Mailbag: How does the baby get IN there?

I blame the morning and the winter weather.  I had everyone loaded up in minivan rear in what felt like the middle of the night to drop their daddy off at work.  It was cold.  It was dark.  It was early; and we were out of coffee.  So on the way home, when my five-year-old daughter squeaked from the back, “Hey, mom,” and I replied “Yes?” expecting “Can we get donuts for breakfast,”  I wasn’t really ready for the question.

“Since there’s no hole in your belly, how does the baby get out of there?”

In my coffee-less stupor I didn’t pause to consider.  I just answered.  “Most of the time,” I announced, “it comes out the vagina.”

As a deep, dark silence fell over the back of the van, I regretted my answer. Did I really just tell a 3, 5 and 7 year old that babies come out the vagina? Wow. We drove on.

Later that day, my daughter sidled up beside me, “Mommy,” she said “I don’t HAVE to get a baby in my tummy, right?  I can CHOOOOSE whether I want one?”  she asked, lingering on the word choose.  That it’s not exactly that simple did occur to me, but this time I just went with  “Yep, hon, you can choose,” as I waited for more questions.  But more didn’t come. “Ok.” She hopped up and went back to playing.

So far, the main result of this discussion, of course, has been the education my children now provide to everyone who ever comes over and plays dolls.  (”Oh, nooo, Sally, babies don’t come out of your belly,” they will correct as Sally pulls the doll from her shirt, “they come out your VA china,” and demonstrate by dropping the dolls between their legs.)  I’ve been waiting, since that day, for the follow up question.  It hasn’t come up yet, but I know it’s there – waiting for me.

I’ve been reflecting on this because I got a note from a friend in Facebook  whose inquisitive 4 year-old daughter wants the answer and wants it now.  (So far, said friend has been deflecting the question by providing surprise candy whenever it comes up: “Mom, how do babies get IN your belly? “  “Oh, look! I found a sucker in my purse!”  She suspects the shelf life for this trickery may soon expire.)

As you know, I support -theoretically- age appropriate honesty.  I believe that when kids are old enough to ask a question, they’re old enough to deserve a reasonable, honest answer.  But what that answer looks like and whether I’ll have the willpower to deliver it … that part remains a little blurry to me despite the fact that it’s been on my mind for several years.

Help me readers, and help my friend … what is the “honest but age-appropriate answer”, in the new millenium, to a 4, 6 or 8 year-old who asks “How does the baby get IN the belly?”

Posted in Everything Else | |

Meetub.

In yet another example of the Google Calendar being limited by the abilities and awareness of the person who enters the data, here’s what I have going on on September 1 from 11 am to noon:   “Meetub.”   

Unfortunately, I have no idea what that means. 

Is it a typo for “Meet-Up?”  Maybe, but if so – with whom and where?  Is it a reminder that I should take a bath.   Things get pretty busy around here, but I don’t think I would have scheduled in bathing time for two months from now.

If you have any ideas what I’m supposed to be doing that day (it’s a Tuesday), please advise.

Posted in Everything Else | |

The Road to Hell

It’s paved with something.  I forget what.  In still more evidence of the Big Ideas and the Real Life thing, a snippet directly from my mind, as you would have seen it a mere three weeks ago:

I’ll blog this summer. You know – when I’m home with the kids – it’ll be easy this year …  Because I’ll be home, and they’re bigger now and can entertain themselves.  Yep,  I’ll blog, and I’ll mow, of course.  No need to pay the neighbor kid, seeing as how I’ll be home anyway.  I’ll plant some flowers, that’ll be nice.  I’ll catch up on my reading.  I’ll have to fit some work in, of course, so I’ll prep for my new seminar course while the kids play in the sprinkler.  I’ll plan that presentation I have to give in September during their down time.    I’ll clean out the basement and reorganize all the family photos.  Maybe I’ll paint that upstairs bathroom.  I won’t give up summer fun, though, I’ll make the kids some new playlists and share them on the internet.  I’ll definitely have time to start working on that book. 

In reality it looks more like this:

Mow before it rains.  Turn on sprinkler.  Break up fight over which sprinkler is better.  Turn off sprinkler.  Go in the house.  Break up fight over Mickey Mouse v. Spongebob v. iCarly.  Get kids away from house before they destroy it.  Arrive at library.  Turn away from children to choose book.  Hear crashing noise.  Discover downed library shelf at feet of 4 yob.  Assist librarian with putting it back up.  Break up fight over who gets to run the check out machine.  Get kids away from library before they destroy it. Arrive at playground.  Sit down with book.  Read three lines.  Lose one kid.  Shut book.  Find kid.  Live in fear of removing eyes from children again.  Apply sunscreen. Break up fight over who won the race to the bottom of the slide.  Administer first aid and put Spongebob band-aid on place where 7yob insists there is a wound, though I can’t see the wound.  Get kids away from park before they destroy themselves.  Rain coming.  Head home.  Make dinner.  See previous post re dinner.  Put kids to bed.  Take out computer.  Realize haven’t seen husband all day.  Turn off computer.  Discuss children.  Watch weather.  Fall into bed.   Toss and turn thinking “Holy Crap, that seminar class starts in two months!”

Posted in Everything Else | |

The Whirligig of Time Has Its Revenge.

Last night, serving dinner, I realized the exact moment I went wrong.  As I placed dinner on the table, just as one of my kids started howling about the meal choice, total recognition set in.   Now that 7.5 has discontinued frozen pizza and 4 balks at the frozen chicken nugget, I’ve run out options that please all three.  As the dinner hour approaches I brace myself for the inevitable question. “What’s for dinner?”  they ask, pleasantly.  I steel myself and respond, waiting for one of them to suck breath and begin the wail.  I brought the problem on myself, of course, back in ‘98.  Three years before my first kid was even born.

I’d been married about a year at the time.  I’m not alone, by the way. You did it too.  We all did.  Before we knew.  Caught up in our own stubborn, silly, unsubstantiated certainty, the kind of certainty that thrives only in complete ignorance, we rolled our eyes; we scoffed and muttered.   When parenting was still the fantasy, the imagined-child was still fantastic, and we harbored no parenting guilt or secrets, it was easy to criticize.    After all, *no kid of mine* would ever [fill-in-the-blank], and even if they did, Future Parent Me would never stand for it.

Growing up at my house, we believed in karma, destiny, and superstition.  We knocked on wood.  We  threw salt over our shoulders.  We used humble introductory phrases like “I’m  no expert, but” “Or, take this for what it’s worth.”   We self-protected.  If only I’d been a little smarter that summer day in 1998 driving through North Dakota, I might have protected my karma.  I might have thrown in an “I don’t know how it will go for me.” 

We were headed to a bridal shower for a long time friend of the family.  I rode in the back with my husband’s brother’s wife-to-be, Michelle.  In the front seat, my mother-in-law and her daughter, Susie, youngest of her three kids, youngest of her three picky eaters.  “What will there be to eat?” Susie asked.  “It’s a bridal luncheon in North Dakota,” we responded “what won’t there be to eat?”  “I don’t think I’ll like anything,” said S. “You’re right,” responded my mother-in-law, as she pulled up at the nearest Burger King.

Michelle and I rolled our eyes in the backseat.  We’d had this conversation before. Of course they’re picky eaters, we’d commented more than once of our significant others.  Obviously, we observed, it’s directly attributable to their mother for feeding them three different meals. ** We reached our destination and hung back on the way in. “I’ll tell you one thing,” I spit to Michelle, vehemently.  ”MY kids are going to eat what they’re served.”  “No kidding,” she agreed.  “No kidding.”  We congratulated ourselves on our superb parenting skills as we loaded up our plates with noodle salad.

“Stop howling,” I demand now, ten years later, as my brood whines and complains their way to the dinner table.  “Don’t throw your head on the table.  This is what’s for dinner,”  I’ll command at first.  But, within the hour I’ll be serving up an additional side of buttered toast and an apple.  Oh, I know what all the experts say.  Judge me if you will … but if I were you, I’d be cautious how you phrase it.

So, how about you?  Fill in your blank.  What is it that no kid of yours was ever going to get away with?! 

** Belated and sincere apologies to my lovely, wonderful mother-in-law, whose oldest grandson insists that she makes the best buttered toast this side of the Mississippi.

Posted in Everything Else | |

Collect Your Reward

Last Friday I promised to provide you a link to a relatively new, awesome website.  Before I do that, let me just ask – do you sometimes feel like you should get a reward for just completing your required daily tasks? Check?  Good, me too.   Are you somewhere between the ages of 14 and 110? Check?  Good.  Do you like to save money? Check?  Good.  Do you enjoy reading thoughtful essays and thought-provoking blog posts? Well, you are here schlepping around the blogosphere in a search for some kind of content aren’t you!   Ok good.  Now, you need to go pay a visit to Stage of Life.  It’s easier for me to use their own words to describe the place:

Our Mission is Three-Fold:

1) Help people find answers and make decisions in matters large and small, at every juncture in life.
2) Provide our users savings and other financial benefits ranging from saving notices, coupons, and discounts tailored to each specific stage of life – in essence, giving you Rewards for Life’s Journey.™
3) Support charities with contributions from the revenue of the company.  5% of our gross revenue goes to charity.

They’re not exaggerating, and these are not dinky little savings, we’re talking about good deals.  (For example, my favorite, obviously, is the $5 off every single time you spend $50 at the Big Red Store online.) Plus, it solves another problem I find when I’m surfing for blogs … content applicable to people no matter where they’re at in life’s journey.

It’s good stuff.  Go sign up. Then check back in on occasion and you might even find a post or two from me, a recent addition to the Stage of Life blogging pool. 

Posted in Everything Else | |

Big Red is Watching.

The woman behind the big red counter flipped open her red binder labeled “paid and left merchandise”. She was a sturdy woman with curly orange hair, who I am struggling not to call the ‘big red lady’. “Sorry,” she offered, “I don’t have any record of it.” (more…)

Posted in Everything Else | |