Three Random Things

So, there have been three things about my son over the past month that keep popping up in my head. They are totally random other than the part that they all relate to my son. They are also seemingly not a big deal but rather a prime example of how I can over-think  over-analyze and otherwise keep my chatter going at 300 mph just for the sake of staying insane. Oh, and for the sake of always trying to find meaning even in the tiniest of things. So, I thought I would share, because what else am I to do with it all but dump it out for you to read!?

1. I recently accepted that my "perfect" little baby has officially entered his terrible toddler years. I say "years" because I learned the hard with with my daughter that the terrible two's are not just a year long insanity trip but the start of my journey to the insane asylum.

My always smiling, sweet boy has discovered the word "NO" and likes to use it a lot. He also has discovered that dramatically throwing himself on the ground, screaming and kicking, when he doesn't get his way is part of the master plan to drive mommy bat shit crazy before she reaches 40. Thankfully I started scheduling appointments around preschool time so big sis was at school during his most ridiculous fit yet.

He thought he was getting a treat after his well check because he has just been there with dad the weekend before for blood work and daddy treated them to Starbucks cake pops after getting their arms jabbed with needles. He climbed into the highchair as I waited for my coffee and sat so nicely. Unfortunately it was the morning so there were no cake pops yet and nothing that would really work as a treat on the fly. I offered lots of other cool things like watching Barney in the car, his music shaker and going or a walk. I said "NO" and shook his head to all of the above. So, I wrestled him out of the highchair and started my trek to the car with my hot coffee in one hand and my purse, little lunch bag for milk and him on the other arm kicking, throwing himself back and screaming no, no, no.

All I could do was laugh as everyone who walked by gave that, oh you poor thing look of better you than me. We stopped four times so I wouldn't drop him on his head. Who am I kidding, I just didn't want to spill my precious coffee! He'd lay on the ground kicking while I readjusted all my crap and off we'd go again. It sounds awful but it really was pretty comical. Now, if it was my daughter acting like that I would have lost my mind and been all pissed off the rest of the day. That's that favorite child thing I guess. Or maybe this yoga stuff is working. Either way, we survived the boys most hellacious tantrum in public to date. Yay me. And once again I have confirmed my perfect baby boy is growing up and my dream of him skipping this oh so fun stage has 110% been squashed.

End of a tantrum. Can you see his black eye?
See #2 about that!

2. The boy has had many nicknames since his birth. My husband has this thing for making up crazy names or words. Some have included C-love and C-money. Bubs, Lubs (as in a combo of Bub and Caleb) were common too and one I hated from Grandpop was KK. But it seems one has finally stuck. Lumpers. Sometimes it's "Lumpy" but yes, I said Lumpers. As in lump. As in, this kid knocks his head off something daily and always has some sort of lump on his big ol' noggin. Aside from his already lumpy noggin which is how a derivative of this nickname originated when he was an infant.

He often has some assistance from his sister in obtaining his daily lumps. Most recently, he ended up with a lump on the head, and a black eye to go with it, in the 5 minutes it took me to get dressed. I still have no idea what happened. Five days later at his well check discussed above, his doctor checked around his eye bones, presumably for a skull fracture! Good grief. I worry every week that his preschool teachers are going to think we abuse this poor kid! Ironically, it's Rylie, who "lumps him up" as Daddy calls it, is the reason this nickname has now stuck. His sister calls him lumpers all day long. I say "Good morning, Caleb". She says, "Morning Lumpers!" When she plays with him I hear her say, "Here you go, Lumpers". "Want to play with my, Lumpers", etc.  She informed her teacher yesterday, "That's Lumpers!" She asks me if Lumpers is up from nap yet. So on and so on.

It's funny because when deciding on our kids names we considered if their their initials would spell/represent anything funky, like HGH for example, which is one reason we didn't go with Grace for Rylie's middle name. We considered possible nicknames family, teachers and friends could come up with that might make one might say, why on earth would you name your kid that, do you hate them?! What does my Caleb become? Freakin' Lumpers. It sounds like a boxers nick name. Or what you might call a street kid who uses his fists to solve problems instead of his words! Meanwhile, it's his sister who knocks the crap out of him each day. Oy!

So, I of course over-think it and wonder if it could lead to bad this down the line. Especially since his daddy used to have no qualms about using his fists back in the day. Will people think the wrong thing about this sweet little boy and will that transform him into not being so sweet? I mean seriously, what sort of sweet kid has the nickname LUMPERS growing up?! Ok, enough of my overthinking mommy freak out over something as silly as a nickname. You get it, right?

We still have no idea how he got this one!

"best" lump yet.
Compliments of big sister

3. Moving on. This one is the least significant of them all yet has the most meaning to me. The boy is without a doubt left handed. While I know it's not really solidified until about 5 years he has been predominately left handed his he started using his hands with purpose. I would set the fork down in front of him to test it and even put it towards his right hand, which he would simply switch after the first bite or so. I've watched him climb stairs, which is supposed to be more of an indication at this age than his hands and more often than not he goes left foot first.

I personally think it cool. While it's not exactly unique, it does make him a bit different than the average Joe and I like different. It's also not very surprising. Everyone in Craig's immediate family is left handed, or was before someone forced them to switch as a kid. But the part that makes me love this about him is that my Pap was left handed. If you have Yahrzeit (click to read) then you know why this means so much to me.

As I learn more about yoga and concepts like reincarnation creep in, which I read about many years back when I was really into different religions, it makes me wonder about this seemingly little thing of Caleb being left handed. This might be a bit much for you, but I like to think that when my Pap passed just a few months after Caleb was born, a part of his spirit stuck around and now shines through in my little boy. The nurses let us sneak the kids in to say goodbye to him and he kissed his great grandson and held his hand just hours before leaving this world. So maybe, just maybe.


Now, I honestly don't know if that's how reincarnation even works! Yes, of course I know hand dominance is genetic based, like most things, and that such genes are formed long before birth. And yes, yes, he easily could have gotten this left handed thing from his daddy too BUT, as I said, I like this idea. This idea that it's my Pap's presence is beautiful to me. It's like the connection I always felt to my grandma through my inability to describe why I always knew I was a Jew, in more than the ethnicity part of it. I smile as I think that something as simple as having to always consider where Caleb will sit during holiday meals will forever keep my Pap's spirit at our Thanksgiving table. It's that same feeling I get when I light the Shabbat candles and I feel the presence of my grandma lighting them with her mom as a kid and then with her kids.

Pap holding Caleb at his Bris,
about 3 & 1/2 months before
he passed.

This thought of my Pap's presence always being here brings joy and peace to my heart. It's something I can share with Caleb as he grows up, so he can know my Pap even though he's no longer here. He isn't just tied to him because we named him the Sandik at his Bris, my Pap is a part of him, always. Whether this is why he is left handed or not, like anything a person believes, it's simply a matter of believing it in your heart that makes it true or not. And this is what I choose to believe.

As I have said so many times before, I always look for meaning in even the seemingly smallest or insignificant things. I over-think and over-analyze but sometimes it helps me, like this time.



Like I said, three random things with just my son as the common denominator!!