It gets harder the older they get...

Being a stay-at-home mom has proven much more complicated than I remember. I was sure I would have plenty of time to write, read, play, teach...Of course, last time I was at home I had a 6 year old boy who is so brilliant and kind that he didn't need much help from me, and a 2 year old little girl who was content to sit on my lap and listen as her brother read. And a cleaning lady. That's the part I miss the most.

Fast forward 5 years and I am now blessed with an 11 year old who is still brilliant and kind, but who needs a lot of nudging to keep him from reading so much that he forgets to do his homework. My 7 year old is a handful to say the least, and needs more attention than a mother of three can give her. We are currently dealing with study issues, and having her evaluated for ADD, not to mention she is constantly practicing her cheers. All this as my wild, half-naked, blonde and curly-headed 3 year old son is running amuck. And no cleaning lady. Sigh.

I now understand why an oldest child always complains that the baby gets whatever he wants: I have too much going on to deal with that last one!

Some people call him "Tarzanito" (a diminutive for Tarzan, because Cubans turn everything into the diminutive). Others are more intrigued by his love of galoshes and therefore buy him pair after pair. Despite living in Miami, where it averages 90 degrees year-round and where we get little rain other than in the summer, my son lives in galoshes. Galoshes and diapers. Because I can't even get started on potty training. (I can hear your GASP). He is so determined to do the complete opposite of everything I say, that my desire for him to use underwear sounds like a punishment to his ears. This child has tested me from every angle. Sadly, I have older children, and the truth of the matter is that it only gets harder the older they get. So, I'm worried. My husband is worried. But we have to laugh. Because what else can you do when your kid walks around in diapers and galoshes. Oh, and he tells you "I can do it, Mom. I'm smart!"

And he really is smart. I am constantly amazed by the things this little boy picks up. He also refuses to learn anything I try to teach him. Parent-teacher conferences will be abundant in my future, I'm certain of this. For now, I will laugh when he tells me how to drive, and the correct way to put the bread in the toaster, and even what sounds each letter makes. Because he is smart. And he is a challenge. But, as my father always says, each generation should be more intelligent than the preceding one, otherwise the world would go to hell in a hand-basket!