Bad, bad, mommy

I am.

I am a bad mommy.

I am rooting for rain. My son has a "Coach Pitch" little league game tonight, and I am really hoping it will be called on account of rain.

This is a terrible thing to wish. Especially, since this is only the third game on the season. However, if you have never watched a little league game of "coach pitch" with a bunch of 7 year olds, please don't judge.

Let's start with the basic rules of this game. Everyone plays. Good rule. Everyone bats. Good rule. There are no outs. BAD, BAD rule! An inning means each kid on every team swings until they hit a fair ball. There are 14 kids on each team. There may be 15 - 20 pitches before a kid hits the ball. Are ya with me here?

Now, when it's my son's turn, it's a great few minutes - but the other 27 kids? Well, let's just say the mind does tend to wander...

Add to this that these games happen at 5:30. I get out of work at 5:00, and my child's day care is a 20 minute drive (when the gods of traffic are on my side). From there, this game is another 10 minute drive away. Somewhere in there, the child in question needs to don his baseball uniform. Add to this, that the ex feels the need to go to the games, even when it's not his day with the kids (don't get me started on that right now...) Add to this, that it's Tuesday. Which means both kids will have swum today in a pool that has to be just as much urine as water, and I get totally grossed out and prefer to immediately toss them into a shower, but won't have that opportunity until at least 7:00 tonight.

Oh, and somewhere in there, I need to feed them, make sure homework gets done, and find some time for myself...

Yep, rain sure sounds good...

Once Again

Time has gotten away from me and I haven't posted. Maybe it's less about having the time to write this, as it is having the time to stop and look around long enough to have anything worthy *to* post.

I had plenty of time yesterday. My son stayed home from school for the first time. I spent the day with him, in mellow activities (nope, no TV - was never even turned on!) I felt like a real mom - something that I don't get too often.

By real mom, I mean one that's there all day long. Now I know that there are all kinds of parents in the world, and I do what I think is my best for my kids. But, I have to work. I have to get them up early every morning (that they're with me) so that I can take them to before-school care and be at work by 7:30. After school they take the bus to after-school care, because school is out at 2:45, and I can't pick them up until about 5:20. By the time we get home, bathed, homework done, and dinner eaten - it's bedtime, and the routine has to start again.

Not yesterday. S woke up with a headache and a fever, so some Tylenol for him, and a relaxing morning for all three of us (once the requisite calls were made to get someone else to open the building for me at work). The kids sat and ate breakfast together. We took A to school just in time for her to have some time to relax and get adjusted to class, but not be so early the school looks closed.

During the course of the day, S and I read, talked about math, science, his upcoming birthday, etc. I was amazed at how much he knows already. He spent hours on my lap, and others self-entertained. At 2:30, he and I left to walk to his school to pick up his sister. (No after-school care today, either!) The three of us walked home, I gave the kids a healthy afternoon snack (grapes for one, strawberries for the other), the kids played, read, (still no TV), and eventually earned some computer time. I made dinner, did laundry, met with the insurance adjuster (groan - another day for that story).

I did nothing amazing. Nothing out of the ordinary - so why did I feel like such a super-hero?

Once again I'm both jealous and amazed at my friends M and J, who knew this feeling all along and chose to be real moms to their kids.

It's Been A While.

I have returned!

Where have I been? At the annual Tucson Gem and Bead Show. This is nothing like any other trade show in the world. (This statement is based both on my own observations as well as what I hear from everyone else.)

With most trade shows, there's a convention center and all the relevant vendors set up and hawk their wares.

In Tucson, in February, there is something like 35 shows going on simultaneously. Oh sure, there's one at the convention center. There's another one at every major (and minor) hotel and resort in the city. As you drive down the freeway, you see miles and miles of white tents. All of them have hundreds of vendors with strands of semi-precious, fine gems, finished jewelry, baskets of silver, etc., etc., etc.

I'm there for a week every year, meeting my clients, selling my company. I enjoy it, I like the face to face contact with the names I know, but by the end of the week, I'm Jonesing pretty bad for those babies of mine.

This year, there was another dimension added into the mix. I never missed T when I travelled - NEVER. However, this year, D was back home, and I was missing him, too.

So what happens when I get back? I rush through the stuff I *had* to get done, and run over to the after-school care to see my kids. I missed them so much! Neither of them wanted to leave yet. Neither of them wanted to stop what they were doing when I got there. I had to practically beg for hugs and kisses.

No worries, though, my son told me later that he hugged the van, because he missed it.

I thought I Knew What To Do

I had it in my head - when I became single, I knew how I was going to handle it. I knew how I was going to keep things simple, easy for my children. I wasn't going to let them get attatched to any man I was seeing. Hell, I wasn't even going to let them know I *was* seeing anyone!

So much for the best laid plans, right?

The last time I was separated my children were toddlers. I had more options about their exposure. Now, they're too smart, and too old, and all my plans are worthless.

Baby Blue

Today we are having a "party" at the office.

The VP looks like she is going to pop soon, she's carrying her first child. I'm thrilled and happy for her, but yes, a little jealous, too.

I have the two greatest children any mom could hope for. I know that. Does that make me shallow to regret not being able to have any more?

I'm getting divorced from their father, I am not looking to get married again, and I don't even know that I would want any more, but the option to do it has been taken from me, and even now, two years later, it gets to me sometimes.

Being pregnant was the most magical time in my life. I guess it's just hard to really say goodbye to that feeling.

Here's hoping to other magic in my future.

Hugs

Is it wrong to get so giddy over a few hugs?

My son has always been a daddy's boy. He and T would always feel closer than he and I. T would play more with him, while I would teach more. T would roughhouse, I would read. T would let him watch television, I'd play boardgames. It always seemed to me that T was the preferred parent, and although I didn't like admitting it, deep down, I was ok with it, because he knew that he was a well loved litle boy.

It seems to me that things have shifted. While he still loves his father a great deal, it seems like things are swinging in another direction. For the last few days, instead of putting up with a kiss or a hug for me - he's asking for his "good night squish". Yesterday, he missed the bus after school and called me to come pick him up. When I called T, to let him know that I was on my way, he didn't know anything about it. I figured that when S called me, and my voicemail picked up, he would have called his daddy. He didn't. He just waited a minute and called me again.

This morning, at the morning drop off, he took his backpack from me, took his dollar for the buck club (before school care) and threw himself into my arms for a hug.

Please understand this isn't a competition - I don't have to be the favored parent - but it is just another sign to me that S and A are adjusted and happy. There's nothing else I want more.

For those keeping count

I might have to give back a few credits towards my "super-mom" award.

Somehow, I managed to catch a cold (or a cold managed to catch me), so instead of a nice, healthy home-made dinner, my children were given kid's meals from Burger King. (In my defense, they do get milk instead of soda, and applesauce instead of french fries.) Their dinner was supplemented with a banana, and then dessert (ice cream sandwhich for one, popsicle for the other.)

Then, just to seal the deal, after their very healthy dinner, they were cleaned up, teeth brushed, and into jammies, where, I'm ashamed to say, all three of us sat on the couch for half and hour and watched, of all things, Pokeman. I've never seen a Pokeman show before, and I can't say I understood it. However, for me, I was mostly "watching" with my eyes closed. On one side, I had my sweet little girl, all curled up against me. On the other, my big little man, holding my hand with both of his.

However, just in case you're thinking all my previous hard work was for naught - my daughter asked me this just before bed. "Mom, when can we clean the bathroom again?"

I've still got it... even with a night of mental and culinary garbage.

Weekend Dichotomy

It was a fantastic weekend. I went to Northern California for a wedding and to catch up with some friends that have sadly fallen away.

I flew from Phoenix to Oakland on Thursday night, and the first thing I was fascinated by was the sky. I grew up in the Bay Area, I was so used to the way the sky was, that I must have never seen it. So I was rather amazed to find that it doesn't get dark in the Bay Area anymore (if it ever did). The combination of fog, smog and city lights, just prevent the sky from ever getting past a muddy brown color.

Where I live now it's "black-dark" (my daughter's words) by 8:30. Unless of course, you count the stars... there weren't any there.

Ok, so sky aside, I had an amazing time. I got to visit with friends, have adult conversations, have adult beverages, partake in adult activities - it was the first time I had travelled on a plane without my children since their conception.

On the flight home, I was feeling really torn. Torn from really enjoying being an unencumbered adult for a few days, and missing my children. I was feeling guilty for having such a good time without them, and perhaps guilty for not missing them enough; for being disappointed that this mini-break had to come to an end and that I would once again be thrown back into the sea of homework, chores, nagging, and putting my wants and needs completely on the back burner.

I'm not a religious person, at all, but whoever created children the way they did knew what they were doing.

As we were reading our homework on Sunday evening. My daughter, A, was reading me her poem book. She read the first poem (my favorite) which says "I am not a crocodile; I am not a bee; I am not a monkey; I am Me!" She showed me the picture of herself she drew with the poem, but she drew herself with long black hair (she's very blond). Her reason? "I wanted to be like you, mommy."

I'm back where I belong.

A Little Validation Goes a long way.

Last night it was Tuesday. On Tuesdays, kids eat free at our local Denny's. Now, I really don't like Denny's - even if I'm not in one of my eating healthy moods, I really don't like Denny's. Therefore, it goes without saying that my children LOVE Denny's.

I was worn out from the day yesterday, and didn't have any genius inspirations for dinner, so I decided I'd take advantage of the kid's eating for free, thing. (The three of us ate dinner for $13).

However, it wasn't the food that provided sustenance for me.

While we were waiting for the waitress to bring our meals, I took advantage of the time and we did our homework. (Yes, at this age, it's *our* homework). First S read his book (he's gone up another level, now - he's at 13), then A read her library book (with a lot of help from big brother). We talked about both books, ensuring comprehension.

Our meals came, and we began. Not once, not twice but *three* times during the course of our dinner we were given compliments. The first came from an older lady that was sitting across from us - she came to tell S & A what good readers they were and how well they did their homework. The second came from an elderly women with a heavy accent to tell me what beautiful children I have, how golden A's hair was (then of course she looked at me, and just assumed that I was borrowing her, I guess), and she had to touch A before leaving. The final came from the waitress herself, who was obviously impressed with the children's manners (they remembered most of their pleases and thank-yous, and even remembered to thank mommy for dinner). Her comment to me was, "You're a wonderful mother... hardest job in the world, and you're just great."

Did I mention how much I love Denny's?

Weekend

Ok, if I was up for the "Supermom" title before - I should clinch it this weekend!

The kids have had a really good first month at school. In the early years of grammar, school they do an active progressive discipline, where the child has to move a clothespin, or another marker if they don't follow the rules. They start out on a light color and move up - in Kindegarten there are 4 stages; white is good, yellow is a warning, blue is a time out, and red is parent notification). In 1st grade, they follow the traffic signal - green is good, yellow is a warning, and red is trouble!

Well, for the first month of school, my little angels have stayed on white and green - so it was time for a reward!

I got the kids back from their father on Saturday evening, and we had a nice, quiet evening in. On Sunday we were up bright and early, and off to pick up a friend. Then down to Tempe where we headed to a splash park. The one we had intended to go to was already closed for the season, but there was a smaller alternative. It was basically a playground with fountains and sprayers so the kids ran around playing, and doing their best to soak their momma. (Successfully, I might add).

From there we went to Chuck E. Cheese - for a few hours of entertainment and crappy pizza. By the end of the day, the grown-ups were worn out, and probably the kids, too, but it's harder to tell with them!

We got back into town in the mid afternoon, and after about an hour of play, I made dinner (yep, all food groups once again present and accounted for) and then we did a little craft project together.

Bedtime for the munchkins was a special treat, as I let them sleep in the same room - something they ask for all the time, but since it usually means a really late night, we don't so it often. However, I figured after the day they had - they wouldn't have the energy to stay up late!

This morning, we were up at at 'em early - as of this time (10:45) we've had baths, eaten breakfast, gone to the grocery store, and made dinner (the kids did most of the work (or so they like to think) but we've got chicken and veggies in the slow-cooker for later). In about 15 minutes, we're heading out for lunch and a movie, then back to finish our housework and homework, and then... (and here is where the gold medal supermom award comes in...)

We will have dinner. With their father. Yep. I am either an amazing parent or freakin' insane, but either way, T will be coming over for dinner. It was so hard for me not to see the kids for 2 days, that I can't imagine how T can do it for 3 - so I'm being a nice guy and letting him come have dinner with the kids and I.

So, keep fingers crossed for me... wish me a night of peace.

Children are Sneaky

Oh sure, they look all cute and innocent - but it's all an act. They're evil, I tell you!

Why else would my daughter know that if she asks to sleep in my room at bedtime, I'll say no. However, if she plays that "I had a bad dream" card after midnight, she finds herself tucked in and momma finds herself tired the next day?

She actually stayed fairly still, so I don't have any bruises to prove my theory, but the momma instinct kicked in full strength, and every time she got to close to the edge, I woke up with a start - terrified she'd plummet to the ground.

So today, you get no witty commentary, you may get some comics, depending on how much free time I have...

Happy Tuesday... SWEET dreams!

Moms

I always thought I knew the kind of parent I wanted to be. You know they type - the sexy MILF, the woman who doesn't look old enough or fat enough to have a kid. At the same time, she's totally oblivious to how she affects men. Her children are always well groomed, in matching, color-coordinated clothes, smiling, polite, etc.

All that changed over an Orange Mocha Frappuccino Light this morning.

The woman was obviously middle-aged, a bit overweight, not especially fashionable. The kid was wearing black pants and a T-shirt. Nothing remarkable - except that I couldn't take my eyes off of them. The woman was animated, making large-sweeping gestures with her hands. The kid, or rather the teenager, was totally engaged; responsive, involved, and enjoying himself.

When it was time for the woman to leave, the teenager, who was actually starting his shift at Starbucks, showed no signs of embarrassment, didn't even look around the room as he gave her a big hug and a kiss on the cheek.

Now, *that* is the kind of mom I want to be. (Of course, if I'm a MILF too, I won't complain!)

Born Again

No, not in a religious way.

It feels like I've got a newborn in the house again. S is sick. Has been sick since Sunday - and is currently unable to sleep through the night. When we were flying home, A was sick, and I just assumed this was the same thing, but now I'm not so sure.

A had a fever, and a slightly upset stomach (threw up once - in the airport - lovely), but the Tylenol always worked, and she was fine after 3 days. S is still running a fever. Or is running a fever again. I'm not sure.

For the last two nights, I haven't slept more than an hour and a half at a stretch. That's probably why this Blog entry is lacking it's usual wit and spark.

Monday night we had our first real storm of the monsoon season. So, between the thunder and lightening, the power outage, the screaming child (afraid of the power outage), the sick child (ok, same child, but different issue), the howling dog, and the fact that a flea fart can wake me up - I didn't sleep much.

Last night, the sick child went to sleep - I woke him up around 9:30 to give him some more medicine, to hopefully get him through the night. I went to sleep around 11. He was up at 12:15 - his clothes had been soaked through because he broke the fever, so he climbed into bed with me. At 1:00, the dog started barking, and by this point, S was getting stuffy again and kept trying to breathe through his nose, which made him frustrated and he'd whimper in his sleep. Since I had to get up to get the dog to quiet down, I crashed on the couch for a little while. Very little while. S needed water. Got him the water. Encouraged him to go to the bathroom, was denied. A little while later, I convinced him that his bed was dry - and wouldn't he like to sleep there? He went back to his own room, but needed something else around 4 - for some reason - I can't remember what. At 6:00 I heard him on the couch - snorting and whimpering again. The damn fever was back!

I tried to get him to eat a banana, he took a few bites, but that was it. He is drinking water though - a lot of water - so at least I know he's not dehydrated.

I get dressed, and run to Wally World to get some Tylenol plus Cold medicine - I wanted to help with the fever and the stuffy nose - and all I had for that was expired Children's Motrin Cold, which I didn't want to give him on his empty belly.

I get asked at Wal-Mart if I'm 18. Apparently, people are now getting high by drinking children's cold medicine. Ok, you all did get the part about me being asked if I was 18, right? Just checking.

I got back, medicated my kid, gathered my belongings and had to go wake T to take over. I want S to get to a doctor today, I think it's a sinus infection. (First thought was Strep - but the symptoms aren't quite right).

Oh, and did I mention that while looking for something to help my sick little boy, I stumbled across T's porn collection last night. Lovely.

Questions, Jr.

I knew all along that someone like me, who asks questions until they turn purple was bound to get repaid by the universe. I'd be forced to answer questions for eternity. What I didn't expect is that these questions would start at McDonalds.

As you know, yesterday was A's birthday. Being the gastronomically advanced child that she is - she chose McDonalds for dinner. We sit down with happy meals in tow - and then it happens. The first (of what I can only presume can be thousands more) question that I don't mind answering, but wish I didn't have an audience of Big Mac Munching Toothless locals.

Question from S: "Mommy how do babies get out of your tummy?"
Me: "Why do you ask?"
S: "I want to know. How do they get out?"
Me: "Most of the time, babies come out through our vaginas."
S: "What's a vagina?"
Me: "You know that already. It's what girls have instead of a penis. You have a penis, your sister has a vagina."
S: "You mean they come out your booty?????"
Me: "No, your booty is in the back, a vagina is in the front."
S: "And that's how a baby comes out?"
Me: "Yes"

A, who was listening, but not quite getting the whole gist of the conversation only wanted to know one thing: "How big is a Big Giant". Now, this may seem like a non-sequitor, but I'm thinking she heard "vagina" as "Big Giant" - lucky for me, S didn't pick up on the subtleties and told her that a big giant was about the size of four people standing on top of each other.

Those kids are going to be in for a rude awakening some day!

Today is the Day

Today, my second miracle baby turns 5 years old. The only thing that eases this path for me, is that she still lets me call her baby, still lets me give her lots of hugs, and only occasionally wipes my kisses from her face.

I wish that all parents felt their children were miracles, but I know that's not the case for everyone. It breaks my heart to see unwanted children, uncared for children, unloved children in the world, when the friends I have would give everything they've got to make theirs happy.

In my case, I believe my children truly are miracles. **Stop reading now if you get the oogies from reading about girly stuff**

In order to understand why my children have reached miracle status, you have to know my history. (Yes, my girly history). I got my first period on the day I graduated from Junior High School. (Oh, and did I mention the frilly white dress I was going to wear for the ceremony?). I was so proud - had to call all the friends I could think of. Yippee! (What THE HELL was I thinking???)

I got my second period two weeks later. And again. And again. And again. Let me just say, that no 13 year old should have to go through a clinical gynecological exam. Especially when they discover that not only does her uterus tilt backwards (making standard manual exams ineffective), but they also say something isn't "quite right". I was put on the pill as a way to hopefully regulate hormones and get things back to normal. Woo hoo - a 13 year old with a license to be promiscuous! (Don't worry, I wasn't).

For the next two years, I was put on higher and higher doses of hormone based pills because things still didn't function the way they were supposed to. It was a lovely existence to be a Freshman in high school who would wake up, throw up, then go to school. At 15 my doctors decided that the hormones either worked or they didn't. (Perfect timing - just when those pills might have come in handy for other reasons!)

All was going along rather swimmingly - or at least it was on the outside. Then my problems started up again.

I was in Maryland when I was struck by searing pain. It turned out I had an ovarian cyst rupture. Let me tell you friends, if I thought previous pelvic exams were bad, having one while a cyst is exploding takes the cake!

A year later, another state, and here we go again. Horrible pain combined with a fever of 104 had me at the emergency room - this time a pelvic infection and inflammatory disease known to cause sterility. No surgery this time, but a level of antibiotics so severe that I was given two choices - through an IV - or inserted directly into my heart.

I get out of the hospital, but still didn't feel quite right - I was still in pain nearly constantly. More tests, more invasive exams (my gynecologist and I were on a first name basis by this point). Now my problem had a name - Chronic Endometriosis. I was so heartened by the literature that was given to me to help me understand my condition. I remember so clearly what it said, "Our hope for treatment is to possibly retain fertility, but most importantly allow the patient to live a life without debilitating pain." You get those subtleties there? POSSIBLY retain fertility? In my mind, even though I was single - I didn't care about the pain, I wanted to have children! I asked my doctor about it, and was told, as kindly as possible, that it was highly unlikely that I'd be able to get pregnant, and if I did, I most likely wouldn't be able to carry a child to term. He suggested a hysterectomy.

For those of you that don't know me - you may not realize how stubborn I am. Not only did I refuse the hysterectomy, but I also refused to accept that I couldn't have children. Nope.

I had two horrible years - pelvic exams every single month, two more surgeries, and never given any false hope that a pregnancy was in my future. I was put into chemically induced menopause. For years, I wasn't allowed to have a period - (ok, so that was the good part).

Life moves along, and I was taken off the medication, as my symptoms had been alleviated. Lo and behold, I meet the man who is to become my husband, and we decide we're going to have a baby. (I did mention the stubborn part, right). Two months later I was pregnant, and 9 months after that I delivered a healthy, 8 pound, 3 ounce baby boy, to the shock and amazement of my previous gynecologist, who has now become a close friend of the family. 15 months after that, I deliver my 8 pounds, 5 ounces daughter, who had already given me plenty to worry about since I got pneumonia when I was 7 months along, and had lost all the weight I had gained up to that point.

When our now friend did me a favor of doing an ultrasound to determine the baby's gender (she wouldn't cooperate the first time!), I reminded him of the conversation we had in which he told me I'd never be able to have children. As a typical man would, he took credit - it was his treatment that saved the day. (My husband prefers to think he had something to do with it).

While both my children are miracles, my daughter does have one additional "wow" factor. She's the first girl-baby born on my husbands side of the family in over 100 years. Needless to say, it concerns T's mom - who finally has her girl, that my miracle baby girl wants a penis.

I would have more babies if I could - but my doctor's were right about one thing - I couldn't sustain any more - I had a hysterectomy a year and a half ago - and I still feel the emptiness. Especially on days like today - when my "baby" is no more, and I've got two big kids at home.

Generic Blog Post

I know I've not given this as much attention in the last week.

Well, this morning isn't going to remedy that quite yet.

As I type this there's one child playing a puzzle, one in bed, and a nonfat caramel machiatto getting cold. In a few moments I'll be gathering my things and heading out.

Today we are celebrating my baby's 5th birthday. She doesn't officially turn 5 until Tuesday, so I'm keeping the emotions at bay for another 48 hours.

In the meantime, the camera's being charged, the birthday girl is now getting cleaned up, then I'm off to pick up the balloons and the cake - and off to Peter Piper Pizza to face a small horde of screaming children and their parents who are probably thrilled to have someone else responsible for entertaining their children for a couple of hours.

I'd better go take some Tylenol now - as a preemptive strike.

Yesterday... All My Troubles

Yesterday was a definite challenge in the home-world.

It actually started the night before with a puddle forming on the living room carpet. Turns out there was a really bad leak in the kitchen which had pooled up and was finding his way into the living room. I went home around lunch time to greet the plumber who resolved the problem in mere minutes. I was then to spend the rest of my day pointing my hair dryer at the carpet.

After the plumber left I heard the plaintive cries of the cat. She had been locked into one of the kids' rooms by mistake. I'll pause a moment while you figure out that a cat has certain biological needs. Yes, the cat was forced to find an alternative to her litter box. Her spot of choice? My son's beanbag chair. So, before sitting down on the floor with the hair dryer I had the joy of throwing out a soiled bean bag. I opened the windows in the room, the hallway, and the living room and kitchen to air out the trapped cat cologne as well as provide more carpet drying opportunities.

My eventful day was brought to a joyful close by what else? Those angelic children of mine. On the one hand we had the two kids sitting behind the couch sneaking - of all things - vitamins. They each ate about 4 of them. (Luckily there was no iron in them). Then they chose to lie about it to their mommy. Needless to say, they had a VERY early evening and were sent to bed immediately after dinner. (Now, just for the record, yes, the vitamins are kept where they can reach them because they know the rules and have never eaten more than one at a time - and yes, they obviously couldn't follow the rules and the vitamins have been relocated to an out-of-reach location.)

On the other hand - my husband just brings home the best stories from the children's schools. Last time it was S who didn't want to be in the same class with the loud boys. Today it was A who was discovered playing away from most of the other kids, with just one little boy. They were both discovered sans pants. If you read my friend Dina's Blog, you might remember the cries of "It's Party Time" associated with my daughter. Just what I need a half-naked party girl. Well, there's still hope - last night she said she wanted to be a penguin when she grows up. (Penguins mate for life, don't they?)

Accolades

Why does it mean so much when someone tells us we did something well? Wait... let me correct that, why does it mean so much when the right someone tells us we do something well?


I give compliments pretty easily - much better than I take them in fact. However, the right compliment, on the right thing, from the right person can make my day. I got the ultimate compliment last night.


My daughter, A, is the cutest little girl you'll ever see (and no, I'm not at all biased).

Look at that little angel! In her amazing life span (of nearly 5 years) she has had many lofty goals of what she wanted to be when she grew up: a whale, a dolphin, a zebra and most recently an otter. She has never followed the mainstream, that girl. However, last night, for the first time, she told me she wanted to be something a person can actually be when she grows up. A momma!


Yep, I've gotta be doing something right!

Strange Phrases

I "collect" strange things I thought I would never say, and those that I don't expect to hear. I have had two new entries into this collection in the last 24 hours.

Example 1: "That hurts my penis!"

We were in the car yesterday driving around a nearby town that I have always quickly dismissed as a place I wouldn't want to live. When choosing an area to go Geocaching, I decided to check out a place I'll just call CV (the locals will know). Although we found our "treasures" I confirmed that there was nothing in that town that would lure me to live there, but I digress. We were driving down one of the major streets that divide the town and it was a lot of small hills (I always think the white line in the middle of roads like that remind me of ribbons or of icing) and the two pint-sized passengers in the back are loving the hills and dips. Trying to "out WOOHOO" each other, one of them says, yep, you guessed it "That hurts my penis!". I probably don't need to mention it, but that came from my nearly 5 year old. My daughter. The same child who has been known to use the phrase, "O My Nuts!". She's confused. I'm only moderately concerned.

Example 2: "He Slept Around"

My older child (6 in March) has learned to read. This is good. This is also bad. Mommy loves to read, especially prose from witty, sarcastic women. I am currently reading Anyone But You by Jennifer Crusie. My son chose to read over my shoulder and read the following sentence perfectly: "Alex closed his eyes. 'Let me guess, he slept around.' Luckily, he was so proud of how well he read, that he didn't ask me to elaborate. Hey, it could have been worse - I had recently read a sentence that said, "The Chapter's Called Gone With Her Virginity"

Well, it looks like my moments of revelling in the youthful phrasing of my off spring is done. My daughter is now at my elbow and wants to know why I am typing. 'Till another time, friends...