Bedtime conversations

Tonight was my night to read books.  My husband and I have a very ritualized bedtime routine.  Every other night he does my son's bath and I read books, the next night we switch.  This was my husband's idea.  It's a bit rigid, but I've come to appreciate the fairness of it.  Last night my little guy and I were learning about bats.

bats

He was thrilled to learn that bats eat wasps, mosquitoes, and other insects.  And then it happened.

Me: "Other bats eat lizards, birds, and even fish!"  (This accompanies a rather ghastly illustration of a sharp clawed giant bat with its mouth open baring its fangs swooping down to wrench a gasping fish from the water.  Eesh...)

Him: (with a flop on the bed and a dramatic head toss)  "OH NO!  NOW THERE IS NO BEAUTY IN THE WORLD!!!!!"

Me: "Is there really NO beauty in the world?"

He turns to me wide eyed and says faintly, "There's only 5% left."

Me: "All animals are part of a food chain.  Every animal's body was made to eat something.  Did you know that even people eat fish?"

He boggles, "WHAT is made out of FISH?!?"

"Well, fish sticks....salmon...."

Him: (obviously ignoring the fish stick part) "Oh, I'm SO relieved I don't eat salmon."

The next page was about vampire bats...nope, nope, nope.  I am a coward.  I skipped straight on to fruit bats.  Maybe tomorrow night my husband can teach him about bats that fasten themselves onto livestock, rip tiny holes in them, and suck their blood...I am not risking any more beauty in the world on my shift!

-Daisy

Supermom.

I'm not gonna brag or anything, but I'm pretty freakin' awesome at this Mom gig. I mean, I turned an old t-shirt into a superhero cape and mask in no time flat. Who does that? Supermom. That's who.

In lieu of a real post, here's an actual conversation that just happened.

No kidding, this really happened:

"I'm hungry, I want to go down stairs."

"I am feeding brother right now, can I get you a snack?"

(The Hubster hands me a bowl of plain yogurt and runs away)

"No I don't want it. I want to go downstairs."

"Well that's not happening right now."

He yells. I yell back (he had me up with him from 1-3:30 last night, I am not in the best mood.) I go to put the yogurt away and get food he likes. He cries. I come back and silently put the food down. He is crying.

"I think I need to say I'm sorry, so I took a time out. I think I wasn't nice to you. Then I thought, 'maybe she is right, maybe it's not time to go downstairs' but it made me mad when I wanted to do something and you said no."

I am thinking, Stop it, you're three, but all I can say is, "Ok. It is ok."

There's no moral here. I am too tired. Just a simple, "holy crap did that just happen?"

-Jen

 

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Animal Cruelty.

This looks like a sweet picture of a boy and his dog. It is not. This is a picture of a boy who has run a dog around in circles until she's too tired to move. The poor creature is just relieved that all he wants at the moment is a pillow.

Kiddo is filled with LOVE. Big, big, love. Rough and tumble, flying leap to hug your head when you aren't expecting it kind of love. Climb on your back until it gives out just to be near you love. Big, BIG love. My body doesn't like it, but I get it. Softie, our dog, well, she deserves a medal.

The fundamental flaw in my parenting style.

Playing with butter

"You LET him do WHAT?"

The thing that people question the most about my parenting is The Mess. It is always about the mess. Not the experience, not the fun, not the learning, the mess. As if one should care about the mess. As if the mess is the most awful thing one could imagine.

If I had a quarter for every incredulous question, raised eyebrow, or disapproving look I would be a rich woman rocking a designer diaper bag.

The Ultimate Evening Continues.

The Personal Assistant wanted to make his boat float, so for the first time ever, he took my hand and marched me up to the bath. Then he needed to use all of the colors of bath bombs-blue, red and yellow, so the water was a lovely shade of ick. To make bath time complete, I gave him a few big squirts of Crayola finger paint bath soap and dared him to "paint" his penis blue. So it was also the first time since the he could talk that I didn't have to negotiate to "clean his under carriage".

At 4am Himself woke up screaming, I ran to his room to find him in the chair, no pants. He calmly explained the problem: "I need help getting my shirt off so I can sleep in my streakers". He ended up "in his streakers" in our bed at 4:30, and was nearly asleep when Mr. Baby woke up with a full diaper and teething pain. Mr. Baby then proceeded to pee on me during the diaper change, and thus came back to bed to nurse in his streakers, much to Himself's exuberant delight.

Not wanting to have anything to do with his rather hirsute Daddy, Himself snuggled into my back because, as he explained: "Mommy is one of my favorite characters, not Daddy, just Mommy. Let me see your face. No. Turn your head my way. (Backwards) To my cheek. No! Don't put your head that way! (Not backwards) I need your face! Softie! BE QUIET MOMMY IS TRYING TO SLEEP! Now look of me Mommy, look of me." And so passed the wee hours and my last chance to sleep until bedtime tonight.

Laugh all you want. This ain't over kid.

-Jen

 

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The Best Day of My Life

When I was attending a conference at IUPUI the summer after my junior year of high school, some of the college students on campus lamented, "Oh man...enjoy your senior year!  It will be the BEST year of your life!"  And then later adults told me, "Enjoy college, they are the best years of your LIFE!!"  I, admittedly, got married just a handful of days after I graduated from undergrad, and still, people told me, "Enjoy your wedding day, it will be the best day of your entire life!"