Mildly Amusing, Sometimes Sweet, Use Your Words

I’m The Poodiest

School is out for the summer and the days are getting longer. Boy oh boy are the days getting longer. Being the sole teacher/disciplinarian/guardian/playmate/muse of a three-year-old boy from sun up to sun down has given me a greater appreciation for Sean’s teachers — even though they slighted him missed the opportunity to feature him in the school slideshow as prominently as my precious beautiful special boy-genius deserves (wink wink).

By dinnertime, I was exhausted. I set down a bowl of hastily made gourmet macaroni and cheese in front of Sean and then I collapsed into my own chair, too tired to eat. Instead I just sat there and watched him clumsily spooning the little orange spirals out of the bowl and into his mouth. I noticed how the afternoon light from the windows outlined his profile with a tiny white line, illuminating the imperceptible baby fine hairs on his face. I thought to myself if I ever get around to doing a painting of him, this is the scene I would paint, his hair the color of an old penny, his impossibly long dark eyelashes, his face outlined with the iridescent glow of sunset.

He stopped eating and looked at me. He gave me a sweet smile that belied the number of times he’d visited the time out corner today.

“I love you Sean,” I said to him.

“I wudz you Mommy,” he replied as he screwed up his face and shyly pressed his ear into his hunched up shoulder.

“You’re a good boy.”

“You’re a good mama,” he enthused pointing his cheese-encrusted spoon at me for emphasis.

Sigh. I thought about that for a moment. I thought about how I had yelled at him earlier in the day. I’m not that good of a mama. But that boy knows I love him with all of my heart. And hopefully that will cover the myriad of mistakes I make in parenting him on any given day.

“Oh Sean,” I confessed more to myself than to him. “You are a better boy than I am a mama.”

“That’s okay,” he consoled, “You are the poodiest wady in the whole woold.”

Man. I’m really going to hate it when his world gets bigger.

43 thoughts on “I’m The Poodiest

  1. Touching! Isn’t it amazing how simple scenes from everyday life sometimes grow into profound experiences?
    I love your writing.

  2. Your blog makes me wistful for the days when my son was that age. When they are 17….they still love their mothers (money, gas, laundry, food)……but they never call you poody!!!! At 17 I still tell him he is my favorite son (he has no brothers)….and he replies that I am his favorite mom. We have been playing that game for years….When Sean is 17….there will be a facial expression, a mannerism, or even the sunlight illuminating the hairs on his face (which will resemble razor stubble) and in your mind you will be right back to the time and place you are today!

  3. As Twisted Cinderella says above, [sort of] one of the benefits of having older children [25 year old] is that it helps you realize that every age is the ‘best’ age.

  4. Sweet. I don’t think the world is big enough for a boy to ever forget that his momma is the poodiest. At least that’s the idea I’m holding onto as my 2 boys take bigger steps and leave larger footprints day after day.

  5. Even when the world gets bigger, I’m betting he’s still going to think you are the poodiest.

    I hope you do get around to doing that painting of him! Of course getting him to sit still might be a problem….perhaps one of him sleeping? šŸ™‚

  6. *sigh* When we’re older and they’re taking care of us we still might be considered the poodiest, however I don’t think we’ll relish the title then. It’s so much nicer now! Sweet boy. šŸ˜€

  7. These are the moments that make all that slaving over mac and cheese worth it. I wish we lived closer so that our 3 year olds could entertain each other. Plus, I like to hang out with poody people.

  8. My eyes are all welled up now… I’m an older Mom to a 3-year old boy too. We have plenty of moments like these, too. I don’t think I’ve ever captured one of them quite so eloquently though…

  9. And they slighted him, I mean, missed the opportunity to feature him in the school video? How could they! They don’t know what they’re missing!

  10. Sigh is right. But I’m with Sean. I think you’re the poodiest mama in the whole world too, inside and out. And I’ve been out in it, so I know that of which I speak.

    Might I suggest that you do that painting of Sean? I said I wanted to “get around” to a lot of stuff with my kids, and now they’re 10 and 7. Time’s sneaky like that…

  11. They’re so blessedly forgiving, aren’t they? We were late getting to my 3-y-o’s 30,000-mile checkup yesterday and I was hollering and chasing him out the door, and he just looked at me with the most placid “she does this sometimes” look and went right along with getting in the car — and then later gave me a “you are my sweet boy!” I know exactly how you feel. Thank God they’re made to love us, even with all our flaws!

  12. Precious! Children are the best models — they know how to love unconditionally, forgive quickly and console automatically. If only the “mature” among us loved so purely.

  13. Trust me, no matter how big his world ever gets, “You are the poodiest wady in the whole woold,” will always be how he feels about his Momma…he’ll just say it much more clearly:-)

  14. Your comments made me wish my four children weren’t so ‘grown up’. However its still lovely when your thirty something, six foot son wraps his arms around you for a bear hug!

    I notice that in an earlier blog you were discussing home schooling. It was the ‘sun up to sun down’ responsibility that made me decide against it many years ago.

    I have been ‘lurking’ for a while now and enjoy your writing very much. Your blog helps me to remember some of the little things about our children that I thought I had forgotten.

  15. so glad you’re blogging this so that in the days when your mind may grow dim (no, it hasn’t yet) and the days pass much slower, as they seem to go so very fast now; you can read this back & remember fondly how very much you love him and how long that love has been for.

    I saw a site the other day that makes blogs into books. Let me know if you want the link & I’ll find it and send it to you.

  16. Oh, that is precious. Don’t you just want to freeze these moments in time?

    When my older brother was 4 years old (and my parents were not very well-off financially), my mother surprised him one day, after a doctor’s appointment, to a trip downtown at his favorite cafeteria.

    They were walking down the street, hand in hand, when she announced her plans for lunch. Paul stopped dead in his tracks, squeezed her hand tight as he could, and in his most heartfelt voice, said, “I’m so glad I don’t have a real purdy mama. I love you just the way you are!”

    And even at a “compliment” like that, her heart almost burst out of her chest.

  17. This made my eyes water. I know exactly how you feel. Every detail of my child is so overwhelmingly precious to me. I’m probably not the mother he deserves, but I’m his and I adore him.

  18. I’ve gotta break out of the mold here and make a confession.

    When you said poodiest, I thought you meant pootiest (as in toot toot – gas). And I laughed out loud.

    Then I realized you meant purdiest. šŸ™‚ Sorry for the confusion.

    I would definitely rather be known as the purdiest lady in town that the pootiest lady in town. No contest there.

    Oh – and – you’re a great mommy. Give yourself some credit. šŸ˜‰

    Love Michelle

  19. NO matter what day, time or year, age 1, 10, 15, 40 the love is always remarkably present between a mother and her child. Thank you for sharing it all with us. I do so enjoy it.

  20. When my daughter was 4, she drew a picture of me and underneath she wrote “Good Mommy” except she spelled it “God Mommy.” Now that she’s nearly 9, she wishes I would take it down off the wall since she misspelled good, but I need to leave it there to remind me of what kind of mommy I’m SUPPOSED to be, and on the days that I fail, to remind me of whose got me covered.

  21. I just shared this article with my daughter the Maggie of “hillbilliehousewife” and we both are very touched! (She is mid 30 now and I am a grandma)
    when I told her… “Marshmellow you are a poodie wonderful woman too she replied, “Oh sank you mama and I a’door you and I a’window you too. It took us back thirty years! THANK YOU.

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