Short and not-so-sweet...

     To set the scene, I am in the kitchen.  Sprinkles has stumbled on a toy in the other room and done something unimaginably terrible and imaginary to her toe.  She is also crying hysterically.  Seriously, this girl has a future on the stage... or as a trophy wife.  She can drop tears like a tree drops leaves in the fall.

Sass:  "I'll help her Mommy!" *he leaps up and scampers out of the kitchen*
Me:  "That would be nice, sweetie."  *Can't you hear the concern for my injured and overly-dramatic child?*
- overheard from the other room-
Sass:  "Did you hurt your foot?"
Sprinks:  "Uh huh."  *her answer to everything these days*
Sass:  "You want me to kiss it?"
Sprinks:  "Uh huh." *sniffle*
-the sound of velcro ripping as he peels off her sandal-
Sass:  "Ug, no!  Stinky foot!  Mooooom!  Her feet smell BAD!  I can't kiss dem!"
Sprinks: *high pitched, maniacal giggling*

Welcome to my world, little man....

WW: Napkins are for losers!

Summertime, summer food.  Somebody get the hose!

Do not.... oh, nevermind.

    "DO NOT EAT".   It just seems obvious, doesn't it?  You open up the box of something inedible and you find one of these happy little creatures lurking unobtrusively at the bottom of the box.  Doing what, you ask?  Desiccating, I guess.  For those of you who think I am now going to launch into a story about how one of my wigglers ended up ingesting one of these I am now going to pop your happy bubble of "at least MY kids haven't done that." because neither of them have... yet... that I know of... but it's totally possible...

(I found this entertaining little tid-bit on what would happen if you DID eat the dreaded gel if you are interested... http://health.howstuffworks.com/human-body/systems/digestive/ate-silica-packet.htm)

     While Sass was ripping apart the cardboard containers of all his enthusiastically appropriated birthday booty, several of these were left in the paper piles of the party carnage.  As I picked them up I thought to myself, "Well, duh... because "Desiccant" makes it sound delicious."... but really is it a "duh"?  I mean, as human beings we always make the smart moves, right?  Well, duh... no, we do not.

     We've all that "that friend" who dated "that guy" and ended up with "that problem", or cut the packing tape towards our bodies instead of away, or turned to yell at someone while peeling potatoes with a freshly sharpened kitchen knife, or taken that dare because our pride was more important than deep tissue bruising... because we are all human.  (I hope you learned your lesson about cliff jumping boy scout troupe who saw me crash and burn and then haul myself onto the bank, a rapidly purpling mess of injured pride and subcutaneous bleeding.  And yes... my buddies got quite a chuckle out of that incident, too.)  Is it ingrained in our very natures to push the boundaries?  Are we doomed to wound? At our simplest moments in pre-history were we standing in a semicircle, hooting rude encouragements to the hairy troupe member in the middle with the live scorpion dangling over his tongue?  My answer.... yes.  And I know this because I have children.

     I wish I was given a dollar for everytime I have asked "Now, why did that seem like a good idea?" (either silently or aloud) while putting on a band-aid or wiping away tears because, ya'll I would be one rich bitch.  The thing is, I have come to understand things like gravity, toxicity, and basic physics because I am old and have already made my numerous, NUMEROUS mistakes (and I am certain to make more).  My children have no idea that any of these things exist... obviously... and it won't matter how many times I try to convince them otherwise.  I guess, they will have to figure out some of this on their own.

     Now, I hope I can at least get them to avoid activities that involve the word "Desiccant", "Poison", or "Rock Slide Zone" and, while I won't be able to keep them from all hurts, hopefully they will take some of my advice to heart (advice like "Don't mix your sweet liquors and always eat first.", "The boy in the brand new Mustang is a douche.  Pick the one in the beat up Honda.", and "If it hisses... just leave it be.  It probably bites.")... but we'll see.  They might actually turn out to be careful... or they might turn out just like me.  :)

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.