Conversations with a six year old

I know I said I wasn't going to be posting any more this week, but I couldn't pass this up.  You'll see why.  Also, to set the stage, we were just arriving home, it was dark and cold and I just wanted to get the kids in bed...

 

Mommy, I know where puppies are born from.

 

You do?

 

They come out of the mommy's butt.

 

Oh no,  No, they don't come out of the butt.  It only looks like they come out of the butt.

 

Well, where do they come from?

 

Oh shit.  Do we have to talk about this now?  We're almost home.

 

Yes, where are puppies born from?  The bellybutton?

 

No, not the bellybutton.  Rushing to get out of the car and Little Man unbuckled.  Come on, honey, let's get inside.

 

But I want to know where puppies are born from.

 

Take a deep breath.  They come out of the mommy's vagina.

 

Bagina?  What's a bagina?

 

Oh shit, shit, shit.  It's where the puppies come out.

 

Do all mommies have one?

 

Yes.  Why won't this unbuckle??

 

Did I come out of a bagina?

 

Yes, you did, now let's get inside.  You have to get ready for bed.

 

Okay.

 

I'm so not ready for this...

 

 

Thankfulness

photo by mathewingram

 

It's Thanksgiving!   Well, almost.  In just three days, it'll be Thanksgiving.  Close enough, right?  We are traveling, just like everyone else in the country, so this will probably be my last post for the week.  First one, too, apparently.

 

I wanted to encourage you, in this time of pushing Christmas shopping, to stop and remember that this week is Thanksgiving.  A time to give thanks.  We get so wrapped up in Christmas, Christmas, Christmas that Thanksgiving often gets missed (unless you count the Day-After-Thanksgiving attention).  Sunday, our pastors reminded us that we should stop and be thankful.  Thankful for many big and little things, especially in this time of economic troubles.  Do you have your health?  Be thankful.  Do you have your family?  Be thankful.  Do you have food and clothes?  Be thankful.  

 

I'm thankful for so many things.  I'm making a list (and checking it twice, gonna find out ... wait - wrong season!) and I encourage you to do the same.

 

I'm thankful for my family.  My husband who is my best friend.  My children who amaze me every day.  I'm thankful that my children still have all of their grandparents and nanny.  I'm thankful I still have all my aunts, uncles, cousins, sister-in-law and beautiful nieces.

 

I'm thankful for my friends.  'Nuf said.

 

I'm thankful for my health - such as it is.  Sure, I could be healthier, but I'm good.

 

I'm thankful for the house we have (even though I have a love/hate relationship with it).  

 

I'm thankful for the grocery game because we're able to eat well and still stay under budget.

 

I'm thankful for Dave Ramsey (even though I hate having to stick to a budget) and for not having car payments.

 

I'm thankful it didn't rain on me this morning while I was bagging leaves in the yard.  (The rain came later and stayed all day long.  In case you were wondering).

 

I'm thankful that my husband has a good job and I don't have to work, even though I do, part time.

 

I'm thankful for so many other things like sunrises and sunsets, rain, a good book, brownies, my children's teachers and schools, my church and my pets.  

 

What are you thankful for?

 

Seasons of life

An old friend called the other day.  Not one of these old friends but a real person kind of old friend.  Honestly, we hadn't talked in probably two years.  I'll call him Steve, but that's not his real name.  We worked together at a music store way back when I was in college.  We never dated or anything, we were just friends.  In fact, he, his roommate, my roommate and I went to Woodstock '94.  Now those were good times.  Hanging out in the mud and rain, listening to all different kinds of music...  but I digress.

 

My point this evening is that while talking with Steve, I realized that we are no longer in the same season.  Over the last two years or so, I would hear people talking about the "seasons of life".  Everyone goes through them at varying times.  I've been through several already.  Not counting High School (which is a season of seasons), I've survived probably three or four different ones.

 

Let's see, there's the Freshman in College Season.  Yes, this does deserve it's own season.  Think back to when you first started college, if you went to college.  All of a sudden you are on your own.  You have no one to answer to but yourself.  Some make it, some don't, some barely scoot by and some excel.  But either way, you go through that season.  I survived, fairly well if I remember correctly.

 

Then, for me, there's the party season.  Specifically raves.  Yes, I'm old school.  I admit it.  I was going to raves back when they were still in dark warehouses that had electricity pumped in for the weekend or even just the night.  Invitations were printed on tiny slips of paper or it would just be word of mouth.  I'd think nothing of getting off work at said record store at 9:30 or 10:00pm, drive two hours to get to a rave in another city and stay out all night long then turn around and drive back in time enough to open the store again at 1:00 Sunday afternoon.

 

That season lasted about a year or two.  Then there were the Dead shows.  Need I say more?  Actually, for a while there, those two seasons coexisted.  Come to think of it, College Life needs it's own season, period.

 

Back then I was young and dumb.  Crazy, even.  I wasn't a bad person, but hey, it was college.  I'll be able to relate to my daughter and son when they get older (God help me!).

 

Then there was the post-College pre-Marriage season.  Just trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up.  You know, the typical 20-something.  Trey and I were hanging out, traveling, working a lot but it was good, you know?

 

Then we got married.  Everything changed, but slowly at first.  We would still meet up with friends and hang out at restaurants with bars but nothing that would be considered "partying".  We still traveled and had fun.  Another season.

 

Then Monkey came along - ushering in the Parenting Season.  This, by far, has been the most challenging and rewarding season of all.

 

Steve is still in the post-College pre-Marriage season.  I talked about being a PTA mom, driving a mini-van and he laughed.  I'm guessing he still sees me as the raving hippie that I used to be.  He talked to me about his old roommate and going back to our college town for homecoming.  He told me about his current jobs and such.  He's been seeing someone for a while - you know, we chatted.  I talked about the kids and school, we talked movies and music and how much things have changed in the music sales industry since we were working together.  We talked for about 45 minutes about lots of things, actually, but when we were done, I realized how different I had become.  

 

Had being a mom really changed me that much?  Do I really have that little to offer someone outside my season?  Sure, I can relate very well with parents of children about 10 years and younger, but after that, what do I really have other than stories and experiences?  I'm sure they will come in handy one day- like when Monkey hits her teen years (AAAH!).

 

Seasons come and go; the wheel is turning and you can't slow down.  All we can do is move forward and look back fondly on our lives.  We all have our seasons.

 

So, what season are you in?

Question of the day

If a dog drinks ice cold water, does it get brain freeze?

 

 

Welcome Home

I saw something beautiful today at Little Man's preschool.  As I was picking him up, I noticed that there was a mom greeting her little boy.  I didn't think anything of it until I noticed Mrs. J. taking a picture.

 

Huh?

 

So I look closer at the mom and I notice that she's wearing desert BDU's.  Mrs. J. said to me, "She just got home today, just now in fact."

 

This cute little blonde boy, one of Little Man's classmates, is seeing his mom for the first time in a long time.  The little boy's twin sister didn't know yet.  She was still washing her hands in the bathroom.  I never saw the boy's expression when he noticed his mom there, but I can tell you that he didn't leave her embrace.  She crouched there with her arms wrapped around him whispering things only he could hear.

 

Then his sister came out of the bathroom.

 

You know how young children, older two's specifically, sometimes take a few seconds to register what they're seeing?  It's like you can watch their thought process in slow motion across their little faces.  This was her reaction.  She stared across the room at her mom then recognition flashed across her face.

 

Then her face completely changed and it glowed.  She excitedly tip-toe walked to her mom and wrapped herself around her, sharing the space with her brother as they've done all their lives.

 

Believe it or not, I never saw a tear from the mom or the dad, standing quietly to the side.  It was almost like they were in their own little world completely oblivious to all of us outsiders.  But I do believe that everyone else in the room got a little choked up.  I couldn't stop smiling.  See, I've been a part of that kind of homecoming before but to watch it from the outside, it truly is a sight to behold.

 

Welcome home.

 

 

Depression stole $10

I'm not an organized person at home.  Back in the day, when I used to work full time, I would be very organized at work, but it's like I would leave it there when I clocked out.  When Depression moved in, he made it worse.  I coined a phrase (although it probably isn't original).  He turned me into a Functioning Depressive (is that even a word??).  Outside my front door, everything was "normal."  I'm doing all the stuff I normally do, usually with a smile on my face.  I even managed to go to Kohl's on Friday and buy two new sweaters (they were 1/2 price - love a sale!).

 

But Depression would sneak in if a friend asked "how's it going?" and I'd fall apart.  Quietly, though, hiding behind my sunglasses.

  

But you should see the inside of the house.  OK, maybe I don't need to go on "Clean Sweep" or Oprah's messiest house shows, but really?  It's a mess.

 

Mail, for example.  We keep mail in a basket on the steps, just inside the front door.  The last few weeks, I haven't really gone through it, except to pull out the bills.  As of Sunday morning I had Three. Steps. Full.  Of mail.  Crazy, right?  Magazines, catalogs, ads, junk mail, you name it.  It was there.  So, Sunday morning I had had enough.  I sat down and started going through the stacks.

  

There is was.  

 

From Kohl's, a $10 gift card to use on anything.  Something they had sent in the mail a couple weeks back.  I vaguely remembered at the time thinking "Cool!  I can always find something at Kohl's."  Did I remember on Friday that I had it?  No.  Depression wanted it for himself.  Could I use it for something else?  No.  It expired on Saturday.

 

Stupid Depression.  Now he's stealing money, too.  I bet he and High Blood Pressure went on a shopping spree.

  

old friends...

I've had two old friends come and visit recently.  Usually, I enjoy catching up with old friends.  We talk about things we're doing, rehash what madness we may have shared in the past, glance at the future.

 

But not this time.

 

This time, I'm not happy to see these old friends.  They're both kinda sneaky.  Gliding in like mist through a crack in the wall.  That imperceptible presence just outside of my line of sight.  These friends like to linger.  I guess they like me.  I should be flattered, right?

 

I'm not.  I wish they'd go be someone else's old friend.

 

I first met Depression in 2003.  That friend managed to stay around a while - almost a year in fact - before I kicked him out of my house.  He tried to come back again in 2005 but I was much better than him that time.  He only lingered a few weeks.  He got clever, though.  He found ways to sneak in to my life without me even knowing he was there.  It wasn't until a conversation with a good friend that I realized that Depression had moved into our spare bedroom.  I was too busy looking the other way to notice.  So, at the advice of said friend, I went to see the doctor this week, hoping to find a way to make Depression move out.

 

That's when my other old friend showed up.

 

Her name is High Blood Pressure and she really is a sneaky bitch.  I bet she's pissed at Depression, though, because now her cover is blown.  I first met High Blood Pressure when I was pregnant with Little Man.  She was persistent and refused to go away.  She didn't bring along her other preeclampsia friends, just her own bad self.  She even managed to force the doctors into delivering our son six weeks early and then started a knock-down drag-out fight with the doctors forcing them to bring out the big guns - the Magnesium Sulphate drip.

 

Yeah, High Blood Pressure is an evil bitch.

 

She managed to live in the spare bedroom of my life until after Little Man was about 6 or 8 months old, then she left.  Sometime in the last 6 months, she's decided to move back in.  

 

I suppose I should be thankful to Depression, though, because without him, I would never have known she was there.  I stopped checking for her after she had disappeared for months and doctor's visits over the last two years turned up nothing.  She was gone.  Needless to say, I'm now on to them both.

 

Excuse me while I go draw up an eviction notice.