Sacramento Parent Magazine

Today in the shoe store, my three year old Riley took off running and I had one of those moments of panic were I could not see him. I frantically called his name and as I rounded a corner I saw his little towhead round another corner. By the time I caught up with him instead of doing something in public I might be embarrassed about, I blurted out, “Riley you cannot run from me because the big bad man will get you!” “WHAT?” he replied. His big blue eyes turning into saucers. “WHAT BIG BAD MAN?” he continued, “WHERE IS THE BIG BAD MAN?” Grabbing my leg he demanded to be held. Realizing this is the only thing that seems to be working since running off has become a new thing that is becoming more frequent, I had to go with it. “Yes he will get you that is why you need to stay with me,” I answered. Taking a mental note that I will be paying for this later tonight and every dark night until he’s probably 15 which he will then be in therapy because he has irrational fears.
Later that night over dinner, I was telling my husband what happened and as the other newbie parent around here he tells Riley, “So the bogeyman was going to get you in the shoe store huh?” I almost spit out my enchilada as I said, “I didn’t say bogeyman! Are you crazy!” As soon as the words came flying out of my mouth, Riley sits up straight and says, “WHAT BOGEYMAN? IS THERE A BOGEYMAN HERE?” I couldn’t believe it, there is a big difference between the bogeyman and a big bad man. The bogeyman is a fright of imaginative proportions and everyone knows what he is capable of.

We quickly try to calm him and let him know there is no such thing as the bogeyman, etc. Although I have to admit each time, I said the words, “It’s okay honey there is no such thing as the bogeyman, we’ll be fine,” the theme music to Halloween started to play in my head and I felt like I was one step closer to being the idiot who looks out the window.

The person who coined the phrase “The Terrible Twos”, obviously didn’t have a three year old. I quote my husband as saying recently, “I wouldn’t wish a three year old on my worst enemy.” Our cute little buttercup as turned into a screaming-fit throwing-have to get the last word in-talking back-sassy-adult.

All in three short years. And my mother is having a field day gleefully telling everyone she has lived long enough.

I need a pair of mom jeans stat. After many years of thinking, What is up with those jeans? I comprehend now. The allure of the high rise waist that tucks everything away, the relaxed hips and thigh area, the tapered leg. Actually I don’t like the tapered leg look, I confidently left that behind with my multiple layers of fluffy florescent socks, but as I try to yank my pants up past my muffin top, the realization that the high waisted jean is not something to be scoffed at hit me. The inventor of the low rise jeans was either a man or has not given birth. I do believe Lee has the right idea and I say bring on the Relaxed Riders.

Recently I went running with a friend on an early weekend morning. I own an ipod but have limited knowledge on how to use it except to download embarrassing 80s tunes. I selected for the first time the shuffle songs option and started out on a long 2 hour run. A few miles into as we are nearing a stoplight, my music stops and I find myself listening to what I think is a cal trans report. Why on earth am I getting cal trans? I thought to myself. Taking out an ear piece I asked my friend, “Hey are you getting cal trans on your ipod?” “No,” she replies looking at me strangely. Thinking I am getting some weird transmission from the stop light, I start running again and it goes away. Unfortunately it comes back. And this time I am listening to what appears to be air traffic control. Then to my horror I realize I am listening to a plane crash. I quickly tell my friend what I am hearing and she just stares at me in disbelief. I listened in shock as the controllers calmly report a plane’s plunging altitude status feet by feet. I will never forget after several minutes of their account, one controller sadly announcing after the plane had plummeting 20,000 feet, “We’ve marked the spot…We’ve marked the spot.”
WHAT!? This was horrible, I thought, I just listened to a plane full of people die. I was disturbed and just wanted to get home so we finished up our run with my ipod intermittently giving me different transmissions and reports, some in English, some not, for quite some time.
As I drove home I couldn’t find any reports of a plane crashing and I was still perplexed on how my ipod was transmitting air traffic control. Doesn’t it just download music? Man, those Apple people need to work out some of these kinks, I thought.
As soon as I got home, I rushed to tell my husband what happened because I know how obsessed he is with plane crashes. As I tell him what I heard, he starts getting the strangest look on his face. I’ve seen this look before. “What.” I say.
He starts, “Well you see, last week I was on the computer listening to black box recordings of plane crashes and I didn’t realize your ipod was plugged in.” “Uh, huh,” I said my eyes narrowing as I am trying to comprehend what he is saying. “And it just starts downloading,” he continues, “I didn’t know how to stop it and I tried getting it off but I couldn’t.” “What do you mean you were listening to recordings of plane crashes?” I seethed. I flashed back to every time we hit a stoplight I would gesture to the light above and shake my head at my friend as if saying yep it’s back. For 2 hours I did this. It never crossed my mind that the family’s drama queen was downloading disasters for easy listening. “They were crazy huh?” he starts getting excited, “Did you hear the Alaska airlines that fell into the ocean?” Um, yeah I did you freakin’ creep-o. Thanks to you I won’t be able to sleep at night after what I listened to. Unbelievable and to think he did it weeks ago and never said a word.
He has since been banned from the computer and my ipod.