and flopping.  And by that time it’s either already time for me to get up or I’m too tired to deal.  So instead I just kick him back and roll him over. 

But seriously, the dude is almost 9.  We both have made so many excuses.  “When we get a house, our rooms will be closer to each other.”  “When you are nine.  For sure when you are nine.”  “When a black Democrat with a middle name of Hussein becomes President.”

But now it’s time.  No more excuses.  Because the truth is I’m tired.  And call me crazy but I’m not really a fan of the kidney punch at 3am.

THE TIME HAS COME TO TAKE BACK MY BED!

Because this dude? 

Yeah, he’s still in my bed.

Ben: Mom?

Me: Yeah honey?

Ben: What is the body part that has a circle and then like a little tail coming off of it.

My heart stops and my throat starts to close.  I knew this day would come but I didn’t really expect it on a Tuesday morning as I was getting ready for work.   So I stall.

Me: Um what?   A tail you say?

Ben: Yeah, it’s like a circle and then there’s this little squiggly tail coming off of it.  What is that?

Now I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, ready and physically stable to have The Conversation.  Yet I stall some more.

Me: Where did you see that honey?  

Ben: In The Sims.

Me: The SIMS?!? 

Sims doesn’t have ANYTHING graphic, let alone sperm running around.

Ben: Yeah a doctor in my Sims game pulled out this thing from a patient’s middle and it looked like a big circle with a tail.

Thank you baby Jesus, I’m saved!  I’m SO SAVED!

Me (with perhaps a little TOO much enthusiasm): A STOMACH!!  (arms shooting up in the arm like I just signaled a touchdown)  THAT’S THE STOMACH!!  Gross huh?

And I have never been more excited to talk about intestines and poop in all my life.

Ben: What is Halloween rated?

Me: What?

Ben: What?

Me: What did you say?

Ben: Is it rated PG-13, or rated M?

Me: What do you mean?  Halloween isn’t rated anything.  It’s a DAY.

Ben: NO!  I mean the MOVIE, “Halloween“.  What is it rated?

Me: OH!  R.  And just so you know, only video games are rated “M”.

Ben: Oh.

Later that evening…

Ben calling from upstairs: Txoquaovnaraqg is on.

Me folding laundry downstairs: WHAT?

Ben: What?

Me: What?!?

Ben: WHAT?

Me: Oh! My! God!  WHAT DID YOU SAY?!

Ben:  Just that the Amazing Race is on.

Me: Oh.

Dr. Phil would be so proud we are talking.

Sunday afternoon, after being pelted by yet another Nerf dart, I knew I had to get the boy outside to run him. 

“Hey Ben!  Want to go skateboarding?”
“YES!!!”

So off we went to the Church parking lot across the street.   Which is the good Jewish boy’s favorite place to skateboard. 

It was the perfect fall day.  Sunny yet with that very crisp, end of October air. 

It felt so heavenly to get out of the house and away from my continual fight with the laundry.

After the boy got all his “tricks” out of his system I suggested we take a walk.   To which he happily agreed.  We walked and walked.  All the time talking and ranking the houses we walked by as either ”creepy” or “super cute” or “NO WAY!”

The scenery was just ridiculous.  The blue sky against the color of the leaves slays me.

Can you tell I have a mad crush on this time of year?  I LOVE YOU FALL AND I DON’T CARE WHO KNOWS IT!

Ben and I were so into our walk that when we finally got to a corner, we realized we had no idea where we were.  Now Internet, I have lived in Madison for oh, 36 years.  Not only that but I have lived in this neighborhood for almost all those 36 years.  (save 10 years in Minneapolis but still…)

Granted it didn’t take long to figure out where we were and how far we had walked, but it was such a bizarre feeling to be on streets that I had never before walked.   Bizarre in a great exciting way. 

As we were walking back, holding hands and laughing at how we could get lost in our OWN neighborhood, I had one of those overwhelming feelings of sheer happiness.   One of those feelings that almost take your breath away. 

As those close to me know, I’m hardly religious.  But Sunday, in that moment, while I looked down at my son, my buddy, my best friend, I found myself saying quietly to myself, “Thank you God for this child. I truly don’t know what my life would be without him and I’m sure glad I never have to find out.”

And to me, this is what Sunday’s should be about.

Wednesday night, after a very cold soccer practice, I drew a warm bubble bath for Ben and made us a dinner of soup and homemade peanut butter cookies for dessert.  (The bubble bath and soup have nothing to do with the rest of this post.  But I just wanted Social Services to know that sometimes I do get this “mothering” thing right.)

When it came time for our 30 minutes of reading, Ben was all over it since he had a new book.  He even started before me!  Ten minutes in I remembered that America’s Next Top Model was on. 
“Ooh Ben.  Let’s watch TV!”

“I can’t.  READING!  Remember?  You can go upstairs and watch it.  But I can’t read with the TV on.”

“Oh OK.  You’re right.  I’ll read with you.”

Finally after the gruelling half an hour was over, it was time to delve into the cookies!

“How many can I have Mom?”

“Two.”

After the first one he said, “You can have my second one if you want.  They are a little too sweet for me.”

“Alright!  That’s it!”  I said while tackling him on the couch.  “First you picked reading over the TV and now you don’t want cookies!?!?  Are you sick?  What have you done with my Ben!??”

Through his giggles I knew it was still my kiddo.  

Regardless, I did a quick check of my c-section scar just to make sure I didn’t dream this whole giving birth to my OWN kid thing.  You know the one who is SUPPOSED to have my DNA and be sort of like me?

My sweet, lovable, and funny boy often doesn’t start his day as such.  In fact he can be quite a bear when he first wakes up.  Ok, that’s putting it mildly.  The little dude can really be scary.  But I have learned to literally ignore these fits of rage in the early part of the day.  If you try to jolly him out of this mood, it’s like putting lighter fluid on an already roaring fire.  No good.

The other morning was one of those days where egg shells were under my feet.  As Ben grumbled, moaned and pretty much blamed me for all of the world’s woes, (did you know that I’m at fault for the current ecomonic crisis and I’m also hiding Bin Laden in my closet?) I just laid low and tried to corral him out of the house with the least amount of damage possible.

As we were walking down to the car (well, I was walking.  Benjamin was stomping down the stairs ahead of me like a pissed off elephant) he all the sudden turned around with the biggest smile on his face. 

“What!??”  I said in shock.  Where the hell did that smile come from?!

Ben was then laughing and holding up a pair of his underwear, as he said, “Icky underwear!!”

By this time, I was also laughing.  “WHAT?! Where did those come from?!”

“My jeans!”  He barely gets out between fits of laughter.  “When I take off my jeans, I just pull everything down and I guess these jeans still had the underwear in them when I put them on this morning.”  (Yeah yeah, so I need to do laundry.  Give me a break…)

As I took the dirty undies from him, I quietly thanked them for making my kid smile before 7:40 am. 

I also decided that from now on I will carry an emergency pair in my purse that I could dropped at a moments notice, in case of yet another toxic mood.   

I guess it’s true that we mothers will literally do anything to make our kids happy.   And oh how happy Ben will be in 7 years when he reads this post.

Yesterday morning Ben was still so sick he was clenching his stomach in pain.  I never did take him to my parents, so I could go into work, because he was honestly too sick to transport.  There was no way he could be that far from a toilet and the walk down to the car might have done him in.

Being the almost doctor that I am, I concluded that his stomach hurt because it was so empty.  (Again with the food.  I know.)  So I gave him a tiny amount of graham cracker, which after yelling at me for that “stupid idea MOOOOM!”  he threw up again.  

By now I was mad.  Mad at this malady that had infected my son.  What would it take to get rid of it once and for all?  Bloodletting?  A witch doctor?  Dr. Phil?

After searching on the World Wide Web for cures (a.k.a calling his doctor once again - who told me to stop pushing food already!) I came downstairs to find him SITTING UP!  AND EATING the graham crackers I had left behind.  He looked and me, smiled and said “Hi Mom!  I’m so hungry!”  And just like that, the evil disease left his body.

And I finally saw THIS boy again.

Hey you!  I remember you!  You are much more fun than the guy who couldn’t pick up his head to sip water. 

When I asked, “What are you hungry for?  Grandpa’s coming over and I’m running to the grocery store.  I’ll get you whatever you want.”  He replied, with the fervor of someone who hadn’t eaten in two days, “Cookies!  Chocolate chip cookies!”

If cookies is what the boy wanted, he was going to get them.  And not some boring store bought cookies. 

Children’s illnesses are so bizarre.  So much with the drama!  They come on out of nowhere with such intensity and then leave the same way.  I remember being like that as a kid.  Knocking on death’s door one minute and then asking to ride my bike the next.

Whatever the hell this was, I’m just glad it’s gone and I have HIM back.

I missed you Buddy.

Tuesday night I was woken by the sound of my son making a bizarre moaning noise as he made a b-line to the bathroom.  He barely got out, “I don’t feel so good…” when the dinner that I spent hours 10 minutes making him showed up in the toilet.  I was just so proud that he made it to the toilet as I rubbed his back and kept saying “Good job cutie…” that I actually forgot just how gross it all was.

Needless to say I didn’t get much sleep as every move he made I was sure was going to be another run.

When Ben is sick, it’s the worst.  I’m sure every parent thinks that of their own child, but really, with Ben, IT IS THE WORST!  Since he’s normally crazy active, when he’s sick and lethargic I would do anything for a little jump on the couch.  I long to say “Settle down!!”    I would also do anything to be the one retching in the toilet.  His little body making those noises… it just kills me.

Yesterday he was so sick he couldn’t even sit up to play on the computer!  He said even reading made him nauseous. That very well may have been an excuse, but it was one I took. He also said he was so sick he couldn’t even play PS2.   GASP!  No Madden?!  It was then I took his temperature and he did indeed have a fever. 

Because I am his mother and happen to be Jewish, I am therefore very uncomfortable when people don’t eat. So I kept forcing food on him.  “Here, eat dry toast.”  Yep, that came up.  A couple hours later it was “OK now try a banana.”  And of course that hit the toilet water too.  During that episode, my child actually managed to get out, in between hurls, “Great idea on the banana mom.”  He may be sick but he still doesn’t miss a chance to put his mother in her place.  That’s my kid!

I did finally get the hint (also thanks to a call into the nurse) and stuck to the clear liquids.  Instead I just fed myself.   A lot.

The throwing up stopped but he still is most comparable to a wet noodle.   Even last night the thought of walking up the stairs brought tears to his eyes.  If that doesn’t shoot a stake right in your heart, I’m not sure what does.

Today he is with my parents, unless I get the Bat Signal saying he wants his mommy.  Today is also about getting some food in that now very sore tummy.  And finding his endless exuberance that I already miss so much. 

Until that happens, my universe just isn’t right.