Nancy asked about language and toddlers/babies. Echo has been going through a very uncooperative communication phase. It is almost impossible to carry on a conversation with him. He thinks it is hilarious to answer questions with nonsense. I thought I would try to record some of our conversations. He knew I was recording, so he was making it as difficult as possible. Here are a couple of the recordings [60 seconds] in the order we did them. If you are only going to listen to one, skip to the last because it is my favorite. Echo attacked me with kisses…
[odeo=http://odeo.com/audio/6840803/view]
The picture with Echo jumping has gotten so much attention lately I thought I would let Echo talk about it himself. I promise: no children were harmed in the taking of any of the splash pictures!(5)#
Carol: OK, we all have these terrible stories to get over, and you-...
Melvin Udall: It’s not true. Some have great stories, pretty stories that take place at lakes with boats and friends and noodle salad. Just no one in this car. But, a lot of people, that’s their story. Good times, noodle salad. What makes it so hard is not that you had it bad, but that you’re that pissed that so many others had it good.
Take the pathetic self-pity of Greg Kinnear’s character [how I relate to myself] and the anti-socialness [is that a word?] of Jack Nicholson’s character [how I relate to others] and the selflessness of Helen Hunt’s character [how I relate to my kids] and you have a pretty good idea of what I’m like to live with. This annoys me to no end, but I don’t know how to be any different. I can’t let anything go. Everything that I think about plays over and over in my mind and I end up doing nothing at all because I can’t get my thoughts straight. I don’t know how Mike puts up with me.
I have this huge need to control everything, but I try to supress it because I don’t want to end up some paranoid control freak that no one wants to be around. I want my kids to act a certain way. I want my marriage to be a certain way. Anything out of my comfort zone I try to block out. If I ignore it, it doesn’t exist… right? Sometimes I feel like if I took a good hard look at the reality of my life and who I am I wouldn’t be able to handle it.
One of the things that drives me crazy about Mike is his ability to live in the moment. When he comes home from work, even if it has been fourteen hours of hard labor, he walks through the door whistling. It doesn’t matter how bad the day before was or how much we fought, he wakes up every morning with a smile on his face. Whenever I get upset, I can’t sleep. After a few fitful hours tossing and turning, I wake up in full bitch mode, ready to attack without provacation. The reality is that I’m jealous. I wish I could move on. I wish I could let things be easy. I wish I could go through my day without worrying about what someone else was thinking of me.
Richard “Ditch” Brodie: Pack your bags, we’re going on a guilt trip!
Today, another mom came over to the house. I watch her daughter for a few hours after school every day and we were discussing the kids and the basketball game tomorrow. My kids know that when I am talking to an adult, they need to respect that and give us some room. I asked them to keep an eye on Echo and walked over to talk to her. Instead, they all crowded around me to listen in on what we were saying. I wanted to say something to them, but I didn’t want the other mom to think that I was too strict or overly controlling. Plus, her kids were crowding around too and I didn’t want her to think that I had a problem with them. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Echo walking toward the back yard. I figured he couldn’t get into much trouble and tried to wrap up the conversation as quickly as I could.
As soon as she left, I walked back to get Echo and saw him hobbling toward me, screaming. His foot was dripping blood. It wasn’t a few drops, it was a LOT. I carried him in and saw that his toe was sliced open from stepping on glass. I thought we got all of the broken glass from the windows, but I guess not. I finally got the bleeding to stop. He wouldn’t let me leave his side and I’ve spent the last hour and half holding his hand while he screamed.
Why didn’t I have his shoes on him?
Why didn’t I watch him myself?
Why can’t my kids just listen?
Why do I second guess myself all the time?
Accidents happen. He’s going to be fine.
Click on the extended post for a picture of the damage.
