Except that instead of "Marsha, Marsha, Marsha!" it is "KayTar, KayTar, KayTar!", and so today I am giving BubTar the floor. I started this blog because of KayTar, to document this craziness, to give my brain some place to do the sorting of it all. I feel compelled to document and analyze happenings with her, it keeps me on an even keel. I drop those sorts of things off here, so I don't drag them around with me full time. Do you ever wake up in the night, thinking of the fifty things you have to take care of the next day? Once you start thinking about it, you just can't go back to sleep until you get up and write it all on paper so you are sure it will be taken care of. Sometimes, that is what this blog is for me...the paper I write on at 2am to clear my mind enough to behave like a normal person. Because of that, BubTar seems to get the short end of the stick around here, but I'd like it to be known that he doesn't get the short stick in life. There is a bit of attention skewing, because of forced one-on-one time, like therapy or doctor's visits, but for the most part our house is like anyone else's. I don't know that I communicate that enough of my blog. Even though she monopolizes blogtime, she doesn't monopolize real life time.
We lucked out with our boy. From birth, he was easy going. He ate well, slept well, he didn't demand to be held full time. I can only remember one day, during that six week postpartum period, that I sobbed my eyes out. My mom had come over the day before and rocked him all day. He didn't sleep that night, the next morning was my 6 week check-up at 8am and we hadn't slept. Then we got home and he wouldn't nap. That was the only day I called Josh begging him to come home and help. He took his lunch break at home that day, and I laid in the bedroom, wishing to sleep, but instead listening to every peep BubTar made from the next room. Good times. He was healthy, if you exclude the ear infections. OH! THE EAR INFECTIONS! If I had blogged back then, it would have been named the Ear Infection Blog or something similar, I think. He wasn't a typical presenter, no pain, no fever, no ear tugging. His first symptom was always vomiting in our bed. Without fail, it meant an EI. The doctor always looked at me skeptically, but sure enough, I was always right. He out grew the EI's around 2, though and hasn't had any sort of chronic problems since, only the sort that follow him home from school, a loving gift from a classmate.
He is still that easy going child, who sleeps well and is friendly. At school, he is well-liked, so well-liked that he frequently comes home with a light change from chattering too much with his buddies. Yesterday, for example, he was wrestling in the bathroom. On the way home, I exlpained "BubTar, someone could have gotten hurt!" He replied, "Well, no one DID get hurt. There is only a hard floor and a hard wall and we did not hit our heads." Which I countered, "Not this time, but maybe the next time." And he replied, "But no one DID get hurt, so no one CAN get hurt." Oh, the logic of 5 year olds. His teacher adores him, regardless of the mild trouble he gets himself into, because he is so darn charming. His little smile and those big eyes and lashes, coupled with his personality is a near DEADLY level of charming.
He is sensitive, oh Lord, is he sensitive. Those big blue eyes have tears rolling out of them quite a bit more than is necessary. Usually in response to the word "No." or the enforcement of time restraints on his various screen time pursuits. We are working on eliminating this type of crying and recently we've seen a bit of improvement. The other type of crying, REAL crying, we have no issue with though, and it always surprises me what upsets him. Last night, for example, he somehow smuggled a yard stick into his bed. He had been in bed for about 10 minutes when I heard a HUGE snap! followed by the sound of weeping. So I jaunted up the stairs to check on him. He was sitting in bed, broken yard stick in hand, sobbing his wee little eyes out. Turns out he was putting his knee in the middle of the yardstick and pulling with his hands and it broke. He looked up at me, all tearful and sad, and said "Should I be ashamed?" and I must admit, I let out a chuckle and said, "Ashamed? For breaking this? I don't think so, but I do think you need to be more careful with things that don't belong to you." And he said, "(sniffle, snuffle) But will Daddy be VERY upset with me?" And again, I chuckled, and said, "No, it is just a yardstick, we have others, but some things aren't so replaceable so you need to be respectful of your things and especially of other people's belongings." He sniffled into my shoulder a while longer and then went to sleep. A broken yardstick, who would've thought.
He's shy, or at least plays at being shy. He prefers to stay home rather than go out usually, especially if we will be seeing non-familial types. He agreed to come on a playdate with Julie and her P's only because he knew whoever went with me was able to skip nap. On the way, he assured me he would not be playing. But he did, and he had a great time and came home planning the follow-up visit, "But with less sand," he said. At school birthday parties, he spends his time with his head in my lap or with his whole body wrapped around my leg. But when he sees these same children at school, he is little wild man. Funny how a change of scenery causes such a change in behavior. H resists going to dinner, even with family friends he has known since birth, stating "I'm too shy." as a reason, but once we are there he is challenging people to eating contests and loudly discussing the state of Kindergarten. Sometimes he is even "too shy" to visit the grandparents, but I really think that is his way of saying he'd prefer to be home instead. Sometimes we give in. Sometimes we make him stick it out. It depends on how committed we are and how adamant he is.
And that brings us to his big brotherhood. He really is the most tolerant older brother KayTar could have had. Even the ceaseless mimicking has a place with him. He loves to have a parrot who repeats whatever he'd like to throw her way. He also appreciates that she will participate in any pretend play he would like to organize and she will do it exactly his way. He is patient and kind with her. We've had exactly one instance of him being physically rough with her, ever. He reaches his frustration level much later in the game than most. He enjoys the audience, the built-in friendship, the adoration she gives. He helps with her in the ways he can, and inquires about her therapies after he gets home from school. Wednesday, when she graduated, he said, "Three cheers for KayTar, hip-hip HOORAY!" Yesterday when she wouldn't participate in PT, he stepped in and participated to get her involved. It worked like a charm. There are millions of worries about how the typical child in a family that has a less-than-typical will fare, but honestly, the two of them love each other and I think on a normal day, there is no rivalry at all. He loves that little girlie and she him, and I think that is a gift for them both.
He is silly. Constantly trying out jokes, five year olds and their humor. He makes me laugh daily. He won't settle for jokes that work, he has to modify them and make them his own, which makes the decidedly UNfunny, but endearing in their own way. Teaching him the art of humor is not all that easy! He still asks for cuddles, but he can't contain the sillies when I stay in bed with him. It becomes all about the jokes or wiggles or stories. At some point I have to leave the room or he'd never get to sleep. But sometimes I sneak back in once he is asleep and cuddle with him for a while, watching the rise and fall of his chest, the curve of his cheek, the fluttering of his eyelashes...and I just think, "How in the world did I get so lucky?"