A Day with GeeKey

GeeKey.

That’s the name my son wanted to be called yesterday. I have no idea where he came up with it and yes, I know it sort of looks like the word Geeky but I don’t think that’s what Tommy was thinking about when he insisted I call him that.

He just said it out of the blue when I informed him lunch was ready.

“Tommy. It’s time to eat,” I had called out.

“I’m not Tommy. I’m GeeKey. Call me GeeKey,” Tommy replied seriously.

Fine. Whatever. I’d call him SnotHead if it meant that he’d eat.

For most of the day I’d slip and accidentally call him Tommy though. I’m sorry, I’ve been calling him that for seven years and it’s hard to break the habit. Each time Tommy would stare at me indignantly and shout, “It’s GeeKey, Mr. Mommyhead!”

Needless to say, I started to get a headache.

And Mr. Mommyhead? What the heck was that? It’s MRS. Mommyhead, if you please.

It also didn’t help that Natalie was extra whiney.

“Darling, it’s Mother’s Day. We don’t whine on Mother’s Day,” I’d explain.

But she didn’t care. She’d just tilt her head back and emit a screech that I’m guessing the neighbor’s dog heard because seconds after she yelped, the dog started going spastic.

Then there was a knock on the door and it was Tommy’s annoying friend Blake wanting to play.

Seriously?

On Mother’s Day?

You’re going to send your kid over on MOTHER’S DAY?

I told Blake that no, Tommy couldn’t play. And because Blake can never accept any sort of answer he went, “Why?”

“Because it’s Mother’s Day, Blake,” I replied and shut the door.

Oh, but he was back two hours later.

“Can Tommy play now?” he wondered hopefully.

“No Blake. It’s Mother’s Day!”

You’d think he’d get the hint, right?

Hah.

He was back an hour later.

“Can Tommy—” he started.

“No Blake,” I said through gritted teeth. “We’ve been through this before. Tommy can’t play because it’s Mother’s Day.”

Is it illegal to swing someone else’s kid in the air by their ankles?

If that weren’t enough, my phone kept ringing off the hook.

It was mainly Tom.

I think he felt guilty because he didn’t get me anything and was worried that I was going to off myself because of this.

I’m the one who told him not to get me anything though. Since we’re making car payments again we don’t have as much extra money as we once did. Plus Tom got me Pepto, my adorable pink mini laptop awhile back and that’s more than enough.

I kept explaining to Tom that I was okay, really, I was okay ONLY HIS CHILDREN WERE MONSTERS, ABSOLUTE MONSTERS.

Still, he kept calling.

“How are you?” he’d ask.

“Oh, well, your daughter is currently crying into the carpet because I wouldn’t let her have a lollipop and your son thinks he can fly because he keeps jumping off the couch,” I said, my voice terse.

Sometimes I was lucky to even HAVE a conversation. Tom asked what I planned on doing for dinner and I started off by saying, “Well I think we’re going to Mc—TOMMY, WE DON’T JUMP OFF THE BOOKCASE! What was I saying?”

“You were telling me where you were going,” Tom said patiently. I can almost guarantee he was thanking the stars that he was in Texas and not stuck in the frat house.

“Right. So, we’re probably going to eat at—NATALIE, WE DON’T EAT BUBBLES. We BLOW BUBBLES!” I’d try again.

During one call I accidentally hung up on Tom because I was so frazzled. Plus his son was about to jump off the very top of the stairs. He kept telling me that he was Superman’s son and Superman’s son could do things like that.

“I hate to break this to you,” I told Tommy cautiously as I approached him slowly. I didn’t want to move quickly and have him jump, you see. I was treating him as though he were on the verge of suicide and on television shows when someone is approaching suicidal people who are about to leap off a building or something, they move slowly and speak with their hand out in front of them and in calm tones. This was what I was trying to do. “But you’re not Superman’s son,” I continued in what I hoped was a serene voice. “So you can’t jump. How about I turn on the TV and we’ll see what that crazy yellow sponge is up to?”

I eventually coaxed him downstairs. Thank you, Spongebob.

Then Tom called back and wanted to know why I hung up on him.

So yes. My head was pounding throughout most of the day.

And Tom kept phoning so when the phone rang for what seemed like the hundredth time of the day I picked it up and shouted, “For the love of CHRIST, Tom. I’m OKAY!”

Which insulted him because he said in a sad tone, “I was just calling to say hello.”

Which in turn made me feel horrible.

We ended up going to McDonalds for dinner. I had an intense craving for chicken nuggets, you see.

I also got a chocolate milkshake because on Mother’s Day there are no such things as calories.

When we got home Tommy informed me that his burger looked funny.

“It looks fine, Tommy,” I said firmly.

Tommy looked insulted. “It’s not Tommy, it's GEEKEY!”

I took a deep breath. Seriously, what I wanted to do was get out of my seat and jump up and down on the carpet with my fists balled at my side shrieking, “This is not my life. This is not my life!”

“GeeKey,” I said in a shaky voice that I didn’t even recognize. “Your burger looks fine.”

“It’s brown,” Tommy argued.

“It’s supposed to be brown. It’s MEAT!” I pointed out, nearly losing my cool. I swallowed hard. “Please just EAT, Tommy.”

Tommy’s eyes bugged out of his head. “It’s GEEKEY! GEEKEY, GEEKEY, GEEKEY!”

“GEEKEY!” Natalie giggled, waving a fry in the air.

I closed my eyes briefly and took another deep breath.

Breathe, one, two, three. Breathe, one, two, three.

“You have a wonderful name, Tommy,” I said calmly, opening my eyes. “Why would you want to change it?”

Tommy shrugged. “I needed a change.”

Oh. Lovely. He’s turning into Prince. Soon he’s going to want to be called The Kid Formerly Known as Tommy. Or GeeKey.

“Tommy is a name you should be proud of. You’re named after your Grandpa AND your Daddy.” I said grandly. And because I had just finished watching The Tudors I added, “You’re your Daddy’s heir.”

Whenever I finish watching The Tudors I always get the urge to curtsy and remind Tom that he has to be nice to me because I did my duty as his wife and gave him a son and heir.

Tommy looked confused. “I’m Daddy’s HAIR?” he wondered and then started laughing.

“No. His HEIR. H-E-I-R. Not hair,” I explained.

But the damage had already been done. Tommy kept laughing about being his Daddy’s hair and when Tom called to say goodnight, Tommy proudly said, “Guess what, Daddy? I’m your HAIR!”

Of course Tom was confused and when I explained what Tommy meant, Tom sighed and went, “You really shouldn’t watch that Tudors show anymore. It makes you weird.”

When I tucked the kids in for bed I was ready for the silence. I was all prepared to flop on the couch and just sprawl there for a few hours while figuring out who the Celebrity Apprentice was going to be.

“Goodnight, GeeKey,” I said tucking my son in. I leaned in to give him a hug and Tommy (GeeKey) reached up and grabbed my cheeks.

“I love you very much, Mommy,” he said seriously, looking me straight in the eye.

My heart instantly melted. Because yes, my life can be chaotic and yes, I may occasionally wish that I could run out the house and escape the insanity...but it’s moments like that which makes it all worth it.