body parts

OK. I'm a prude. I admit it. Frank talk about things of a sexual nature makes me a bit uncomfortable. Lord, help my children when it's time to have "The Talk".

Since the beginning of time with The Kiddos, I have referred to their business as their 'tushie' and their 'bottom'. It makes no difference to me that one of them is a girl and one is a boy, and that therefore they have completely different tushies; that's just the lingo we use. That's what I am comfortable with. Now you know.

I've read the articles about the benefits of calling the parts of the body by their "real" name. I don't disagree with the studies, necessarily, I just find that I don't have it in me to be so clinical with my small children. But, as much as I am a total prude, I also always knew that I wouldn't lie to my kids about anything. If they flat out ask me a question, I will answer it.

A long time ago, The Babe noticed that she and The Boy have different tushies. She asked me about it, point blank, and I told her that he was different from her because he is a boy and she is a girl. She asked me what it is called, what does he have, what's that extra piece? So, I told her. I said the 'P' word. I told her that's what it's called when you are talking to a doctor or nurse, but that around these parts, it's called a tushie. She asked what to call her tushie if she were speaking to a doctor or nurse, and I was forced to use the 'V' word, too. It was a great day for me, using both those words within 3 minutes of each other. I should have written down the date, because I had never intended for it to happen again.

Until today. The Babe and The Boy were in their bath. They have discovered that the bar of soap is funny, that it is slippery and silly when it's wet. They wash each other's tummys and backs and knees and elbows. They've been doing this for a few days, and I think it's cute. Today The Babe says "OK, now I'll wash your penis and you can wash my vagina". Hmmm... My ears perk up a bit at this, of course, and even though it absolutely could not have been more innocent, all I wanted to do was put a stop to it. But since there's really no way to do that without turning the whole situation into a bigger deal than it ever needs to be at this stage in their lives, I just kept my mouth shut. It was kind of sweet, after all, and it was followed with "OK, now get my tummy".

The best part came after the bath, as The Babe was trying to teach the words to The Boy. She told him what he had and what she had and pointed out the differences. The Boy was actually quite upset. "No!!! I have 'gina! I have 'gina, too, Dizzy". He was practically in tears. I guess I'll wait a while before I explain to The Boy that we don't actually get to share everything. Poor little guy, already knows it's better to be a girl, LOL.

i'm too popular

Seriously. I'm too popular for my own good. Not socially - puh-lease, but with The Kiddos.

I have blogged often about The Boy and his clinginess. He has gotten much better this past summer, but he still sometimes cries when I leave him, especially if I am taking The Babe with me. "My go too, Mommy! My go, too!" I understand why he is upset; he thinks I am taking The Babe on some special, magical, treat of an errand and he doesn't get to go. The reality is usually that I am driving her to pre-school or ballet, but he doesn't understand that, and it makes me sad. Poor guy, thinks I'm just leaving him behind to go do something fun without him.

I have tried to remedy the situation by enrolling The Boy in a mini-gym class. Now he and I have our own special, magical errand to run, and The Babe doesn't get to come along. The Boy seems happy about it, and The Babe is old enough to understand what's really going on.

The kicker that I totally wasn't expecting came on Wednesday. The Babe has school on Wednesday afternoons, and I happened to have lunch plans with a very old friend of mine who is in town on business this week. I haven't seen her in about 2 years, and I was looking forward to lunch. As I was getting ready to go, I realized that my friend had never met The Boy, and there's no reason I shouldn't take him with me to lunch. He's a pretty well-behaved little fella, and it would be nice to get out just the two of us to lunch in the city.

OMG. The Babe. The Babe cried. She was so devastated that The Boy and I were going out to lunch and she could not join us. Her words were different, but she might just as well have been saying "My go too, Mommy! My go, too!". I was sad to leave her. It's not as though she wasn't invited, but she had school. I tried to explain... remember all the errands we run? How we sneak out of the house while The Boy is napping to run a silly errand and then we stop for a donut? I told her, that's her special time with Mommy, but now it's The Boy's turn. I think she did understand, but she was still sad and a little weepy when I left. She hasn't done that to me in years. I was so shocked, and I felt really guilty.

Today while The Boy was napping, The Babe and I had to run a legitimate errand to get her new ballet slippers. We had been planning all week to take care of this errand today, but you had better believe I made sure we stopped for a donut, too.

vacation, all i ever wanted....

So, last week I was on vacation. Not just vacation from blogging (I did take a whole week off there, sorry about that!), but vacation from my job.

You all know by now that I work from home. So, vacation is weird. I'm still just home, except I have a lot less to do. I enjoyed being able to ignore the clock (to a certain extent... I mean, there are still children to feed), I absolutely loved going to bed early, and I do think I got a good amount of rest.

But it's weird just the same. When I was ever on vacation from a regular job, having the chance to be at home for a week was very appealing. When I take vacation from my current job, it's a bit unsettling. It's as though a third of the things that I take care of each day just don't exist. Imagine if you took vacation from work, but still went to the office every day and saw your desk and your computer and all the things to do. You don't do any of it, because that's the point of vacation; but it's still there, mocking you. I know I am not explaining this very well, all I can say is that it is disconcerting.

I swear, I was almost relieved to be back to work yesterday. I said almost. I have one week of vacation to take in each of the remaining months this year. That's 3 more weeks of vacation and no plans.

Remind me to travel next year. Please!

gender roles

OK. I don't know what goes on where you live, but around here it's already started. Halloween. The Kiddos have already decided what they want to be, and costumes are already in the works.

In years past, The Babe has always been some sort of Disney Princess. Well, I know Tinkerbell isn't technically a princess, but you get the idea. This year, The Babe announced a desire to dress as a doctor, and while I know that many of the finest doctors are women, it's quite a large step away from being a Disney Princess. I was pleased with The Babe's decision, and I bought her a pair of real scrubs from a real hospital supplier's website. They are perfect, and cheaper than the doctor "costumes" on the halloween sites.

Last year, my husband picked out a pirate costume for The Boy. It's technically a Captain Jack Sparrow costume, and it is very cute. It was gi-nor-mous on The Boy last year, and we kind of planned that he would wear it again this year. He looked so adorable in it. Well, The Boy is at the age now where he has a mind of his own. Certainly when The Babe was this age, we let her pick her own costume.... and, well, The Boy does not want to be a pirate. He is very insistant. He absolutely does not want to wear that outfit.

A couple of weeks ago, I asked The Boy what he wants to be for Halloween. I was pushing the pirate costume pretty hard. "Look how cool it is - - Look, there's a sword - - Hey, this part glows in the dark!" The Boy was not buying it. He does not want to be a pirate. His answer? What he just HAS to be this year? A ladybug.

I am, of course, tickled pink! I would love to dress The Boy as a ladybug, and I think he would be adorable. My husband is not as excited. He understands, of course, that if this is what The Boy would truly like to be, then how do we force him to be something else? We can't. I have asked The Boy several times over the past few weeks what he wants to be, and each time his answer is the same. "ladybug, mommy! ladybug!". So, today I bought him a cute little ladybug costume. It's basically a heavy velour ladybug-looking poncho with a hood that has antennae on it. I bought him some cheap black sweat pants to wear underneath and I'll get him a black sweatshirt, too. My husband is not upset at all, so I need to give him credit. He says he's just disappointed because the pirate costume is so cool (and it is), but he agrees about The Boy: best ladybug ever!

outta here

Well, this is the weekend. The infamous guilt-ridden, mommy going away with the girls weekend. Here I go. I'm really going. I am. Just give me a minute.

Getting me out of the house for the weekend involves a lot of planning. Step 1 was to line up my mother in law to come stay. That way, I don't feel as much like I am leaving them to fend for themselves. That sounds horrible, my husband is really great with The Kiddos. I think it helps ease my guilt, though, because instead of just saying "Mommy is going away for the weekend", I can now say "Gramma is coming to stay for the weekend!". The Kiddos know that I am leaving, but they are excited for Gramma to come stay. Sometimes, I can be smart like that. Sometimes.

Step 2 was to get everything done that could possibly need to be done around the house, so that I don't have to feel bad that I left the house "undone". I did everyone's laundry. Everyone's favorite outfits are clean. I washed all the bath towels. I washed all the dish towels. I washed the sheets and remade the beds. I grocery shopped and made sure everyone's favorite foods were stocked. I cleaned the kitchen. I cleaned everyone's room this morning. The house is all set. We're good.

Step 3 was getting the things I needed for the trip ready. It's all girls, and we were all asked to bring a side dish, etc to share. So, yesterday I spent a good chunk of time making chicken salad, banana bread, and lemon bars. While at the grocery, I picked up all the other things I'd need. Drinks to share, mostly. Fresca, tea, and beer. LOL.

Step 4 was to get everything ready for The Babe's first day of school today. I had to find her backpack, get her a folder for the teacher/parent correspondence. I had to get an "extra outfit" in there, just in case... We were assigned to decorate an apple ornament with a picture of our child and I had to get some family photos together for a class project. I completed the checklist this morning.

Now I am in the middle of step 5. Getting my shizz together and getting out the door. I have just finished packing my bag. I am proud that it is such a small bag. I am usually a huge over-packer. Now I have to pack the cooler full of my food items and make lunch for the kids. After lunch, we're off.

I'm really going. I am. Here I go. Just give me a minute.....

what kind of animal are you?

This was the question we spent asking The Boy for the entire dinner time last night.

OMG, we're so smart! Genuises!

You see, The Boy has been on a bit of a food strike as of late. I know the doctors tell you that your child won't starve himself, and as long as you offer food on a regular basis, it's all good. Your child might eat more one day and less another day, but it all averages out. Don't worry. Hmmm... I see their logic, and I know they're right. BUT, it doesn't make me feel any better when I'm putting The Boy to bed knowing all he's had to eat all day is a half a breakfast bar, a handful of blueberries, and a piece of cheese.

So, last night at dinner, we made a game. It helps that we have recently been to the zoo. We'd ask The Boy "what kind of animal are you?", and he would smile. We'd say "Are you a giraffe?", and he'd say "noooo....", "Are you a bear?", "noooo....", and we'd keep asking different animals until we hit upon one that he seemed to like, and the answer would be yes. Then we'd say "Oh! You're a chimpanzee! Show me how a chimpanzee eats!" The Boy would enthusiastically show us that a chimpanzee loves his pasta, and he would take a few bites. Then we'd have to start over and find a new animal that The Boy wanted to be right then.

It turns out that lions and orangutangs are the best eaters. Lions don't even use utensils or their hands or anything, they just put their face directly in the pasta bowl and eat like that.

We were so proud of ourselves for discovering that this game would make The Boy eat. We had finally outsmarted him. Until - - -

It turns out that there are some animals that refuse to eat, too.

Game over (insert death of Pac Man noise here).