Raising Bipolar

Sometimes things happen around here that are so funny at the time and I think Lord, I have got to write that down so I’ll remember it when Rye gets older.  But then I don’t.  And then sadly I never do remember until sometime later when some weird trigger comes up and I remember the incident again, laugh over it, think again that I need to write it down, and still never do.

Well, now I have this blog and that will all change.  I can make up for the lost years of undocumented stories and also make up for my largest downfall ever as a parent which is that I have no baby book for Rye.  That’s right.  No baby book.  Actually, I take that back.  I have an actual book.  It’s a really cute classic Winnie The Pooh theme baby book.  It just has nothing in it.  It’s really pathetic.  But I’ll tell you, it’s not without reason.  That was a busy time in my life when he was a baby.  I was a single parent, in the middle of a divorce, involved in a custody battle that was very time consuming and draining, a full-time graduate student, and a part-time employee at the University I was attending.

Anyway, things are different now and I have the time to write.  And I have the venue to do it.  So, document away, I say to myself.

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Yesterday was a long day for everyone over here.  By the time I picked up Rye from school I would say we were all a little fried and really ready for the long weekend (no school today).  Rye wanted to have a friend over.  I said fine.  We bring the friend home with us and arrive to find out we don’t have power in the house due to a fallen tree or something in the area so we all sit around the house waiting for the power to be restored.  In an effort to entertain us, Rye and and his friend start singing hip hop songs and dancing around a bit.

And then it happens.

They start singing the song “Pop, Lock and Drop It.”  Over and over again.  They are singing and waving their hands in the air like aspiring hip hop singers.  Or like Jamie Kennedy in the movie “Malibu’s Most Wanted”.   Whichever.

It was special.

Then Rye decides he is going to go on the hardwood floor and show me how to do the dance.  At first he starts slow.  ‘So mom’, he says, ‘you pop (meaning pop your booty out), lock (lock that position) and drop it (you stay in that position and drop it to a squat position).’  He does it a few time very slowly for me to see.

Pop… lock… and drop it.  Slowly.  Pop… lock… and drop it.  Pop… lock… and drop it.

Alright.  Got it.

‘Ok, now let’s go full speed,’ he says.

‘Alright,’ I say, ‘do it’.

And he does.

He goes full speed.  Pops his booty out, locks the position, drops to a squat, screams in pain as his knees have just both let out a horrific cracking (dare I say popping) noise, falls back on his bottom, lands on his tailbone on the hardwood floor and then falls over crying from the pain of his knees letting out screaming noises and then the sheer force of his body weight slamming unmercifully and directly square onto his tailbone which hits the unrelenting hardwood floor.

Now, it all happened very quickly and I have to say, me and the friend, despite the fact that we are both very compassionate people, both burst into hysterical laughter.  I mean we had tears coming out of our eyes.

Was in appropriate response?  No.

Was it a mom-of-the-year (or as Don calls it MOY) response?  No.

Was in unavoidable?  Yes.  It was completely automatic.  Because honestly, it was so darn funny.  And luckily Rye saw the humor in it too and after a brief moment of crying and thinking he had permanently damaged his knees and tailbone, he laughed as well.

Now, I won’t bet on it but I’d venture to say it will be a while before we see him do that dance again.

Ah yes, the old “Pop, Lock and Drop It.”

It’s a classic.