After what seems like a forever-long hiatus, and a three-week long trip to New Zealand I have decided to get back on the horse (as it were) and start blogging again. Our trip to New Zealand left my son Leif behind in Canada so my husband and I could have what we have been calling "Honeymoon 2.0".
Leif spent his three weeks without us entertaining his 2 grandmothers. All was pretty normal, for the most part: he went to school, went to swimming lessons, ate his vegetables and didn't learn any new tricks that I know of. One phone conversation with my mother in law did start an odd chain of events however.
Picture me stuffed in to a tiny New Zealand phone booth with my giant (6'6", 220 lb) husband on a hot, humid day dialling what seemed like 56 numbers to call home. Over a crackly phone line my mother-in-law answered and we chit chatted for a few seconds before talking to Leif, then back to grandma.
"Okay Grandma, so everything else is going alright?" I asked. As I was talking I was trying to cover my face because my gentlemanly husband thought passing gas in the 35 degree Celsius phone booth would probably be the funniest thing ever. It was to him. It was not to me.
"Well...you know Leif was asking what would happen to him if you died...I just told him he'd come live with me" She replied, sounding a million miles away.
"Oh, well that sounds about right...I guess...Okay well I'll deal with that when I get home." I answered, a little unsure of how to react.
Now, of course we have a plan as to what will happen to Leif if something were to happen to us, but like anyone who isn't a nutball, I prefer not to think about it. I prefer to think about how much money I'm going to have to save for the kid's therapy when he's an adult from having the kind of parents that were always there for him. Obviously Leif has more morbid-than-average sensibilities so I thought I should probably address this now before it got out of hand, so tonight over spaghetti I brought it up.
As I scooped out spaghetti I, as casually as possible, posed the question to him. "So, Leif, I heard you were concerned about what would happen if something happened to mom and dad?" Cue spilling sauce all down my pants.
Not looking up from his bread he replied "Well mom, when I didn't hear from you I was concerned. But then I asked Grandma C, and Grandma Jean, and I realized that I'd live with them...so I'm not worried anymore".
"Right...well that's good. But you would be sad though..."
As nonchalantly as humanly possible he said "No. It would be awesome to live with the Grandma's. I wouldn't really care at all".
The next thoughts that came in to my head aren't exactly...motherly. I know it's wrong to be hurt over his well-adjusted nature, but in that moment I felt like that shoe we've all passed on the highway and wondered "Who loses one shoe on the highway?"; the shoe that was so useless it wasn't even worth going back for. The shoe that is better without its mate. However, I still feel like I responded like any mature, responsible parent.
"Well, but what if Grandma couldn't take you...then what would you do?" See- Mature. Just showing him that every plan may need a back up.
"Oh mom, I'd live with auntie, or uncle...really I could live with anyone." the little traitor doesn't even look up from his spaghetti. I remind myself that spaghetti is one of his favourites; I don't think I'll be making it for a while.
"But you'd think about me every day, right? You'd miss me?" I realize I was getting a bit desperate at this point.
"Well, I'd be busy...swimming, eating cookies, going shopping, playing video games with Grandpa. You know how it is". Ungrateful basta - uh, beautiful child.
I suppose I should be grateful I have a relatively well-adjusted child...
Note to Grade One teacher re: Leif's new diet
Dear Mrs. B:
Leif may comment on his lunch lately being a little light on the cookies for dessert. Unfortunately all the cookies that his grandma has made him were mysteriously thrown away. There will probably be a cookie shortage all year.