Mom... just stop talking....

So recently I have made some serious mistakes concerning explaining the world to my curious almost 4 year old son.  In my defense, both of these... um... epic teaching moment fails occurred in the morning, on the way to school, and pre-coffee.

Explanation Mistake 1:  The Red Cross and Blood Donation

Sass:  "What's dat Mommy?  Dat red thing."
Me:  "Well, that's the symbol for the Red Cross.  They want people to donate blood to help other people that have been hurt.  Donate means "to give"."
Sass:  "Like da blood in mah bones?"
Me:  "Well... it's around your bones but yeah.  Sometimes when people get hurt really badly they bleed so much they may need some new blood so the Red Cross gives it to them in the hospital."
Sass:  "How do dey do dat?"
Me:  *Crap*  "They sick small needles into healthy peoples arms and store it in bags.  *Yeek! Distract!  Distract!*  They have a really big bus, too!"
Sass:  *sing-songy and repeated over and over again* "Dey take your blood!  Da blood in your bones!"
Me:  *Yup... this ended about as well as I thought it would.*  *sigh*

Note to teacher:  I tried to explain blood donation and failed miserably.  You know the drill...



Explanation Mistake 2:  Rain

Sass:  "Da clouds bump together and play too hard and then dey go BOOM!"
Me:  "That's right.  And that's thunder."
Sass:  "Where did all the colors go?"
Me:  "What colors?"
Sass:  "Da ones in the sky!"
Me:  "Well, they sky is all grey because it's going to rain.  The clouds are all heavy with rain water and turn grey when they are full.  The blue sky is hiding behind them."
Sass:  "How did dey get full of rain?"
Me:  "Well, they drink it in like you drink water and when they get too full..."  *my inner "quit while you're ahead" alarm totally failed me on this one.  It was like watching a crash in slow motion....*
Sass:  "Dey pee!  Da clouds pee!"
Me:  "Not exactly..." *desperately trying to backpedal*
Sass:  "Da clouds pee on us!  Dey rain pee!"

Note to teacher:  I'm just... really... I.... Oh god.....

WW: A Saturday Renaissance

Laird Sass Monkey of Clan Spiderman, Champion of the battle of Bubbles at Bathwater and Terror of the Black Lab.  It is said that he once charged into battle stark naked and screaming like a heathen beast which so terrified the approaching army that they all turned tail and ran, never to be seen again.  Most were probably lost in the mire of the misty moors or eaten by pookas.  Or Sprinkles Fairies.

A rare and wondrous Sprinkles Fairy.  To see one means there is a loaded diaper in your future.  Oh, and luck (because fairies are lucky, right?).  To draw this sweet creature of the fey into your home, place a cup of milk and a plate of cheese crackers on your doorstep overnight.  But beware... they are known to be prone to bouts of ill humor and rage.  Stories abound of hearths and homes ruined by a Sprinkles Fairy who feels they have been slighted.

Oh.... How we do love a Renn Faire.

Wise beyond his steak.

Because my weekend was a blur of Rennaisance Festival debauchery (that unfortunately didn't involve a Dragon Beer OR Turkey leg because I can have NEITHER)  and a wonderful Mother's Day, I got no writing done.  Instead, I thought I would leave you with a Sassism of unparalleled wisdom and insight that I was gifted with last night as I said goodnight to my sweet, scary boy.

"Mom, you shouldn't play wif sharp knives because they could cut you and you could turn into MEAT.  Dat is why we shouldn't play wif knives... or scissors."

Damn straight, little man.  Damn.  Straight.

(Disclaimer:  We had make-your-own grilled kabobs for Mother's Day dinner earlier and he was very interested in where all the different bits came from.  Peppers and onions from plants, shrimp from the ocean, kielbasa from pigs, steak from cows, ect.  At least, that is where I am hoping this little "gem" originated.)

I'm at Dad's Round Table today!!!!

Oh.  Mah.  Gawd.  Ya'll.

Check this out!  I'm at Dad's Round Table today and I think I might faint/pee a little with joy!  Don't know who the awesome dudes at Dad's Round Table are?  Then go brighten your lives a little and take a tour.  Why they decided to lower their standards and let me in is beyond me, but thanks for letting me sit at the cool table today, gentlemen!

Now THAT'S just going too far....

My children's school is being "Audited" today.  What this really means is they are getting their yearly observation out of the way.  Having worked at a preschool in college, I know how nerve wracking an observation session can be.  A stranger sits in your room for HOURS , not saying a word.  They aren't allowed to interact with the children in any way.  They just sit there and silently judge.  It's terrible.  But a necessary evil, no?

So, I'm thinking "They've so got this!  That place rocks!  I mean, I wish I could hang out there all day." because we love this school.  They truly care about our children and take the good days right in stride with the bad.  They believe in play and dirt and a damn good time with a dash of good old "sit and listen" time.  In teacher speak that's learning through play and teacher led learning. *yawn*  Now let's all go eat worms.....

So anyway, I was all like "They've SO got this!" and they do.  But then they posted the criteria they were being judged on.  There were the normal bits like:

- toys and books that are age appropriate
- hand washing and proper sanitization
- nobody requires too many stitches (oh no, wait... that's just mine...)

All very important... but then I saw this, "They will also watch each time a child sneezes, coughs, touches their noses, ect. and the teacher can only miss having the child wash their hands 25% of those times.  They will measure the mats at nap time to make sure they are three feet apart and the children lay head to toe."

Wha?

This has gotten ridiculous!   Oh ... I feel bad for the teachers, considering Hubbs and I dropped off two avid nose pickers who flop and roll in their sleep like marbles dropped on a linoleum floor.

I am all for some semblance of germ control but this... this is just stupid.  You can only miss 25% of the time?  1/4 of all picks, rubs, smears, hacks and ker-choos?  Most kids think shirt sleeves and forearms are tissues (wait... they aren't?) and it's ALLERGY SEASON.  I see soap-chapped hands in their futures.

And the mats?  Head to toe?  Who cares as long as the little wigglers get some sleep?  Besides, if it's a safety thing, then they are S.O.L because, with the way Sass Monkey goes down, somebody will get a velcro Spiderman to the face anyway.  When he naps with me, I still get toes in my kidneys and we have a  king sized bed.  Not to mention the fact that Sprinkles treats her crib like a pinball machine and she's going full tilt.

I am sure these rules exist for a reason... just not a very good reason.  Like a crazy,over-protective, reactionary parent reason.  These over-the-top required criteria put undo stress on teachers who don't deserve it and don't need it.  These are the teachers who have helped Sprinkles get over her crippling fear of strangers.  In fact, she runs to them and hugs them in the mornings, completely forgetting that both Hubbs and I exist.  These are the teachers who say things like "Well, he went through a range of emotions today." and laugh about it because they are superheros with a patience made of something WAY stronger than steel. (Btw, "range of emotions" is code for "Mommy probably would have already sold you to the gypsies." which means Sass must have been absolutely UNHINGED.)  These teachers are saints in matching polos and auditor, if you can't see that, then you need to find something else that gets you a paycheck.  Something that doesn't require common sense or the ability to pay attention.  Like McDonalds (and I can say that because I have worked there).

So rock on you wonderful zoo keepers, you!  I want you to know that, despite what that little checklist looks for, what really matters is your devotion to our future inmates policy writers, decision makers, and rulers of the free world.  We see what you do and are in awe of you.  Thank you for helping to make our children the wonderful little people they are... we couldn't have done it without you!

Pregnant Working Mom's 1st World Problem

     I will admit it... I am running on empty.  My briefly reclaimed energy and sense of enthusiasm is currently being sucked away by the trial of making people on the inside, and wrangling the ones on the outside.  I am  a slave to my raging hormones who first fill me to bursting with love and wonder one moment and then dash me on the rocks of ennui and exhaustion the next....

Apparently I am also a Drama Llama.  ;)  But I am tired, sore, and brain dead... and I'm only three months in.  *shudder*  I think it's worse when you know what you are in for.

     Don't get me wrong... I am happy to be making the next installment of crazy.  The way I feel about my children is indescribable and life alteringly wonderful.  We will now be a three chapter bestseller .. but let's face it... being pregnant also reminds you of why men have been running amuck and starting wars unchecked all this time and not women.  I am too damn tired to do anything except exist and snuggle on the couch and I have no extra brain space.  As I like to remind my poor long-suffering Hubbs regularly, "You know this shit used to KILL us allthedamntime.  And not just the delivery part!  Just the pregnancy could do us in.", but, then he does something sweet, like clean the kitchen, and I just can't keep spouting Non-Baby-Making hate speech at him... I mean, that sink was FOUL and he was a brave man to jump in there without some serious Hazmat-like protection.

But here's my Pregnant Working Mom's 1st World Problem:  Who am I and where did I go and when will I get back?

     When everyone is weaned and on the outside you get used to some sort of "Mom Autonomy".  While the kids are at school you can go to work, sip your coffee, and make big girl decisions.  You can think about things other than who may need to go sit on the potty, what to make for dinner, and selling nap time to a cranky toddler.  (Obviously... I am not SAHM material.  Duh, right?  I actually gave it a go... and then needed anti-depressants and someone to peel me off the ceiling every day around 4 p.m...  No bueno.)   But now that I am pregged-up, my Mom Time is seeping into my Non-Mom Time in a big way.  I am a 24/7 baby-making-palooza with no breaks and NO Vacays.  Par for the course, yeah, but no less difficult.  All those little de-stressing activities (i.e. - Reading Smut and Pinterest Inspirations) I had before implantation have fallen by the wayside out of sheer tired.  And, because this ain't mah first rodeo, I know it's going to be a coon's age before I find my energy and can resume aforementioned funs.  Whaaaaaaa!

Yes... I would like some cheese with my Whine.  Because I can't HAVE wine... so bring extra cheese.  And crackers.  And tacos.

     So, in short (and just short), I am a mess of grieving my "Me-Reclaiming" mixed with Supa-excitement over meeting our newest mess maker.  Oh, and ugly crying over episodes of "Supernatural".  The one where the lesbian LARPer reads "The Hobbit" to her comatose Mom right before they take her off life support just about did me in.  Seriously.

A mother/son moment for the books.... but not the Baby Book.

     Sass and I bonded yesterday.  It was a real "mother/son moment" fit for a Hallmark Card super-imposed over a picture of some soppy-eyed baby playing with white doves.

     Daddy is out of town, you see, so we are down a pair of hands (among other things).  The breakfast rush was over and the 1st attempt of the morning to clothe their shameless nakedness was coming to a close.  I was sitting on the stairs looking for one of Sprinkles shoes that had mysteriously disappeared (those damn sock stealing gnomes have gotten uppity and moved on to bigger quarry) with Sass standing off to one side catching the end of his morning cartoons.

"Well..." I said and stopped because what was coming next was not suitable for younger viewers.
"Crap, Mommy?" Sass chimed in.

I looked up, a bit surprised.  At about the same moment, Sass realized his mistake and started to look a little nervous.

I sighed.

"Yep, buddy.  That sounds about right.  Nice usage and understanding of connotation."  He looked relieved. "But remember... your teachers really wouldn't like you to use that word.  Oh, and don't say it in front of Daddy.  Then we'll both get in trouble."  He nodded seriously and turned back to Jake and The Neverland Pirates.

Maybe I'm too lax.
Maybe I'm just tired.
Maybe it was relief that he hadn't used any number of overheard choice phrases.
Or maybe I saw the understanding in his eyes that "crap" was not the best choice of words and was satisfied with that.
Also.... the fact that he used it so correctly is totally my fault.... aaaand makes me a little proud. Tee-hee.

Open letter to my Grey Matter

Dear Cerebellum and the Sparky little Inhabitants therein,

I miss you.  Your loss has left me a foggy hot mess.  I have enough left in me to understand that  I was at one point a competent and functioning human being, but not enough to help me reclaim my former cerebral glory. You are cruel to leave me so.

I mean... I know we have had our differences and all, but can you find it in you neurons to forgive me?  It was only 5 or 6 years of shots of hard liquor followed by Irish Car Bombs!  I didn't mean it....  Well, that's a lie.  I had a great time but I realize now how hard it must have been on you.  ...And those one or two times on the Super Spinny Redneck Carnival Ride Of Death really weren't my fault!  My husband made me do it. ...And I never meant to land face first in the dirt all those times I got thrown off the horses!  You can blame that on my abnormally large, dense, and heavy skull coupled with a faulty sense of direction.  See!  It wasn't really me!

I am also so very sorry I made you watch Twilight.  I kept going even though I could hear your pitiful screams as your bright little electric lights were snuffed out one by horrified one...  I regret that now and wish to make amends.

Come back to me!  I need you for phone numbers, my children's names, pediatrician and OB appointments... I need you for company.  I am so tired of just laying on the couch and staring at the remote knowing I am supposed to remember something but never figuring out what important TV show I missed...
Do you realize that I TOTALLY FORGOT ABOUT GAME OF THRONES LAST NIGHT?  My one saving grace is Hubbs DVR'ed it... See what I have been reduced to?  See what madness you have driven me to? I am a pathetic shell... a badly xeroxed butt of my former self.

Everyone on the Internet says you will come back to me eventually (like the second trimester) but I cannot wait!  How can you make me suffer so?  After all that we have been through?  I am nothing without you...

Please...

I have lost that conscious feeling...

Name Game

Conversation with Sass Monkey the other night:

Me:  "We are trying to pick out names for the new baby.  What do you think we should name it if it's a boy?"
Sass:  "We... we... we should name it GUN-MAN!"
Hubbs and I snicker.  This has been a favorite name of Sass's for some time now.  It is entirely of his own creation.
Hubbs:  "Well... what if it's a girl?  What should we name it?"
Sass:  *looking very serious* "I don't like girls."
More parental snickering.
Me:  "But honey, it might be a sister."
Sass: *Looks dismayed*  "But I already have a sister!  I want a brother!"

Alright then.... lemme get on that.....  :)

In his defense... sisters are kinda brutal....

*Heavy Sigh* (Eye Roll) *Facepalm*

Okay... start by reading this.... http://www.babble.com/baby/readers-respond-why-im-pro-formula-feeding/.

Did you read the comments?  You should because that's where all the "fun" begins.

     That's right... I'm the  "Pie Hole" Mom....  :)  And for those of you who know me and this blog... well, of COURSE he had a ravenous pie hole!  He still does!  You should have seen how fast dinner disappeared last night... oh, AND the bedtime snack.

     Where have our manners gone, folks (not to mention our sense of humor)?  Manners and compassion are what separate us from the wild beasts.  Though I must say, some of those commenters make a pack of rabid wolves look pretty civilized.  And I'm not talking about the "elbows off the table", "no burping in public" kind of manners (those are not mandatory in my opinion), I mean the ones that let us all live together in some semblance of harmony.  I'm talking about the ones that will someday help us all to understand that we all bleed red, love our families, and can get along. Some of us have let our need to champion our beliefs, ANY BELIEF, cloud our understanding of what is just personal choice and what is actually harmful.  We have lost sight of what really needs changing in this world. (a.k.a. world hunger, women's/children's rights, oh how I could go on...) Have an opinion, get passionate, but do it in an intelligent and effective way.  Quote statistics, back your ideas up with facts and well written pieces, use a semi-colon or two... I dunno... but just vomiting your vitriolic nastiness up for all the world to see in the comments section doesn't do anything but hurt feelings and make you look petty.

     I am passionate about the boob vs. can debate, we all know this.... The Nipple Nazis really get mah dander up, but I would never accuse one of them of being a bad mother or not caring about their child just because we have chosen different feeding paths.  (You see, there are so many other very valid reasons I could pick from to judge them!)  I AM concerned about what values are being passed down to their children as far as love and acceptance of the life choices of others.  I mean... my kids may go to school with theirs.  I don't want my children being subjected to their on-the-spot-no-questions-asked judgy-ness or the "ish" that their progeny picks up from being raised in that environment.


Diversity is the spice of life, ya'll... negativity just f*cks up the recipe.

Oh... and show some love to Rebekah @ Mom-in-a-Million / The Stay At Home Pundit.  Her badassery knows no bounds!