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Princess Mommy :: 22nd December 2003

My children are the best things to happen to in my lifetime. Not even the time when I sang infront of tens of thousands of concert-goers can actually compare to one thing - the fact that Jared now calls me 'mommy'. He rotates it between calling me 'cher-cher', 'ta-ta', 'ah-mee' but most important of all, he now calls me 'mu-mmy' regularly.

Even if I am dead serious about something he has done wrong, he knows which buttons to push. All he has to do is yell out the word 'Mu-meeee" in the sweetest and most adorable fashion imaginable, I am putty in his hands. I hate the fact that I turn to mush everytime he does this - but I cannot help it. I can't deny the fact that he knows this is my weak spot.

So what? Mommy has a weak spot for a word that sends her world spiraling out of control. It's not a good thing when it comes to disciplining. Thank goodness Jed has stopped smacking other kids on the head when things don't go his way.

Since this little Prince has me wrapped around his little itty-bitty finger, you can imagine the kind of trauma it gave me when he fell down the stairs recently. I was upstairs attending to a phone call and I think he was climbing up the stairs after me. He didn't call me or anything, sort of just sneaking up behind me, which he does pretty often. So, in the middle of the phone call, I heard a loud crashing sound outside the room where the stairs is. In my mind, I am praying "whoever that was, let it not be Jed".

I waited for the crying to begin.

There was nothing for the first few seconds and then once he drew his breath from his first initial shock, there it was. That loud wailing belonged to my precious angel! I sort of slammed down the phone on my customer after saying very vaguely that something important came up and I will return his call….blah blah blah. I wasn't even listening to what he said at all. I slammed down the phone and ran down to the group of people surrounding my little Jed.

I picked him up and took a look at his head. There was no blood but boy, was there a bump. I mean it was huge, MEGA, massive, obtrusively GIANT of a bump. It looked like there was blood right under the skin and if I pricked the skin a little, blood would start spluttering out. You know, my active imagination is really of no use at this point but it wouldn't stop working.

I started rolling, shaking and singing, cooing, comforting him while my mother-in-law quickly rubbed some form of ancient traditional ointment on the spot and rubbed it into the wound for a while. This elicited loud crying. But for the better of my child, I held him tightly and let him struggle in my arms. He was probably screaming, "Why are you doing this to me? What is that gunk you're rubbing into my forehead? Heck, I just knocked my head and you're like squeezing me to death and ah-mah is trying to kill me by rubbing the wound? HHHHEEEEELLLLPPPPPP!".

It was painful to watch and I felt that I was betraying him by not rushing him upstairs to the quiet of the room and watch TV.

But whatever the knock did to him (and me), it didn't slow down his mental development. Thank goodness. He still calls me 'mommy' and now says the word 'come' in the dirtiest way possible. He would indicate to his cousins to come over to where he is by saying 'kum'. And more encouragingly, he is not only saying 'kum', he is saying a few more words like 'stuck', 'apple', 'bear', 'duck', 'sun', 'moon', 'cow', 'ball'…etc.

And whenever he speaks in his own gibberish language, we encourage him to speak correctly. The wonderful thing is that he tries his best to imitate us. Yey…Go Jed Go!!!

Joshua on the other hand is picking up more speech skills and asking me funny questions. Just yesterday, he wanted to go swimming but the sky was black as charcoal. I picked him up, pointed out the window and showed him the dark clouds. I asked him what colour were the clouds and slyly, he realized where I was headed. So, he answered me, 'white'. I looked at him with raised eyebrows, "White? Are you sure, Josh?" He nodded his head vehemently.

I said, "But the sky looks black and grey to me, Josh"
He started pouting, "No, mommy. It's white. Now, we can go to swimming pool?"

And to top it all off, he thinks we can buy just about anything, including a daddy. Poor daddy has been so busy that he hasn't had time to breathe, so, he hasn't seen his children for a couple of days in a row now. Yesterday night, Josh was in a contest with Isabelle (his cousin) to see who has more things of whatever value. So, Isabelle clung to her daddy's legs and said "This is MY daddy". Josh clung to Isabelle's dad's other leg and shouted, "This is MY daddy too"

"This is not your daddy, Josh. This is my daddy"
"No, this is my daddy"
"No, Josh. This is my daddy"
"my daddy"
"My daddy!"

Gee, I wish I knew how to handle this one. I walked over to Josh and peeled him off my bemused brother-in-law. "Josh, listen. This is not your daddy. That's Isabelle's daddy"

"But where's my daddy?"
"Your daddy is at work, honey. He'll come back later, ok?"
"I want go buy daddy"
"erm, yeah, tonight daddy will come back"
"But I want to go buy daddy now"

Someone shoot me.

But we have our sweet moments. Like there was this one time, Josh was drawing a castle and I stuck a blanket to the back of his pajamas to make him a king. I even made him a crown out of newspaper. I snuggled up to him and kissed him and whispered into his ears, "You're my King Joshua" With innocent eyes, he asked me, "You a princess mommy?" Almost in tears, I said, "I sure do hope so"

:: Marsha ::