To Moms

Personally, I think we deserve a whole month. But enjoy whatever you get!

Change of Heart

This morning I was sound asleep, in the middle of a dream (nothing interesting, I was trying to get directions from some lady on the phone--annoying but maybe I was going to go somewhere neat) when I heard, "MUMUM, WOOK AT MY SHESELL."

"No. I'm asleep. Lay down." I mumbled.

"You's not asweep, you's talkin'. Wook at dis shesell I's got."

"little kid, I'm still dreaming." and at that point, I still halfway was. He was out there in the periphery but I was more asleep than awake. I could have had another good 5 minutes and Mr. Ashley was already awake and available for him to harass.

"Ohhh. You's dweamin' 'bout indians? Or twucks? Or a knight? Oooooh, maybe a knight! Is 'at what's you's dweamin' 'bout, mine mumum?"

"GAH! I CAN'T EVEN SLEEP IN PEACE! Why can't you ever give me a minute? This is not how I want to start my day, little kid."

"You's 'wake now, wanna see my shesell?"

I'm actually starting to look forward to my dentist appointment tomorrow morning. Get there at 8 in the morning to have strangers scrape, poke, inject and drill inside of my mouth with burning teeth smell everywhere and tooth dust floating around--or another day of staying at home with little kid?

One woman's torture is another woman's spa day. Also, my dentist has televisions and I get to watch whatever I want (NOT Shark Week, NOT Dino Squad, NOT Voltron and NOT Transformers.) Sounds like a mini-vacation.

Big Baby

In an attempt to stay a baby forever, little kid has stopped eating vegetables.

"EAT THEM!" I yell.

"I don't wanna get big. If I get big, yous can't carry me."

"You're big now! I can hardly carry you now!"

"I not gonna get any bigger. I gonna stay a baby."

"It doesn't work like that. You'll get bigger no matter what but if you don't eat your vegetables, you won't develop properly! You won't be strong enough for t-ball! You won't be able to run fast! You'll have a big head and people will be able to see your skeleton! Just EAT THEM!"

He asks me to hold him probably 15-20 times a day. I'm not exaggerating. I break down and do it maybe 5-7 times a day. He's almost a third of my weight and quite awkward to hold. It's sweet but also very heavy. He wants me to carry him around stores and the post office. He gets envious if I dare hold any other baby (greatly reducing the amount of other-baby holding that I do, because I don't want to hear "HODE ME! HODE ME!" for the rest of the day.)

He can swim without floaties and when Em's mom said, "What a big boy! You're not a baby anymore!" he glared at her as I explained that he was still a baby and had intentions of staying that way forever. "Really?" she asked him.

And I know I'll miss my baby when he grows up--but I'll never be able to honestly say that I didn't get enough time with him as my baby. Because he's holding onto babyhood for as long as humanly possible.

Dream job

Last night I got a job offer to be a writer in Australia. I was going to have to move there and I was going to make $72,000 a year. I was sitting at a conference table and some guy was making me this offer and instead of telling me how much I was going to make, he punched it into his calculator all dramatically and spun it around to show me. I was so excited to be moving to Australia and to be having a job!

And then I woke up. And I was pretty sad that I wouldn't be moving to Australia or having a job.

Don't get me wrong, I've become really good at not having a job. More pool time, more drinking, more movie watching--I'm doing an amazing job at all of those things.

But I'd give it all up to be a writer in Australia.

Here's a shoplifting bird to help us get over the disappointment.

Lessons in Safety

This morning on the way to school, a morning radio host was playing the 9-1-1 tape of a 14-year-old who accidentally shot and killed his best friend. It was pretty intense and devastating stuff but I am HARDCORE with the "Don't ever, ever touch a gun" routine, so I explained to the kids what was going on and how incredibly sad it was for these boys and their families and how it all could have been avoided if they had never touched the gun.

They were serious and solemn about it.

"What if it's a yellow gun with "NERF" on the side and foam darts? Can we touch those?" Big Kid asked.

I affirmed that anything involving NERF, foam darts or brightly colored plastic was most likely a toy and was okay.

"Will 'at boy go to jail?" little kid asked.

"Kids can't go to jail, little kid!" Big Kid answered.

"Well, they can. There is a jail for kids but I don't think he will go because it's an accident. But some really bad kids do end up in jail, it's very sad."

"Are you locked up in a jail? You can't go home to yous mumum?" little kid asked.

"No, you can't go home to your mom."

"Hmmm. I not gonna worry 'bout it."

"No, you shouldn't worry about jail. You're a good boy."

"No, I not gonna worry 'cuz I will just 'scape from jail."

"Oh, well you can't escape. They've thought of that and made it really hard to escape."

"Uh, I gonna turn into a dinosaur, eat all a cops and come home to my mumum. They pwobably didn't think of 'at, huh?"

"Oh. No, they probably didn't think of that. The point is mostly just NOT to touch a gun. Ever. If you see a gun, tell your friends not to touch it and run and get an adult."

"Yep and I not gonna worry 'bout jail."

So the good news is that Big Kid will never, ever touch a gun and little kid already has a plan to escape prison! He also made me buy him batting gloves, and now wears jeans, cowboy boots and black leather gloves pretty much full time.

At least he won't leave behind any fingerprints.

Baller

Dr. Evil was actually not evil at all. They were very nice and there was a section about dental anxiety on the form, so they got a little essay about the Novocaine Nazi, my high tolerance to numbing agents and my sensitivity to people getting all pissy and treating me like a crackhead about it. They understood.

Unfortunately, my cleaning isn't until next week. So the dental hygienist could be evil, but I'm not quite as scared as I was before. I'm still worried about it though and reserve the right to freak out closer to then. I did get the soda lecture but I needed the soda lecture--Coke is the only thing keeping me from wedding weight. But I really, really like Coke.

Today little kid starts T-ball! I'm excited for him. Remember when Big Kid did t-ball? Or more accurately, when I woke up every Saturday morning so Big Kid could wander around the field and tell his coach that he was too hungry or tired to run bases and would consider it next week? And then never hit a ball or willingly ran a base? And then on trophy day we decided he didn't deserve a trophy and slept in?

I'm thinking it will go better than that this time.

The other day as Big Kid was getting ready for school, he looked over at little kid and said, "Mom, he's gettin' bigger ebery day and he doesn't eben know it."

"Yep, you are too," I answered before looking at him and seeing that his eyes were full of tears. "Are you about to cry?"

He angrily wiped his eyes and said, "NO! I just love him bein' a baby."

I feel a little like that this morning. How did my baby get big enough for team sports?

The thought of being only 15 years away from Major League Baseball-type money helps though. little kid has promised to buy me a big house (with stairs), a boat, and a car for every birthday!