The book mobile is trying to kill me

After 8 or so calls from the library, I decided it was time to return our overdue library books. Every Wednesday the book mobile comes to the Sonic near our house. I let the girls choose their own 4 books and we are on our way. Rarely do I double check their book selections, it's their time to choose whatever they want. Sure, we have arrived home just to realize that we have three book about snakes, no big deal.  At least twice I have had to read that damn book, "Goodnight, Moon." But its the children's section, for crying out loud, how bad can the books be? Not that bad, I thought.

I was wrong.

After our last visit, during bedtime, Addison pulls this little gem from her bag:

 Oooooooooookkkkkkkkk. I flip thru it first and decide to take a deep breath and go for it.

I'm very open with my children about parts of their body. I have always used the proper anatomical term and vowed to answer any questions as they came up. So the book, (with supervision) is a great tool to use and is written in a very appropriate way. I can see this book being very helpful for parents to start a dialogue about body parts with their children. But be prepared to read words like "scrotum" without cringing.

Addison absorbed much of the information and asked only a few basic questions. Not much was new information to her, based on our conversations and openness. I placed the book back in her book bag. In her room. Never thought about it again.

Until nap time today. I was sorely unprepared for the curveball she was about to throw me.

Addi: Mom! Look at this!

Mom: it's quiet time Addison, go lay down

Addi: no really, Mom! You need to look at this, pleeeeeeeease!

 (turns head towards the stairs, and DEAR GOD! She has the book and is frantic for me to see something)

Me: OK! What is it?

Addi: (points to the picture with the male dog...... All the parts are labeled) What is this?

I begin to sweat.....then give myself an internal pep talk, " it's fine, lets just keep calm and answer her questions in a very basic and age appropriate way, you got this."

Me: that is a boy dog and those are his testicles.

Addi: oooooooooooh, it's his testicles. That's right!

Me: Yep, now give me this book, and go back and lay down for quiet time.

Addi: why does he have testicles?

Me: because he is a boy dog, now please go lay down........is it getting hot in here?

Addi: Does Gage have testicles? 

Me: yes, he is a boy dog........ Oh wait, no he doesn't have testicles.............But seriously please go lay down, Mommy needs a drink of water

Addi: why doesn't Gage have testicles?

Me: oh, I don't know.... It's really.... Um..... Kinda...... Aren't you sleepy, you look sleepy, and hot...... 

Addi: you said Gage is a boy and boys have testicles, where are his testicles?!?!?!?!

Me: um....right, well.....  some boy dogs have surgery............ And they don't need babies...... So the doctor cuts the testicles off....... 

Addi: (looks with horror) THEY CUT THEM OFF?

Me: ok.......what I meant was.... For their health..... They have, um.....a surgery...... And they take out the testicles...... So the dog can be healthy..... Oh my goodness, it's so hot in here....... 

Addi: what do they take them out of? Their body? Do they cut them out of their body? Did they cut them out if Gagers body? Why did they do that?

Me: ok, listen to me........ (Pull it together, Mager!) Gage had a surgery before we got him...... To keep him healthy...... And it's called, um..... It's called...... Why can't I think of what it's called? .... Anyway, he is fine...... He didn't need his testicles so he had a surgery....... And now he doesn't have testicles, but he is very happy and healthy....... And when Daddy gets back you can ask him lots of questions ok?

Addi: but what about..........

Me: nope..... Mommy can't answer anymore questions.... GO LAY DOWN!

Doctors Appointment

A few weeks ago I realized that Delaney was due (late) for her well baby check. I cannot stand going to the Doctor with this little one. We always end up needing to have her poked and prodded and I get the third degree about her size.

Keep calm, and feed her more peanut butter.

I'm choosing to stay calm about the whole situation, because nothing will get me in a bigger panic than being told something is wrong with my kid. We will do the tests they want us to do, and see the specialists AGAIN, and try to navigate the insurance hoops. But we will not panic, nope, no sir.

Before we first met our pediatrician, I was told he was a "big teddy bear". I was not prepared by this description, for some reason. He is 6 ft 17inches tall! When he opens the door the first time, I thought to myself, "Great! She's going to be terrified!"

How wrong I was! She loves him. She jumps into his arms every time we see him, which totally blows me away.  This time, she was excited to show off for him during the exam.

She showed him how she rocks her baby.

She told him her unicorn has sparkle hair.

She told him, "I'm naked, I like naked!"

Thanks for keeping it real kid.

I seized the opportunity to ask him if this level of "clothing aversion" is normal for her age. He assured me it was.

I was thankful, because if the trend continued I was going to need some recommendations for a very "open minded preschool".

Before we left (for a blood test they botched) ( no panic) the doctor, who sat eye level with her on the exam table, looked down to make another note. Delaney reached out, laid her hand on his bald head, and exclaimed,

"Naked"

And then this happened

So remember when I was all:

"hey guys, this is the craft section of the blog where I let my kids do amazing crafts so I can get other stuff done and they are, like, sooooooo amazing to sit and paint like mini Picasso's." Read that here

Kaaaaaaay, so then this happens:

I turn my back for a second to post my triumph on the blog and here she is.

It's on her clothes

It's on her hands!

It's definitely in her hair.

Good Lord! Is it in her mouth?

Sigh

Click here to read

Craft time

The girls are finally at the age where they can focus on an activity for more than a few minutes. I have to capitalize on this, if I'm ever going to get anything done. I try to set them up with their craft then run around like my hair is on fire doing the dishes or fixing dinner. Sometimes it works, sometimes actual things catch fire. One of their favorite activities right now is painting.


I use an egg crate to old the paints. It works wonderfully! I cut off the lid, then cut the crate in half.

 The paints we use are washable, and technically finger paints. I ususally make my own paints from Cornstarch and food coloring. But these are so much easier because they wash out so well. And they came from SANTA!

 I have them use small paintbrushes. I choose the small craft brushes because it makes the paint last longer. If they use their fingers it all goes onto the paper at once and they loose interest. But the small brushes force them to take their time.

All in all, it took me about five minutes to set up this craft time for them.

They painted for about 20 minutes.

I'll take it!

Score one for Mommy. 

The look

Ladies and gentlemen,

I give you, " The Look "

I think the kid could have a future in theatre. She shows great promise in producing an angry face on demand. She is also quite capable of conjuring up a great "fake cry".

A prayer for my daughters, as told by Tina

Tina Fey's letter to her daughter:

First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches.

May she be Beautiful but not Damaged, for it’s the Damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the Beauty.

When the Crystal Meth is offered, May she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half And stick with Beer.

Guide her, protect her. When crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age.

Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance. Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes And not have to wear high heels.

What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit.

May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need Not Lie With Drummers.

Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen. Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long, For childhood is short – a Tiger Flower blooming Magenta for one day – And adulthood is long and dry-humping in cars will wait.

O Lord, break the Internet forever, That she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers And the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.

And when she one day turns on me and calls me a Bitch in front of Hollister, Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, For I will not have that Shit. I will not have it.

And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, that I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back.

“My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental Note to call me. And she will forget. But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes.

Amen.


I. Mean. AMEN.