Raising Don Rickles

My five year old is a piece of work lately.  Just had this conversation:

(Me on the back porch, him in the back yard)

Me:  "What do you want for lunch?"

Him:  "Nothing yet!" (This is the third time I've gotten this answer)

Me:  "It's almost 2 o'clock, you need to eat something."

Him:  (Pointing a stick at me) "Don't rush me lady!"

Would you rather...

Sleep in the driveway for 24 hours

OR

Be a worm for two days

I answered "worm" because I thought it would be interesting to see the world through the perception of a different species.  The response?  "But then you wouldn't see US!"  Then why, oh why do you ask me these questions little man?

The deed is done

I did it.  I had "the talk" with the boy.  I think it went pretty well.  I grabbed an opportune moment after school when the little brother was occupied and nonchalantly went to the attic playroom with the book.  I broached the subject by saying "hey, remember how you were dissapointed in science that they didn't explain EVERYTHING about the human body?"  He gave me a worried look.  "Well, I thought I'd explain it to you."

At first he was embarrassed and hid under his blanket and told me to go away.  I didn't make a big deal about it and asked if he wanted to look at the book on his own and then ask me questions.  He kinda hemmed and hawed and half heartedly told me to go away again.  I started flipping through the book on my own and he caught a glimpse of one of the nakey illustrations and he was at my side.

I tried to stay very cool about it, not laugh, but be natural.  Although it was really hard to keep a straight face when he yelled "so dad stuck his penis in YOUR vagina?"  At one point I think the whole discussion was a little titillating to him (as to be expected I guess) and he started looking at me with lusty eyes and grinding his hips (I think I heard a little Barry White in the background).  It provided a good segue into "appropriate" touching, etc.

I told him I'd put the book in his under-the-bed book box so he could look at it on his own too.  I'm relieved that we started the conversation (fully aware that this is just the tip of the iceberg) and I'm glad that I gave him the information, not some random kid at school.  

I knew it went OK when he invited me to play Mario Strikers Soccer afterwards (he completely kicked my ass).    And so far I haven't heard him tell the little brother what their dad did with his you know what.  Only a matter of time...

It's all for you...

The setting:  My living room, 7:50 a.m., Wednesday morning

The Characters: Me, son #1

(I'm sitting on a chair looking at my iphone, waiting for dilly dally to get his shoes & coat on so I can take him to school)

Son:  "Stop texting and let's go!"

Me:  "I'm not texting, I'm reading the news, and stop thinking you can tell me what to do.  I'm the parent, you're the child."

Son:  "Well it won't always be that way."

Me:  "Yes it will, you will always be my child."

Son:  "No, when you're old and shivery, you'll have to answer to me."

Then he shot me this look:

I did shiver a little.  

Puke on me once...

I've been a parent for 9 years as of yesterday (happy birthday to my beautiful, incredible, HUGE boy).  You would think I'd have the sense to move my ass when I hear the words "mommy my tummy hurts" at 4:30 a.m.  (or at least the muscle memory).  But I didn't.  I was still exhausted from Saturday's Spin Teacher orientation and in the middle of that deepest sleep of the night.

I hesitated.  I asked 2 too many questions (1. Do you have to poop? 2. Do you have to throw up?) and paid dearly with a comforter, a coverlet, a sheepskin throw and an area rug.

I have spent the first day of what was supposed to be an incredibly productive week watching (OK sleeping through) a Scooby-doo movie in my bed, cuddling on the couch, doing barf laundry and staying in PJ's until 4 p.m.  I have to work on a project tonight that I had wanted to get a jump on today and now probably can't work out until at least Wednesday.

This video symbolically represents how I am feeling.  Blessed to have my adorable children, but sometimes I'd just really like to do some freakin' yoga in peace, preferably near an ocean with no one under 4 ft. 6 inches within miles.  I think I need a vacation.

Warning:  Boob alert.  Disclaimer: If this video offends you, you are reading the wrong blog.