21 October 2013

160 Hours of Totoro

The title might be an exaggeration.


Even Batman watches Totoro.

Rory just can't seem to kick this cold. Every time he seems to be gettin better, it gets worse again. And the only way to keep him relatively peaceful (he is called Roranicus Rex for a reason), is to give him his bottle of milk and put Totoro on. He is vastly uninterested in any other movie, but will repeatedly ask for and watch Totoro. He goes to the screen, asks, pulls the case off the shelf and brings it to you. If you ignore this request? He will try to open and insert the DVD on his own.

Oh, the hours of Totoro.


Luckily, it does allow for some premium chore doing and he knows he is only allowed one Totoro viewing per day. Though we sometimes disagree on that point...

For awhile, I felt pretty awful about letting him watch it. You know, placating my child while I do my own thing. But it's such a good film. I never get tired of watching it either. It is good paced and simplistic, encouraging imagination while maintaining the normalcy of everyday life.

This morning we are watching our beloved furry friend in Mama's lap because we still don't feel well. And the chores can wait. These snuggly moments of watching children's movies will not last forever.

I will take them for as long as I get them.

03 October 2013

A Lack of Commitment and Other Things

I have like six different drafts going.

I just can't commit.

We are trying to get Rory to sleep through the night. Kind of. It's essentially an epic battle. Two nights ago he screamed between 2:30ish and 5am. The boy has will power. Struggling to even just get him to be still, I just closed my eyes and thought "This is how God feels about me; Like, "Malia, STOP STRUGGLING, I promise I know what's best for you in this moment, just go with it - idiot."" This is comforting for reasons I can't even explain. It makes me love my son more. It makes me feel like I'm doing okay even when we've had an entire day of awful. But then there are moments like this one...
My son, like his mother before him, should have had bad eyesight. Because we look adorable in glasses, Amen. He's like a miniature Clark Kent in the flesh! He took them out of his Nana's pocket and tried to put them on his face and laughed. Oh! how he laughed. The boy is full of so much joy it makes me look morose. And I'm a gaggle of fun. Sometimes. Whatever, don't judge me.

Listen, being a mom to a dinosaur is difficult. We don't always see eye to eye - primarily because he's like 2ft tall, but sometimes because he thinks crying for three hours in the middle of the night is a good idea rather than sleeping. I should add, he slept until 10am following his disastrous wake up, so I think we all know who won that battle... him.

But you should hear the way he says my name. Clear as could be, "Mama." And isn't it worth it? To be covered in banana and see those little feet run toward you when you get home? I can't think of anything better.

Except Maybe This...