I'm being held hostage...

...by my 4 year old.

He demands that I play with army guys and tech decks. He asks me to write my name and his name and Daddy's name and Big M.'s name and the dog's name and the hamster's name over and over and over again, so he can "practice" writing them himself. He eats roughly 17 meals a day, mainly composed of fresh fruit, yogurt, Ramen noodles, peanut butter sandwiches ("NO JELLY!"), Goldfish crackers, waffels and, since our garden pick-up yesterday, cherry tomatoes. He makes me watch Franny's Feet, The Berenstain Bears, Mama Mirabelle's Home Movies and various Power Ranger videos. I have read "Llama Llama Red Pajama" a total of 250 times in the last three days (and I have a sneaking suspicion that author placed a bug in my house in order to come up with the plot-line for that book). He is tireless in spite of visits to the park and the pool and countless hours of basketball and hitting a wiffle-ball outside. He has taken to serenading me with "Eye of the Tiger", Mofro's "Orange Blossoms" and, most recently, the Violent Femmes' "Gone Daddy Gone". He seems able to get by on a mere 10 minutes of sleep each night.

HELP ME!!!

Ok, maybe it's not as bad as all that, but DAMN.

Big M. is spending the week with MIL, so I'm flying solo with Little M. this week. It's funny, I don't realize how well Big M. occupies his little brother until he's no longer here to do it. That kid deserves a freakin' medal. Mr. EM drove him up there on Saturday afternoon and we're all going up to get him on Sunday. That's a long time for me to be the sole source of entertainment and here we are at mid-week and I'm tired, gentle readers.

Little M. misses his big brother, but not quite as desperately as I thought he would. Mr. EM commented last night, "He sure has slipped into the role of 'only child' pretty effortlessly, hasn't he?" Yes, he has. Little M. relishes the attention he's receiving these days. We are joined at the hip from the moment he wakes up in the morning until I can coax him into bed each night. He tells me knock-knock jokes, we put together puzzles, we discuss the fact that he does not live in Africa and we play with his Little People parking garage...all before he even changes out of his pajamas and eat breakfast, EVERY MORNING. (Yes, every day we have a discussion about the fact that he does not live in Africa. Thank you, Mama Mirabelle.)

When Big M. was four, I was his sole companion most of the time too. However, Big M. was of a different species. He was quite content to quietly build towers with his blocks while I cooked dinner. He was content to paint and color while I did a little cleaning. He loved to visit the park and the pool, but I was allowed to be a silent observer, blissfully reading on a nearby bench, while he dreamed up make-believe adventures to play out, either by himself or with other little kids he could coax into his games. Little M. likes to pretend his blocks are hockey pucks and he'd prefer to "help" me cook dinner. When he paints, he tends to call upon his inner Jackson Pollock and crayons don't usually last long in his presence. When I try to do any cleaning, he functions like a tornado in my wake. He certainly picks up plenty of playmates at the park and the pool, but he also expects me to be part of the action...or at least to watch what he's doing, rather than sticking my nose in my book. "Hey, Mom! Mom! Quit reading, Mom! Watch this!"

I love how different my boys are. I love that Big M. is, and always has been, a very cerebral, dreamy Pisces, content to do his own thing in his own time. And I love that Little M. has a lust for life and is a take-charge, center-stage, stubborn Taurus. And it's not as though I just shove Little M. on his big brother all the time while I avoid interacting with either of them. I do, however, love that they get along so well, in spite of their age difference, and that I can say, "Hey, keep an eye on your brother for a little while so I can exercise/pay bills/clean the bathrooms", or whatever else I might need to get done through the course of any given day. I haven't been able to do that this week and shit's been piling up here in the Land of Earth Muffin.

So, today Little M. is going to Super Sitter's for a while. I have company coming over tomorrow night and desperately need to get the house cleaned up. He's pretty excited to go over there too, so it's a win-win situation. I'll pick him up this afternoon...

...and the chaos that is Little M. will start all over again. How many moms does it take to keep a house clean for 24 hours in the presence of a relentless four year old?

I'll have to let you know, if he allows me time on the computer in the next couple of days.