Week 33 -- Mac's Last Week of Being 5

Mac will turn six one week from today. This is his last week of being five. And then it’s all over. He is going to be an official kid. No more baby stuff (no that he has been a baby for awhile) but six is real kid. He knows how to tie his shoes, which once he figured out he mastered, he can make coffee and yesterday for Mother’s Day he nuked me a cup of tea. There’s not much he can’t do at this point if he puts his mind to it.

Today we all sleep til about 9am. It’s getting later and later and one of these days it’s going to be time to get up early all the time for 1st grade. Why are the early mornings wasted on infants who have no place to go? The older my kids get the later we sleep. We don’t have to rush but we do have to get moving. Mac has talking doctor at 11:15. While we are there Sailor is nearly attacked by a very cute AfAm boy who is developmentally delayed. I have my arms around my boy protecting him from this other boy who has Sailor’s arm in his grip. I work his hands away, saying, “Gentle, gentle,” and the boy starts beating at the sofa we are sitting on. His grandmother tries to hold him but he is wild and runs away. She gets him under control and apologizes to us. We are unharmed and I am exceedingly polite. No harm is done and she seems to have a good handle on the problem. Another boy in the waiting room watches me read to Sailor. He moves in with his own book. Sailor requests a second reading of the book. It’s an old Tom and Jerry book. It has no front or back cover but I can tell by the text that this book was written before I was born. We invite the little boy to listen. He brings with him a Thomas the Train book and when I finish the first book, Sailor’s, and start on the 2nd book, the boy’s, Sailor moves away. He doesn’t want to hear about Thomas’ ABCs. So I read just to the boy until his appointment.

Mac is on time for school. But I have to fix his outfit before I allow him to enter. For reasons I cannot explain he has a pile of about 15 pair of summer shorts from last year that still fit him, more or less. He is wearing a pair today, with a cute t-shirt and a horrible blue Hawaiian style shirt that are also from last year. He looks like a geek, all skinny legs sticking up from his sandals. I have to get the blue surf board shirt off him. Then he looks presentable.

Sailor and I run to the grocery store for cupcake ingredients and then home. He is asleep when we arrive. He is asleep still when we leave. He sleeps until almost 4:00 in the stroller, which I have parked at an angle in the playground outside of school to keep him out of the sun. Mac plays well today and does not ask for ice cream. In fact, I comment to him that he seems quite happy when he comes out of school. “I was happy all day,” he tells me. His best gal and her mom and sister are having dinner with us and we have all chosen a place we’ve never been to. It’s more or less near our houses and it serves mini sandwiches. The other mom remembers to bring birthday party hats and favors and even candles so we can celebrate her daughter’s birthday, which was last Monday and Mac’s, which is next Monday. My boys are well-behaved. Her girls fuss a bit. But then, it’s late, we’re hot (it’s actually over 80 degrees outside) and hungry and it’s the end of a long day. We eat these itty bitty mini sandwiches that I don’t think are even enough for Mac to feel full on and toast the birthday kids with ice cream sundaes. The other mom and I do not feel as if we’ve gotten a fair deal for our money and her kids complain that they did not have fun. But it was a good try. And I had fun. We pass the fire station on our walk back. The hydrant is open and the kids get a drink, which of course leads to the kids getting soaked. Sailor makes up a funny song and dances down the street. “We’re wet today! We’re wet today!” He flies with his arms out to his sides. Then he pitches them forward, Superman-style. “I’m Wet Boy!”

At home the birthday kids exchange gifts on the front porch. It’s almost 7:00 and I make a great effort to read to the kids – Mac’s book pack contains one book for him to read and two alphabet books for me to read to him, and I can’t help but wonder whether or not I should tell Miss H that we read the 1st three Harry Potter books a couple of years ago -- and get them to go to sleep early.

The playroom is a very bad mess area. I am tempted to bag it all up and pitch it but since I have my own laundry mess in the dining room perhaps I would be unfair.

Late in the evening I decide to go out for a bit and catch up with an old boyfriend. Not wanting to disrupt the kids’ routine at all, I arrange everything on text message and get the kids to bed before I leave. My sister comes to look after my sleeping boys and she brings along the little dog she is watching. Around 11:00 Mac gets up to pee. And of course due to my exceptionally considerate planning he has no idea my sister or the little mutt are here. The dog barks at him and scares the living crap out of him! He is hysterical and crying for me. Glad that I am on my way out to my car and only 15 minutes away when my sister calls me to inform me that there is an incident with the dog and Mac. When I get home Mac bursts into tears, and then, “Where were you?” Um… “I went out on a little date,” I say sheepishly by way of explanation. Shit!

Today Mac is afraid to get out of bed cuz he thinks the dog is still here. “Maurice is out there!” he tells Sailor, who is already up and has already trolled thru the house. “What Maurice?” Sailor asks. “The dog and Aunt Minny,” Mac explains. “You mean Angus?” Sailor questions. For reasons of absurdity I have taken to calling the little spotted mutt Maurice, which is as English as Angus. “There’s no dog here anymore,” Sailor is so patient with his big brother this morning.

All day he talks about how he's afraid of dogs now. Not that he wasn’t already a bit skittish. His dad has a little dog. Mac says he'll never go over to visit his Dad. Sorry Dad.

Moral of this story is that even when Mom thinks she is doing the right thing, even if part of doing the right thing is doing something good for herself, she screws up, and it really is all about the kids. Jeez, moms can't catch a break!

Tuesday morning before school Sailor tells me he doesn’t want to take preschool anymore.

It’s class photo day and he is dapper. And when we get to school he does the whole clingy and crying thing, reminiscent of the first months of school. The teachers try to detach him from me but he is tenacious! Fifteen minutes go by before I am able to dislodge myself from his iron grip and force myself to leave.

It’s warm and sunny so Mac and I come home so I can change clothes and we apply sunny lotion and head to the playground. It’s 9:30 a.m. Mac plays til 11, getting wet and dirty and I don’t care. At home, though, we have a big disagreement about appropriate school clothes, as he has chosen a dumb t-shirt-y thing and hideous, too-small denim shorts. He sasses me and makes snotty faces and everything goes down hill from there.

Wednesday Sailor refuses to play soccer without Mac. I insist, however. He cries and fights me. But I am insistent and his coaches try their best to get him into the game. Mac and I leave the gym. Sailor screams and cries and follows us out. We return on the condition that Sailor stop crying and play. 40 minutes go by. Sailor stands still, decorating the field. Ten minutes before the end of class he is thoroughly enjoying himself. Sweet reward for my persistence in knowing what is good for my child.

Wednesdays are so long. I bake a batch of our healthful chocolate chip cookies while Sailor sleeps in the afternoon. He actually went to his room to nap after I left him home with my mom to take Mac to school. He also, apparently, can reach the key and open the front door, according to my mother. He wakes from his nap and I heap praise on him for taking said nap. He tells me, “I went into my room and I was tired and Nana kept coming to my door to check on me and I went to sleep.”

Mac is bringing a friend to FTK today. She eats the snacks I provide. Mac the Usually Starving does not. They are so excited to go to class together.

I am tired and after Sailor and I get snacks and troll around unassisted at Victoria’s Secret (I want to buy some cute undies that don’t show off the fact that at 39 my ass is falling) we walk home. Sailor wants to play at the playground and stop at the zoo and ride his bicycle (a tricycle we found at the playground a few weeks ago). I am too tired. It’s too cold out. We play pirates for a couple minutes and then rush back out to get Mac. By car. Mac has a big gift waiting for him at FTK. He has invited one of his friends there to his upcoming birthday party and the boy can’t come. No gift necessary. He’s a nice boy whom Mac has been in class with the whole almost-two years, but the boys have never had a playdate or anything. Nonetheless there is a gift. We bring it home and Mac unwraps a wheel barrow. Seriously. We have to put it together. So that we can use it in our tiny, concrete, city backyard. I guess.

My mother has invited us to dine with her and my dad, per our usual Wednesday routine. Except my dad has been sick and I have cupcakes to bake for the bake sale at Sailor’s preschool tomorrow morning and 6 loads of laundry to fold and distribute and put away and a whole messy house to clean and I have plenty of leftovers in the fridge. No, my mom insists, she is making a chicken thing, and Dad is looking forward to having us over. So we are quite surprised, or should I say taken aback, to see my mom dressed up and heading for her car when we arrive home for dinner. She is vague about what she is up to.
“I have dinner plans.”
“But you invited us for dinner.”
“Dad is looking forward to it.” Dad, who is still dressed in his robe, is now in charge of getting dinner on the table for the boys and me. I am livid. I know I shouldn’t care. But honesty works so much better for me than deceit does.

At midnight I go to bed. I have baked a double batch of our famous banana cupcakes – a mini batch for the bake sale and a regular-sized batch for Mac’s class on Monday, his birthday. I frost the minis and bag them up in little zipper baggies with hearts on them, left from Valentine’s Day. I put ribbons around the little baggies of cookies I made this afternoon. I affix sticky labels with a list of the healthful ingredients to the baggies.
I talk on the phone to one of my best friends. I wonder why I work so hard at these Mommy Tasks. My Super Mommy cape gets frosting on it. I am exhausted. But the kitchen is cleaned up and the laundry is where it belongs and I can see most of my dining table again.

Thursday. Sailor just rolled over and fell off the sofa. Twice.

I wake up feeling hungover.

We forgot to take out the garbage cans this morning. But then, by odd coincidence, so did the entire block. The garbage guys must have thought they had hit the jackpot, not having to work our block this morning.

Sailor is dressed in a seersucker blazer, white shirt and bow tie, borrowed from Mac. Saddle shoes, of course. He is charmingly cute and his teacher puts him front and center at the first table at the bake sale. He receives many compliments on his get-up, and some Colonel Sanders remarks, which I can’t help but perpetuate.

Mac and I each have a pocket full of coins and I try to make shopping for 10- and 25-cent pastries a learning experience for him. But it seems to take him 10 minutes to count 5 dimes out of his pocket and I am frustrated. We shop the classroom and make a purchase from every child. They are cute beyond reason and most of them have their fingers dipped in something chocolate, or they have a rice krispies treat in their hand. I tell Sailor how much I like his bake sale and he ponders his own response and then agrees, “It’s… nice!” my parents and sister show up and purchase a few goodies, but I think they mostly come to see how cute the kids are.

At home in the afternoon Sailor is not napping he is costuming. Wearing his Captain Heartbreaker belt and his rain boots, plus some long-lost, unmatched mittens – or make that one mitten and one of my old purple gloves – he wields a wrapping paper role at me. He tells me who all the captains are and surprisingly he mentions his father’s partner, Jules.

“Who’s Jules?” I ask, as we have not seen the guy in a year. And I want to see what he knows.
“Dad’s.” Simple.
“Dad’s what?”
“Dad’s ‘nother guy.” He adds, “Who smokes.” It’s true.
“What does Dad do with him?”
“He plays with him.” Indeed.

I am relaying this little tidbit to my sister over the phone a short time later when I recall Sailor’s early morning statement. “I’m going to marry you, Mommy.” I remember when I wanted to marry my dad. I guess in a way, I still do. Not my actual dad, of course, but a younger, today’s version of him. Tho I conclude at this time that none exists.

Sailor wears his costume to go get Mac from school. And falls asleep in the stroller. Miss H reminds Mac to give me my note, which says,

“Mac had a time out today due to general wildness, saying “stupid”, and playing “guns” during work time. Thanks, Mrs. K”

So I guess she is going by Mrs. K now. Noted. I make Mac apologize and we walk home. It’s been cold out all day and the sun is high and playing in the playground would have been fun.

At home I make him write an apology note. I don’t help him much.

“Der Mrs. K
IM SRE FoR
BeiNG WiLD
IN KLAS aNd SA-iNG STuped
aNd PRiTeNDiNG TOchuT [to shoot]
I WOT Duet uGEN
Love Mac”

Thirty minutes later he calls his brother “stupid” and I put soap on his tongue.

Friday we play hooky for a “very special, educational field trip” as Mrs. K calls, it, approving of our day off. We putz around the house all morning and I spend a great deal of time attempting to get the boys to clean up after themselves. I seriously have no idea why I even try anymore. Oh, right, becuz I am too damn tired to do everything around here by myself. And becuz I want to raise responsible young men.

So after hours of nagging I give up and we pile into my car. Literally. With my mom at the wheel and my dad beside her I have no choice but to twist and wedge my birthing hops between Mac’s super-sized carseat and Sailor’s toddler carseat. It’s not comfortable and it’s not even remotely safe. We drive downtown to one of the city’s greatest tourist attractions: Navy Pier. In an effort to save the $23 parking fee and not have it take an hour to get there, I have convinced my parents to drive us. We are there in less than 15 minutes. Thus we launch the beginning of what will be Mac’s birthday weekend. The kids ride the train, we stock up on new teddy bear clothes at the Build a Bear shop (at the beginning of the day. Why? Because it’s so much fun to carry around a gigantic shopping bag all day. Right.), play a few hours in the children’s museum, ride the merry and what I believe may be the world’s largest Ferris wheel – Mac is frightened, but I assure him I would never take him on an unsafe ride, and, I point out, if he goes on this ride, every time we drive by the Ferris wheel he can tell whomever is with us that he rode on it; and then we get placed in gondola number 21, Mac’s birthday date. It is terrifying, but it’s exciting and I am glad to share this experience with my children, just the three of us. Sailor, on the other hand, is the picture of brave!

We buy postcards to… send to Aunt Minny and the boys’ dad, both of whom live quite close to us. The guy who sells us the postcards is a graduate of the same high school I went to. I graduated the year he was born. Sigh. We eat shrimp outside and ice cream. And after shrimp eating the waitress escorts us to the bathroom, which is quaint and Mac says he wants to live there. We spy plush toys on our way out and we leave with two stuffed shrimp! Blue for Mac and pink for Sailor. And a shrimp pencil for Mrs. K. I convince my parents to come back and get us and 6 glorious, exhausting hours later we are on our way home. Six years ago, I reflect, I have just completed my first 12 hours of early labor with my first baby – Mac.

Saturday we drive out to the north ‘burbs to get Mac’s birthday photo taken. As well as yesterday went with both kids and no stroller today I am ready to scream. The boys run this way and that while I try on $70 jeans and my sister waits for coffee. We stop to get Mac a short sleeve shirt, as it’s gotten warmer out and I have packed every extra type of clothing except short sleeves for Mac. That one shirt costs me over $40 because Sailor has to have a new shirt too, one my sister chooses with a plaid shark that I think is hilarious. And I love the matching red, white and blue polos I find at the front of the store. The boys are trying on their new shirts just outside the dressing rooms becuz I can’t even deal with looking for someone who possesses a key to the dressing rooms. I have a 20% off coupon, which pleases me no end and saves me $10. The kids are out of control, or maybe just out of the stroller. Although he will be 6 in a couple of days, Mac does the dumbest thing ever and it’s all I can do to keep myself from totally losing it. I ask him to keep his hands out of the fancy fountain. Not only does he put his hands in it but he follows the lead of a foreign two-year-old who appears to be visiting the fountain with two old grandfathers and is drinking the water. When I see water down Mac’s front I wonder where I was looking for 2 seconds that I completely missed this act of utter stupidity. Before we even head to the car Mac is wet and his new shirt is dirty and I am beside myself with frustration by the time we leave though we do have one very cute photo of my soon-to-be-6-year-old. We get Starbucks for everyone and drive out to the west ‘burbs for a big outdoor fundraiser party for a girl we know who has cystic fibrosis. We make a donation and get some free game tickets, which the boys use for the “dump tank” as Mac calls it, complaining that he does not want to go in it. Mac sinks the dunkee on his 3rd ball, which surprises me a great deal and Sailor sinks the dunkee as well! I am high-5-ing them all over the place. I love it! I make Mac a plate of food. Sailor is barely awake. When he comes to, he wants a plate of food too. Exactly the foods Mac has, nothing more, nothing less. We get on the wrong express way to get back and end up out by the airport, where I pump gas at the oasis. $37.88!

Sunday we drive out to the same north ‘burb area we visited on Saturday and attend a birthday party for one of Sailor’s school friends. It’s at a place that has gigantic inflatables to jump in. My boys favor a slide that must be 15 feet high. They slide down with reckless abandon and no fear. It’s wild. Sailor convinces me to come along for a ride and when I get to the top, holy crap! It’s a long steep slide down. And I scream all the way. And proceed to slide down 5 more times, equally as terrified each time. It was exhilarating and I only scrape my knee. And Sailor is in total heaven that I am playing with him. After pizza and cake we stop at no fewer than five stores on the way home to get everything we need for Mac’s 6th birthday tomorrow. We get home after 6:00. Six years ago my water was breaking and I was heading to the hospital.

I am whipping up a batch of icing for Mac’s cupcakes for school tomorrow and Mac says he is so tired he has to go to bed. Right now. I stop what I am doing and put sheets on his bed. And where do I find him when I have his bed already for him? In the living room – which I told them was off limits – jumping off the sofa!

Both boys fall asleep quickly. But Mac has a hard time staying asleep and makes his way to the bathroom at least 4 times, covering his eyes each time he passes thru the dining room so as not to see what I am doing. I put Sailor back to bed twice when he wakes up crying (once) and falls out of bed (once). It is midnight before I finish frosting and decorating 35 cupcakes colored with all natural food coloring -- which is really muddy looking and should be a lot more impressive for $17 -- packing up said cupcakes, cleaning up as much of the house as possible (the cleaning girls will be here at 1:00 tomorrow), decorating the dining room and wrapping all 17 gifts from Sailor and me. I am so creative with the wrapping, as I have run out of wrapping paper and I don’t want to waste money buying more just to throw it away. I pull out my bin of used wrappings and each of Mac’s gifts is wrapped in something that has been used before and can be used again and it’s such a variety that it looks like many more than one person brought him these gifts. I do some other tasks to get things looking nice and then I fall into bed … wide awake!