The Birds and the Bees, or My Kid Says Hilarious Stuff

I must record a few recent conversations for posterity.  One night last week, we were having one of our bedtime chats, when Monkey said, "I'm never going to have kids."  I was surprised to hear this, because he LOVES babies and little kids.  I said, "Really?  You don't want to be a Dad?" to which he responded, totally matter-of-factly, "Well, I have no idea how to breed!"  (He is thinking in terms of "breeding" because he's been playing a game called Dragon City where you collect dragons and breed them to make new dragons.)  I couldn't help laughing, and I told him not to worry, that he'd figure it out eventually.  I then reminded him that we've read It's Not the Stork! about where babies come from, and promised to re-read it with him soon.  At some point in the discussion, he said to me, "If you and Dad are gonna breed, make sure to tell me.  'Cause I might wake up in the night and... [grimace]" (which would seem to indicate that he understood at least a *little* about breeding).

Seriously, this book is fantastic.  It's a must-have for every household.

Fast-forward to this week.  We re-read It's Not the Stork.  Twice.  This was also Bug's first encounter with the book.  Both kids found it fascinating and kept interrupting to ask questions.  Both were especially fascinated by the umbilical cord and Monkey asked, "Wait.  If the cord gets cut when a baby is born, how can more babies be born later?"  (A good question, I thought.)  So I explained about placentas and how each kid gets a new one.  Overall, a fun and interesting read that prompted good discussion with no awkwardness or discomfort at all.  Next we moved on to read "You Are Stardust" which Monkey particularly enjoyed.

You Are Stardust, by Elin Kelsey

This prompted both boys to start reciting that every item in the room was made of stardust - "This pillow is made of stardust!" [giggles] "My elbow is made of stardust!" [giggles] "My toes are made of stardust!" [giggles]  "My penis is made of stardust!"  [huge giggles] and then Monkey looks at me and, mentally searching for the newly-learned word "vulva" and forgetting it, he exclaimed, "Your vagina-butt is made of stardust!"  I knew right away what he meant and we all dissolved in a fit of giggles.  I kept chuckling about that for the rest of the night.  So, ladies, if you need a mental picker-upper, just think about how your vagina-butt is made of stardust.  I dare you not to smile at that thought.

On the culture of fear in our society...

I just shared this on Facebook but wanted to share it here too.

Last week, I stopped home from the grocery to put some frozen food away before heading back out to visit my mother-in-law. I came out of the house 3 minutes later to find a strange woman parked in my driveway, yelling to me "ARE THESE KIDS OKAY? THEY'RE IN THIS CAR WITH THE WINDOWS UP!" First of all, yes they are fine, I ran in the house and came right back out. Second of all, they are both big enough to exit the car on their own if they get hot. Third of all, get the hell off my property! Okay, I didn't say the last one except in my head, but really? I spent the rest of that day wondering if I was going to receive a call from the authorities. I understand that people want to look out for the safety of children, but sometimes it gets a little out of control and crosses into nosy busybody territory.

Someone posted this article on FB this morning http://www.salon.com/2014/06/03/the_day_i_left_my_son_in_the_car/, and even though it's kind of long, it's a worthy read.  It shows how, not only do we have to live in constant fear of terrible things happening everywhere (according the media, anyway), now we have to be afraid of the people who are so afraid of bad things happening that they feel entitled to involve themselves and law enforcement into the lives of strangers over the most minute concerns.  And while I don't agree with what this mother did - I would never leave my 4 year old alone in a mall parking lot even if it was only for 5 minutes - but I don't think it's necessarily criminal.  It just pisses me off, what this mom had to go through.  The worst part is how her son now fears the police and is afraid to have her leave his side because he's afraid someone will kidnap him, since you know, there are kidnappers lurking EVERYWHERE.  Right?

For further reading, look up Lenore Skenazy (mentioned in the above article) and her blog Free Range Kids.  If you're not familiar with her, she's the mom who let her very capable 9-year-old son use the subway on his own and received outrage for it.  Her blog is a breath of (rational!) fresh air.

Had "THE" Santa talk yesterday...

I had "THE" Santa talk yesterday with Monkey, age 7 (almost 8) last night.  My father-in-law used to pose as Santa on the phone for my boys' cousins when they were younger, and we have continued that tradition.  Occasionally Monkey would want to talk to Santa, so I'd call their house, my mother-in-law would answer, and I would politely inquire if Santa was available.  She would give him a heads up and put him on the phone and the kids would proceed to talk his ear off.  Yesterday he decided he wanted to call Santa just to wish him a Merry Christmas, which I though was very sweet.  So we did.  After he got off the phone, he started thinking about the whole Santa thing and started asking me questions:

Monkey:  I think the moms just go out to like, Toys R Us, and buy presents when the kids are sleeping.  And then they wrap them and put them under the tree on Christmas Eve.
Me:  I think you are using very good logic.
Monkey:  So is that what happens?
Me:  What do you think?
Monkey:  Tell me!
Me:  What exactly are you asking?
Monkey:  Did you buy us presents when we were sleeping and wrap them and put them under the tree?
Me:  Yes, I have done that.
Monkey:  So is Santa real?

I always loved the fun and excitement of Santa Claus as a child, and I do not remember feeling traumatized at all upon learning the truth - just proud of myself and very grown-up.  I had decided that when he was ready to ask me directly, I would give him an honest answer - especially after reading and agreeing wholeheartedly with this post from Dale McGowan at his blog, The Meming of Life.

Me:  Let's go in the other room.  (Bug was sitting right next to him at the time)
Monkey:  Why?  You don't want Bug to know?
Me:  *makes laser eyeballs at Monkey*
We headed to the other room but of course, Bug heard Monkey's last comment and immediately ran after us.  So I had to postpone the rest of the conversation for a bit until they were in separate rooms and Bug had forgotten about it.

Me:  Okay, the conversation we were having earlier... do you want to talk about that?
Monkey:  Yes.  Is Santa real?
Me:  Well, yes and no.
Monkey:  Just tell me!
Me:  Santa is real in the sense that he is a symbol of Christmas, and magic, and of giving and delighting those you love.
Monkey:  But he's not real.
Me:  Does he literally fly around the whole world and give everyone presents in one night?
Monkey:  Of course not!
Me:  You are correct.
Monkey:  *throws his arms around me*  THANK YOU FOR GETTING US PRESENTS EVERY YEAR!
Me:  Haha, you're welcome!  You did a great job using your mind to figure it out.  Now, you are on the big people's side of the Santa game.  I need you to be very careful to keep the secret and not ruin it for any other little kids, ok?
Monkey:  Ok.  When Bug is a little older, then I'll tell him.
Me:  No, I don't want you to tell him.  When he is ready to ask these same questions, that is when we'll tell him.  Ok?
Monkey:  Ok.

I am proud of him for figuring it out... and at the same time so sad that he's growing up so fast!  He is not the best secret keeper in the world, and there is a decent chance that he will accidentally say something and give it away.  We shall see what happens...

PS.  He never did figure out who that was that he was talking to on the phone!

Kids Say the Darndest, Prayer Edition

Just a quick funny bit that I want to record...

This year was Monkey's first time playing a team sport, and tonight was his baseball team picnic.  It was held at the local park, and after letting the kids play for a little bit, the coach called everyone in to partake of the potluck dinner.  He announced that it was time to say grace.  Inwardly, I cringed.  I realized that this is something that Monkey hasn't been exposed to much, since we obviously don't pray and the times he's been around it at other places, he didn't really notice what was going on.  I made eye contact with Monkey and signaled to him to be quiet.  In my head, I was thinking, please don't talk during the prayer, please don't talk during the prayer, please don't talk during the prayer.  The coach rambled on for a few moments:  "... blah blah blah... the shed blood of Jesus Christ..." Oh no, he said blood.  Monkey will certainly notice and comment on that!  "..blah blah blah... amen."  Whew!  We made it!  Got thru the blessing without incident!  Yay!

And then Monkey said, loudly and clearly,  "WHAT DID WE HAFTA DO THAT FOR?"

Facepalm.  For just a beat, it was silent, but then Shane & I laughed and then everyone else did too.  But it was definitely a little awkward.  Ah the joys of being a nonreligious person in a small and very religious town.  Monkey had a great time though, and was beyond thrilled to receive his first ever trophy!

Way to go, Monkeyman!

Later this evening, we did have a conversation where I explained what was going on.  I told him it's just something religious people do before they eat to be grateful for the food they got to eat and the people they got to be with, which is a nice idea.  And that next time it happens, to just be quiet and respectful and wait for it to be over and don't say anything.  He said, "Okay, Mom."  So, that was today's learning moment.

Mama's Boy

Monkey:  Why does Daddy live at a different place from Gommy?
Me:  Well, when he grew up, he married me, and moved into his own house.
Monkey:  I want to be with you always!  I would never think of moving, 'cause I love you!
Me:  Okay that's fine with me!  *heart melts*

A moment to remember...

Shane took a rare day off today, and this afternoon all four of us went for a lovely stroll on the Towpath Trail.  As Monkey & I walked along hand-in-hand, we spontaneously developed a secret code based on # of hand squeezes.  It started because I decided to teach him an idea I remembered reading on 100 Ways To Be Kind to Your Child (item #18), that 3 squeezes = "I love you".  His whole face lit up and he was immediately thrilled by this new form of communication.  He quickly began coming up with meanings for other increments of hand squeezes.  At bedtime he added a few more, and we are now up to distinct meanings for 1 through 8.  I was going to share the list here, but I think I'll let it stay secret - just between us.  Well, I'll share one he came up with that melted my heart a little.  I won't tell you which number it is, but one of them means "Coolest Mom Ever".   :*)

Try making up your own secret codes - I can't believe how much fun and special such a simple thing turned out to be!

Playground Interaction Observations

I witnessed something at the park yesterday that really bothered me, and I can't seem to quit thinking about it.  We make a spur-of-the-moment trip to the playground, and it ended up being rather crowded because in our area, it's spring break for the public school kids.  (I forgot about this.)  There was a group of boys, probably around 8 to 10 years old, who were picking on a girl of about the same age.  Now, this beautiful little girl appeared to be of mixed race, and was the only child of color on the playground at the time - probably not an unusual situation for her, as the area is predominantly white.  At first, I noticed one boy who was yelling at her, "You're pretty!" and I thought - how sweet, he has a crush on her.  But as I watched, he just kept following her around and repeating it and his tone actually seemed more mocking than sincere.  A bit later, I noticed the boys chasing her around, and sometimes she would be chasing them.  I heard one boy call her dumb, and our friend P. who came with us, also heard one of them call her an idiot.  It was clear that it was upsetting to her.  I was only catching bits & pieces of the interaction because I was busy chasing my 2-year-old around the whole time.  I really began to feel compelled to say something, but I am shy and generally tend to avoid conflict, and wasn't sure what to say.  I know that I would probably not take kindly to strangers reprimanding my kids... but I didn't know where the parents of these boys were, either.  No one seemed to be paying attention to them.

That part, though, wasn't even the most upsetting thing.  What really bothered me, was an interaction between this girl and a woman who I presume must have been her (white) grandmother.  Grandma was sternly reprimanding the girl for her reaction to their taunting, and her chasing them around.  "STOP IT!  YOU STOP THAT RIGHT NOW!  Stop chasing those boys!"  I heard the girl plaintively defending herself, saying "But they were [doing such-and-such] and calling me [list of names]..."  Grandma's tone was completely harsh and unsympathetic as she virtually spit these words at the girl, "Remember, sticks and stones will break your bones but names will never hurt you.  Come on, we're leaving."

I know that kids can be jerks.  I know how it works - they are just trying to fit in, in the Lord of the Flies-like setting of their public-schooled world, and I know kids have a tendency to single out those who are different.  But for an adult to be so cold and so completely lacking in empathy... I was speechless.  Perhaps her intent was to help the girl develop a thicker skin...?  Maybe she, too, was angry at those kids' behavior and didn't realize how she was coming across to her granddaughter.  But to reprimand a kid for reacting to being picked on seemed incredibly insensitive to me.  I am still kicking myself for not saying anything.  I wanted to say to the girl, "I heard those kids.  I heard how they were talking to you, and it wasn't right.  You don't deserve to be treated like that.  You're beautiful.  Ignore them."  I really wish I had said that, now.

Afterward, I did do one thing.  I asked Monkeyman and P. if they had noticed how those boys were talking to that girl.  Both said yes, and P. had even noticed more mean comments than I had.  I said to them, "I better never, never, ever, EVER hear you talking to a girl like that... or any other kid, for that matter."  And Monkeyman replied, "I know!  I wouldn't do that, Mom!"  We talked about it a little more and he confirmed that he knew that would hurt someone's feelings and that it was wrong.  So I guess I have to be content with taking ownership of raising my kids to be kind and thoughtful people as the best course of action.  I know I have no control over the behavior of others - however, I can try my very hardest to raise my kids to offer better examples.

Oops!

So I was talking to my mom on the phone the other day, and we were reminiscing about a local restaurant we used to go to every Saturday morning when I was a kid.

Me:  Ahhh, I remember that place!  That's where I discovered how well scrambled eggs and cream cheese go together... and the first place I tasted coffee... and that was where I learned Santa wasn't real!

Max:  WHAT!?!  SANTA. ISN'T. REAL?!?

Oops.  He was engrossed in playing a video game and it did not even occur to me that he was listening. I just chuckled and said, "Haha... I was just joking!" and he didn't ask any more questions - probably because he's not ready to ask those questions yet.  (When he does start asking, I plan to do a lot of "Well, what do you think?" and let him work it out for himself.)  Crossing my fingers that he'll forget about this conversation by Christmas...

Birth story, as told to a nearly-six-year-old

So a friend posted this link on FB yesterday:
http://creativewithkids.com/100-ways-to-be-kind-to-your-child/

It's a beautiful, beautiful post and I printed out the list and taped it to the side of my desk as a reminder to stay focused on the simplest yet most important things.  Tonight at bedtime, inspired by the list, I did #11:  Tell them the story of their birth.

Monkeyman's birthday is coming up very soon, and we have been counting down the days and talking about it a lot.  Tonight we curled up together, alone (Little Bug was already in bed asleep and Daddy was out tinkering in the garage), and I started telling him the story.

Once upon a time, there was a guy and a girl.  They liked each other a lot and decided to get married and live by the ocean for awhile.  Then they missed their families and decided to move back to Ohio.  They bought a house and decided they wanted to have a baby.  So Jenny got pregnant with a baby in her belly

Lost my kid at the mall today...

...for about 30 seconds.  The longest, most terrifying 30 seconds of my life.  This is the first time I have ever lost a kid in a public place.  Although I generally abhor malls, we made our annual trek there with my mother-in-law, sister-in-law, and nieces, to visit Santa.  We had just arrived and gotten in line.  I took off Bug's coat, and in the moment it took me to stuff it into my bag, I looked up and he had vanished.  Completely.  I looked around wildly in all directions, and saw no sign of him.  I asked Monkeyman if he saw where Bug went, and he said no.  I thought of all the different ways he could have gone, all the nooks and crannies he could disappear into, and I was instantly reduced to a blindly panicked mother animal.  I ran back and forth across the fence surrounding the train next to Santa, to see if he had gone around either corner... nope, no Bug.  After a few more frantic moments a woman asked me, "Who are you looking for?" and I replied, on the verge of tears, "A little boy in a green shirt."  She pointed... "Is that him?"  And there he was.  He had squeezed into a small space between a bench and the fence, to get a better view of the train going around inside.  The crowd of people around the bench and the bench itself had blocked him from my view entirely.  I know it can't have been more than 30 seconds, possibly it was even less, but it felt like forever.  I was so relieved, tears sprang to my eyes as a few kind moms expressed sympathy and said words to me that I barely heard, about having had similar experiences.  I had to hold onto the fence to steady myself for a moment.  Every day I feel lucky to have these amazing boys, but for the rest of the day today I felt extra grateful to have my Little Bug in my arms - even when he was grouchy and clingy, I truly didn't mind a bit.

I can't even think about the small number of parents who have had this same experience... only to not have been so fortunate to be tucking their kids into bed later that night.  I can't even go there.

Dear Santa...

Today I helped Monkeyman write his first letter to Santa.  He dictated and I wrote:

"Dear Santa,

I want a scooter, and I need a helmet and knee pads for it.  And I want a drum set.  Oh, and I want a dirtbike Wii game too.  I want a guitar.  I want my drum set to have cymbals.  Let me think some more.  I'm thinking about having a pet, like a little dog.  I can like Noodle and another dog too.  I want him to be white and brown and red and yellow.  And green.  I want a toy clock that's blue & yellow, with buttons on it.  I want it to be a cuckoo clock with a goose in it.  I want a new toy train to go on the train table on the porch.  A new hat that is red and yellow and blue.  You should give me all these things because I like you, and I like toys.  Also, I'd like my scooter to be red and yellow and blue and green.  So whenever we go to a park, I can have a scooter to ride on.  Also a toy computer with a whole bunch of games on it, with Legos on it.  Also a Lego forest with a whole bunch of guys that swing around on some ropes.  I think that's all.  Thank you.

Love,
Monkeyman

PS.  My Mommy wrote this for me but I told her what to write.

PPS.  Bug would like a toy piano, that's red yellow green blue indigo and violet and orange."

 
This was exciting to me because it's kind of his first "writing exercise" and I thoroughly enjoyed seeing what he came up with.  I did try a few times to gently steer him away from all the "I wants" but he wasn't having any part of it, he just had to get his thoughts out.  (Ah well, he's five.  Maybe a bit more decorum next year?)  I think I'm going to come up with some prompts and have him dictate some stories for me, until he learns how to write fluently himself.  I've read about others using this method, and after this exercise, he seems to be ready for it.  It was fun for both of us, and he seemed quite pleased with himself for "writing" that whole long letter.  When he decided he was done, he signed his name and we put it into an envelope which he then "addressed."  I wanted to save it forever, but he is intent on giving it to the mailman tomorrow.  (I did scan it so I have a copy at least.)  Monkeyman was planning on standing out front and holding his hand up *makes a STOP gesture* to get the mailman to stop and take his letter.  However, I assured him that just sticking it in the mailbox and putting the flag up will get the job done just as well.  Gotta love the magic of Christmas!**


**Yes, I know I'm an Atheist, but I have to agree wholeheartedly with Leanna's recent post at Life on the Hill - I have always loved Christmas and I will always celebrate it.  I love sending cards, baking cookies, putting up the tree, decorating the house, driving around looking at Christmas lights, spending time with the people who matter most to me, and finding ways to show my appreciation and love for them.  I don't need to be a Christian to do any of that stuff.  Also, although it may seem like a contradiction to let my kids believe in Santa - it is only a temporary belief.  I think a little bit of magic is okay in childhood.  Some of my fondest early memories involve the wonder of Christmas and I don't think I ever felt damaged by eventually finding out the truth.  Actually, I think that realization may have played a part in helping me realize that certain other things weren't real either - much, much farther down the road...

Happy Birthday to Little Bug!

We celebrated my baby's second birthday over the weekend, so today's post is in honor of him, and all the happy he brings us...


Here you can see him partying hard:

He's TWOOOOOOO!

Here's a quick sample his adorable ornery-ness:

Learning In the Middle of the Night

Late last night, we had a pretty loud thunderstorm. As Monkeyman has developed a moderate fear of thunderstorms, he immediately came running and crawled in bed with me.  (Bug slept through the whole thing without a peep.) So we laid there in the dark, snuggled closely, and had a long whispered conversation about how lightning and thunder work, and how the light travels faster than the sound. To illustrate I began counting one-one-thousand, two-one-thousand, three-one-thousand and so on, from the flash until the arrival of the boom, to estimate how far away the storm was from us. About 15 miles was the fairly consistent result, and that seemed to help calm his fears a bit. A few minutes later we were still whispering and even giggling, and a few minutes after that... he drifted off to sleep.

There is something so lovely about being someone who is needed by a child for comfort, where just your physical presence and the sound of your voice close beside him can reassure him and make him feel safe. Of course, that same thought is also a little terrifying, because then you think - who would be there for him like this, if something were to happen to me? Becoming a parent makes you value yourself in a whole new way, and you acquire a self-protectiveness that you didn't previously have. But you quickly shove those thoughts far back in your mind and focus on the joy of the present moment where the world seems to consist only of the two of you in your little cocoon.

That is, until your poor husband comes in wanting to go to bed, and finds the boy sprawled across his spot. Sorry you were stuck on the couch last night, dear!

Kalahari Water Park "NOT-Back-To-School" Gathering

On Wednesday and Thursday, we attended a "Not-Back-To-School" gathering at Kalahari Water Park in Sandusky, Ohio, consisting of homeschoolers from various groups around northeast Ohio - around 120 people total. We got an amazing group rate, plus the park was nearly deserted because all the other kids are in school now. We had never been before but had heard from friends that the place is a blast - and they were right! At first, both kids were a bit overwhelmed by the place and not too sure about it. So we started off in the toddler area, and gradually the kids warmed up to it and started having fun. The toddler area is covered in about a foot of water and has various small waterslides, climbing structures, and fountains. I wasn't sure how much Monkeyman was going to enjoy the water park experience, because he had a fear of having water splashed in his face, and of going under water even for a second. He started out on the little slides...

(Disclaimer: I purchased a disposable waterproof camera and most of the pics didn't turn out very well. I was kind of disappointed with the quality of the pics overall but there are a few decent ones.)


And then Monkeyman & I went over to the bigger kids' area while Daddy stayed with Bug, and he began warming up to that. The water is a bit deeper and the climbing structure is more elaborate with spray guns you can aim, buckets of water to fill until they tip & dump out, and a huge, gushing waterfall pouring down over the whole thing every 10 minutes or so. There are two moderate-sized tall, twisty waterslides there too. We watched other kids slide for a while, and he was still not too sure about it. I asked Monkey if he wanted to see me go down first, to show him that it's not too scary and he said yes. I told him to wait right there, and I went up and slid down. When I got to the bottom, I looked around and he was nowhere in sight. And then - my favorite moment of our whole trip: I turned around and there he was coming out of the chute at the bottom of the waterslide! He went all by himself! He immediately conquered his fear of getting water in his face, and really began having a blast. He went down those two slides many, many, many times. Unfortunately this is the best pic of him at the bottom of the slide...


After these slides, we tried some even bigger ones. Monkey was allowed on the ones for kids 42" and up, but he wasn't tall enough for the ones for kids 48" and up. I'm sure there is some reasoning for which rides are classified for which height requirements, but it didn't make a lot of sense to us. Some of the ones that didn't look too intense were restricted to bigger kids, and some of the ones that were okay for littler kids were pretty hairy in my opinion. We went down one that he was permitted on, and it was SCARY! Okay, maybe I'm a big chicken, but I was just not expecting the entire tube to be pitch black inside - I mistakenly assumed that the tubes would be translucent and let some light through. It was a creepy, disorienting, claustrophobic experience. Monkey & I started off at the same time on two slides that were side-by-side, and as I was going down, I was thinking yelling,

"IHATETHIS IHATETHIS IREALLYHATETHIS OHMONKEYISGONNATOTALLYHATETHIS..."

I think in reality it was only a little scary, but knowing that Monkeyman was experiencing the same thing at that moment and imagining how terrified he must be, multiplied my fear exponentially. As soon as I got to the bottom I leapt out of the chute and ran over to where he came out, expecting him to be in full freakout mode. He simply looked a bit shaken and calmly said, "Um, I don't wanna do that again," so we went back to the less-terrifying moderate-sized slides and pretty much remained there for the duration. I tried talking him into going on a few other things with me but was unsuccessful.

Here we are at the wave pool. This pic is very special for two reasons: 1. all four of us are in it which is quite rare, and 2. it is a photo of me in a bathing suit that I don't hate. Priceless!

Here is Bug in a ridiculously adorable wetsuit, a hand-me-down gift from a fellow homeschooler.

My little fishie quite enjoyed playing in the wave pool. As he has not yet been to the ocean, I was happy to see him experience this next-best-thing.

Overall, a really fun trip, although we ended up cutting it a bit short on the second day because Bug had picked up a little stomach bug. While we were there, I did see some familiar faces and was able to introduce Shane to some of the people I know, and we met a few new people too. As usual though, we were too busy watching/chasing the kids to be able to socialize very much. But the kids did get to play with lots of other kids and had fun, and that's what mattered most to me. There is so much we didn't get to: the game room, bowling alley, miniature golf course, indoor (dry) playground... but there's another homeschool gathering there in February and we are planning on going again - can't wait!

Oh, and here are the kids on the way home. Proof that the trip was a success!:

My Most Embarrassing Moment Ever

Okay, I wrote this about two weeks ago, and have been debating about actually posting it. You know, because it was My Most Embarrassing Moment Ever.

[8/20/2011] We were at the grocery store today, a rare excursion with just me and Monkeyman. Shane stayed home with Bug while he was napping. As I mentioned before, Monkeyman has been in this defiant, mouthy phase, and I have been struggling with figuring out how to deal with it. I thought getting some alone time with Mom and having some one-on-one attention would be a special treat, but our "just the two of us" trip did not end well. At all. We were in the aisle at the grocery store, and he was asking for some cookies. I told him to pick one kind, but that we weren't getting both. Then... it happened. He said a very, very bad word. He dropped the F-bomb. Not only that, but he used it correctly in a sentence. He said "What the F--- is wrong with you?" My jaw dropped open. Right at that moment, an elderly lady was passing us in the aisle, and she released an audible, long drawn-out gasp of shock and horror. I was mortified. My brain froze for a moment as I tried to figure out how to respond. Then I grabbed his arm, dragged him close to me, knelt down so we were eye-to-eye, and very sternly told him that I had better never hear that word come out of his mouth again. This was his one warning, and if he ever did it again, I would smack his mouth. He could tell I was serious, and livid. I decided at that point to scrap the rest of the shopping list, and headed straight for the checkout. I thought about just abandoning the cart and leaving, but it was pretty full and it didn't seem fair for some poor employee to have to go around putting my stuff back just because of my kid's bad behavior. Then, as we were standing in line, he kept saying, "I'll listen to you, if you don't hurt me." (referencing my threat to smack his mouth - we are generally not a corporal punishment family). I'm sure the other customers in the store probably thought I was some kind of horrible abusive mother or something. I just wanted to crawl in a hole - couldn't get out of there fast enough.

I'm not gonna lie, I have been known to swear like a sailor at times (although I have NEVER said the above phrase to him), like when I've stubbed my toe, or gotten cut off in traffic, or when something about the world really pisses me off. In general, bad words don't really bother me - I mean, they're just words, and I'm kind of a "sticks & stones" girl I guess. Usually if I slip and swear in front of him, he will reprimand me, "BAD WORD MOMMY!" and I will say, "You're right, I shouldn't have said that, I'm sorry." He does this even if I say darn or shucks, so it was quite a shock to hear him say what he said. It is quite clear to me now that I need to step up my efforts of leading by example in the vocabulary department. Thank goodness he didn't say it at a homeschooling gathering. I don't know what I'd do - I don't think I could ever go back. One more thing to be anxious about...

Please excuse my previous post

Sorry to unload on you, blog people. I normally write more postive things here, I just needed to blow off some steam and vent. I know that most, if not all, moms have days like this, and the good days far outnumber the bad ones. I find that when I'm reading other blogs, the most compelling stuff is when people are honest and real, so that was me being real and showing you what my bad day looked like. I know there are many other people in this world who have waaaaaaaaay worse bad days than my bad days, and I'm grateful that my complaints really are quite minor. But most homeschooling blogs I've read paint a fairly sunshine-and-rainbows picture, but it's not always that rosy, every single day! Sometimes it can be pretty hard work too.

PS. Yesterday Emmett jammed a game into the Wii when there was already a game in there and ruined one of the games and broke the Wii. Today he immersed Max's brand new shoes in the dog's water dish. He is an adorable, moody, whirling tornado of destruction, alternating screaming tantrums with doing the most hilariously cute and funny things like dancing, saying new words, making funny faces, etc. When I was changing his diaper this morning, he cheerfully exclaimed "Bye Poopie!" which he's never said before, which made me laugh so hard. So, even on a bad day there are good moments too. And now I'm done venting, I swear!

*Insert primal scream here*

Today I am having a pull-my-hair-out, bang-my-head-against-the-wall, frustrating day. Emmett seems to be at the peak of the "terrible twos" even though he hasn't even turned two yet. He has perfected his crib exiting skills, and has therefore been refusing to sleep. Last night it took almost an hour to get the boy, who normally falls asleep in 3 minutes, to bed. And today I am sleep deprived because every time he stirred last night, I laid awake listening for him to climb out. He woke up and climbed out at 6am (he normally sleeps until 9-ish) and when he saw my haggard face, I swear he did a little victory dance. At naptime today, I could tell he was exhausted - he could barely keep his eyes open and he was literally staggering around. But every time I put him in his crib, nearly asleep, he would instantly pop up to his feet and climb out, giggling and squealing. I spent a solid hour waiting in the hallway and then repeatedly, calmly, putting him back in the crib every time he climbed out, over and over and over. I tried rubbing his back. I tried laying on the floor beside the crib. Nothing worked. Finally I reached the end of my patience and gave up. Which of course just teaches him that if he's persistent, he will win. Great job, me. I've decided I MUST go get a baby gate for his doorway, so that he will at least be confined to his room and not be able to fall down the stairs and/or wander the house getting into mischief in the middle of the night. I won't be able to sleep until I can secure him. (Unfortunately there is no door on the bedroom, so I can't just shut him in.) I got the kids ready and we headed out... and he fell asleep partway to the store. I turned around and came home, and left him out there in the van (parked in the shade with all windows down of course), and he took about a 30 minute nap strapped in his seat. Whatever works, right? I keep reminding myself of the parenting mantra - This Too Shall Pass - but today feels like it's been about a month long already. Looking forward to this phase being done.

Edit: I forgot to mention that, on top of all that, my 5 year old is in this wonderful defiant/argumentative/mouthy phase and he's been in rare form today too. So I'm experiencing synchronized parental-limit-testing. Seriously, how on Earth do people have "quiverfuls" of kids? Cuz today I can barely handle 2!

The things you do for your kids...

So tonight, as I was leaving work at my part-time job, I noticed a great big beautiful bright green grasshopper on the window of my van. I instantly thought, "Oh, Max would LOVE to see that guy!" and wracked my brain trying to think of something I could put it in if I caught it. I remembered I had a small plastic food container in my purse so I dug it out, dumped out Emmett's graham cracker snacks (sorry buddy) and got out to try and catch him. Unfortunately I failed. He jumped off and flew away into the dark. But for anyone wondering what the hell that crazy lady was chasing in Home Depot's parking lot at 11pm, that's the story.

Bedtime chats are the greatest

We always have the most interesting whispered talks at bedtime. Last night's made me smile.

Max: Do you remember when I came out of your belly?
Me: Yes.
Max: I don't remember when I came out of your belly.
Me: It was my favorite day ever.
Max: When was it?
Me: February 27.
Max: Ohhh! *gears in head click* (he knows that's his birthday)
Max: Was it dark out?
Me: No. It was the middle of the afternoon. It was wintertime, but it was an unusually warm day and the sun was shining and there was a beautiful blue sky with white puffy clouds.
Max: Where were we?
Me: At the hospital.
Max: First you were a little baby, then you grew up, then I was in your belly.
Me: Yep, that's right.
Max: And Dad was before you. So I think you came out of Dad's belly.
Me: *stifling laughter* Ah, no. Babies only come out of girls' bellies. Babies don't come out of boys' bellies.
Max: Oh. Then where did you come from?
Me: I came from Grandma's belly.
Max: You mean your mom?
Me: Yes. And Daddy came from Gommy's belly.
Max: Ohhhhhh!
(I am a little relieved that it hasn't yet occurred to him to ask how we all got in the bellies to begin with. I'm sure it won't be long though...)

And tonight as I was putting him in bed: "I like Daddy better. And I like you super better. And I like Grandma super better. And I like everybody a whole lot."

Conversations about death with a 5-year-old

I am slightly jealous of religious people today. This morning, I had a conversation with Max about death, our second ever on this topic, and I can see where it is so much easier to have a ready-made fairytale story to explain things to kids. When my grandmother died in April, I chose not to bring it up to Max because he didn't know her well and I felt it would confuse and/or scare him... I decided it would be better to wait until he asked questions instead. A couple weeks after she died, out of the blue he asked to go see her, which was unusual because he had never asked that before. I'm sure he must have picked up on bits of the adult conversations going on around him. Here's how it went:

Max: Hey, we need to go see Great Grandma!
Me: We can't, honey.
Max: Why?
Me: Well, she died.
Max: She DIED?
Me: Yes.
Max: Why?
Me: Well, she was an old lady and she had lived a long, long time, and it was just her time to go.
Max: Why?
Me: Well, everybody dies, eventually.
Max: I don't want Gommy to die!
Me: Me neither! Hopefully that won't happen for a long time.
Max: Are you gonna die?
Me: Yes, someday.
Max: I don't want you to die!
Me: Me neither!
Max: Am I gonna die?
Me: Yes, someday. But you don't need to worry about it right now. It won't be until after you're an old man, after you get married and have babies, and those babies grow up and have your grandbabies.
Max: Oh, okay.

And that was pretty much it. Until this morning, about three months later, when he started asking questions again. Besides the subject matter, it's the out-of-the-blue-ness that throws me off - I was barely awake yet and suddenly we're having this heavy discussion.

Max: Remember when Great Grandma died? When is she coming back?
Me: She's not, honey. When you're dead, you're dead. You don't get to come back.
Max: Really?
Me: Yes.
Max: Am I gonna die?
Me: Yes, someday.
Max: I don't wanna die!
Me: I don't want you to either.
Max: When will it happen?
Me: Nobody knows. Hopefully it won't be for a very, very long time. Like when you're an old, old man.
Max: Will it hurt?
Me: I don't know. Nobody knows what it will be like for them.
Max: And you're gonna die?
Me: Yes, someday. Hopefully not for a long time.
Max: And Dad? And Emmett?
Me: Yep.
Max: This is making me really sad.
Me: I know. It's not something I like to think about. It's kinda scary, huh?
Max: Yeah.
Me: Well it's scary for grownups too. But you don't have to be worried about it because it's not going to happen for a long, long time, okay?
Max: Okay.

But today he did keep worrying about it, almost to the point of tears. He kept asking me what happens and I kept telling him no one knows. Finally, I did use "Lots of people think you go to a place called Heaven when you die, where you get to be with all your friends and family who died before you. But nobody really knows for sure." Had he asked me if I believed that, I would have answered truthfully that while I think it's a nice idea, I don't really believe it, no. I felt a little dirty for bringing it up, but I thought it might ease his worries a bit, although I don't think it really did. When he's older, we can have more in-depth and sophisticated conversations about things. But for now I'm trying to find balance between being open and honest yet keeping him from being afraid and anxious. Tricky stuff.

How do YOU talk to your kids about death? I'm curious how others handle it...