The Nix Family: August 2009

Monday, August 10, 2009

Planes, Trains and Ponies

There is nothing sadder than a sicko kiddo. Oh, wait. Yes there is! A sicko kiddo on his birthday!

The night before Riley's birthday, he awoke crying around 8:30 p.m. and wanted to go to the bathroom. This was out of the norm so we went to investigate. As I helped put his Pull-Ups back on, I could feel his legs were really warm. Sure enough, 101.5. Happy birthday to you. Instead of celebrating with homemade chocolate-peanut butter cookies and his friends at daycare, he spent the day zoned in front of the TV in a feverish haze.

Luckily, come evening, he was back to his old self. Chuck E. Cheese for dinner waited one night, but he got to open presents from us - more train tracks and a cargo crane.

Since he eats his friends and all, there really wasn't much sense in trying to pull together a birthday party. We've been leaning toward kid adventures instead of parties lately, and Riley stated without hesitation that he wanted to ride a pony. He's said this for at least two months. So we planned a day of pony and train riding at Griffith Park, and were thrilled to have Hallie join us solo for the whole day and night.

Unfortunately, when the time came for Riley to, uh, pony up.... he chickened out. Hallie, who said she was scared but didn't show it, and Holden had a great ride, though.

Always a hit is trains. Everyone was excited to take a spin around the park.

After the train ride, we let the kids blow off their own steam at the playground. We had a picnic, ran from the bees and played in the sand. All that activity would surely lead to them conking out in the car, right? Right? No.

The fun didn't end there. We had all the family over that night for dinner and, of course, cake and ice cream. Hallie's very talented mom, Jami, made the cake for the Ra and it was delicious! Riley had told me he wanted a ladybug cake (no, I have no idea where that came from). When I suggested a bi-plane cake, he loved the idea. Jami surprised him and did both!

The next morning, all the kids spent a long time playing trains with all the cool new add-ons. Sleepover was a success, as was the b-day happs.

Riley: Three Years

Dear Riley,

I'm going to be honest with you - the way the last year went, you're lucky your dad let you live to see your 3rd birthday. I convinced him that things would get better in the 4th year, and he was willing to adopt a "wait and see" plan.

In the past year, you've gotten yourself kicked out of pre-school for biting, undid the majority of the sleep-training we worked so hard to implement and taken your energy and sound levels up at least seven notches on the dial. You've also perfected your ignoring, defying and obstinating skills, turning them into art forms.

But, there are reasons I went to bat for you. And those reasons will be the reasons that, in the end, no matter what kind of trouble you get yourself into, you will always be OK. You're cute, you're smart, you're funny and you somehow always smell like sweet fruit. These are four things I simply just can't resist.

And there's this other thing, too. This thing that always gets me. It's a thing you're brother has, too, and, in some small ways, your father. It's that, no matter how over-the-top, scream-my-lungs-out bad you are ... you really don't mean to be. In fact, I can tell you kinda hate yourself a bit when you do wrong. You know what you did was wrong, but you just couldn't help yourself.

It's the oxymoronism of young children. Whether it's a matter of not knowing any better or just being caught up in the naughty moment, you don't really want to get in trouble - you're just out of control. And I'm sure you really don't want to sit in a time out and cry your ass off while I yell at you like a Banshee gone wild. Or worse, while your father yells at you.

The thing is, I know you're truly, truly good. Your kind heart shows probably more than we notice, and for that, I do feel a tad guilty. It's hard sometimes to see the forest through all those goddamn overgrown trees, full of birds building nests and crapping all over the place. But they're there. With a tilt of your head and in your sweet baby talk voice, you offer toys for us or your friends to share, you gently pat Holden when he's crying and, little by little, those soft hands are being used less as weapons and more to show comfort and love.

One of your recent concerns is to be sure that everyone is your friend. "You my friend?" you ask, oh, a hundred times a day. It's particularly poignant when you do this after I've yelled at you because I've asked you four times to sit down so I can put your shoes on. "You my friend?" you ask, your lower lip pouted out a bit and the space between your eyebrowns crinkled. "No, I'm your mother." You wait a minute, then respond. "You my mutha. You my friend?" Because, yes, that mother thing is really important. But friends? You've learned a lot recently how important those are, too.

A lot of the times that you're "in trouble," I realize that, when I look back, it is just you trying to be funny. But at 6:08 a.m., as I sit barely awake on the floor of your bedroom pleading with you to put your underwear on so I could get in the shower, it's hard to remember that as you stomp around the room, laughing and yelling, "I naked!" After coffee and in less of a hurry, I know that this is freakin' hilarious. It's the stuff memories are made of. It's absolutely worth appreciating.

I know this next year is going to be a big one for you. In a year from now, you're communication and reasoning skills are going to be 10-fold better. And despite the exasperation and the frustration you so often see from us, we do know that you are - and will continue to be - a sweet, loving and independent boy, full of hugs and kisses.

Happy birthday Ra-Ra. I appreciate you. I am your mother and will always be your friend.

All my love,

Mom