Happy New Year, from the McQ household. Guess what my resolution is? To never eat again. Honestly, I don't quite know how it happened, but these cookies just FLEW right into my mouth and have packed themselves right around my midsection, which is sort of new to me, since they usually love to snuggle up right around my ass. But they didn't quite make it that far down this time, and I'm wondering how in the hell I'm going to wear anything but stretchy sweat pants for the next month or so.
I'm feeling the need to spend this next week (since I am still off until next Monday) in an isolation chamber. My hormones are completely out of whack, and I would love, dearly love, to spend a few days alone, going for walks and taking care of myself, but I am stuck with this kid. Seriously though, I wish I could escape for a day or so, mostly for his sake, because I am one crabby mother. It isn't an existential crisis, it is hormones, plain and simple, and I'm hoping something happens to relieve the situation soon, or I might get fired from my family.
And I just can't seem to get any kind of conversation out of my son that doesn't involve Star Wars, and I don't really speak Star Wars. I can't quite keep up. It's like technical jargon - I hear it and my eyes roll back in my head and I fall into a deep slumber. But I love to hear him talk to his dad about it, because Dad speaks fluent boy geek, and to listen to them, well it's enough to melt your wookie heart. And since the only Star Wars movie we hadn't seen was Revenge of the Sith, my sweet husband decided it would be a great idea to pick that one up so we could all watch it. But the trouble is that it's really dark and scary, and now I get questioned all day about the likelihood of dying in hot lava?
Or, if you got your foot in hot lava?
Would you die from that?
Or just lose your foot?
Would it hurt?
Or would you feel it?
Where is the closest hot lava to where we live?
Oh, and at bedtime he wraps his arms around my neck so tight I worry about blacking out from the pressure on my carotid artery.
So between Star Wars and the fart jokes - oh my. You can really tell I'm the only female in this house right now. I need a break from the fart jokes. And the penis jokes. Especially the penis jokes. I take my penis' very, very seriously.
A few days ago though, we had a lovely respite from all the testosterone induced madness when Joe-Henry and I travelled to Seattle to see our lovely friends Annie & Anita and spent the night. They are old and dear friends of ours and they have a beautiful little girl Joe-Henry's age and a new baby boy. Joe-Henry and Hazel are best buds, but there was an interesting turn, when he realized that he could get kissed under the mistletoe, and he became the kissing bandit. He wanted a smooch from his girl so much, and he would nonchalantly hang out under the door jamb, then scream and run when she came near. It was apparent that he was nursing a bit of a crush, which is a whole new kettle of fish for him. They got in a bit of a tif when she wasn't using his new XO laptop "correctly" and he spoke sharply to her and was bossy, and she got upset with him. When he apologized, he felt she didn't really accept his apology. So we took a little break and I took him aside, and he said "Mom, it's not like with Vic. When I say I'm sorry, he says that's okay, and it's over. With girls it's more... complicated." But the funny thing is, I heard from her moms that she said exactly the same thing. "It's more complicated with boys." They made up, though, and spent the rest of the afternoon laughing and playing and hamming for my camera.
I have a feeling that 2008 is going to bring about lots of new feelings for this boy in my house. My resolution is to be a better listener. So I guess that means I'd better pay a bit more attention then next time we watch Star Wars around here. If I'm going to listen, I should at least learn the language.