The Art of Becoming

While driving our car into work one day, a cyclist hit Tom.  The cyclist was so mad about it (blaming Tom, even though Tom was stopped at a light and the cyclist ran into him) that he slammed his fist down on our side mirror breaking it.  Had the guy used his backpedal, perhaps he could have avoided the incident and we would still have our mirror.  Of course, hHindsight is 20/20, but the backpedal is not something to be ignored.  Even if this guy had backpedaled after hitting Tom and seen the error of his ways, I'm sure they could have spoken cordially to one another before going on their way.  However, this guy was so angry that he broke the mirror, screamed at Tom and then kept biking.  No backpedal used, either literally or figuratively. Over Christmas Sean and I had some conflicting moments.  Not that it's surprising.  He's two and a half, it's the holidays, we were traveling across the country to St. Louis, it makes sense that there would b...

We like to celebrate the achievement of goals.  Some in our culture might call that being pro-victory.  Regardless of your political views, being pro-victory in the Bushlack household means celebrating accomplishments.  Some major ones for the adults are Tom completing his PhD and my last day of work on August 1, 2011.  Some major ones for the kids are Audrey rolling over (to which we respond with clapping and shouting "hooray, Audrey!") and Sean beginning to show more signs of wanting to potty train.  In September I thought Sean was ready to start potty training after we hosted a string of visitors who had 3-year-olds who were potty training (thank you, Victoria and Mia, for shining a "light' in the bathroom, a 'light' on the training potty).  He showed some minimal interest then and I jumped all over it: I bought Disney's Cars stickers from Target, Sean and Tom drew a 11X14 picture of a road, and we encouraged Sean that any time he tried sitting on the...

Curiosity has been anecdotal-y blamed for killing many a feline.  I might suggest, however, that much more than cats get killed when curiosity takes over.  For example, this morning, in a flurry of gathering items to get ready to leave the house (two kids, coats, hats, gloves, carseat, blanket, toys, snacks, water bottles, box to ship at UPS, laundry tag to pick up coat, items to return to our neighbor, grocery list, directions to grocery store, keys, wallet, cell phone, diaper bag, diapers, wipes, powder, etc.) I completely forgot one crucial item for my day:  deodorant.  As Sean would say, "Oh Man!"  Or as I said to myself a mile from home, thinking of the stench that could emit from my armpits later that day, "Son of a..!"  One might argue that this forgetful moment was not brought to you by curiosity but rather by distraction, and that could be correct.  But the following are examples of when curiosity really stonewalled a situation. Sleeping So...

I was at the YMCA with the kids on Monday changing Audrey's diaper on a bench in the middle of the lobby.  This bench sits just outside the studio area where a group of (mainly) middle-aged women were taking a dance class.  At that precise moment, they were dancing to Jeff Buckley's version of Hallejuia, and a woman stopped in the middle of her dancing to come out to the lobby to see me.  She very kindly walked over to our bench and said: woman: I just had to stop and tell you that there is light coming from you. me: oh! well, thank you! woman: it's just, such a lovely light, it's almost like... and here she touches my face (I'm not kidding) and has tears in her eyes woman: Mary and child.  it's clear you have so much love for these kids. me: well, what a nice thing to say, thank you! Merry Christmas, lady, seriously, that was the sweetest thing someone could have said.  However, this lady did not see me but two hours later dragging a kicking and s...

I like going to Trader Joe's.  Having been a TJ's crew member for 3 years in Chicago, I find my time at Trader Joe's to be nostalgic, happy, and fun.  I like finding the products I used to love, and I like discovering the products I've never before seen.  Usually my trips to Trader Joe's end with a smile on my face and a rumble in my belly as I think about the food I get to eat at home from Trader Joe's.  My trip to Trader Joe's this week, however, threatened to end with me in tears, if it weren't for one angel who parked next to me at Trader Joe's.  She does not have a name, she does not have wings (at least not visible ones), but she is my angel.  If I ever needed proof, she is the proof I have always searched for. I wanted it to be a quick trip to Trader Joe's, because we only needed a few items.  I took Audrey into the store while she was sleeping in her carseat, and where I would normally have put her in the stroller, I foolishly thought t...

If anyone ever idealized the relationship between mother and child, it was me. I always envisioned that my existence as a mother would be full of warmth and light. Many days it is! However, there are those few exceptions that happen more frequently than I would expect. These situations currently revolve around Sean because he can walk and talk, and I'm sure once Audrey is able to think for herself, she'll present her own moments where I want to pull my hair out. For now, I give you, these shining examples of my exemplary mothering skills. Dreams of Autonomy #1 Sean wakes up in the middle of the night screaming. I stumble into his room, hoping he doesn't wake up Audrey, and also wanting Tom to get some sleep before he has to teach in the morning. When I approach him to wrap him up in my arms and tell him it's okay, it must have been a bad dream, that he is safe and can go back to sleep, he shouts in my face, "No, Mama, I want to close the garage door myself!...

It seems there are things that only the mind of a two-year-old can know. For example, why does he refuse to let me get the peanut butter out of the jar to make his PBJ sandwich, and why must he take the cap off the milk, and why must he hold the applesauce container and scoop the applesauce out himself? While we're on the subject of applesauce, here's a recent exchange between me and Seancito: me: Seancito, your lunch is ready. (lunch involves mac and cheese and applesauce, in a separated plate, so that they are not touching each other.) Sean: No, I don't want the applesauce! me: okay, if you don't want it, you can leave it on your plate. Sean: No! Mama, take the applesauce away! Take it! Take it away!! me: Sean, if you don't want - Sean: NOOO (pounding his fists), mama take it! (flailing his body) me: I'm not gonna take it - Sean: NOOO (sliding down between his seat and the table) I DON'T WANT THE APPLESAUCE!! At this point Sean is laying underneath the...