Some of our dear friends in New Mexico decided that when it came to the discussion of "boy parts" with their little boys, they would use the anatomically correct terminology.
Well, their boys translated the official terminology into the term "peanuts," and the phrase stuck.
So when my very impressionable, highly linguistic 18 moth old son heard the term, he decided that it was his phrase of choice for the all-important boy-part discussions that somehow seem to come up every single day in our house.
So you can imagine the confusion that ensued when someone gave us a "Curious George Visits the Zoo" last year. In this book, The Man with the Yellow Hat buys George a bag of peanuts. George then goes on to feed the peanuts to the lions, and the giraffes, and the seals, until the zoo keeper freaks out and tells George to stop giving his peanuts to the animals. Poor George is sitting on the bench feeling very badly, until the missing zoo-bird swoops down and snatches the peanut George was holding, right out of his hands. In the end, George and his peanuts save the day.
The Entertainer has always had a funny look on his face when we read that book. But here's the worst part: I didn't even make the connection until TODAY.
We were sitting at lunch eating our peanut butter sandwiches, when the Entertainer asks, "Mommy, will I eat peanuts when I go to the zoo?"
"Sure buddy," I mindlessly respond.
"Really?" He asks. I glance up to see that his face is lost in bewilderment.
And that is when I realize that for the last year and a half, I have been giving my youngest son "issues".
I can just immagine the conversation with his therapist in 20 years. "Well my mother always read me this book about Curious George and his peanuts, only I thought she was saying penis..."
Good golly, what will happen when his first grade class takes a field-trip to the zoo for the first time? (Mental note, I better make sure to chaperon on that one... )
Oh the issues are going to run deep! My poor scarred boy, I am giving this post a number, so that you can easily pull it up when you start therapy, to work through you "peanut" issues.
Oy. It's a miracle they survive at all.
Ahh! I just had a horrible thought!!!
What does he think peanut butter sandwiches are made out of?!?!
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Thursday, June 4, 2009
War
Last weekend, Brandon rented "Bride Wars" for me. He is so sweet- but I do think that it is funny that when he picks up a chick flick for me, it is usually the MOST estrogen-laden/crazy woman logic movie available. And then he rolls his eyes all the way through it.
But this movie deserved it. If you haven't seen Bride Wars, don't bother. Save your money. Save your time. Save your marriage. It was so bad, that I dreamed I was fighting with my husband while I slept that night.
It was so bad that even Lifetime won't be airing it- they passed it off to the The Victims Network (AKA Oxygen.)
Anyways, the Adventurer asks the next day, "Mommy, how was your movie?"
"Ugg. It was AWFUL!" I reply.
He pauses to think. "Mommy, is Bride Wars like Star Wars, only with girls?"
I start laughing uncontrollably. "Ya, pretty much, but worse. In fact, I'd rather watch Star Wars 100 times instead of watching Bride Wars once. And I don't even like Star Wars!" (At all. I REALLY don't like Star Wars. I wont say "hate" because I HATE Bride Wars. And my distaste for Star Wars isn't remotely in the same category...)
He replies, "Ohhhhh. I see. That's why it was so bad!"
Insightful for a 5-year old. Maybe he'll be a judge yet.
(P.S., he clarified that he thought Obama is the Judge of the United States. When I told him no, that he was the president, he replied, "Oh. I want to be the Judge of the United States. The Entertainer can be president still." And then the Captain piped up and said that he still wants to be a police man, but that he won't give me any tickets for driving to fast in school zones. Sweet kids, I tell ya!)
But this movie deserved it. If you haven't seen Bride Wars, don't bother. Save your money. Save your time. Save your marriage. It was so bad, that I dreamed I was fighting with my husband while I slept that night.
It was so bad that even Lifetime won't be airing it- they passed it off to the The Victims Network (AKA Oxygen.)
Anyways, the Adventurer asks the next day, "Mommy, how was your movie?"
"Ugg. It was AWFUL!" I reply.
He pauses to think. "Mommy, is Bride Wars like Star Wars, only with girls?"
I start laughing uncontrollably. "Ya, pretty much, but worse. In fact, I'd rather watch Star Wars 100 times instead of watching Bride Wars once. And I don't even like Star Wars!" (At all. I REALLY don't like Star Wars. I wont say "hate" because I HATE Bride Wars. And my distaste for Star Wars isn't remotely in the same category...)
He replies, "Ohhhhh. I see. That's why it was so bad!"
Insightful for a 5-year old. Maybe he'll be a judge yet.
(P.S., he clarified that he thought Obama is the Judge of the United States. When I told him no, that he was the president, he replied, "Oh. I want to be the Judge of the United States. The Entertainer can be president still." And then the Captain piped up and said that he still wants to be a police man, but that he won't give me any tickets for driving to fast in school zones. Sweet kids, I tell ya!)
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Sanity Wears Off
Last weekend, I got a call from Kristi, informing me that Girl's Night was coming up. Unfortunately, it was the same night that I was working until 11 pm.
But the idea of having some girl-time sounded like fun, so I threw back an energy drink, and spent about an hour and a half with some good friends.
I got home at about 1 am. I was just falling asleep when Lilly woke up to eat. An hour later, she was back in bed, and I was just falling asleep when the Adventurer woke up with a horrible cough. Some medicine, a drink of water, the humidifier, and a hot-water bottle later, I checked the clock and discovered that it was now 3 am.
I fell into bed, goaning about how tired I would be in 3 and a half hours.
But the next morning, the most horifing thing happened.
I didn't feel any different from any other day.
I think that is when I realized: I have been perpetually exhausted for the last 6 years.
No wonder I started throwing back Rock Star energy drinks when the Adventurer was about one. (It was really hard to get off the juice when we decided to try for the Entertainer. It's Liquid Speed, I tell ya, and I LOVE it!) But alas, the exhaustion has been a part of my life for so long, I am dismayed to realize that I have begun to think it is normal... Turns out you don't get less tiered with more kids, you just get crazier.
Disclaimer #1: I've never actually taken speed. But, as the side effects include weight loss and a lot of energy, I do wonder why it is illegal...
Disclaimer #2: I think that originally this blog post had a point, but given that I have now realized the extent of my perpetual exhaustion, I forgot where I was going with it, and I'm just giving into the crushing haze that is telling me I should probably go to bed.
I will return when the energy drink high kicks back in... (insert crazy-woman laugh! Mmmmwaahahaha!)
But the idea of having some girl-time sounded like fun, so I threw back an energy drink, and spent about an hour and a half with some good friends.
I got home at about 1 am. I was just falling asleep when Lilly woke up to eat. An hour later, she was back in bed, and I was just falling asleep when the Adventurer woke up with a horrible cough. Some medicine, a drink of water, the humidifier, and a hot-water bottle later, I checked the clock and discovered that it was now 3 am.
I fell into bed, goaning about how tired I would be in 3 and a half hours.
But the next morning, the most horifing thing happened.
I didn't feel any different from any other day.
I think that is when I realized: I have been perpetually exhausted for the last 6 years.
No wonder I started throwing back Rock Star energy drinks when the Adventurer was about one. (It was really hard to get off the juice when we decided to try for the Entertainer. It's Liquid Speed, I tell ya, and I LOVE it!) But alas, the exhaustion has been a part of my life for so long, I am dismayed to realize that I have begun to think it is normal... Turns out you don't get less tiered with more kids, you just get crazier.
Disclaimer #1: I've never actually taken speed. But, as the side effects include weight loss and a lot of energy, I do wonder why it is illegal...
Disclaimer #2: I think that originally this blog post had a point, but given that I have now realized the extent of my perpetual exhaustion, I forgot where I was going with it, and I'm just giving into the crushing haze that is telling me I should probably go to bed.
I will return when the energy drink high kicks back in... (insert crazy-woman laugh! Mmmmwaahahaha!)
Monday, June 1, 2009
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Sweet Nautiness
Normally, my kids go to bed around 7 pm. Truth be told, it's because I am a light weight. 6:30 rolls around and I am about to loose my ever living mind. So, since the Captain was a baby, our kids have gone to bed at 7. You know, on nights that we don't have t-ball or one of the other thousand things we have going on.
Anyways, they went to bed late last night, and then the little ones didn't take a nap today, so when Brandon announced that he'd be playing tennis for the afternoon, I decided that I would put every one to bed at 6:30.
My plan was simple. I would bribe them with Sponge Bob. Unfortunately, I was to worn out to realize that what I was planning was all backwards. I made three shiny little faces promise that they would go strait to bed, and stay in bed, if I let them watch Sponge Bob. It was the perfect plan. Lots of snuggling, early bedtime, a relaxing evening. Right?
Wrong.
Because apparently, mommy is a sucker. The night quickly spiraled into a string of, "mommy, I just wanted to let you know my tummy hurts really bad." And of course, "There was this thing that happened at school today..." Because what mother punishes little boys for sneaking downstairs to tell about tummy aches and school happenings? My boys are so good at seeking out and exploiting my weak spots.
At 8 pm, I told them that I would cancel movie night if I saw one of their sweet faces again. 10 minutes later, I heard a bumping and thumping overhead, so I made a stealthy but silent run up the stairs to spy on them.
What did I see?
Three little boys, naked as jay-birds prancing like unicorns around their bedroom. Their little sister, who is always the first to sleep, is watching and clapping! She barely has enough room to sit in her crib, it is so full of blankets and pillows and stuffed animals that her brothers have thrown in.
The boys are separated, Lilly is rescued, and 5 minutes later Brandon walks through the front door.
"So did you have a relaxing night?" He asks, while Lilly is clapping for her daddy and blowing kisses at him.
"The Naked Leprechauns doing their Prancing Pony interpretative dance was a little weird, but other than that, it was a nice night." I reply.
I'm smiling on the inside too, the sweet taste of chocolate is still on my tongue, it's medicinal effects soothing my nerves. It was a good move; chocolate melts in a much more soothing way than the ice cream.
Anyways, they went to bed late last night, and then the little ones didn't take a nap today, so when Brandon announced that he'd be playing tennis for the afternoon, I decided that I would put every one to bed at 6:30.
My plan was simple. I would bribe them with Sponge Bob. Unfortunately, I was to worn out to realize that what I was planning was all backwards. I made three shiny little faces promise that they would go strait to bed, and stay in bed, if I let them watch Sponge Bob. It was the perfect plan. Lots of snuggling, early bedtime, a relaxing evening. Right?
Wrong.
Because apparently, mommy is a sucker. The night quickly spiraled into a string of, "mommy, I just wanted to let you know my tummy hurts really bad." And of course, "There was this thing that happened at school today..." Because what mother punishes little boys for sneaking downstairs to tell about tummy aches and school happenings? My boys are so good at seeking out and exploiting my weak spots.
At 8 pm, I told them that I would cancel movie night if I saw one of their sweet faces again. 10 minutes later, I heard a bumping and thumping overhead, so I made a stealthy but silent run up the stairs to spy on them.
What did I see?
Three little boys, naked as jay-birds prancing like unicorns around their bedroom. Their little sister, who is always the first to sleep, is watching and clapping! She barely has enough room to sit in her crib, it is so full of blankets and pillows and stuffed animals that her brothers have thrown in.
The boys are separated, Lilly is rescued, and 5 minutes later Brandon walks through the front door.
"So did you have a relaxing night?" He asks, while Lilly is clapping for her daddy and blowing kisses at him.
"The Naked Leprechauns doing their Prancing Pony interpretative dance was a little weird, but other than that, it was a nice night." I reply.
I'm smiling on the inside too, the sweet taste of chocolate is still on my tongue, it's medicinal effects soothing my nerves. It was a good move; chocolate melts in a much more soothing way than the ice cream.
Friday, May 29, 2009
Changing Minds
Oh the difference two years makes!
Today I asked my boys (7, 5, and almost 3) what they wanted to be when they grew up and why. Here are their answers, verbatim:
The Captain: "I want to be a police man." (His current aspiration is to be a hall monitor next year. He'd be great at it. He loves telling everyone the rules.) "Because I could catch bad guys and drive around in a car all day. I'd leave at 7 in the morning and come back at 7 in the night, because that is when my kids will go to bed."
"Wont you want to play with you kids before they go to bed?" I ask.
"Ya, maybe for a little while, but then they would HAVE to go to bed at 8."
The Adventurer: "I want to be a judge when I grow up."
"Really?" I ask. (He'd be a great judge, but I didn't know that he even knew what a judge was.) "Why?"
"Because I have a really good mind and I'm good at remembering stuff. And I really like my name, and people could say it a lot."
The Entertainer: "I want to be a policeman and a judge too!" (Of course he does. His original blog name was the Parrot. I think I changed it prematurely.)
"No," says the Adventurer. "Maybe you could be the President. Do you want to be the President?"
"Yes. I want to be the President of Florida Mommy."
There is a lull in the conversation as we eat our sandwiches.
And then the Entertainer pipes up again. "Actually, I want to be a dog from outer space and wear a helmet on my head. Can I be that Mommy?"
"Sure buddy. You would be a good outer space dog when you grow up."
He smiles, confident with the good choice he's made.
Lilly just smiles, and slams some more applesauce. Based on how much fun she has chewing on my shoes, she is either aspiring to be a footwear designer or a dog, like the Entertainer...
Today I asked my boys (7, 5, and almost 3) what they wanted to be when they grew up and why. Here are their answers, verbatim:
The Captain: "I want to be a police man." (His current aspiration is to be a hall monitor next year. He'd be great at it. He loves telling everyone the rules.) "Because I could catch bad guys and drive around in a car all day. I'd leave at 7 in the morning and come back at 7 in the night, because that is when my kids will go to bed."
"Wont you want to play with you kids before they go to bed?" I ask.
"Ya, maybe for a little while, but then they would HAVE to go to bed at 8."
The Adventurer: "I want to be a judge when I grow up."
"Really?" I ask. (He'd be a great judge, but I didn't know that he even knew what a judge was.) "Why?"
"Because I have a really good mind and I'm good at remembering stuff. And I really like my name, and people could say it a lot."
The Entertainer: "I want to be a policeman and a judge too!" (Of course he does. His original blog name was the Parrot. I think I changed it prematurely.)
"No," says the Adventurer. "Maybe you could be the President. Do you want to be the President?"
"Yes. I want to be the President of Florida Mommy."
There is a lull in the conversation as we eat our sandwiches.
And then the Entertainer pipes up again. "Actually, I want to be a dog from outer space and wear a helmet on my head. Can I be that Mommy?"
"Sure buddy. You would be a good outer space dog when you grow up."
He smiles, confident with the good choice he's made.
Lilly just smiles, and slams some more applesauce. Based on how much fun she has chewing on my shoes, she is either aspiring to be a footwear designer or a dog, like the Entertainer...
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Dark Secrets Exposed!
Last night my husband had to stage an intervention. You see, it all began about a month ago, when I started watching "the biggest looser."
I know it isn't something that thin people are supposed to watch, but it quickly became my guilty pleasure, and I would secretly sneak into the office to watch episodes on line while my kids were sleeping.
It's interesting how quickly one guilty pleasure can lead to another. I was folding laundry and watching the finally when Helen walked out onto stage, weighing what I did when I graduated high school, and was playing sports and swimming 6 days a week. WHAT?!?! How the heck did that happen! The lady lost more than half her self over the course of the show! I was proud for her. But deep inside, I was depressed to know that despite a lot of Cardio DVD's later, a lady who was more than double my size, can now kick my butt in any arena.
There. I typed it out loud. I'm sad a woman I will probably never meet could destroy me in any physical challenge. I guess I'm just competive like that.
And that's when I pulled out the ice cream. I was half way through the box of "Chocolate-Chunk-Marshmallow" when my husband walked into the kitchen.
"What on earth would make you eat ALL of that?!?!" He exclaimed. "What are you doing?!? Stop!" (He's a good husband. Those are unsteady bridges for a man to cross, when he comes between a woman and her half-gallon of icecream.)
"I'm only eating the melty parts." I justified. Besides, I was saving myself work by only having to wash a spoon, and we all know that it is really hard to scrape the last melty parts out of a bowl. It is wasteful to rinse it down the drain.
The truth is, I normally do my icecream eating in privacy- only when the kids are in bed and he's not home. The fact that I displayed my secret obsession so openly when he was there to witness it does prove that I have a problem.
Sigh.
I will have to throw my depression into something else. Maybe cookies. Maybe strait up chocolate. I haven't decided yet. But I am leaning towords chocolate, because it is easier to hide, and no one can smell it baking, so I won't have to share. Ya. Chocolate. It has anti-oxidents. It will be a much healthier alternative to icecream.
Oh and by the way, Good Job Hellen. What you did is beyond remarkable. AND I'm pretty confident that I could beat you in an ice cream eating contest. You know, if you're up to the challenge and all.
I know it isn't something that thin people are supposed to watch, but it quickly became my guilty pleasure, and I would secretly sneak into the office to watch episodes on line while my kids were sleeping.
It's interesting how quickly one guilty pleasure can lead to another. I was folding laundry and watching the finally when Helen walked out onto stage, weighing what I did when I graduated high school, and was playing sports and swimming 6 days a week. WHAT?!?! How the heck did that happen! The lady lost more than half her self over the course of the show! I was proud for her. But deep inside, I was depressed to know that despite a lot of Cardio DVD's later, a lady who was more than double my size, can now kick my butt in any arena.
There. I typed it out loud. I'm sad a woman I will probably never meet could destroy me in any physical challenge. I guess I'm just competive like that.
And that's when I pulled out the ice cream. I was half way through the box of "Chocolate-Chunk-Marshmallow" when my husband walked into the kitchen.
"What on earth would make you eat ALL of that?!?!" He exclaimed. "What are you doing?!? Stop!" (He's a good husband. Those are unsteady bridges for a man to cross, when he comes between a woman and her half-gallon of icecream.)
"I'm only eating the melty parts." I justified. Besides, I was saving myself work by only having to wash a spoon, and we all know that it is really hard to scrape the last melty parts out of a bowl. It is wasteful to rinse it down the drain.
The truth is, I normally do my icecream eating in privacy- only when the kids are in bed and he's not home. The fact that I displayed my secret obsession so openly when he was there to witness it does prove that I have a problem.
Sigh.
I will have to throw my depression into something else. Maybe cookies. Maybe strait up chocolate. I haven't decided yet. But I am leaning towords chocolate, because it is easier to hide, and no one can smell it baking, so I won't have to share. Ya. Chocolate. It has anti-oxidents. It will be a much healthier alternative to icecream.
Oh and by the way, Good Job Hellen. What you did is beyond remarkable. AND I'm pretty confident that I could beat you in an ice cream eating contest. You know, if you're up to the challenge and all.
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