3=development of imagination and mood swings you would not believe

I've been trying to figure out what to blog about. It seems I have lots of little snipits, but nothing that I ever feel is worthy of a single blog. I have friends who blog regularly and I'm so envious. I just feel like my life isn't interesting enough to write weekly. I either need to stop blogging or get a life. I think the latter is probably a better idea. At any rate, here are the snipits compiled into one, disjointed blog:

One look at my son and you can see that the apple doesn't fall from the tree, unfortunately the apple isn't anywhere near my orchard. Matthew is the spitting image of his dad and when I'm out shopping with him I'm sure people figure I either a) adopted him, b) I'm babysitting or c) I stole him and I'm stocking up on goods before heading for the border. The only thing I have to show for my efforts is the scar from the C-section. I was room and board for 9 months and that's it! Over the last couple of years though I have noticed a Matthews family resemblance and as Matthew gets older it seems he looks like his father and acts like his Auntie Vicky. That's not a bad thing, except he seems to have picked up one of her finer characteristics...gagging. When we were little family outings could be a bit of an adventure because Vicky was VERY particular about what public bathrooms she would use. If we walked into a bathroom and it was dirty she wouldn't even stop, she turned right around and walked out. But cleanliness wasn't the only factor in bathroom picking (apparently). If it was clean, but smelled funny, that was an automatic trip out the door. And funny didn't necessarily mean in that bad, gross smelling bathroom way. We could walk into a clean bathroom that smelled like Pine Sol, had that just been cleaned smell, and sometimes that was too much to take and out she went.

Well, my darling son seems to have inherited his aunt's over active sense of smell and her gag reflex. Matthew can smell anything, I mean anything, before most normal people are even aware of a faint scent. I think there are probably dogs that envy his sense of smell. That's great when the smell is something lovely like cookies baking, or chocolate, but if it's anything that's off, look out! Cows, grain in the grain elevator doing whatever it does in there, and public bathrooms are quickly becoming our mortal enemies. As soon as he smells these we are greeted with, "it stinks in here," followed by a never ending stream of gags. The other day I took him into the Walmart bathroom because he had to take care of some business and before we even had his shorts down he was complaining of the smell and gagging. I hadn't noticed that it smelled until he pointed it out. I agree, it wasn't the best smell in the world, but I could deal with it, especially if it meant that I had business to take care of. Quick pit stop and we were bolting out the door, never hearing the end of how badly it smelled in there.

Obviously I don't have any idea what it's like to raise a girl, but I can tell you that raising a boy has been eye opening for me. I have a sister, hung around with girls growing up and didn't know the first thing about boys until one came into my life three years ago. Now I'm frantically searching for the owner's manual on boys because they are certainly different critters than girls. Take for instance our most recent bout of "boyism." Matthew has been swimming in the backyard pool and most evenings he decides this on a whim while we're sitting outside watching life pass us by. The first time he decided he wanted to swim I told him to take his shirt and shorts off with the idea that he could just swim in his underwear. He had other plans and stripped down, thus beginning many a night skinny dipping. So Sunday we were at the public pool in Portales and we had been swimming for at least a couple of hours when my friend starts making weird sounds and pointing. When I look at what she's pointing at I see Matthew standing in ankle deep water peeling his swim trunks off. Mondo was able to get to him before I could and before he was completely stripped down. When I asked him what he was doing, he simply answered that he wanted to swim. Apparently he had a sudden desire to swim like he does at home. Note to self: Keep a spare pair of trunks outside and try to discourage skinny dipping because it may come back to haunt you.

Matthew hasn't been 3 for very long, two months to be exact, but there have been times in those two months that I find myself wondering if he'll make it two 4. We didn't really deal with terrible twos, but three is a completely different story. On the positive side of things, his vocabulary and ability to string sentences together has grown significantly in the last few months. He's more willing to try new things, from unusual foods (he insisted on having crab while we were on vacation) to finally dunking his head under the water at the pool. We're still working on potty training, but we no longer have to shell out $20 a payday for diapers. But probably my favorite thing right now is the development of his imagination. Matthew has had an interest in pirates for quite some time now and that interest has blossomed into more life like pirate play. One day he found Mondo's belt laying around and he picked it up and asked me to wrap it around him so he could tuck his sword into it. Very Johnny Depp and Pirate's of the Carribbean!

The other night he was using some boxes I had gotten in the mail to make a tent and talked about how he was going camping. He also hauled his table and chairs into the living room so he could make a train. Some how the train evaporated into something else and soon he and Auntie Vicky were going on a safari. Yesterday morning when I asked him to put his table and chairs back in his room he told me he couldn't because he needed to leave his castle there. That night he was camped out on top of the table, strategically placed on the couch, and he was the king. There seems to be no end to his imagination and it is always an adventure for me to see where he's going.

On the negative side of things, three has brought with it some monumental moodiness! Matthew can have a mood swing faster than I do when I'm PMSing and that's not a good thing. A friend of mine recently talked about the moodiness of her daughter and several other friends with children the same age have agreed that something happens at three that brings out the best and worst in them. Someone said there isn't much difference between three and thirteen. God help me if I have to do this again when he's a teenager! One minute we're playing and life is grand and the next he's got a thought that sounds good only to him. When we discourage the thought for whatever reason he's a blubbering mess. If he's tired too, then we blubbering and a temper tantrum. Good times!

Finally, I said to my family just tonight that after 20+ years of cussing I'm finding that I'm going to have to edit what comes out of my mouth or be prepared to field phone calls from his teachers. Today I was innocently talking to a friend on the phone and a little voice tells me not to say s*&t. I honestly hadn't cussed at that point, but was slapped in the face with the fact that he listens to and takes in everything. I wonder how much one of those bleepers like they use on TV will cost. That might be easier than censoring myself.