9

And 19 days later, I post again.

I have no idea where this month has gone. It seems like it has dragged but whoops! It's almost over.

This past weekend we had two family visitors from Virginia. Jack had a blast making them run around, pick him up like Superman and watching "Over the Hedge" too many times. And when they left, he was sad. Last night in bed he said, "I want my Grandma. Where's my Grandma?"

On Sunday, the four of us took him to Cesarland. It's a Chuck E. Cheese type place with tons of toys, a huge slide/playground and a lot of dirty kids screaming and running around. It was heaven for the boy.

Jack had fun dragging everyone all over. I showed him how to cheat the at the tickets by giving it a tug when you pull them out. Skee ball, basketball, kiddie rides and then that game that you bang something everytime it pops out -- he did it all.

Then he decided he wanted to get a balloon animal. They had a clown dressed in tie-dye making riduculous animals, hats and other contraptions that every kid had to have immediately.

Three of us stood in line. Grandma and Aunty were back at our table watching the stuff and taking a breather.

The thing about these places, I find, is that children lose control of their bodies and all common sense. They are running, screaming, pushing, cutting in line and going nuts. I don't remember this type of behavior growing up in the 80s at Chuck E. Cheese and Major Magic. I remember wearing party dresses to birthdays and getting excited to see the birthday kid open my gift. There was none of that. These pre-pre-pre teens were nightmares.

We stood in line for too long. Boys were preoccupied with sword balloons, the girls all wanted flowers. Jack told me he wanted a hat. He was the youngest in line by about 5 years.

For some reason, this 7 or 8 year old boy turned to my boy and squeezed his cheeks. Out of no-where. Jack was just standing there patiently waiting (despite the fact that this punk had cut in front of him a few minutes before) and this dirty boy grabs his face. And it wasn't like he was grabbing his two cheeks with two hands and saying, "Oh, aren't you so cute..." No, this was one-handed. He pinched his cheeks together, forcing his mouth to open.

I did not hesitate.

I grabbed the kids hand and threw it down. I got right in his face and hissed:

"What the hell are you doing?! Don't ever touch my son again!"

Like a cartoon, I saw the kid's face drain of all color. His eyes were big and he turned away. Most likely he was trying not to cry. I had no sympathy.

I was furious. He was much too old to do such a thing. And Jack was startled.

Of course, Husband thought I overreacted. I disagree. He argued the kid was just saying Jack was cute.

I say: Two handed check squeeze = Oh, you're cute. One handed = I want to hurt you.

Yes, we did leave quickly after that.

I don't regret my actions.
I do admit the images of the dad who recently attacked the wrestler at his kid's match that they've been showing on national television came to mind. And also the time in fifth grade when I beat up a girl because I thought she had tripped my sister. Later, my sister tearfully told me that she'd tripped herself. I still didn't regret it though. At least that girl knew not to ever touch my sister. True, it was awkward later when I saw her in college and she still was scared of me but I guess that's price you pay for protecting your family. Right?

And yes, I do recognize that I may not be going to any of Jack's sporting events, field trips or class parties.

8

January is finally over. It was seriously the longest month ever. Soon basketball season will be over... just a short February and then March will fly by -- hopefully. There's nothing worse than basketball season.

By now Husband has been consistenly on the road since September. When little boys grow up wanting to be sports writers, the travel aspect probably seems to be a plus. But throw in a wife and kid and traveling gets really old, really fast for everyone.

Jack's pretty used to the routine. He pats his Dad on the back on those travel days and let's him know we'll be OK while he's gone.

Unfortunately, mornings are rough without Daddy. Mama has to drop Jack off extra early. It's hard for the kid since he likes to sleep in past 9 on most mornings. When I picked him up Tuesday, he immediately said, "Daddy bye-bye on a trip. Daddy at work." And I quickly reminded him he'd be back the next day. I could see his mind working as he remembered tomorrow. He's pretty good at time now. Today, tomorrow and yesterday are fairly abstract concepts when you think about it but (likely) due to all the travel his parents do over the course of the year, he's mastered them. And together we count down to when Daddy's coming home.

And before this traveling season is complete, it's going to get worse. In March, I am gone for 7 days in the middle of tournament season. I am gone from the Big 10 tournament through the beginning of Week I of the NCAA. Luckily, my parents are going to take Jack and then Husband will go back and forth from the D but it's going to be rough.

I think Jack and I are the only two fans who hope they lose, and lose quickly. (I mean if they're not going to win it all, what's the point?!)