I believe that under the official definition of Mother in the dictionary it should say: See also The Oracle at Delphi. I am called upon daily to answer so many questions, that I sometimes feel as though I work full time on Jeopardy! or some other similar quiz show. A lot of these questions fall in the range of: Why is it dark outside? Why are my eyes blue? What is for lunch? Where are my shoes? Why is it raining? When will it be Christmas? All of these questions, while they can be extremely annoying especially when fired at me with the speed and accuracy of an Uzi, are fairly easy to answer. Occasionally I get to answer a really cool question that takes a little more thought, a question that makes me feel good and at the same time really fucking scared about being a mom and my roll as an official Shaper of Little Minds. Among my favorite of these types of questions are:

What is karma?

What is a bigot?

Why aren’t we Mormon?

and just today….Mom, do you think I will be gay?

 

Sometime last week Leo and Badger were bored and looking for a way to be destructive. They each took two plastic cereal bowls out of the kitchen and taped them together with scotch tape, creating what you might call a poor mans ball. They then decided to color on them, drawing faces and hair transforming these globes into human heads. Leo briefly filled his with water to simulate blood and brains, but that plan was quickly vetoed by the clean up police…aka, me. But he made it clear to me that if his own beautiful blond bigger-than-average size head ever got removed in a tragic “head-offing accident”, that he wanted it replaced with the plastic bowl head he had just created. The kid seriously watches too much TV.

Badger named his bowl head Anakin (thanks Star Wars) and has been carrying it around with him everywhere. In the car, the store, to the park, and to bed. Anakin is his new best friend. Badger has always had a good crew of imaginary friends. Sometime during his second year of life Shawn, Jake, T-Bone, and Emily started coming to play every day. These guys don’t usually take form, the way Anakin has with his plastic and tape body, which makes them easy to step on and offend yet equally as easy to ignore. Frankly I really enjoy when Badgers friends are over playing because they are quiet and don’t eat all my snacks the way the friends with heartbeats do. Even though occasionally they persuade Badger to cause trouble, especially that Jake, he’s always telling Badger to dump out all his toys or eat candy for breakfast. But Anakin, being a polite plastic bowl head, is a welcome addition to the imaginary crew.

Last night I was sitting at the kitchen table helping Sunny finish up her three hour homework session, and the boys were running around playing swords and enjoying being out of the watchful eye of the clean up police. Suddenly Leo came running into the kitchen, holding a large plastic sword with plastic Anakin rolling at his feet, and Badger trailing closely behind. Leo raised his arm up back behind his head, and in one swift chopping motion he sliced little Anakin, causing the tape to detach and two separate little bowls to go rolling in opposite directions across the tile.

Badger then screamed a scream so loud that every small animal in a five mile radius instantly suffered brain damage. He then yelled “Leo, how could you? YOU JUST KILLED MY FRIEND!”

And Leo, who was very clearly sorry yet confused at the same time, tried to make things right by pointing out the obvious truth, ” It’s just an inanimate object, don’t you know?”

He didn’t know.

 

My sister and the two youngest of her crew of children came and stayed with me last week. I love my sister. She is a sweet and accepting person. She never once commented on my drinking coffee, or the wine bottles that I have elegantly displayed in a rack on my counter, both of which get me a one way ticket to Outer Darkness in her Mormon world. I love that she can be herself and also let me be me, that we can still be sisters even though we disagree about religion, a concept that is ironically foreign to many religious people. However she is raising her children to be Mormon in the strictest sense of the word. This means that around them I have to be pretty careful about everything I do, or rather everything I say, least I offend their fragile sensibilities. They cannot abide “swear words”. And by “swear words” I of course mean fart, butt, sexy, crap, and shut up. Of course.

And again, I really LOVE my sister, but I’m guessing she doesn’t have a lot of imagination when it comes to parenting because she is for the most part parenting her children in the same way we were parented. At least in the acceptiable euphemisms department, anyway. For example, my mom once slapped me across the face for using the word ‘butt’ to refer to someone’s hind end. It is for this reason that I have made it my personal mission to swear like a sailor in front of my children and encourage them to do likewise. I just don’t feel that an atmosphere of repression is healthy for children, because they will just go out and say ‘butt’ in front of their friends and that’s one more thing they hide from you, you know? I have explained to my kids that there are times when it is not appropriate to say shit, lord! and bastard! Those times being mostly when they are at school or there is a Mormon relative in the room with them. This doesn’t keep them from being confused however when some Mormon relatives object to words THAT ARE NOT REALLY SWEAR WORDS BUT THEY CONSIDER THEM SWEAR WORDS ANYWAY.

So a few days ago when we were all in the car on the way to a children’s museum and Leo was being his usual charming self, teasing his cousins and trying to get a laugh, and he said the word ‘sexy’ , I believe he was truly surprised when it caused his cousins to cry out in pain the same way they would have had he punched them in the face. So he said it again. And again. And again. And one more time. He had to be sure, it was scientific people, was he really hurting them? He got the same reaction every time: awful, bloodcurdling screams of death. So he had to throw ‘fart’ in there, because would it get the same reaction? Could it? It did.
sexy
SCREAM
fart
SCREAM
sexy
SCREAM
fart
SCREAM SCREAM SCREAM SCREAM!

Finally my niece who is 10, cried out for someone to please stop Leo because her head was about to explode. So I asked him quietly to stop intenionally tormenting his cousins because it was not polite. And I tried to forget the over dramatized screaming by feeling sorry for my nieces thinking they were most likely not going to achieve the highest degree of glory in the afterlife because they had sat in a moving car while someone said ‘sexy’ and ‘fart’.

 

Believe it or not, but this mess was made by Nobody! As a result Nobody got grounded from the Game Cube. Posted by Picasa

 

I know those of you out there with children understand, um totally, the absolutely nauseating complexity of their sleeping habits and the extensive arrangement this requires. If you don’t know what I’m talking about and your children have no problems in the sleep department, then I AM NOT TALKING TO YOU, ok?

Badger and Leo used to share a room. We have this set of bunk beds that actually belonged to Chris when he was little, along with a whole set of late 70′s early 80′s looking brown furniture that was FREE so I will not complain about it, that we felt would be perfect for the boys. Leo was very excited about getting to sleep on the top bunk, an excitement so feverish that it lasted at least a week until the top bunk magically started making him itchy. I changed and washed the sheets at least 5 times, but still he was itchy. The bottom bunk didn’t make him itchy AT ALL. Go figure. So down to the bottom bunk he went, which was fine because Badger liked to sleep on the couch.

When Badger was born, Leo and Sunny actually shared a room and the baby had his own room. Those two got along so wonderfully sharing that I was lead to believe that any two children could share a room and actually SLEEP. Just another in the long series of things that I have been shamefully wrong about. When Sunny started to school and Badger was finally sleeping through the night, we decided to switch them and for a time that worked very well. Badger slept in a crib, with its wonderful cage-like qualities and Leo was in a twin sized bed. Grant it we couldn’t actually put them to bed at the same time, but they shared and slept in the same room.

Then at some point Badger got too big for the crib and its wonderful cage-like qualities, so we got him a toddler bed. That’s when everything started to go to hell in a crying flaming handbasket, and our lives became ruled by the whims of a 3 year old. He didn’t want to lay down and go to sleep if he didn’t have to, by God! And there were no bars to make him have to go to bed anymore. I vaguely remember this happening with Sunny and Leo and the way we solved it was by shutting them in their room and MAKING them go to sleep, throughout the crying and the fits and the evil demonic possessions. This wouldn’t work for Badger though because it was tragically around the time that Leo started to school, and he was actually wanting to sleep and not really willing to put up with a nightly exorcism in his room until Badger learned how to sleep in his bed. The answer for us was to put Badger out on the couch in front of a movie of his choice until he fell asleep, then we would carry him to bed. It wasn’t long before we would forget sometimes to carry him to bed, so he would stay on the couch all night. Then it got to where we weren’t carrying him to bed AT ALL. So Badgers bed became the couch, for the better part of the last year.

I always knew I was being a lazy parent by allowing this to happen, but honestly for Leo’s sake I wasn’t sure what else to do. But recently it became apparent that this sleeping situation had to be changed. Badger became very possessive of his ‘bed’ which is OUR COUCH, THE PLACE WHERE PEOPLE SIT WHEN THEY COME TO VISIT. But no one was allowed to sit there, even if he wasn’t laying on it, because it was HIS BED. And he became very very possessive of the TV, which is actually Elliot’s beautiful 50″ flat screen TV, and no one was allowed to watch anything except Spongebob Squarepants, even when Badger was not in the room. He displayed this possessiveness by laying on the ground and screaming until everyone in the whole house had blood coming out their ears. It was obvious that part of the whole couch problem was the fact that he had become accustomed to falling asleep to the television. I realize that this is not a good habit for him to have, but I know for a fact that he is not the only person in the world with this particular affliction. I mean if I had a nickel for every time I walked by Elliots room late at night only to hear the latest Ronco infomercial or the sweet strains of the latest hip-hop disaster blaring from his television and almost, but not quite, muffling his snores, well then I’d be dead. And he is a full grown adult. Besides the bed switch is a big enough deal on its own. I’ll get him off the TV later. If I decide to at all.

So last weekend I went and bought Badger his own full sized bed. Then I took him with me to the store to pick out his own uber cute dinosaur bedding. I even bought him his very own little TV with built in DVD player, for him to watch as much Spongebob as he can handle. I set this all up in the little room I use for an office. It has gone very well, considering we have had it set up for 3 days and he has slept all night in here 2 of those. I am very hopeful the reclamation of my family room will be successful, and beneficial to all. Especially the kitties. They love sleeping on Badgers new bed too.



 

We went out to dinner last night. Now I realize people that not 5 posts ago I completely swore off going out to eat with my children, but there was beer involved and I am weak, and at least they had the decency to sit us very near the bathroom this time. The kids did become pretty restless as we adults were consuming our beer, and Sunny especially began to whine and ask when we could leave. I told her she just needed to be patient and wait for everyone to finish. Sunny, ever looking for the opportunity to be bribed, quickly asked:

“What will I get if I am quiet and patient?”

“You will be rewarded in heaven.” I said. You see I was not in the mood to spend $3.50 on the sucker that had caught her eye on the way in. So, yeah, I gave her a complete nonsense answer proving once again that I AM AN UNFIT PARENT.

Then Sunny,who is by far the sweetest and most sensitive of my children, squinted her eyes at me and said, “Stuuuuupid.”

She makes me so proud.

 

Once upon a time I didn’t think twice about going out to eat. We could go anywhere, anytime, and my biggest concern would be the preparation and serving of my food. And people, let me say for the record that THIS IS HOW GOING TO A RESTAURANT SHOULD BE. Because now that we have these three little personifications of WHAT NOT TO DO WHEN EATING AT A RESTAURANT IN FRONT OF OTHER PEOPLE, it is really too difficult to take them out. But we still do it anyway. This is because we are insane. For evidence I offer up our latest trip to an actual restaurant, to you, my dear reader.

It was about a week ago, and Chris and I were struck with an insatiable desire for cold beer on tap. This happens to us every once in a while and it’s generally this desire that drives us to go eat out, because we all know that cold beer on tap and a good meal have been clinically proven to heal all a persons ills. I know this because I saw it on The News. So we racked our brains to find a place that had all the necessary components (beer, food, and loud music so no one can distinguish the voices of our children screaming bloody murder over the sweet tones of the Bee Gee’s) for our evening out. We decided on a little place called Joe’s Crab Shack. Our kids for some reason LOVE this place. Probably because of all the dirty toys that are hanging from the ceiling. Or it could be because Leo’s grandpa once paid him $100 for eating one little shrimp there (which is a good story and probably deserves its own post), so it holds a kind of magic for them. Also, they always call it Joe’s Crap Shack, not because it’s funny, but because they don’t know any better. We never correct them. This adds a certain level of humor and excitement to our lives.

We were seated at Joe’s for about two minutes when Sunny announced she needed to go to the bathroom. She and I were seated on the inside of the booth, so for us to get up we had to get Leo’s attention and have him get up and out. This wasn’t as easy as it sounds, but was eventually accomplished. Sunny and I went to the bathroom and got back to the table just in time for me to order my beer (mmmm, beer!) and food, and for Badger to yell out that he needed to go to the bathroom. Chris got up and took him because as a general rule we keep boys with boys and girls with girls when it comes to public restroom use. Also it helps to take turns being the potty trip parent, that way we share the possibility of losing our appetites equally.

They came back to the table, and our food was served. Half way through our delicious seafood (or chicken finger) feast, Badger yells: “I NEED TO POOP!” then he pauses for a moment, and says: “No, it was just a FART!” Then a few minutes later Badger yells: “I need to poop, again!” and pauses and says: “No, it was just another fart.” Thankfully, I believe the people sitting around us were spared this loud display of our horrible parenting thanks to Boy George. But when he finally announced for a THIRD time that he needed to poop, I decided to just take him to the bathroom and have it out.

Mission accomplished, we returned to our seats and the meal was thankfully wrapping up. I had enjoyed my beer and yummy seafood, but I was growing tired of my children rolling around on the floor under our table and jumping up and down on the seats of our booth, not to mention the excessive trips to the bathroom. I know this is going to sound like an unbelievable, James Frey-ish exaggeration, but we were just about to pay the check when Leo said he needed to go to the bathroom. Chris and I both told him that he was just gonna have to hold it, because we could not take ONE MORE TRIP TO THE BATHROOM. But Leo insisted that he could NOT hold it, so Chris ran off toward to bathroom holding Leo at an arms length in case a accident occurred. Sunny and Badger followed them, saying they needed to go again too. All I could think was DEAR GOD, WILL YOU GET ME OUT OF THIS RESTAURANT RIGHT NOW!

Chris and Leo went into the men’s room, and Sunny and Badger went into the girls. Chris later told me that when he and Leo got into the stall, Chris pulled down Leo’s pants and, in what I can only picture in a slow motion, horror film type scene, a big chunk of poop (yes, poop) fell out right onto the floor. He somehow used his iron will, and a lot of toilet paper, to clean up the situation. They met Sunny and Badger, who were laughing their asses off, on the way out of the bathroom. They continued to laugh all the way back to the table where Badger informed the waitress, who was just bringing our receipt at that unlucky moment, of what was so damn funny.

“I JUST PEED ALL OVER THE TOILET SEAT!”

We are never going out to eat again.

 

I think I’ve mentioned before about Leo’s two brief stints in preschool. The first was more brief than the other, lasting approximately two weeks. The second attempt happened a year later, and he lasted a month and a half. Both ended for similar reasons, mostly screaming and crying and a general unwillingness to participate in any and all activities. The first time we chalked it up to him being too young and decided that we could try it again in a year, when he would be older and surely more mature. So when that second attempt crashed and burned in a huge fiery ball of humiliation, we chalked it up to the fact that Leo was most likely not our child, but instead an evil alien experiment designed to create chaos in society and eventually bring about the distraction of humanity. Not that I really believe that Leo’s failure in preschool was all his fault. I think the school and his teachers bear a lot of the responsibility, as they were completely unprepared and unwilling to work with a child that was a little bit different. I mean, even spawns of Satan need a preschool education, right?

There is one positive thing that came out of Leo’s preschool experiences. Sometime during the second attempt, his teacher taught him the idea of making your own holiday. Leo calls his holiday Chen-Chenny-P-Day, and he describes it as a day where its everyone’s birthday, but no one gets any older. So whenever he designates a day as Chen-Chenny-P-Day, I make a cake, we light candles and sing Happy Birthday to Everyone! It’s actually pretty fun.

So last night when we were on our way home from a friends house, Leo made an announcement:

“I want tomorrow to be Chen-Chenny-P-Day!”

“Okay, Leo, that sounds fun.”

“Then can we have Wednesday be Leif Ericson Day?”

“Leif Ericson Day?”

“Yeah, it’s where we celebrate our Viking heritage.”

 

Sunday night my sister and her family stopped at my house to stay overnight on their way to the Pacific Northwest for Christmas. Overnight turned into one fun filled day and two wild nights because of some weather concerns and the need to run an errand. I didn’t mind though. I really enjoy my sister and her rather large family. They do a wonderful job entertaining my children, and we do a wonderful job of being bad examples to them, so it’s a mutually beneficial relationship.

On Sunday night I overheard my brother-in-law say that he was going to take my nephew to Happy Valley for the aforementioned errand at 7 o’clock the next morning. For those of you who are blissfully ignorant of the geography in Utah, I will supply a quick lesson. I live in the Salt Lake Valley, home of Salt Lake City and most anything that is remotely cool about Utah (outside of Park City of course, which isn’t in the Salt Lake Valley, and totally rocks, but you have to be rich to go there. Sorry.) Directly south is what’s known as “Happy Valley”, home of Provo, and BYU, and almost everything that is uptight and Mormon about Utah. So as far as I understood my brother-in-law and nephew were going to Happy Valley bright and early in the morning and would be back whenever Brigham Young allowed them to return.

I woke up Monday morning and helped all the kiddies get some breakfast. They played inside for a while, and then the half inch of snow left on the ground became too hard for them to resist, and they wanted to go out and play. I helped them all get in snow clothes, and sent them outside and promised to make them hot chocolate when they came back in. I am so in the running for Mother-Of-The-Year! There was no sign of my sister, and I just figured she was sleeping in and loving it because it’s a luxury she doesn’t usually get. Taking care of her two little girls was a bit of extra work, but wasn’t bad, and anyway she would wake up and be upstairs any minute, right?

The phone rang just as I put the hot chocolate on the stove. When I answered and it was my sister on the other end I actually thought: What is she doing calling me from downstairs? And I’m seriously embarrassed to admit this people, but it wasn’t until half way through the conversation that I realized she wasn’t downstairs AT ALL. She had, in fact, gone to Happy Valley with her husband and son, and I was ALONE in my responsibility for ALL HER CHILDREN PLUS MY OWN.

It was unreal (and I mean UNREAL!) how quickly everything (and I mean EVERYTHING!) spiraled out of control once I made this realization. Badger ran inside and peed all over the bathroom floor. The hot chocolate boiled over on the stove while I was cleaning the pee. There was a snowball to the face injury, and an incident involving soggy dog poop on a snow boot tracked onto the kitchen floor. Then there was a near-starvation crisis, wherein five little children were going to die if they didn’t get lunch RIGHT NOW. That crisis was thankfully narrowly averted with crackers, cheese, turkey, and peanut butter. All this in the span of about 4 minutes.

I still don’t get what happened. How everything was so blissful when I thought my sister was downstairs, and how everything turned to shit when I found out she was not. I do know one thing though, I am most likely NOT in the running for Mother-Of-The-Year. Damn.

 

I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but my children are actually growing up, and in the last week this fact has become shockingly apparent to me. Shockingly! It’s something like the time my mother finally said she was sorry for telling everyone that called me in high school that I couldn’t come to the phone because I was, in fact, glued to the toilet with a bad case of diarrhea. I just didn’t think it would ever happen, the sorry and the growing up.

Sunny’s new favorite phrase is “Don’t know, don’t care.” , and she says it in that God awful teenagerish way. Imagine I say: “Sunny, where are your shoes?” and she answers: “Don’t know, don’t care.” Or she says to me: “I can’t eat the school lunch hot dogs, because they give me a headache.” and I say: “Why do they give you a headache?” and she answers with the magic phrase. I no longer warrant an explanation. I am the enemy.

Then there was Leo’s first parent teacher conference last week. Frankly I was braced for the worst. Leo is, to put it nicely, a very independent kid. He doesn’t listen or take direction well. I had to actually take him out of preschool because of this. Twice. That’s two separate years, people, he enrolled and went to preschool, and was such a problem that the school asked me not to bring him back. You can see why I was worried. However, after repeatedly checking, just to make sure, that she was talking about our son Leo and not some other kid, his teacher assured us he was doing wonderfully. Whew. That’s all I can say about that, whew.

And Badger, sweet Baby Badger, is pretty much potty trained now. He just woke up the other day and decided he was going to do it, and he did. What am I going to do with all the free time I will have now that I’m not changing diapers? Not to mention the extra money. Oh the luxury and frivolity in store for me! And hilarity, we can’t forget that, because yesterday as Badger and I were flushing a load of poo and pee down the toilet, I called out: “Goodbye poop and pee!” then Badger corrected me by saying: “You forgot to say ‘you bastards’ mom. It’s supposed to be, ‘Goodbye poop and pee, YOU BASTARDS!’.”

Aye, that it is Badger, that it is.

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