They Grow So Fast

Thanksgiving is over. Of course, I attempted to keep a peaceful, thankful state of mind through the day, but was really busy on Thursday between feedings, since we hosted a houseful of family members. I know the good Lord wants me to say THANK YOU for letting me serve fifteen pounds of mashed potatoes. But I forget. I know I owe a bit of thanks. My hubby was a trouper who peeled and cut taters like nobody's business. Actually, everyone brought enough food to feed the western region of Iowa. No wonder my middle keeps thickening to the point now where sweatpants have became my new best friend...But seriously, back to the topic at hand. Now that everyone is gone, I am filled with gratitude!  And I'm truly ready to get on with the holiday season!

As I'm considering ways to make Christmas special for my kids who are no longer deceivable, they keep reminding me of the fickle nature of our parent-child relationships. One day they need you–they idolize you! The next day? You're yesterday's green bean casserole. (Sorry, couldn't resist the analogy.) You're never completely prepared for the day when you realize your kids are...embarrassed of you. Well, take today, for example.

Cows, not trees, spotting our landscape.

A knock to our front door brought a man selling trees to our barren landscape. (This has been his second trip to our residence. ) Our terrier doesn't take kindly to visitors, and prefers to leave a good piss marking on any set of tires who dare to cross. As I spoke to the nice tree man, I saw Percy making his stream on the man's truck. I agonized, for a split second, on my moral decision: to speak, or not to speak. Then I remembered, last time our tree guy brought his father and young son, so I knew I couldn't just let Percy keep urinating on his tires. So, I not only interrupted the man's spiel, but I screamed over him. "PERCY! PERCY! STOP! NO! STOP!" My children crept away into the kitchen to hide their heads in shame. And laughed at their embarrassing mother's cries. It's funny that it didn't occur to me to be embarrassed until they gave me that look. That, "Oh Mom, if you could only see how stupid you just appeared" look.

A few hours later, Cole and I were at the grocery store. I was directing him around, telling him to pick me up that, pick me up this. Finally, he stomped over and spouted, "Would you QUIT calling me that?"

I was taken aback. "Calling you what?"

"Coley. It's embarrassing. I'm not a little kid."

Sigh. I didn't even hear myself calling him that. Now, I can laugh at the dog-pissing incident. But changing Coley to Cole? That hit me in a melancholy kind of way. I haven't had the conversation with my daughter yet, but I'm hoping she's not going to be offended by me still calling her, "Al." I think she'll be okay with it...especially if I keep playing her the Paul Simon song. I doubt she'll roll her eyes.