He gets it from me?

Ever since Brogan’s feisty little personality started to present itself – along with the mischief and hyper-activity, I was certain this came from my husband.  I had heard the stories from his parents about he and his twin brother always fighting; I still hear from his dad (to Blake) the infamous words, “you pay for your raising when you raise your own.” So surely Brogan’s traits were courtesy of his paternal chromosomes. And if it didn’t come from my husband, then it must have come straight out of thin air. Made sense to me.

And then one day at work, I was telling one my hundreds of Brogan stories, when I made the remark, “I don’t know where he gets it from” to which my co-worker quickly interjected, “you don’t know where he get’s it from?” “No.” Chuckles followed.  “He gets it from you.” Bam. The honesty hit me upside the head. I have read about the Johari Window and the “Blind Spot” (the part of one’s self that is known to others, but not known to you) and perhaps I just thought I didn’t have one. I do.  It’s that all of my adult quirks (and as I would discover later, my younger self as well) are alive in a toddler and that is just plain scary – it’s my energy level and buzzing throughout the office (whether or not I’ve had three cups of coffee, but especially when I do). It’s my tendency to rarely sit still and always have too much going on.  I have been called headstrong and stubborn; I can sometimes be bossy, and a bit of a control-freak. My Meyers-Briggs type is ENFJ, which I’ve seen called a “smooth-talking persuader.” Oh yes, I did this to myself; my son gets it from me.

This realization was later substantiated by my Aunt over Labor Day weekend. After seeing Brogan in action for a couple of days, she asked, “you know who Brogan reminds me of?” [insert short-term memory failure] I replied, “Brian?” (my brother who when we were little was the hellion of the bunch and I can remember a time where he was spanked every single day – he was bad) “No,” my Aunt said, “you when you were his age.” Well damn. Apparently I’ve been like this for a while.  She followed it up with flattery – I suppose she saw through most of Brogan’s antics in favor of the smart, independent, inquisitive little boy he is (as do I most the time, if I’m being honest).  And when my mom was visiting this weekend, now in my enlightened state of being, I asked her opinion on the topic – she concurred.

Perhaps this realization will help me keep things in perspective. When I’m caught up in his behavior issues, feeling as though I’m failing him as a parent, worried that he may turn into a juvenile delinquent, I need to remember that I didn’t turn out half bad. It could be debated if I turned out half good eitherl, but let’s not split hairs.  So I’m just going to embrace my little guy and his awesome genes and just own it.  We’re two peas in a pod, after all.

Brogan and Me2

From the Mouth of My 3-year-old


It is true, kids say the darndest things.  My 3-year-old continuously amazes me with his remarks. Especially when he says something which lets me know that he knows more than we give him credit for… or when he demonstrates a brazen act of talking back, but said with such innocence, that he has you questioning whether he was really just talking back.  The answer to that question is almost always  yes – he’s smart and he’s a charmer, so he’s already mastered the art of manipulation.  So here are a couple of his one-liners from the last couple of days.  I really need to keep a pen and paper more handy because this child gives me so much material!

Brogan:  Mommy, I’m thirsty.
Me:  Sorry buddy, you just had some water and you don’t need any more because you might wet the bed.
Brogan:  That’s okay. I’ll just get out of bed and get more when you go downstairs.

Well, at least he’s honest…

Brogan:  I want a marshmallow.
Me:  Buddy, you have to eat your dinner, and if you eat really good, you can have a marshmallow for dessert.
Brogan: Uh, no thanks, I’m good. I just want a marshmallow.

Well, at least he knows what he wants…

Me:  [in the bath] Brogan, stand up so I can wash you.
Brogan:  [stands up] See mommy, I know how to listen!
Me:  [no words; utter shock]

Me:  Beckett, no sir!  Stop hitting your brother!
Brogan:  That’s alright.  I will handle it.

Brogan:  [shouts something to me from another room]
Me:  What did you say?
Brogan:  Nevermind.
Me:  No, buddy, I couldn’t hear what you said.

Oh, how much fun he will be as a teenager!

And my favorite from this weekend… more proof that my son is, in fact, a ladies man.  This was said to my sister-in-law’s pretty little 16-year-old friend.

Brogan: [upon seeing Savannah for the first time in a couple of months] Savannah, I’ve been missin’ you! [as he runs to her and gives her a big hug around the legs]
Brogan: [about 30 minutes after the first comment, obviously he needed some time to find the right words] So Savannah, do you like to go to the mall?

Really?? My 3-year-old has already figured out the ladies like when you talk about things they are interested in… Oh, Brogan, you are wise beyond your years, my son.  I only hope that you are able to charm the moms and dads as well as you charm the girls… in an effort to decrease all the parent calls, of course.  Oh, the joys.

The Ladies Man

My three year old is a ladies man.  I think I’m in trouble.  I can’t pinpoint exactly where this came from – perhaps it’s a natural charisma, perhaps it’s too many country music videos.  But wherever the origin, Brogan loves the ladies – and the ladies love him.

The first signs of his blatant “ladies man” act came a couple of months ago when we were at the mall and he asked his dad if he could go meet some girls.  We were a little caught off guard by his confident request, but we laughed and thought it was cute.  But he was serious, he had his eyes peeled for “pretty girls” and kept repeating his question making sure we didn’t forget why he wanted to be at the mall.

When we’re in a waiting room – getting hair cut, doctor’s office, you name it – if there is a cute girl around, he will go sit right next to her.  On the surface, not too awkward, except that there are typically 25 other empty seats and he picks the one right next to the girl.  Then he tries to scoot as close as he can to her, until he’s nearly in her lap.  It’s similar to when you’re the only person in an elevator, and someone else boards and stands right next too you – it’s just a little uncomfortable.

And he continued to push the envelope the other night at dinner when the waitress walked within arm distance and he grabbed her around the waist to give her a “hug”… not just a normal hug, a tight, long, I don’t want to let go kind of hug.  It straddled the line of inappropriateness and we told him he couldn’t just hug people like that.  But our waitress was flattered and thought it was the cutest thing ever, thus feeding into Brogan’s constant quest to be the center of attention.  Great.

When we were on our way out, he figured he’d sneak one more in and gave the hostess an “I love you” with her hug.  Again, this was met with ohhs and ahhs and she told him that he had made her night.  So Brogan walked off, smug, feeling very proud of himself for impressing the ladies, causing a little commotion and pushing the envelope with his parents.  I worry because while it’s cute at three – he can’t be walking up to strangers professing love and giving hugs that last just a little too long forever.  I worry because as I’ve come to discover, if he’ll do it in front of me, he’ll do it at school and they won’t think it’s that cute.  I worry about where this progresses… oh dear Lord, please keep it rated G!  And I mostly worry because I know him.  This is just the beginning.  I think he’s one of those kids – one of those boys – who is just going to be a ladies man, and there won’t be much we can do to stop it.  So look out – lock up your daughters! My son’s three going on 16 and I am so not ready for this.

Brogan the ladies man

The Rehearsal Dinner

Brogan and Beckett

So I must admit, even though my boys are only 1 and 3, I’m already thinking of the stories that will be told at their rehearsal dinners.  I’m certainly in no rush for them to grow up, let alone get married! (The thought actually gets me choked up!) But for some reason when they do something really good (and by good, I don’t really mean good) it’s like the contrasting thoughts of I can’t believe you just did that and one day we’ll all laugh at this make me think we’re telling this at your rehearsal dinner!

Now Brogan, partly because he’s older and has had more opportunity for precarious situations, and partly because he’s a special, special child, has given me the most material for his rehearsal dinner speech. He’s done really cute things like when he was potty training, and after his dad let him go potty outside (once), decided that he was advanced enough to drop his drawers, remove his diaper and pee out of our split-rail fence toward the road and within eyeshot of about five of our neighbors houses.  Blake called rehearsal dinner on this one.  Or the one day, when I got a phone call from Brogan’s preschool director who informed me that Brogan bit a little boy (second time in a week) and would therefore have to be suspended for the rest of the week (it was a Tuesday).  So when the first time (and hopefully last) your son gets suspended is when he’s two years old and in preschool, that my friends, is another rehearsal dinner worthy story.

Now let’s not get caught up on the reference to a rehearsal dinner – I fully recognize that I can’t see into the future, and have no idea if a rehearsal dinner will be a part of it or not.  But I can tell you that if it’s not, when he’s an adult, whether it be the night before a wedding or some other momentous event, his father and I will pay for a dinner, invite our closest friends and family, share stories, show pictures and laugh at all the fun we had raising this little guy.