01 Apr 2012


8 Comments Family, Personal Crap, Toddler

It happened. Mark it down. At four years, six months and fourteen days… My son got bored.


It’s truly the first time I’ve really seen it happen. He was so sick of everything it was palpable.

“Who can we call???”

“Where can we go???”

“Pleeaassee mom!! I want to GO somewhere!!”

I called a few people. But when I got a response it was already 6:30, which is dangerously close to bedtime and we’d have to turn around and come right home.

“Sorry, buddy. It’s not gonna happen tonight.”

This didn’t go over well. He cried. Then he threw a paper airplane at me.

“Go to your room”, I snapped. (I mean, it was a paper AIRPLANE. The fuselage could have caught on fire and maimed me for life.)

He cried harder but obediently walked to his bedroom, turning dramatically around half-way there to say, “I’m sorry, Mommy.”

This damn kid. He’s too much.

A few minutes later I went to him. He was on his rocking chair, legs crossed with a book sitting on his lap. He was flipping through the pages, looking at hippos and memorizing their behaviors.

We looked at each other, and I remembered something I had promised myself when I was seventeen and had just gotten my heart broken, only to have my parents tell me it would be alright and to come watch Jeopardy with them.

I promised myself I would always remember what it felt like to be a kid. I promised I would remember the pain and anguish and confusion and that I wouldn’t turn into an adult who forgot they were once young.

“Garrett, I remember how awful it feels to be bored.”

“When you were young or old?”

“When I was young. I remember getting so sick of my house and wanting to go anywhere…”

“Because you hated your house?”

“No! Because I was so bored.”

“Oh yeah. I’m really bored.”

“Well, I know. And I’m sorry. And I totally understand how bad it feels.”

“I’m really sad about it.”

“I know.”



“This book has a lot of pages. Like a hundred.”

“I know! Let’s look at the last page and see how many.”

“Whoa! 32! That’s MORE than a hundred.”

“Well, it’s not more, but that’s okay. Do you want pancakes for dinner?”

“Can we go somewhere?”

“Not til tomorrow.”

“Okay. I have to pee.”

“Well, let’s go do that.”

The ironic part is, since G-Man came along I don’t think I’ve been bored for one hot second. Today we played with legos, watched TV, played video games,  did a craft project, grocery shopped, and went to the bird store to look at parrots. But I remember how that wasn’t enough sometimes. And I’m so grateful I remember. I hope he really, really knows that I do.

written by
Lisa Arch likes being a working actress... but LOVES being a Mom!

8 Responses to “BORED”

  1. Reply Melisa says:

    I hope so too. You’re a great mom.

    • Reply flawlessmom says:

      Thanks, Melisa. We’re supposed to meet a ton of kids from school at the science museum today. He has a pretty bad cold. I’m so torn!!

  2. Reply Liz says:

    If not, you could always remind him and show him this blog post 😉 Good luck, today!

  3. Reply CArla says:

    Lisa! You are such a great mom! G will be sooo grateful for you and this blog when he gets older. What an amazing way to document life.
    You Rock!

  4. Reply Christine says:

    I Love this post. I love it because it hits on something so profound, so importnat to parenting. We were all kids once, and we need to remember what it felt like. I still remember the exact moment when I effed up parenting my daughter because I didn’t remember what it was like to be a kid. She was five. In kindergarten. A big girl. Not a baby anymore. And I wanted her to put on her shirt. And she said, “I can’t.” I said, “Yes, you can. Put on your shirt.” Now, this was not a unique or difficult shirt. We are talking plain, soft, tee shirt. The kind she put on every day. And again she said, “I can’t,” followed by, “Help me.” To which I said, “If you don’t put on your shirt, we are not going to the park.” At which point she cried real tears and sobbed, “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, why won’t you help me?” And it was in that moment that my heart shattered, and I remembered what it was to be 5 and to be unable to put on a shirt. And I said, “You really can’t do it.” And she said, “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you but you wouldn’t listen!” And then the tears were mine, and I hugged her and apologized and promised to always, always listen to her and to remember what it was like to be a child. And that day we went to the park and for ice cream. And now, almost 7 years later, I am trying my best to remember what it was like to be almost 12, and hormonal, and stuck somewhere between being a child and a teenager, and having moments wnen I just couldn’t, when I just needed someone to listen. So thanks for the reminder, and thanks for sharing your flawless moments.

    • Reply flawlessmom says:

      Wow, Christine. Thank you. It really is something I try to carry with me daily. I so appreciate you sharing that with me, because I will now remember that story as you will remember mine.
      Good luck with the whole tween/teen thing. Dear god it terrifies me. Glad I have a ways to go!

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