Hayes-ey Who?

A funny thing happened while I was dreamily shopping for clothes, a school and activities for my little lovely, not at all preoccupied with what he wants: He started telling me what he likes and doesn’t. You know, in that public, high-pitched, temper tantrum, two-year old sort of way that is impossible to ignore.

A girl can dream, right? Well, I’m one of the best. And if I had my way, Hayes would turn out something like this guy:



Now, let’s be clear, I don’t know the first about who Pharrell really is but he sure seems to be smart and business savvy, talented, successful, cute, youthful, have great style in clothes, sneakers and ladies, and can take care of his momma, if she happens to need taken care of.

But what if the man I’m raising, rearing, molding turns out to be this guy?



What if my son turns out like me—like most of us, in fact—not exactly who our parents thought we would be? I’d like to say I would accept Hayes for whoever he intrinsically is because I just can’t imagine not. However, in all fairness, right now I can’t imagine a tomorrow beyond what Hayes will eat for breakfast, what his daily school report will say, what his first hobby will be, when I’ll set his next doctor’s appointment, and what hat he will wear this winter.

With so many parents genuinely disappointed by who their children have become, it is one of life’s most common tragedies. And everyone has the same childhood story to tell about how they weren’t accepted or recognized for who they really are.

It makes me wonder whether acceptance is an adjustment parents just don’t get around to thinking about making before their children are grown and making their own decisions. Or is it that children have a way of coming up the most unexpected ways of expressing themselves, unintentionally disappointing their folks?

Not sure, but the thought jumped into my head almost immediately after Hayes began declaring war on a few things I think are just perfect for him. But I guess I should start making some adjustments right away.

Update

So, remember that birthday party I was stressing over? The one where I just knew Hayes was going to throw a fit about not being able to eat the cake since he's vegan? Really, I should know by now to give my little monster more credit for being an easy going little monster because everything worked out just fine, as it usually does. Yes, he was excited about the candles on the cookie cake. And yes, he watched wide-eyed as everyone around him grabbed a great big chocolate chip slice. But when I whipped out a banana and the perfectly soft semi-homemade vegan chocolate chip cookies I packed especially for what I thought would be a meltdown, he smiled and ate 'em up. Thank God. ...And Bob's Red Mill Gluten Free, Wheat Free, Dairy Free Chocolate Chip Cookie Mix. Mmmm...yummy! Here's a picture and the ridiculously easy recipe:



1 bag cookie mix
1/2 c soy butter (cold but mixed until soft)
1 egg replacement

Preheat oven to 350F. Grease cookie sheet. Combine soft butter and egg replacement, mix well. Add cookie mix. Blend well. Press and shape dough into balls for baking. Bake for 10 minutes. Cool, serve and feel good that no animals were harmed in the making.

What?...No takers?

Gully! Gorgeous!

I had a crush on Kimora Lee Simmons before she got her own reality TV show. She was unapologetically ghetto fabulous way before it was ok to say it to someone’s face. And when it comes to being fabu, she doesn’t mess around. She works her booty off as the head of her own fashion empire, designing, modeling, and doing everything in between, and she’s also a mom. So, as far as I’m concerned, she deserves that exorbitant Louis V collection.

OK, enough with all the admiration. Here are a few solid reasons why you might also find Ms. Lee fascinating:

-Kimora actually uses “fabulosity” as a word…in, like, sentences…at board meetings.

-It’s refreshing to see someone on a reality show actually working—and just as hard as everyday folk.

-Kimora’s marketing guy, James, is hilarious!

-If you think you know what a diva is…

-Kimora loves that she’s a mom, and lives it—which is important since celeb-types often forget what that really means.

Check out my newest TV obsession “Kimora: Life in the Fab Lane” so we can live vicariously and discuss.

TGI-freaking F!

Hmmm… Who can I blame for it being Friday?

All I know is that if I were the one in control of the cosmos, I wouldn’t waste a second rewinding the week to give myself one more day to get it together. By ‘it’ I’m referring to an upcoming birthday party Hayes has been invited to. What’s worse than feeling like I’m totally behind—I mean, I haven’t even begun to shop for a gift and the party is tomorrow—is my anxiety about how the whole cutting-the-cake-and-eating-it-thing will play out with Hayes. And what’s worst of all is that I’ve managed to work myself into a small-scale frenzy over a toddler party I’m not even responsible for. In fact, I don’t even know the kid.

So what of my sudden and probably totally unwarranted worry? Well, there will be cake…with candles. And Hayes loves cake. Hayes loves cakes with candles. But Hayes is vegan. And until now, he has only been to parties of close friends who have been happy to accommodate our diet of choice. And since I don’t know this birthday boy or his family, and they don’t know us, I’m nervous. Because vegan-by-choice doesn’t always go over so well with people who don’t love you and/or who aren’t also vegan.

Maybe I’m making more out of this whole thing than is necessary. At least I hope that’s the case. But I’m actually considering baking vegan chocolate chip cookies to help alleviate the I-can’t-eat-the-dairy-laden-cake-awkwardness I’m trying to avoid. But what’s the etiquette here? Do I show up with enough cookies for Hayes to share with his friends? {I just can’t see a bunch of three year olds will be going crazy over brick-hard vegan treats}. Yikes! I’m just now realizing that I’ve never made a vegan cookie in my life…! What if Hayes won’t even eat them? Omigod! Just wake me when this whole thing is over because, really, being a baker and a mom is much too much for me.

Funny, all of this angst and Hayes, living in his protective little bubble of oblivion called childhood, has not a clue how big a day tomorrow will be…for the both of us.

Check back for the update.

Hey with a Z

Walking through the neighborhood the other day, I called out to Hayes who had spontaneously bolted in the opposite direction of where I was headed. I continued to shout his name until his motor-feet slowed to a stop.

An elderly woman walking on the other side of the street, crossed over clutching her cane firmly in one hand. She came directly up to me and said, “If you keep calling him 'hey!' he’ll never learn to listen to you.”

“Excuse me?” I asked genuinely confused.

“Call him by his proper name if you don’t want him to ignore you,” she made her point clearer this time.

“His name is Hayes,” I replied.

I couldn't help but take a tone with the whole scenario.

Yeah, maybe I should have added a thank you since she was only sharing her expert advice with me on how to be a good mom. But for that reason exactly, I decided on a fake smile and a 'mind your own business' under my breath instead.