girlfiend

Because sailing, fishing, fixing things, woodwork and drinking weren’t enough hobbies for him, my husband decided to take up golf. I did not approve of yet another hobby that would require a purchase, especially since  sets of left handed golf clubs for $50 or less are not widely available on craigslist, so to placate me, he decided to train to ride the Bike MS: City to Shore Ride raise money for the MS Society.

I’m not sure I approve of this hobby either, especially since it requires hours of training and even more money than a set of left-handed golf clubs. But since it’s for a good cause I’m going to link to his training blog anyway since he still needs another $55 in donations. So if you have a few bucks to spare check out his blog which links to his fundraising site. All money raised goes directly to the charity and it’s tax deductible.

After the baby was born the Fiendling was really into Toby, a brown tram engine from Thomas the Tank Engine’s Island of Sodor who was almost retired because he was old and out of date. Toby’s coach, a toy we didn’t have, is named Henrietta.  The Fiendling started seeing Henrietta everywhere. Random trains at home were referred to as Henrietta and trains on TV were called Henrietta. One day at the mall the Fiendling saw a kiosk from a distance. He yelled, “It’s Henrietta!” (He didn’t even seem disappointed to learn she was just peddling cell phone accessories- Bling Bling for your Ring Ring.)

Just a week or so after his birth, a friend gave us a gift card for the baby along with a toy train for the Fiendling. The train was a Thomas train, a fancy one that had a little Percy slide show built in. Even though the gifted toy train looked nothing like Toby’s coach and the movie featured Percy, the Fiendling promptly named the train Henrietta.

He loved Henrietta. He couldn’t quite figure out how to make the slide show feature work, but he loved the train and played with her nonstop. One day his cousin was over and they brought a few trains outside. Boyfiend’s boat trailer, sans boat, was parked in our driveway at the time and the two boys were running the trains along the rails of the trailer. The boys were both a little rammy, and I don’t know who did it, but one of them threw Henrietta to the ground. Her top fell off, revealing the film reel inside her.

I tried to see if the top would snap back on, but it wouldn’t and the little train car was rendered unsafe with the top broken. Too many small parts inside. I felt awful about it since he loved her so much, but I had to retire Henrietta, storing her out of sight until a time when Boyfiend could attempt to fix her.

He asked for her for a week or two after her injury, but then the memories seemed to fade. It’s been a good two months and I had forgotten about her completely. Tonight, while playing with his trains, the Fiendling turned to me and said, “Remember Henrietta mommy? Remember playing outside she was broken? She was broken on the boat. She fell down and was broken. Remember mommy? Remember Henrietta?”

I said, “Yes, I remember Henrietta. You were playing with her on Daddy’s boat trailer and she fell off and was broken. That’s why we don’t bring trains outside any more, ” making it a little lesson, but inside I felt teary, overly emotional thinking about my little boy, my not quite two-and-a-half-year-old who broke a toy he loved and still, months later, remembers her.

He went back to his trains; pushing them forwards and backwards, lining them up, and crashing them off of the intentionally broken bridge. The train table looks like an earthquake has struck. The trains are everywhere. One is currently dangling from a bridge by its wheels and the breakdown train, off the track and on its side, is in no condition to help. Adjacent to James, who is still on the track with his tender upside down behind him, is Toby, whose coach Henrietta is off to the garage for repairs.

• Yet another sleep regression. Screams and tantrums at bedtime and a few wakeups a night.
• Full of two-year old angst. He’s “difficult” according to grandmom, a “pain-in-the-ass” according to dad, and a “shithead” according to me, the loving mother.
• Can’t stop biting his toenails. Aside from my worry about his toes getting infected, I cannot wait for him to outgrow this habit because it’s disgusting.
• He is skinny. He’ll go for days eating very little then days where he shocks the hell out me by eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for breakfast followed up by a turkey sandwich 20 minutes later.
• Brilliant. Stole one of his brother’s teddy bears and refers to it as a polar bear. When asked why it’s a polar bear responded, “Because it’s not a panda bear.”
• Able to hold conversations with adults and kids alike. He can communicate his wants and needs.
• Super cuddly in the morning. “I want to lie down on you, mama.”
• Still obsessed with trains.
• Likes to play baseball and basketball, ride his bike and run. The kid loves to run.
• Finger paints- he used to be turned off by the messy hands
• He is observant. I walk upstairs to get him in the morning, still wearing just a t-shirt and he says, “you are not wearing pants, mama.” I got home from a wedding wearing flip flops given to the female guests as favors and he said, “you are wearing new purple flip flops mommy.”
• He wants to know things. “Mama, this is your bathing suit or your underwear?”
• Aside from the shithead moments, this kid is awesome. He is so much fun on the beach and on walks. He loves the library and the playground and the sprinkler park. He jumps up and down with excitement when he’s going to see our friends Doodlebug and Baby Doodle. It still makes me melt when he calls me mama or mommy.

Just a quick update so I don’t forget.

At three months the baby

• Brings hands together and can insert them in his mouth.
• May be teething, as indicated by copious amounts of drool.
• Sleeps like a baby. Long naps, 8-10 hour nights.
• Is finally enjoying toys- playmat, bouncy chair, mobile all provide minutes of entertainment.
• Is delicious. I can’t stop eating his sweet pudgy cheeks and belly and thighs.
• Is extraordinarily good- natured. Doesn’t mind being passed around.
• Takes a bottle without argument.
• Is starting to giggle in addition to his huge, gummy grins.
• Looks enormous to me. Other people keep saying things like, “I forget how small babies are when they’re born.” I can’t stop thinking about how big he’s getting.
• Is sort of terrified of his brother. Probably related to the unrelenting screams in his face occasional squeezes, squishes, tackles and nibbles.
• Still has blue eyes. They are still dark, but getting lighter. I wonder if they’ll stay blue.

I have been meaning to write about this for almost a week now. Last Friday we took a little day trip out to Lancaster, Pa. We planned on stopping for dinner then driving back home, but after an unexpected private tour of the Strasburg Railroad we were running late. Boyfiend had a coupon for a free meal at the Hershey Farm Inn so we decided to call and see if they had a room for the night. They did not, but the place across the street, the Dutch Treat, which incidentally is run by Indians, not the Pennsylvania Dutch, did and had a pool too.

So we get to the Hershey Inn, put our names in for a table and got a buzzer thing so we can walk around while we wait. The Fiendling is hungry, tired and cranky so I take him into the gift shop to play with toys. In the meantime, Boyfiend takes the baby with him and run out to get some wine for later. (There’s a story in here about my outrage that the personalized keychains in the gift shop had neither of my children’s fairly common and correctly spelled names, but offered Kaylee, Mackenzie, hottie, I (heart) Zachary and #1 Flirt, but it’s not really of importance so I’ll just leave it at that.)

After about 15-20 minutes the buzzer goes off. I have to pry a toy train out of the Fiendling’s hands which makes him very angry. We get to our table and I hold the struggling child on my lap while I wait for the waitress. Boyfiend and the baby show up soon after and the Fiendling promptly loses his shit. We order French fries for him in the hopes that they’ll chill him out some and Boyfiend takes him outside to calm him down so the rest of the restaurant isn’t subjected to his tantrum, while I hold the pacifier firmly in the baby’s mouth, trying desperately to keep him from crying.

A woman at the table adjacent to ours comments about how I should cherish these times since they grow up so fast. I smile and in my head I tell her to fuck off. I order my meal and tell the waitress Boyfiend has a coupon for the Smorgasboard and she brings the fries right as Boyfiend brings the Fiendling back in. I offer him a fry, which of course he does not want. I meant to offer Boyfiend one since a lot of the time the best way to get him to eat something is to offer it to someone else, but somehow I mess up and take a bite of it myself. This leads him to start wailing all over again and once again Boyfiend has to bring him outside.

A boy at the table behind me asks, “Why is he crying mommy?” The woman at the table adjacent to ours again says something about how I should cherish these moments and I smile through my gritted teeth as I pick up the pacifier that the baby just spit onto the dirty floor. I blow the dirt off the pacifier, look around to make sure no one’s watching, and stick it back in his mouth just as he starts to whimper.

My food arrives and I start to eat one handed. The woman at the other table tries to make conversation. She’s eating with her husband and two teenage boys. They look out of place because they are Jewish and based on the “bible-opoly” board game in the gift shop, we’re clearly not in Jew country. She tells me all about how quickly kids grow up and how beautiful my boys are. She offers to hold the baby for me so I can eat. I politely decline. She starts tells her waiter a joke about a panda. He does not laugh.

Boyfiend comes back in with the Fiendling who notices that the younger boy has a shitload of toys in front of him including a number of Thomas trains. The woman, who I’m now convinced is crazy, makes her kid share them. Boyfiend is relieved that the Fiendling will be occupied and goes to get his food up at the Smorgasboard. The woman tells the waiter a joke about teenagers. He is a teenager and does not get it. She starts to explain it to him as he tries to tell her he has to go. The older son basically tells her to shut up so the waiter can get back to work. The waiter is relieved.

Boyfiend gets back and the woman tells us how they eat at this restaurant all the time. While the Fiendling plays with the teenager’s toys Boyfiend feeds him bits of French Fries. The woman talks about how she’s going back to work as a teacher part time. A lunch room teacher. She asks if we read bible stories to our children. I’m confused because I could have sworn that they were Jewish, but I have no interest in interacting with her so I keep my mouth shut. She keeps talking and talking and asking us questions that I don’t really respond to. She asks if we’re teaching our boys to follow the right path and if we’re teaching them how to be like Jesus. Boyfiend’s fielding the questions pretty well until she straight up asks if we believe that Jesus Christ is our Lord and Savior. Boyfiend says, “No actually, we’re Jewish.”

I’m so pleased that he’s taken one for the team and said “we’re” Jewish, instead of just saying that his wife is Jewish that it takes me a split second to register when the crazy woman blurts out, “You are? So are we! I never would have pegged you as Jewish, you don’t look Jewish.” I’m staring at her as she continues, “We’re Messianic Jews!”

She goes back to asking questions about if the Fiendling’s a good eater and offers to go up to the Smorgasboard to get him some cucumber because her kids loved cucumber. We learn that they lived in Overbrook Park before moving to Drexel Hill. At some point her husband and kids disappeared and she’s alone at her table still talking while the Fiendling plays with her teenage son’s toys.

We pay our bill, thank her for letting the Fiendling play, and head to the hotel. Boyfiend and the Fiendling go straight to the pool while I nurse the baby and leave Mix a message cursing him for being on vacation without a phone on the very night I need to tell him all about our meeting with the Messianic Jews.

Katie Holmes rules.