This post contains swear words

One day the kids and I were driving home listening to Pandora Radio. We were listening to the Pitch Perfect mix because that movie is a guilty pleasure of mine. Macklemore's "Thrift Shop" song comes on. I'm so used to hearing the radio edit, that I completely forget to skip the song. To my horror (not really, I was tired and amused) my kids started singing along. At a stoplight the chorus blared loudly and then I realized I was screwed.

I immediately paused the station and explained that the song had swear words in it and they were not to repeat them. My son says, "Yes mommy." My daughter asks, "Like the S-H word?"

Let me pause for a moment and let you in on a little secret...I have no idea why my daughter doesn't know swear words. She has me for a mother and a sailor for a father. We are either doing a great job of keeping our mouths shut around our kids, or she lives in a bubble. My son obviously knew enough to agree not to sing them. Princess actually thinks the S-H word is "shut up" not the real S-H word (yes, "shit").

I am very honest with my kids, or at least I try to be. When my daughter asks sex questions, I answer her honestly. There is no birds and bees crap in this house. My husband may pale during a few of our conversations, but I'm open and honest when it comes to serious stuff. I'd rather my kids learn about sex, drugs and all the other stuff, from me.

For some reason the F word just makes me stutter and feel uncomfortable. I can use it amazingly in sentences. I like to think I'm an artist some times. My daughter has now asked me on two occassions what it was and I just couldn't say it. Until now.....thank you Macklemore.

Instead of saying it, I just turned the song back on and after the F-ing awesome part, I said, "that, don't say that!" It was so simple, it was done.

"Mommy, what is fruckting mean?"
Damn (slap forehead).

Song is now turned off so I have their complete attention.
"You guys aren't going to be happy until you hear them are you?"
Little Dude with a huge smile on his face: "yep."
Princess: "No, I just need to know what they are so I can yell them if someone grabs me."

(It is my firm belief that adults will ignore a kid screaming. However, I believe a kid screaming at the top of their lungs while spewing out obscenities, will gather some attention. If they can't yell "Fire" then they have been given full permission to cuss like a sailor while they are trying to bludgeon their attacker. I don't care who I offend if it keeps my kids safe.)

"Fine, here they are: damn, shit and the one I don't ever want to hear unless you are being attacked or are old enough to know better, fuck."
Little Dude: (laughing) "Fuck?"
"Yep, that was your one time saying it. No more."
Princess: (huge smile on her intelligently smug little face) "Fuck?"
"And that was your one time saying it. No more."

While I believe I may have been set up for part of this conversation, I did enjoy it. My parents swore as I grew up. Since I can probably account for causing a solid third of those words; I don't think I ever got into trouble for using them in public. I knew that they were words that shouldn't be used in certain places. When I was a teenager and thought I knew everything (READ - blazing idiot) I tested them out regularly. In my 30's I believe I have them down to an art form.

As of yet, Little Dude is the only one that has swore. One day he was cutting corners on our walk around this field. I decided to have a little fun and told him that the next time he cut a corner, I'd turn around and walk back, making him walk much further. He cut a corner, so I turned around.
I hear this, "Damn it!" along with a sigh of frustration.
Since he used it in the right context, it was very hard not to laugh as I told him to refrain from using it in public.

Before the Macklemore discussion, when we were giving Princess guidance on using swear words during an attempted abduction, we gave her permission to scream out the f-word.
Princess: Seriously? I get to scream it and not get into trouble?
Us: Yes. Get it out of your system so it's easier to scream when needed.
Princess looks around like she's being set up.
Princess screams at the top of her little lungs: F WORD!
Military Dad: laughing, absolutely no help.
Me: Uh, Princess...
Princess: I feel better, thank you.
At this point MD is crying and can't offer any suggestions or help.
Me: Next time Princess you need to actually scream the word "fuck." Baby steps though. Good job.

Princess realizes she screwed up her one opportunity, while MD is still laughing. Parenting as a team, my ass.

I have a dilemma

Little Dude is in a preschool that is very education driven and they learn through play activities. He is a pretty bright kid, so he needs to be challenged, otherwise he gets bored and I lose my patience. I'm not complaining, I am very happy to have two VERY bright kids that are genetically related to me! My problem comes when they get bored with my meticulously planned activities, because they aren't challenging enough! I consider myself a pretty smart woman, but when I'm learning new ways to do math (that would've made calculus WAY easier) because of my 2nd grader's homework, it's a little depressing.

Back to my story. Little Dude gets homework every month that goes along with the lesson plan they are working on. There is a math concept section and a reading/writing concept section. He gets one week to turn them in. The homework isn't that challenging in itself, it's getting Little Dude to sit down long enough to do it. Mostly the homework involves counting things, grouping things, cutting random things and gluing other things. (By the way, you should begin to stockpile "crap" magazines when your child reaches 4 years of age. There will come a time when they need to cut things out. I had to get over the horror of some of my cooking magazines being slaughtered.)

This week's homework is actually pretty simple and will be easy to get him to sit down and finish. Why am I having a dilemma? In the reading/writing section he has to choose his favorite song, write the title, explain what happens in the song and then draw a picture. I look back on my mothering and wonder at what point I went wrong, even though I enjoy that he likes my music.

Princess would love when I sang the lullabies and kid songs when she was younger. I think she still might enjoy hearing me sing them. Little Dude on the other hand, wasn't as appreciative of my singing abilities and wouldn't let me sing. I understand that I am not the next American Idol, but I'm not awful. You want awful? Walk on to any school yard and hum a few lines of "Let It Go" and just stand back and listen in horror. Some kids sound great, but the others...wow! Princess just happens to be one of the "others," so I know why Little Dude doesn't like us singing.

Every once in awhile though, the family can get together and belt a few songs out and not worry about how we sound. It's those songs we will blast in the car and sing as loudly as we can. Those songs happen to be from groups such as: Imagine Dragons, Fall Out Boy, Panic at the Disco and Katy Perry. (Yes, Katy Perry.)
Obviously I try very hard to play the radio edited versions of these groups, just because I swear enough for my own kids, they don't need to pick it up while singing.

While I am very happy that Fall Out Boy and Panic at the Disco were not chosen as the group of his favorite song, he did choose a song by Imagine Dragons that is the reason for my dilemma. If you have not heard or watched the video for "Radioactive," it is a pretty good song, with an even more entertaining video.

Here is the video link, if you're interested.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ktvTqknDobU&feature=kp

If you just listen to the lyrics, it would be pretty difficult for a preschooler to explain what is going on. The problem is, Little Dude has seen the video several times, because honestly I find it amusing. If you haven't watched it, you should, for many reason that include a cameo by Lou Diamond Phillips. Basically it involves an underground Muppet/stuffed toy fighting ring. Mr. Phillips is the cage boss. Stuffed toys go up against this purple Muppet character and get annihilated.

If you follow my husband's blog about his journeys with Sweet Peach, Footy and Truman, my poor Truman is one of the unfortunate toys. My husband loves this because of our college rivalry and that fact my poor stuffed tiger is named Truman (college mascot's name). He's just sick, but that's his college's fault.

My dilemma is, do I let my preschooler write about, and draw images of Muppets and toy bears, fighting to the death? I can't think of any scenario in the video that he could draw without getting a "concerned note" or phone call about.

I'm hoping I can get him to come up with a second favorite song. My luck, he'll choose a Fall Out Boy or Panic at the Disco song. I guess I should be happy, at least neither one of my kids like Bieber, Cyrus or One Direction. Ha! I'll take a note home any day over them liking those "artists."

Pride

This morning started out like any other morning. Getting the kids ready for school and then driving Little Dude to preschool. On the way there we were discussing how much we haven't done for Christmas this year. 

Normally we decorate the tree and put up decorations around the house. Normally we make a chain that counts down the days until Christmas. 

Not this year. 

Why?

We have a kitten in the house. Loki became a part of our family in October. He is a furry little ball of energy, packed with some Siamese attitude. He rolls around on the floor with our 4 year old Rat Terrier like they are siblings. He has firmly entrenched himself in this family. 

The only exception being our 10 year old cat, Chu. (She has a Fu Man Chu white marking on her face, Chu sounded feminine). She is starting to not hiss at him after 2 months...slowly, but surely she may accept him.

When a kitten comes into your house, there is really nothing that is off limits to them. On that note, we completely forgot about Christmas decorations and the tree. 

He loves to climb the tree. He loves to chew on the light-bulbs. He loves to lay on the branches in the middle of the tree. (All that fluffing I did to the branches....erased, but only in the middle.)

Our plan was to put the tree out to give him a few days to get used to it. After a couple of days we would put decorations on. In other words, we would decorate the tree after he stopped playing in the tree. 

Since this is evidently not going to happen, we decided to make destructible ornaments. The kids and I made salt flour decorations and plan on decorating them this week. If they break, it won't bother us as much as losing those ornaments that are loaded with memories. 

SO back to the car and the discussion about ornaments...

Princess is silent for awhile. I assume she is getting depressed about everything we haven't done. I couldn't be more wrong. She starts this conversation:

P - Mom, what are cats afraid of?

M - (due to the conversation switch, I was momentarily stumped) Depends on the cat, I guess.

P - What are Siamese afraid of?

M - It isn't the type of cat. Some cats are afraid of dogs, but Loki isn't. It really depends on the cat. Loki isn't afraid of much.

P - He's afraid of Chu.

M - Yes, he is afraid of Chu. 

P - Can we paint the ornaments to look like Chu?

M - (this is her tying the whole conversation together, but I get lost) Um....that might be a little more detail than I was planning on. 

P - If we make the tree look like Chu, or have Chu faces all over, won't Loki be afraid of the tree?

M - (me laughing out loud, because my daughter is a freaking genius) Princess that is a wonderful idea!

Little Dude - Can't we just print out pictures of Chu and still paint the ornaments?

At this point, I am so proud of my kids! Not only did they come up with a wonderful plan for the cat to leave the tree alone, but they have a very sick sense of humor. I love it. I am so proud at this point, that I'm not even going to inform them on how animals can't see 2D images very well, so Loki won't be able to see the image of Chu.

If we actually do decorate our tree with Chu images, I will have to post a picture later. Some will think of this as a weird tribute to a cat with serious attitude. We will know that it is in fact a way for my kids to scare the crap out of the kitten, in order to salvage some Christmas decorations! I love my kids!

Breakfast conversation

This morning after much arguing the kids finally settled on cereal for breakfast. Princess wanted me to create pancakes, waffles or french toast. Little Dude wanted cereal. You can see who runs this household.

Normally the kids choose MY healthy cereals (Grape Nuts/Wheat Chex) to eat for breakfast instead of the Honey Nut O's or Frosted Shredded variety. This morning they found my box of rice cereal that I use mainly for rice crispy treats. Rice cereal really has no nutrition value at all, in my opinion, so I use it for cooking (bread crumbs/desserts).

When I poured the milk on the cereal, both kids froze; no talking or moving. I had to stop and look around, to make sure something wasn't wrong! Once I realized this was the first time they heard the "snap, crackle, pop" of this cereal, I laughed and explained it was "talking" to them.

Me: "What is your cereal saying?"

Both kids in stereo: "Eat me!"

After I stopped laughing they asked me why it was making that sound. I pointed out the air pockets and explained it was the air pockets filling with milk (bubbles popping).

After the explanation they began eating as if I said the magic words that made this strange cereal, safe to eat.

Jokes, it's all about the gas.

I figure with all the thirty minute sessions of torture Disney programs I endure with my children, I am entitled to watch shows I enjoy, while my children suffer through them. I think they still come out ahead, because I watch programs that are appropriate for the kids to watch. Appropriate might be a strong word, because it implies that kids should watch the program, however most programs today have language or "adult situations" that kids probably shouldn't be exposed to at a young age. Then again, I saw a group of people take a 4-6 year old to that Rob Zombie horror flick, so by their parenting standards, I am June freaking Cleaver. 

I watch programs on the Cooking or Food channel, (or one of the other five networks they have now) plus shows like Modern Family, Big Bang Theory and well, that's about it. I found Animaniacs on the Hub being run at 10 at night, so the DVR snags those up. I pretend that the show is for the kids, but I think I get more enjoyment out of the humor than the kids. Granted when fart or burp jokes are part of the skits, my kids will laugh uncontrollably, and the fart or burp isn't even the truly funny part.

This baffles me. Why is it that burps or farts (mostly farts) are hilarious to kids and to be honest, most adults? I remember when I was younger and that song about who farted, left me and my mother in tears from laughter. Why?

In my opinion it's because everyone does it, but for some reason when you get caught, it's embarrassing. Mostly because when it accidentally happens, you are in a place or situation that farting would not be appropriate, even frowned upon (if people weren't currently laughing at you). Even if you manage not to get caught with the sound, your body seems to know ahead of time that it needs smell so you don't get away with this natural occurrence.

So you sit there, in the few seconds after you got away with the quiet, hoping beyond all hope that it doesn't smell. Then someone downwind wrinkles their nose, and then you know. Your body then in an act of defiance makes your face or ears turn red and you start to sweat, because it's only seconds before someone points the finger at you, for that noxious gas now filling the board/classroom.

It's funny because you have been there, we have all endured this at one time or another, especially if Taco Bell is in your diet. It's funny, just because this one time...it wasn't you. You get to share in someone else's misery.


After sitting down with Little Dude and subjecting him to Good Eats with Alton Brown, all it took was one episode to make him a fan. If you have seen the episode concerning yeast, then you are aware of his yeast sock puppets. These sock puppets eat sugar then proceed to burp all over the place. This display shows the science in why/how bread rises.

Little Dude and I were watching an episode about muffins, when he brought up making English muffins which use yeast. Alton recalls his yeast episode with one sock puppet and gives him some sugar. Knowing that Little Dude hadn't seen the bread episode I knew this would make him laugh. The yeast sock puppet eats the sugar and then does the signature burp, while Alton is explaining the science behind the gas. This is when the episode takes a turn I didn't see coming.

The sock puppet, after burping, twists his little sock body, tilts to the side and farts. (It makes you wonder if they rehearsed with the sock puppet in order to best represent a tubular body lifting its butt cheek to fart.) I thought Little Dude was going to pass out, from laughing. He was literally laughing so hard his face would get a little blue before taking that all important breath in. I was of no use, because I too was laughing. The fact that the sock body lifted it's theoretical butt cheek was hilarious.

Once again, we've all done it, (yes, everyone has even lifted a cheek at one time or another) so there isn't any real reason to be ashamed. However, until we can get everyone else to stop laughing, and your body to stop acting in complete defiance of keeping gas expulsion a secret, it will always be embarrassing.

Even with all my thoughts about why it's funny, there are sometimes when the question of "who cares?" comes to mind. I now have an episode that I can recall at a moment's notice, in order to make me and my kids laugh. There are some days when you just need to laugh, because it truly is the best medicine. Even if that medicine is laughing at a sock puppet farting.

What you think you know, you really don't.

I had a conversation with my daughter the other day about what age you "grow-up." I told her how some people thought it was 18 years, but I thought it was more likely to be 25 years of age. Hell, my father is 62 and a baby boomer, so the likelihood of him "growing up" is rather small.

I explained that what I know now is so much more than what I "thought" I knew at 18, and even 25. We discussed the qualities of grown-ups and what makes someone "old enough to know better." I felt really good about this conversation, only because my daughter asks hard questions that a simple "Because, I said so," will not answer.


Of course, something can happen in the blink of an eye that make you change your mind and realize, you know nothing...about anything.

Princess has had some nasty cold that came out of nowhere. We thought she was able to go back to school today, however she just didn't make it. Her teacher called and asked if I would like to come get her. She has a wonderful teacher, who explained that she was hanging in there, but Princess' eyes just didn't look well. Princess' eyes are pretty much the doors to her soul, she cannot tell a lie. Her eyes will tell you everything about her.

Little Dude and I left immediately to go pick her up from school. The moment when I realized everything I thought I knew about fear, I had no clue. As soon as I walked into the office to sign her out, I was ushered into an inner office and told to sit down and be quiet. While they locked doors, turned off lights and made an announcement over the loud speakers, that they were in lock-down and it was not a drill, I sat with Little Dude absolutely helpless.

Within seconds (yes, it was timed) that school went from happy kids at lunch, to a desolate campus. All the lights were turned off, every window and door was shut and locked, and there was no noise. Little Dude doesn't like the dark, but I think he knew he shouldn't say anything, because he just sat there.

It turned out, some idiot decided to make a prank call. Instead of taking precious minutes to decide whether it was a hoax or not, my daughter's school took action and decided, better safe than sorry. As I type this now, I am absolutely thrilled they did this. Even after speaking to the person who made the lock-down decision, she said, "90% of the time it's a hoax," and then left what we were both thinking, unsaid.

The fear I speak of is, is being 30 feet from your child's classroom and not being able to see or comfort her in any way. It's not being able to protect her. It's realizing that, not only you cannot protect one child, you brought your other child right into the middle of something. It's also being the parents, outside the gates who have no idea what is going on, when police cars are surrounding your child's school.

I'm very glad that nothing happened. I'm very glad that the school I put a lot of trust in to help raise my child, reacted the way they did.

There are many thoughts racing through my head right now as the left-over adrenalin is coursing through my body. The conversation about being "grown-up" happens to be one of them. At that moment when fear for my kids hit me, I realized I still don't know as much as I think I do.

Fishing with the kiddos

I mentioned in a previous post that we enjoy watching the Wild Kratt's. The kids love the animated part where the Kratt brothers rescue animals from poachers who would use the animals in fashion, cooking and robots. Yeah, the last one confuses me a bit too.

Two episodes have managed to shape my children's minds in no way I could imagine. You may recall the earthworm episode that now has my daughter and I "rescuing" worms from certain death on warm sidewalks. The other episode is about Bass fishing. In the episode they use lures and practice catch and release. After watching this one episode, my kids felt they were now experience fishermen and wanted to go fishing.

For several months my  kids have wanted to go fishing at a lake on Camp Pendleton, Lake O'Neal. Unfortunately, when Military Dad and I had this bright idea, the lake was in the process of being drudged. This process pretty much messes up the lake for a couple of months, so we had to inform the kiddos, it just wasn't going to happen.

One weekend we had nothing planned, which in of itself is a weird concept. We asked the kids what they wanted to do and Princess mentioned fishing. It had been three months since the drudging was completed, so the lake should be back to normal. The plan was to eat a picnic, rent a small boat and enjoy watching the kids catch some big fish. (The lake happens to be stocked and is catch-and-release). We loaded up a small picnic and the Cars and Barbie fishing poles and set off.

When we arrived at Lake O'Neal, we sat down at the picnic tables and ate a picnic. Since I was wearing my beach-going flip-flops, I managed to get stung by a yellow jacket....on the arch of my foot. In the midst of tears, a lady, who happened to be a nurse, came over and removed the stinger. This whole time, my kids didn't stop eating, they had their priorities.

The wonderful nurse explained how she brought her grandson fishing and he was easily catching small fish right off the dock. MD and I figured since this was the kid's first time fishing (ever) we would try the dock first, before renting a boat. It turned out to be a great idea.

The nurse and her grandson were leaving so they left their worms with us and we headed down to the dock.When we pull that first night crawler out to attach to the hook, I get a good look at my children's faces. The looks on their faces were putting the hook, the worm and fishing together. Oh crap, now I remember both Wild Kratt's episodes and begin thinking of ways to explain myself.

Little Dude asks why we have to use worms. MD, not seeing either episode explains how the fish like to eat worms. Princess then chimes in about how we should use lures. MD has no idea what he walked into and I should probably help him. (I don't. I'm still thinking of ways to explain this so everything will be alright.)

Minutes of MD explaining the concept of fishing to the kids pass. Finally, MD and I have managed to bait the hooks and move on to casting the line. Little Dude gets his line in first and within seconds he already has "a bite." Princess' line goes in next and she starts getting "bites."

Little Dude's first catfish!

The catfish is about 4-5 inches.

Princess' first crappie!

Crappie is well, it's small.

Little Dude's second fish, Bluegill.

Now we are catching incredibly small fish as soon as we put the hook back in the water. Little Dude and Princess completely forget about the earthworms and get lost in catching fish. During the next 20 minutes, the fish are actually biting so fast, MD and I don't have time to take pictures!

Little Dude manages to catch a catfish and a Bluegill in 20 minutes. His hooks were swallowed so we had to almost surgically remove them to ensure the fish would survive. Princess managed to catch a catfish, 2 Bluegill and a Crappie in that 20 minutes.

We decide we have had a great time fishing and want to go out on a boat. I get this brilliant idea (it was actually one of my dumber ones), to rent a paddle boat. The dumb part was that the wind was blowing pretty well. I left out the whole part of actually having to power the boat by pedaling; I figured that was implied as a stupid idea. The only bright idea we had after renting the stupid boat was that we would pedal INTO the wind and float back towards the dock.

For the next 15 minutes, MD and I pedal, and pedal, and pedal....and pedal. I may have downplayed how much the wind was actually blowing, because we got about 50 feet from the dock. At this point, my legs are burning and I decide to call it "float time." We floated for about a minute before realizing the wind was blowing us away from the dock. MD and I decided at this point the boat ride was over and struggled to get the boat back to the dock.

During this painful experience, the kids are enjoying themselves and trying to get us to take the boat out further. They had no clue that MD and I just completely burned off both our lunch and breakfast for that day, and that we were desperately hoping the pain in our legs would go away enough to make the climb back up the dock, to the car.

I now understand why my parents took me out on a paddle boat once and then we never did that again. MD and I can now say "we did that" and never do it again. The day will come when they will have kids and say to themselves, "Remember that time when mom and dad took us out on one of those? We should do that, it was fun!" Then I hope MD and I are both there when they pedal that damn thing back to the dock and walk up with that look on their face that says, "Ah-ha, never again!"

And now there are three....

In my last post I discussed the wonderful feelings that go along with being a military spouse as you get ready for deployment time. They suck, plain and simple. It's hard getting ready for your loved one to leave. The hardest part is the day of departure.

The day Military Dad has to leave, we go through our morning routine as usual. Kids are dressed and fed breakfast. During a few moments, I can tell Military Dad is about to break down, so I keep him and the kids busy with tiny distractions. I'm not sure why I do this. Part of me questions whether "protecting" the kids from seeing their father upset about leaving, is even a good thing. Yes, it would upset them, but would it be that bad? Wouldn't they want to know that this isn't easy for him? Wouldn't they want to know that leaving them is breaking his heart? So, I'm not entirely sure who I'm "protecting" at this point, MD, me or them?

At one point, he pulls me aside and says, "I don't know how you can be so strong?!"

Really? I'm going nutso on the inside, so now I'm confused as to how I look on the outside, because somehow I look like I have it all together. Yay?


We decided he would wait until the kids were both in school before he would start his trip. Fortunately, I guess, the kids didn't really react the way we thought they would. We were prepared for anguish, crying and having to tear kids off Daddy. Little Dude hugged him and went off to reading circle in preschool, without a tear or look back. Princess got attacked by all of her little friends at school; somehow, despite our genetics, she seems to be a "popular" child. Daddy barely got a hug good-bye, before she was pulled off in the other direction.

We were left rather empty after both kids. No drama at all. In the long run, I think that was the best way; however, when you are prepared for the worst, it kind of comes as a let down.

Everything is packed into the car, and one last check to make sure he has everything he needs...now it is finally that time. This is honestly the worst part in all of this. I have to break the hug, watch him get into the car and drive away. After this, it will actually seem easier because you get into a rhythm and days can drift by. However, the good-bye, right before, is awful.

Sitting here typing this it actually takes me back to two previous deployments and a multitude of underways. (Underways are short periods, usually 1 week up to 3 months). Watching him drive away was actually much easier than watching him deploy on a ship. Deploying on a ship takes HOURS. You may think that makes it easier, because you get to see him and say good-bye longer. It doesn't. It allows you MUCH more time to wallow in pain and self-pity. Plus there are several good-bye periods when they leave on the ship.

The first good-bye is pretty hard because it's the physical one. This is the hugging part, where you break the hug and watch him walk to the ship. Then you keep waving to each other, as he boards the ship. Now comes a period where he disappears for awhile. This is usually where the sailors go to their bunks/rooms and change into their uniforms. MD always wore his "whites" when he deployed.

If you are lucky, now you get to wave at your sailor for more time as they stand on the various decks available on the ship. If your sailor has any involvement in the steering (they call it driving, which is nuts-don't get me started on Navy terms or acronyms, that's an entirely different blog) or engineering sections, you may not get to see them, as they are rather important in the actual departing from the pier.

Now the engines start up, the ship blows its horn, and the lines (ropes) are thrown. This is when your heart leaps from that nice spot in your chest, up into your throat. The ship starts to actually pull away from the pier. This is when you look around and notice the difference between the first-timer spouses and the ones who have done this before. The first-timers aren't able to hide their tears; they are going between bawling and hysterics. The spouses who have been there, done that, are wiping away tears they allow to fall, underneath their sunglasses (yes, it's probably dark outside, but they don't care). Then they take those deep breaths and walk to their cars, usually dragging 2-3 kids.

First-timers, I'm not making fun of the water works, I was there and I waited until I couldn't see that stupid ship on the horizon, before I left. The only difference, is now I know how much easier it is to deal with stuff if I get onto a schedule. Also, if anyone tries to have a conversation with one of those "experienced" spouses, it will end badly. We may look all tough and composed, but if you try to talk to us about our spouse leaving, wow.....flood gate of emotion, snot and tears. We keep sane by the mantra: "out of sight, out of mind." Also, lots of wine.

It's been two days and I'm finally to the point of having a decent conversation with someone without crying. The sunglasses are still on, but hey, at least I'm not tearing up anymore.

Having a conversation with Little Dude's teacher nearly broke me when I picked him up that afternoon. I forgot to leave my sunglasses on! She asked how I was doing, which was awful (for me, not her-she was showing concern which any other day, I would appreciate)...I could answer yes/no questions, not talk about my feelings. I quickly put my sunglasses on and somehow managed to get through the rest of the conversation.

I have to get a handle on it, because I volunteer in Princess' class on Friday. If her class does that switch rooms thing, there will be a solid 4 minutes where she can ask me how things are going! So I will end here for now, so I can get immersed into my schedule.

Plus I think our wine fridge is running quite low....Trader Joe's here I come!

Little Dude Conversation

Little Dude walks down the stairs and stops to look at a wedding photo of me and MD.

Me:  What are looking at?
Little Dude:  A picture.
Me:  Who is that a picture of?
Little Dude:  Mommy and Daddy?
Me:  Very good!

He stands there looking at this picture.
Little Dude:  You look different!
Me:  How do I look different?
Little Dude:  Mommy, you are wearing a dress! (Says this with absolute surprise in his voice.)

At this point, you may realize I wear jeans and t-shirts a bit. Guess I may have to break out the skirts and dresses every once in awhile. One thing I don't want to hear from my kids: "Wow! Mommy, you clean up nice!"

Behold the power of ....Cheetos!?

Today I discovered my husband's kryptonite. Amazingly enough, it is Cheetos. Yes, Cheetos. What I believe to be a wonderfully crunchy, "cheesy" bag of goodness, MD sees a reason to hoark.

I don't get to eat them as often as I used too, due to turning 30-something....the point at which your body stops its metabolism completely. Therefore, I enjoy living vicariously through Princess and Little Dude.

Princess and Little Dude, not only love the flavor of that "cheesy" substance and that crunch you get with the perfect bag, they love the orange dust that adheres to their fingers like glue. Oh, to be a kid again...or at least a point in which my metabolism didn't laugh outright when I glance at a bag of chips.

Evidently, the joy the kids get out of a bag of Cheetos, is not appreciated by MD. The smell alone will make him turn a strange shade of green. I jokingly, ate a Cheetos and asked him for a kiss...I thought he actually may have held back some vomit when I stuck out my tongue full of "cheesy" goodness. Had I not found this funny, I think I may have felt a little insulted.

On our way home from lunch, he was in charge of trying to keep the kids awake in the car (for nap time at home). Little Dude or Princess somehow touched his arm with a finger coated with orange goo. My husband, also a grown man of 30-something, shrieked and cried out, "Goo! Don't touch me!" After that, it became a game of who could gross daddy out best. I have to admit, even though I was driving, I was also enjoying the excitement.

I was not aware that a simple snack food could reduce a man to a slightly green-looking, whimpering ball (in a Prius). It has taken 10 years, but I now have an item more powerful than I can imagine at my fingertips! Bwah-ha-ha! (My interpretation of an evil laugh.)

Just thinking of the ways I can use this to my advantage, the possibilities are astounding!

Too bad, I don't have any Cheetos in the house...

Story Time

My husband loves to tell stories to the kids, whether they are from books or his strange imagination. Either way, the kids are sitting around him with this amazing attention you don't see in an average 6 or 3 year-old.

If he reads from a book, the entertainment value is amazing! Imagine a guy from North Dakota reading about princesses or animals with a Southern gentleman drawl or some guy with a Bayou accent. (Imagine the firefly from "Princess and the Frog", reading a Dr. Suess book.) The kids don't realize the comedic value in this, they just sit in absolute awe as he becomes these characters.

Right now Military Dad is on the couch telling them this awful story about he beat up SpiderMan, yes, SpiderMan. The kids are sitting on the floor in front of the couch, staring at him while he spins this story (pun intended). During the narrative, they ask him questions. Normally he hates to be interrupted, but on this occasion he welcomes the questions in order to add to his creation. Some of the questions the kiddos ask, would trip up a normal person, but no, he just includes it in his story as though it always fit.

Tonight's story time began with a few Mo Willems books read in Military Dad's idea of a Southern accent. When the books were done, Little Dude asks Military Dad to tell him a story about SpiderMan. MD smiles and sits back down on the couch. Little Dude and Princess break into a fight over who gets the best seat in front of him on the carpet to hear the story. Once the blood is cleaned up, MD begins his story.

Long story short:  MD was walking along the street when Spiderman asked him if he would like to take his place, as he was retiring from superhero work. Spiderman had him go through surgery to insert web throwers into his wrists. (Yes, he included valium and his recovery period in his tale.)

Spiderman wanted to make sure he was strong enough, so MD suggested an arm wrestling tournament. MD beat him and won a semi. (Huh where did that come from? Oh yeah, worst movie ever!)

Spiderman wanted to make sure he was fast enough so he wagered a contest: travel from San Diego to Kansas City, eat a burnt-end sandwich, then return to San Diego.

Princess: did you win Daddy?
MD: Yes, I won! I made it back in 27 seconds, Spiderman took 3 days!
Princess: Wow. (Notice the lack of exclamation point, she may be starting to recognize BS when she hears it, I'm so proud!)
MD: I know, right?!

Then MD, continues the story by berating Spiderman on how long it took him to make it back to San Diego. Then MD decides to be a bad guy and throw him off the top of a 12 story building.

Princess: What happened to Spiderman?
MD: Um, well since the surgery he couldn't throw webs anymore, so he fell 12 stories and was crushed like a real spider.
Princess:  Oh. Can I tell my story now?

While Princess doesn't quite have the experience that MD has with BS, her creativity and imagination knows no bounds. In a few years, she may give him a run for his money.

I'm not sure I'm excited about this, though. My story-telling is non-existent in comparison and I can't read books with a Bayou accent.

Guess I'll just be the analytical parent who can put Legos and puzzles together, while the story-teller struggles with the simple instructions.

Yay! We get to watch TV, it's not the weekend!

Sorry for no posts lately, we have been BUSY!

We moved into a new house and we are finally on the "other side" of unpacking, painting, etc. Due to the packing, cleaning, moving, unpacking, cleaning frenzy that has been going on over the past month or so, my children have been allowed to watch way more television than normal. Yes, I'm one of those parents who don't allow their kids to watch too much television.

I'm also one of those parents that make their kids watch PBS or educational shows. Little Dude has enough problems trying to whack Princess with his Medieval Times sword, that I don't need him to get new ideas from Tom & Jerry or Looney Tunes. Plus some of these new cartoons...I just don't understand, they aren't funny to me or the kids, and who writes this stuff? Is there even a plot? What about character development?

To add to my TV restrictions, Military Dad and I both sit down to watch the shows with our kids, to ensure we know what they are watching.


I understand the need for a little down time where the kids are entertained for 30 minute sessions where you can check email, do dishes or even post on a blog. However, I have serious issues with leaving the television on all day instead of interacting with my own kids. Little Dude gets bored easily, so 1 or 2 shows is about his attention span, so the electronic babysitter isn't an option. Princess would sit in front of the TV the entire day, if allowed, she has what my parents have labelled, "Guy's Disease."

"Guy's Disease" is when a person (usually a guy, hence the name) can enter any place and situate themselves where they can see any TV. Then they have an inability to look away and carry on normal conversations with the people with them. Yes, I have this horrible trait and I evidently passed it on to Princess.

Anyway, Military Dad and I recently discussed the amount of TV we ALL have been watching recently and decided that since we live in California, there isn't really any reason to be inside that much. During the week, the kids get 2 shows each that they get to watch during the day, while Daddy is at work. Then on the weekends there is absolutely no TV, forcing us to go outside, enjoy the weather and do family stuff.

We started this new idea this weekend; the kids weren't too excited about it, but after spending a few hours at the beach, the kids didn't care so much.

After breakfast and some homemade Play-dough time, the kids decided since it was Tuesday AND a weekday, they would like to watch TV. "Mommy, can we PLEASE watch TV? It IS a weekday!"

After answering yes, I hear my kids singing: "Yay! We can watch TV! We can watch TV! It's not the weekend, we can watch TV!"

I had to laugh at their excitement, is TV really that exciting?  I guess, if you aren't allowed to do something all day, everyday, then it may be worth a song or two.

Well, Mickey Mouse Clubhouse is over, so it's time to end my post for today. Plus I now have the "Hot Dog" song stuck in my head!

Future Gamers

Recently Princess and Little Dude have expressed interest in playing PlayStation.  Most of the games my husband has are sports or shooter games, so Military Dad and I actually felt alright letting them learn how to play Little Big Planet (LBP). Since he has more patience than I do, this educational experience was left up to him.

Princess began the intro and did great.  Same with Little Dude.  Now begins the first level, Military Dad and I are expecting disaster and crying, however they both do great.  A few times they have to start over because their character doesn't quite make it through the electrical grid or through the fire pits, but the kids keep enjoying themselves.  The great thing about Little Big Planet is that when your character "dies" it isn't bloody or gory, the sock puppet character just disappears and reappears at a checkpoint.

After Little Dude's attention span diminished, they wanted to watch Military Dad play.  He grew up with Nintendo, Sega and PlayStation, so he is great at manipulating the controller.  A few times he even missed some jumps on purpose so the kids could see that mistakes are alright.  He noticed that when he wouldn't quite make it through the fire pits the kids laughed.   This wasn't the chuckle or a normal laugh, it was the contagious belly laugh that kids usually get when they  get tickled.  Soon, Military Dad was purposely falling off ledges, or getting hit by cars to hear this laugh.

Fast forward a few days with constant begging by the children to play LBP every time they remembered we have the gaming system.  Thankfully, Military Dad remembered we have Super Mario Brothers on the Wii.  Compared to the PlayStation controller the Wii controller is much easier for the kids to manipulate.  Plus the kids are already familiar with the Wii controller, since we already play the sports and play games together.

The kids were sitting next to Military Dad shaking with anticipation as he explained the controls.  He barely finished his sentence and they are they grabbed the controllers and were ready for the game to begin.  Military Dad and I were expecting to see the same concentration and skill they displayed during LBP.

They run right into the first Goomba.  They start over and run right into the Goomba again.  Military Dad takes this time to refresh them on the controller buttons and how to use them.  Death-by-Goomba results, repeatedly.  Princess and Little Dude aren't frustrated or angry, they are laughing uncontrollably.  They obviously do not care about finishing the level, or at this point even getting past the first obstacle.  They are just having fun.


Unlike Military Dad, my only gaming experience until I was in late high school, was an Atari that worked some of the time.  I played computer games, but did not have a gaming system.  When it comes to manipulating the controller, my husband calls my method, "button mashing."  This usually occurs during any activity that requires jumping.  I get easily frustrated and begin pressing all the buttons in a panicky manner.  When the Wii first came out, I was excited, not because it was new technology, but because if I had to jump I could physically do it, instead of having to press the buttons in a correct sequence.

Military Dad and I both enjoy Super Mario Brothers and Little Big Planet.  Since I am very competitive, these games allow me to chill and just play.  He gets to enjoy watching me get frustrated and start mashing buttons.  Usually after a few restarts or death-by-Goomba, I just give up on getting the points and try to complete the level.  At this point I'm usually laughing about my inability to play games well.  Military Dad will join in the laughter and we have a pretty good time playing a game and connecting with each other.


Obviously the kids get their hand-eye coordination from their father, because I have none to share.  What's great is they have the ability to laugh at themselves when they make a mistake.  Whether they grow up to be gaming programmers or just good at playing like their father, doesn't really matter at this point, because I believe they have already managed to learn the important lesson, they laugh and have fun, whether they win or lose.

Observation of a 5 year old

I assumed teaching Little Dude how to pee standing up would be relatively easy; I was wrong.

On the rare occasion he asks to pee outside, it's much easier to let him use the backyard than cleaning up the walls, toilet and floor each time he pees.  (Yeah, yeah, I know, mother of the year and all that.)

One afternoon in the backyard, I notice he is doing his normal potty dance.  After he declares, "I don't need to go potty" several times, Little Dude asks if he can pee on the grass.  Having one of my less-than-motivated days, I say, "Sure, knock yourself out."

Little Dude manages to pee on everything but the grass, including the stepping stone pathway (3 feet away).  Princess observes all of this, looks right at me and says, "Oh!  So that's why you make us wear our shoes outside!"