The F Word

 Ike is a talker.  More of a shouter really.  There's no wondering about gender stereotypes--he is ALL boy ALL the time.  It's a different world raising a son.  He barrels head first into whatever he sets his sights on.  Sometimes it's the couch.  Sometimes it's the cat.  I suspect neither one of them likes it much but he just keeps going.

One thing that's the same though are the things he says.  Sometimes we laugh and sometimes we cover our mouths (and his) in embarrassment.  

A few weeks ago we were in Target.  He's the only one who doesn't have to wear a mask.  Most of the time, I'm glad for it.  Not this time.  I wanted to plant one on him and never take it off.  As we're walking through the store, he just starts yelling.  This isn't new.  He's not making words, just OOOOOOOHHHHHHH!  OOOOOOOOHHHHHH!  Sometimes it's jabber but mostly just yelling.  

Until it's not just yelling.  It's him yelling that word.  A word he NEVER hears because I can't even think it.  

"F---!"

"F---!"

Over and over!  Just "F---!"

"Ike!  Stop it!"

"F---!"

I try shushing him but it doesn't work.  "F----!"

No one is really noticing.  But in my mind they're all staring at me from behind their masks thinking "what kind of mother IS she?".

I'd hide my head in shame, but thankfully no one recognizes me because of this lovely mask mandate.  And so, we proceed through our shopping with my son shouting obscenities at everyone who walks by.  

Is this what it's like to raise a boy?

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Easter

It’s Holy Week.  I remember being confused by so many pieces of Easter when I was young.  Why was it called Good Friday if Jesus died?  Wasn’t that BAD Friday?  Why did we eat so much fish?  Ick.  Why did it always seem to be a gloomy, rainy, week?  Did God do that on purpose?  How could Jesus ride into the city of Jerusalem with such fanfare on Sunday and be beaten so brutally just 6 days later?  As I’ve grown in my faith and age, I understand so much more.  When Mel Gibson’s Passion of the Christ played in theaters, I went to see it.  My sobs could hardly be heard over the sobs of others.  This wasn’t a movie where you munched on popcorn and sipped a soft drink.  This was a chore—a duty as a Christian to come face to face with the brutality endured by our Savior.  To come to terms with what He experienced so that I could, what?  Show up late to work with no excuse?  Watch movies with foul language?  Tell the occasional lie and not suffer the consequences?  Was it worth it?  What jus
Read more

Shoes=Outside

Image
When Nick comes inside from anywhere, he takes off his socks and shoes. He just likes to be barefoot inside. He also doesn't like shoes on the couch or beds, so when Ivy's inside, most of the time, her shoes and socks come off too. Naturally, this necessitates putting shoes on when we've been home and then decide to go somewhere. Ivy seems to understand this. She LOVES to be outside. She's tall enough to reach the door knob, so it's locked all the time now. She'll go up to the door, try to turn the handle and say "side" when she wants to go outside (which is all the time). When she sees one of us putting our shoes on, she naturally goes to the door and says "side". Yesterday, Nick took Ivy out to the pool for a while before I got home from work. They put their feet in the pool and splashed a bit, but no real swimming (water is still cold). When I got home, they were back inside, shoes off. Ivy wasn't quite done being outside for the day.
Read more

The Wonderful World of Meat Substitutes

I didn’t become a vegetarian until a little over two years ago. I used to think it would be absolutely impossible for me to do—I’m in love with chicken! Can’t give that up. No way. Well, clearly, I did give it up (although so many non-vegetarians say things to me like “you eat chicken, right? Chicken’s a vegetable.” Um, no.). I often encounter someone that is unaware of my food lifestyle and after the initial shock wears off, they want to know if I miss meat. The answer is a resounding no. I hardly notice it at all. I won’t go into why I don’t eat meat (not now anyway). There are different types of vegetarians. I am what is known as a lacto-ovo vegetarian—I eat eggs and diary but nothing that used to crawl, swim, walk or fly. No chicken, no cow, no pig, no lamb, no fish. (Nick and I went to a restaurant today that basically wanted to know how you want your beef cooked, but did include two of what they called “Meatless sandwiches”. They included fried fish and baked fish.
Read more