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Worst Day Ever
Last week was Noah’s 6th birthday. He’s been talking about his birthday since the day after his 5th birthday last year so, needless to say, he’s been pretty excited as we approached the big day. The problem with this birthday, however, (and with every birthday for him from now until forever) is that his little brother’s birthday is 5 days before his.
Obviously, this is entirely my fault and it has ruined his life.
The Saturday before his birthday, we threw a huge party at our house for his little brother, Luke. It was Luke’s very first birthday so it was kind of a big deal. I invited the entire family from out of town. I also, because I know this is tough on Noah, made sure to invite several kids Noah’s age so that he would have kids to play with while we celebrated his baby brother.
On Sunday, I had all of the out-of-town family over for a special “family party” just for Noah. We swam, opened presents, ate pizza, and decorated Batman cupcakes. When all of the family had to leave, Noah declared that this was “the worst birthday ever.”
Shake it off. He’s tired and full of cake. He expected a giant party at a trampoline park with all of his friends. Fine. This will happen eventually. But, he has an early August birthday. It is damn near impossible to round up all of the friends that he wants. I promised him a party in September after school starts. “It will stretch your birthday out a whole month!” I promised. This did not do much to soothe his miserable heart.
On Wednesday, his actual birthday comes around. I divided up his presents so he would have some to open before he heads off to camp and some to open at his birthday dinner that night.
He opens the first present. As he’s tearing the paper, I realize I don’t have my phone. I wanted to take a picture. I run into the other room to grab my phone out of my purse, turn around quickly to snap a photo, and BAM. I smash my phone into Noah’s mouth, almost knocking his loose front tooth out. Cue the blood. Cue the tears.
He had run up to me to give me a hug and tell me thank you. And I (basically) smacked him the face for it. Best mom ever.
After the tears were dried, the blood wiped up, and the rest of the presents opened, he asked me where the cupcakes were to take to his summer camp class. DAMMIT!! It never even occurred to me to send cupcakes to summer camp. Awesome mom award goes to me.
Okay, no biggie. I’ll send cupcakes on Friday.
To make up for it, I threw a handful of suckers in his lunch box and told him he could share them with his friends at lunch. Did I count the suckers to make sure there were enough for everyone? Nope. Did he hand them out to a few friends, only to have several friends mad at him and then not have any left over for himself? Yep. Was he crying when I picked him up from camp? Of course he was.
It’s official. I am the world’s greatest mother.
Okay. I will redeem myself at dinner. That night, Noah had specifically requested to go out to eat where he could order waffles. Awesome. We went to a local breakfast joint that serves excellent waffles. Halfway through dinner, Noah stops eating. When I ask him what’s wrong, he whispers in my ear that he has to poop and we need to leave the restaurant “right now!” Noah doesn’t poop in public bathrooms so, back home we go.
I will do better next year. I don’t know if it is possible to make it any worse. Happy birthday Noah!
The weekend of the helmet
We live in a great little neighborhood with amazing neighbors. We are also very fortunate that our next door neighbors have a son that is only a couple months older than Noah. His name is Gus.
Well, a few weeks ago, while the boys were playing and riding bikes in the neighborhood cul-de-sac, Gus was wearing a Lightning McQueen helmet handed down to him from his big brother. He looked super cute and, of course, Noah just had to have a helmet too.
We don’t have a helmet. And thus, the drama ensued…
Noah had to have a hat (which is obviously second place to a Lightning McQueen helmet). We run all the way back to the house, search for his hat, panic a little when we can’t find it, Matt finds it, and I run back out to give Noah the hat. Well, by this time, Gus is tired of wearing the helmet. He takes it off, sets it on the ground next to his juice box, and continues riding his bike.
This is Noah’s opportunity. Noah sneaks over and, very quietly and gently so that no one would notice, puts the helmet on. Well, if you have boys, I am sure that you are aware that there is some kind of hormonal signal that goes off when another kid wants to play with your toys. Gus immediately stops everything that he is doing, jumps off of his bike, and demands that Noah takes the helmet off. So, Gus’s mother and I rush over to intervene. We offer suggestion after suggestion about sharing, taking turns, you weren’t wearing it, you have a hat instead, etc…
At this point, there is no sharing, no learning opportunity to be had, no calming Noah down as tears are flowing and wails can be heard 3 blocks away. Gus doesn’t want to wear the helmet but he sure as heck doesn’t want Noah to wear it either. Matt takes Noah inside, kicking and screaming, and I am left to gather Noah’s toys and head home.
[Side note: As I am gathering the bike and the scooter and the other toys, Gus comes up to me with a very sly smile and says, “Can I wear Noah’s hat?” I looked at Gus and then I looked at his mother. I said, “Really kid? After all that? No, sweetie. You can’t wear Noah’s hat. Put on your helmet.” And then his mom and I just giggled.]
And, this brings us to this past weekend- the weekend of the helmet.
Saturday morning, my wonderful husband decides that, in order to prevent another “helmet incident” that we should go and buy Noah his own helmet. We needed some other things at Target so, why not?! Let’s go get the kid his very own helmet.
We stroll into the store, buy the random odds and ends that were on my list, and head over to the sporting goods area. Noah picks out a helmet with Dusty the crop-duster on it. Everyone is very excited. We also just absolutely had to have a new Superman T-shirt with a cape and mommy was tired so she caved.
After paying for everything, the moment I put my wallet back into my purse, Noah demanded that he put on the Superman cape right away. So, as mentioned before, mommy was tired. I pulled Noah’s dinosaur shirt off, ripped the tags off of the Superman shirt, and put it on him. Now he was excited!
We ran a couple other errands while he insisted the entire time that I get the helmet out so he could wear it. The tags and wrapping of the helmet required a little more effort than the t-shirt so he had to wait until we got home.
The minute we walked in the door, “Mommy, can I wear my helmet?”
“Of course you can. Let me get it out.”
“Mommy, I need my helmet!”
“Matt, I can’t get this stupid helmet open. Help!”
“Mommy, I need my helmet NOW!!!”
“Fine! Here is your helmet. Put it on!”
“YAY! Helmet!”
So, we venture outside to work in the yard. Noah helps me water my plants.
Before his nap, I convince him that little boys are not allowed to wear helmets to bed. But he had to sleep with it in his room.
After his nap, it was a little too hot to go outside right away so we finally watched Frozen for the first time.
Then we ate dinner.
The next day, we actually wore the helmet to ride our bike. This time, we also needed our Dusty sunglasses.
We got tired of riding our bike.
So Daddy had to carry the bike home.
That evening, I hid the helmet.
Brutally Honest Mom 