Momservation: Nap time has saved many a mother’s sanity.
☺ ☺ ☺
It is a noted and accepted fact that my son cannot sit still.
He is a body in motion that stays in motion.
He is a rolling stone that gathers no moss.
Unless he’s sleeping.
In fact, that is the only time I got relief from his constant kicking when I was pregnant with him: when he was sleeping.
It explains why it surprised most people but not me when he was rolling over and sitting up at 4 months, pretty much skipped crawling and went straight to walking at 8 months, and was riding a bike, sans training wheels, at age 3. By age 4 he was biking 4 miles next to me while I ran on the American River bike trail.
The kid doesn’t do sitting still.
I remember becoming worried my preschool son had Attention Deficit Disorder while taking a required health class to keep my teaching credential current. “I think my son has ADD!” I cried to the instructor after class.
“Can he sit and watch his favorite TV show for a half hour?” she asked.
“Yeah—well, two fifteen minute episodes with some running around at the commercial break,” I said.
“Can he stay focused on activity that he’s participating in?”
“Yeah. He just needs to be moving.”
“He’s fine,” she said. “Just keep him moving.”
So I did.
But I was worried when it was time to start school. At his pre-kindergarten parent/teacher conference not only did my son surpass academic milestones, his teacher noted that when it was time to do work he was focused and attentive. To ease my fears that he was going to have a hard time in school she put this playful note in his progress report:
Logan will do very well in school as long as his desk is not near a window in sight of the playground.
Cut to junior high where Logan is a scholar athlete. Not only does he excel in academics, but he has never met a sport he can’t master. And his teachers LOVE him.
“Logan is a delight.”
“He’s a really great kid.”
“I just want to adopt him!”
These are the things teachers stop to tell me when I’m on campus. It is such a relief.
Because at home his nickname is “Bugger.” We wonder aloud if he and the family dog, a high energy Labrador, were separated at birth. They both can’t sit still. They both shove toys at you trying to get you to play. They both want nothing more than to go outside and run around. They want to play ball every waking moment. They are always harassing someone to try and get attention and therefore someone to interact and play with them. And after a day of non-stop play they both crash at night, out like a knockout punch from Chuck Liddell, only to wake bright-eyed and bushy-tailed to start the fun all over again.
The dog drives me crazy. Logan drives his sister crazy.
There is also an interesting side effect that should be noted for a boy who can’t sit still, but at times needs to sit still or stay focused.
When Logan can’t channel his energy into physical movement, it collects inside him, a mountain of energy ready to blow. And for a kid who is compliant, likes to play by the rules, and doesn’t like to get in trouble, how does this energy get appropriately released?
Non-stop chatter. A lava flow of singing, poking fun, trying to engage conversation, and generally bugging people because he can’t stop moving—even his lips.
For years he’s called people “cheeseheads” at random moments, a verbal quick release of building energy gasses.
Lately, everyone’s become “Jerrys,” for no apparent reason beyond it just bubbled out of him.
At random times, like when Logan’s supposed to be doing his required reading, you’ll hear a yell from his bedroom, “Sharon!” mimicking Ozzy Osbourne from the show The Osbournes. Then back to silent reading.
And the most recent entertaining release of energy directed at his long-suffering sister? This (usually when they should be quietly doing their homework at the dining room table):
“Whitney, can I call you Pythagorean Theorem?”
“Whitney, can I call you Istanbul?”
“Whitney, can I call you Sweet Home Alabama?”