What IS "It Is What It Is"?

I’ve had countless requests to explain the title of my blog, since many of you may not have been on Facebook when that particular gem was first made known.  And while I will certainly share that with you, I thought it would be fun to also pull out a few other “oldies but goodies”.  After all, many of the things he’s said are more or less one-liners, and require little explanation.  (But who’s kidding?  There’s no explaining that kid.)

I named this blog “It Is What It Is” because that phrase is, to date, my favorite “ism” to come out of my son’s mouth.  While we all know Cael has humor oozing out of his pores, I believe the funniest things he says are either things that are completely taboo (nuts, anyone?) or things that are waaaay beyond his maturity level.  

His adult-speak began with the line “Bills, bills, bills.  Nothing but bills!” that he picked up from television and then repeated every time I opened the mail, read papers or even looked at the phone book.  But even that didn’t prepare me for his most famous line.

“Cael, are you ready for naptime?”

“What choice do I have, Mommy?  It is what it is.”

When Cael, in his infinite wisdom says something like this, I’m almost tempted to reward him by letting him stay up past naptime.  But let’s face it—while that may be a reward for him, it’s nothing more than a punishment for me!  So, rather than subject myself to the inevitable tears and fits that accompany little sleep, I’ve chosen to give him a hug and big laugh, and then run to the computer to share it all with you.

And thus begins the task of choosing which “Caelisms” to share with you.  Let’s start at the every beginning.  According to Facebook (because Facebook has recently taken over for the moon as the entity that controls the tides and orbits the Earth) the first true “Caelism” I shared was on March 28, 2010.  My then two year-old was really getting into nightly prayers, and really enjoyed thanking God for the good things that happened that day.  I did not know yet that what I was about to hear was simply a taste of things to come.

“Dear God, thank you for a great day.  Thank you for…”

“Thanks for puppies, chips, and TOOTS!”

I should have seen it coming at that point, right?  I guess I thought his sassiness was just a component of the “terrible twos” that, by my calculations, begin at about 15 months and last until death.   But I quickly realized this crazy little loon in my house could really be exceptional.  Granted, he was right on par developmentally, not really ahead of the curve physically, but his ability to make me throw my hands in the air was (and is) unparalleled!  Especially when he hit me with conversations like this one the following September.

Where are we going, Mommy?

To the store.

We going to the store Mommy? To the store? We driving in the van? Mommy? To the store? We going to the store? What you going to get, Mommy? At the store? You going to the store? Mommy? Are you driving, Mommy? You driving to the store in the van? You going to the store? I not want to go to the store. You driving in the van, Mommy? You going to the store?

He’s clearly exceptional.  Just a few days later, after I had sobered up and patched the bald spots from where I’d pulled my hair out, Cael told me a little bit about his future plans.

“What do you want to do today?”

“I want to be a gym teacher.”

“Whatever, dude.”

This desire to be a gym teacher continued for many months, and he still mentions it occasionally.  Of course, his future profession has changed, and he now looks forward to being a train “Ductor”— a direct result of his recent train obsession.  This obsession is just one of many, so beware, future parents!  In additional to the cute things like liking trains or bubbles or building forts, if you have a boy he will be obsessed with poop.

"Head, shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes. Head, shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes. Eyes and ears and mouth and nose, head shoulders knees and toes and neck and hair and tummy button and bottom and tongue and boogers and elbow and poo-poo and pee!"

But if you’re lucky, they will take a break from the naughtiness, the sassiness and the “poopiness” to remind you that they are still little and still can be sweet and surprise you now and then.  Cael caught me off guard last February when he told me,

“Mommy, I like the letters and they like me.  I’m a good friend because I like to read them.”

Or in early March when he started asking Daddy about God.

"Look at the pretty sunset! Who somebody painted that sunset?"

Daddy: "God painted it."

"Where is God, Daddy?"

"He's up in heaven."

"Is hebben a long way away?"

"Yes, it's very far."

"I want to see that hebben."

"Not yet, Cael."

Cue the collective “awww…”  (For those of you that think I made a grammatical slip-up, Cael actually used the words “who somebody”.  Until recently, Cael used a lot of “who somebody did that” and “what something happened”.)  And in keeping with the religious theme, thus ends the reading of Cael’s “holy” words.  Back to sass.  And “poop”.

"A B C D E F Poop! H I J K M M M O Poop. Q R Poop, T U Poop, W X, Y and Poop... Now I know my poopy poops, next time won't you sing with poop!"

I think that song is a pretty good metaphor for Cael in general.   A normal, everyday kid… but with a twist and a twinkle in his eye.  Can you see why I call him my monkey?

"Mommy, I think I really AM a monkey. I jump a lot, see? And I like to eat bananas."

"But Cael, where is your fur? And where is your tail?"

"My fur is on my head, and it's curly. And I'm hiding my tail inside my underpants."

And with that, friends, you are caught up!  My monkey is crazy, stinky, wild, rambunctious, troublesome, silly, energetic, funny, clever, mischievous, creative, exhausting, and wonderful. 
 

Wouldn’t want it any other way.

Once Upon a Time...

Cael and Graham have a really strange dichotomy to their relationship, although it’s one that I’m guessing is fairly common among brothers.  It seems that one minute, they are fighting over a toy, then almost immediately playing together and giggling endlessly.  Almost as quickly, however, they are back to wrestling and elbows are flying.  That’s been the flavor of the week; the desire to be friends and the just-as-strong desire to battle. 

Yesterday morning as we were wrapping up breakfast, Graham started whining.  (Oh, the whining!)  Since I was washing dishes and up to my elbows in soapy water, I asked Cael to “make Graham happy”.  Usually this means to give him a hug or a toy to distract him from whatever has upset him.  Today, however, he decided that he wanted to tell Graham a story.  Who am I to thwart his efforts?  Go for it, Cael! 

Bad choice.

“Graham, I’m going to tell you a story.  Okay.  One time there was a Graham, and he was a baby.  He peed on the floor and then Oscar bit him and he cried.  I picked up Graham and put him in the potty and flushed him down the potty and he was all gone.  And the potty was broken because he was too big to flush down the potty.  So there was no Graham and no potty and Oscar was sad.  But I was a good boy so I got to have cookies and I got to watch Mickey Mouse Clubhouse.”

And there’s sweet little Graham, smiling away because his big brother made up a story for him.  Clearly he doesn’t understand that Cael has already plotted his watery and untimely death.  I think that he—

 “And THEN!  There is a dragon and a BEAR!  The bear finds Graham but he can’t get him out of the potty so the dragon picks him up and flies away but his tail gets stuck and it makes him toot!  It’s really stinky, too.” (Laughing… still laughing.) “The bear says YUCK!  So he takes Graham and puts him in a bag and brings him back to Mommy, but she’s cooking, so the bear puts Graham in his bed but he doesn’t give him Barker because he’s still with the dragon.  (Barker is Graham’s stuffed best friend.)  Graham misses Barker and he cries and cries and cries FOREVER!”

So this was clearly a parenting misstep.  Sticks and stones, right? Lord only knows that it wasn’t the first and it won’t be the last time I make a Mommy mistake.  Need evidence?

Once he heard that Barker was no longer available to him in this alternate universe of puppies and dragons and bears (oh my!), he started to become wise to the fact that this was NOT a happy story.  I love how he is still young enough that you can literally see him thinking; the expressions on his face show not only what he thinking but how he processes each situation.  Are you curious about the look on his face from the beginning of the story to the end?  Pretty much like this.  (These photos were taken last weekend, but I think they illustrate this story pretty well too…)

So how does a Mommy resolve this situation and avoid another parenting misstep?  My first instinct was a timeout or some other option to get Cael away from Graham, who was still wailing in the background.  I was caught in my tracks, however, by Cael’s response.

“Mommy, I DID IT!”

“You did what, Cael?”

“I made Graham stop whining.”

That you did, Cael.  What more is there to say?

Murphy's Law

I learned a lot of new things this weekend.  First, I learned that when Murphy set out to develop his now infamous law, he was probably thinking about camping.  Not familiar with Murphy’s Law?  Allow me to enlighten you.  In basic terms, Murphy’s Law says, “anything that can go wrong will go wrong”. 

Now, I am not an outdoorsy gal.  My idea of ”roughing it”, like so many other women I know, is a hotel without room service.   Adding to the “charm” of this experience with that it was my very first camping excursion. 

We decided to share this oh-so-wonderful experience with some good friends—the kind that could make walking through the desert fun just because they were with us.  That’s the good news.  But from the very beginning, luck wasn’t on our side.  The guys got up super early on Friday morning to reserve our spots at Squaw Creek Park, which were no longer available due to the throngs of people that also chose to subject themselves to this “fun” activity and 90+ degree heat.  We are an intelligent bunch.

With our camping slots unavailable, we decided to simply go to Palisades Park, as it is close and had one “buddy” slot available.  At 4:00 that afternoon, and after only one trip back to the house because we forgot diapers (my brain shut off at about 85 degrees, people) we unloaded and climbed into our shiny Airstream.

Okay, wives… does this sound familiar?  Your husband first sees something on TV, or maybe in a magazine.  “Hmm, that’s kinda cool”, he says.  Aw, crap.  Then a few days later, “You know what would be fun?”  You know where this is going, so in an effort to slow down the inevitable purchasing spiral that is about to take place, you interject with, “Yeah, that’s really great, dear, but we really don’t NEED an Airstream right now.”  His response?  “Oh, I know.  I’m just thinking about it.  Not buying at all- but maybe someday we could do that... like in a few years.  It would be fun to go camping.” 

So two weeks later Joel pulls into the driveway with our 5,000 pound 35 foot roll of aluminum foil Airstream trailer.  My interest in this project extends only as far as my ability to redecorate the inside to be more like home.  (No thank you, 1970’s burnt orange.)  But when the project was done, I have to admit that it looked pretty cool, and might be fun to get a break from life/bills/bad tv and spend a day or two outside. 

It’s at the peak of the day, with no water (because of a bad water pump and a still-drying-out trailer), sweltering heat and no shade, that I am regretting my earlier admission.  What were we thinking?  What is fun about regular life minus modern conveniences?  Just then our friends realize that their air conditioning doesn’t work.  Yep, sounds about right.  Thankfully these are good friends and they decided to stick it out with us and hope for a cooler night.  It is what it is, right? 

The evening went by as a blur— our 4 children + another friend’s 3 kids = 7 flesh-colored streaks running in circles, only stopping to beg for food, cry over flesh wounds or tell on someone else (more often than not Cael was doing the tattling, and WAAAY more often than not, Cael was the one being told on).  But amazingly, night did come even in the heat of the park and one by one, the kids went to bed and the four of us were left to relax. 

Wait—what’s that?  Did you hear it?  Oh, never mind.  It’s only the sound of the 6 different raccoons that tried to break into our campsite.  Apparently the Palisades raccoons missed the memo that Murphy was crashing in an Airstream and an old Winnebago.  We shooed them away repeatedly, which only instilled a new fear in me as I walked to the shower house to use the restrooms.  I wonder if I could fend off a rabid raccoon with a bright light from my iPhone… is there an app for that?

Our camping excursion ended abruptly as an incoming storm looked threatening on the radar.  We packed up our gear and hunkered down in our campers just in time to escape the deluge of sunshine and breeziness that ransacked our campsite.  With no chairs, food, etc. there was no reason to stay, so our day of fun was complete.

As I mentioned at the beginning of this post, I learned a number of things this weekend.  Aside from my new found understanding of sadistic pastimes, I also learned:

 

-       Toilet paper in campground bathrooms comes off only one square at a time.  Completely insufficient when you’re collecting sweat in places you didn’t know you had. 

-       My children are so pale, they are more reflective than our mirror-shine Airstream.  I think they produce their own SPF.  Chances are good that if you rub your kid on my kid, they’ll be UV resistant.

-       If you’re at all overweight, children in the shower-house bathroom will think you’re pregnant. 

-       Lastly, if your husband likes it, and your kids like it, you’d do it again in a heartbeat.  Perhaps not without a sarcastic remark or two, but that’s just me. :)

Caelism of the Day

"Mommy, am I growing up?"

"Yep, you're getting bigger everyday."

"What is getting bigger?  My feet?"

"Yes, your feet, your hands, your whole body!  You're getting smarter and bigger."

"You're getting bigger too, Mommy.  You're HUGE!"

I must be reeeeally smart.

Routine Ad Nauseam

You know how all of the parenting experts tell new parents that forming a routine is essential for your child’s success?  Well I’m no parenting expert (my kid just asked a stranger about his nuts, remember?) but I think this advice needs some revision.  There are routines to be made, of course, like teeth brushing, family dinners and bedtime.  But what these so-called experts have so thoughtlessly left out is that your child will create routines of their own. 

And they will be weird.

Our day is filled with these bizarre rituals, and Cael is the master.  It is a near certainty that if you do something remotely funny even once, whether intentional or accidental, you will be required to repeat this action ad nauseam.  Take for example, one of last year’s strangest routines in which Cael would require Papa to take him on a tour of our kitchen/dining room every time he stopped by the house.  After looking out of all the windows in the house, Papa was required to stop at the wine tower so that Cael could remove a set of fancy Japanese chopsticks from a pottery bowl and use them to poke a set of decorative plastic grapes.

I’ve accepted my kid’s eccentricities, but why would he do this?  Most everything Cael says or does is dripping with satirical wisdom, as though it was ripped from an episode of Saturday Night Live.  So surely this grape-poking has a purpose, right?  Perhaps he’s hungry and attempting to skewer a snack?

“Cael, do you want to eat some grapes?

“Nope.”

Strike one.  Maybe he’s not after the grapes at all, but some toy he thinks he has misplaced, or a bug that once flew near the bowl.  (Cael is notorious for his memory.  It's likely that by this time, he has named this bug, created a storyline about its family and  has a vested interest in the bug's well-being.  Or my chopstick-wielding son simply wants to smash a bug.) 

“Cael, is there something else up there you need?”

“No.”

Strike two.  (Ever notice how your kid won’t stop talking when you want them to be quiet, and when you’re seeking info they are a locked vault?  If you figure out the secret to accessing “locked vault stage” please let me know.  I can pay you in plastic grapes.)  Sensing that I won’t guess his motivation, I just dig in and go for it.

“Cael, it’s kinda weird that you like to poke the grapes.  Why do you do that so much?”

“Because, Mommy.  I’m a grape-poker.  When I grow up, I’m going to be a gym teacher and I’m going to poke grapes.”

Ah, yes.

Even though I’m able to look back at the grape-poking days of yore and smile, I know that when that routine left us, it was replaced with something even stranger and longer lasting.  What could be more unusual than grape-poking, you ask?  How about giving out free haircuts using a pair of plastic pliers that are only stored in an empty corn dog container? 

Cael’s routines have morphed from imaginary haircuts to an insistence on knowing store clerks’ names and upon gaining that information, aggressively requesting that they come to our house to play.  Today his sole focus in life is trains, and while it’s incredibly typical for a three-year-old to love trains, I do find it somewhat unlikely that most parents are required to recreate the “Let’s go find that girl!” scene from Polar Express on restaurant napkins and kids’ menus. 

“Mommy, you forgot the whistle!  And the hobo’s cup of coffee!  And the hook on the back of the caboose!”

I know that he will grow out of it someday and the memory of his antics will tug at my heart.  Until that time, however, I always have Graham and his nonstop deer kissing.

And that’s not weird at all. 

Too Many Questions

My son is three.  That’s really all you need to know to understand the following post, but allow me to set the scene a bit.  Coming home from dinner last night, I decided to indulge Cael and try to “find a train”.  In Mt. Vernon, there’s virtually no “finding” involved.  Simply position yourself north of town, and watch out so you don’t get ramrodded by the umpteenth train to pass through town each day.

I pulled over into a parking lot near a park and baseball diamond so we could wait for said train.  Little did I know we would not see a train, but my kids would become completely enthralled with the baseball game taking place not far away.  With each pitch, swing, catch, run, or movement from anyone in the diamond, Graham let out a big “WHOA”!  (Need an example?  Check out Graham hunting for Easter eggs here.  Make sure you catch Cael stealing eggs out of Graham’s basket.)

Cael was unusually quiet.  Uh-oh.  My brain tells me that one of three things is about to happen:  naughtiness of some form, toots, or a barrage of questions.  As he began talking, I mentally filled in the “C” circle on my imaginary Scantron…

“Mommy, what are those kids doing?”

“Playing baseball, Cael.”

“Why are they playing baseball?”

“Because they think it’s fun.”

“Why do they think it’s fun?”

“Because they like sports.”

“What are sports?

“You know what sports are.  They are games, like football, baseball, basketball, soccer.  You like sports.”

“Why do I like sports?”

(It’s at this point that I would normally employ some sort of conversation ending statement like “Because I said so” or “That’s just how it is”, but I was feeling unusually patient, so I let it go.)

“Because you like to run and play.”

“Why do I play?”

“Because playing helps you learn, and you get to use your imagination.”

“What’s an imachinshun?”

“I-m-a-g-i-n-a-t-i-o-n, Cael.  Like pretending.”

“Why is imachinashun light pretending?”

“You misheard me.  Using your imagination is the same as pretending.”

“Why did I mishear you?”

“I don’t know, but I think you understand it now.”

“Do I understand it now?”

“I don’t know… do you?”

(Anyone hear “Who’s on First” playing in the distance?)

“Yes, I do.  But Mommy, what are those kids doing?”

“Playing baseball, Cael!  Holy cow!”

“Too many questions, Mommy?” 

“Mommy?”

 “Yes, Cael.  Too many questions.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Why too many questions, Mommy?”

……..

Cael's Signature Offense

Today has been one of those days.  Not the would-like-to-poke-myself-in-the-eye kind of day, but the kind where nothing is easy.  If you have kids, you know the kind.

The real kicker was the front door visit from a very friendly albeit socially inept religious "representative" that most definitely does not have children.  It's clear that he feels we can be converted, although the truth is that I'd be more likely to convert to the metric system at this point.  As he reads verbatim from his leaflet, I see from the corner of my eye that Graham has located the inflatable hatchet so lovingly provided in a kids meal (thanks Arby's) and is beating the dog over the head with it.

Oh well, it's inflatable... right?

I'm doing my best to keep my demons children at bay when I realize Cael is about to do the thing I MOST fear.  You parents know what I mean... the specific thing your kid tends to pull out at the worst possible moment.  The one that he/she feels will embarrass you most.  For many it's a naughty word, up-to-the-elbow nose-picking or really egregious gas-passing.  Cael's signature offense is verbal, which is really pretty fitting, and I see it coming a mere second before he speaks it to the very official gentleman at my front door...

"Hey... do you have NUTS?"

Yep, my kid just questioned a complete stranger about his genitalia.  Cael reserves this phrase for only the most special occasions, and I guess he deemed this appropriate.  He was pretty proud of himself when he saw the look of shock and awe come across my face.  I've come to the conclusion that this really is a lose-lose scenario.  I could choose Option A:  Interrupt Mr. Religious and scold my kid but likely start laughing in the middle of my unsuccessful lecture; or Option B:  Ignore what he said and know that this man is judging my lack of parenting skills.  Ooh, toughie.

Thankfully (or maybe not), I didn't have to make the choice, because when confronted about whether or not he had "nuts", the man simply answered, "Nope, no nuts today.  Just an old fuzzy mint in my pocket."

Whew.  Now how do I explain that to Cael....?