Why I Keep Them Around, Part II

For my birthday, Grace gave me a beautiful shirt, in my favorite color (green), probably a size or two smaller than it should be to comfortably fit NOW--but hey, I'm optimistically still moving down in size, so that's okay.

Today I wore said shirt to church, wincing a little at just how snugly it fit, wondering if it crossed the line into "too-tight-for-modesty."

When Grace saw it her eyes lit up, which was, after all, my primary reason for wearing it.

"Hey, you're wearing the shirt I gave you!"

She began rubbing my tummy through the shirt. I sighed. "Does it show off my fat tummy, sweetie?"

Big-eyed, she looked up at me. "No! Your tummy looks smaller in this!"

Eric joined in. "And soft. You look softer. I like a soft Mommy. You're a pretty mommy."

They may be loud, obnoxious, and crazy, but they're keepers, those kids of mine.

If My Kids Ran the World

• Mankind would survive on mac & cheese with hot dogs, juice boxes, and candy.
• Putting away laundry, picking up toys, taking out the trash, and setting the table would earn valuable prizes and be accompanied by personal cheerleading squads EACH and EVERY time.
• Mothers would have a silencer button.
• The daily routine of every child would be equal parts playing outside/art projects/ watching Harry Potter movies.
• Mommy would wear the hairstyles created for her by her insanely creative and gifted children out in public, preferably to church or to work.
• Baths would happen once a year and consist of running through sprinklers.
• Six would be the legal age to drive.
• Hannah Montana would be our next-door neighbor.
• Mommy would be married to Santa Claus or Uncle Dan, in that order of preference.

And...You....Are....Not....It...

Tonight at the gym I was using the track when I noticed two adorable little boys, probably around ages 8 and 10, doing their darndest to work out on the adult-size equipment, and doing an admirable job.

I also noticed a nicely-fit and relatively attractive, slightly older-than-me man running laps around me. Truly--I didn't notice in a lusting way, just in a "wow-he's-in-pretty-good-shape-for-an-older-dude" kind of way. Sometimes I notice people who are further along the fitness track than I am, and I kind of use them for motivation, and that's what I was doing with Mr. Silver-Haired Buff Guy.

Then I realized he was the Cute Boys' dad. I deduced this when I overheard the following LOUD tirade from his mouth:

"Hey! What is this??? Why aren't you exercising anymore? Come on, get going, boys. You're a couple of wimps. We came to the gym to exercise--I want to see some exercise happening. You want to be a flab-o like your mom? What are you whining about? You want me to leave right now, this minute, and go get you a hamburger because your poor stomach is so hungry you can't wait 10 more minutes? You need to get to work. It's my job as your dad to push you and teach you to stay in shape. You boys are pathetic."

no. 1: I couldn't decided whether to go out to the car and cry for those poor boys or take my fingernails to Mr. Dad-of-the-Year's face. The latter was most tempting.

no. 2: I was hoping he sure as heck wasn't married, because anyone who would say something like that about his wife, to his own sons, doesn't deserve even a lousy marriage.

Number two concern was addressed a few minutes later when Jerk Daddy fell into step alongside me and did the "so, do you come here often/hey, I haven't seen you here before" routine that happens from time to time at the gym.

I don't think I've ever shot someone down so fast.

Being in good shape is nice; being nice is better.

Then & Now

Two weeks ago--

Mia: "For Christmas I want a Hannah Montana Barbie--another one--and a camera. That's all."

Yesterday--

Mia: "For Christmas I want Santa to bring me a Wii and an Ipod Touch and a Kindle and a camera phone and an mp3 player. And a regular camera. And a scooter that goes by itself. That's all."

My little girl is growing up.

Sigh.

Why I Keep Them Around

Mia: "Why did that guy say 'hot'? What does 'hot' mean, anyway?"

Mom: "It means really, really pretty, like if someone is really beautiful, we say she is 'hot.' "

Mia: "Oh! Like Mama!"

Mom: "Eh?"

Mia: "So you are hot, right?"

I love my little schmoozers.

Just Another Scatalogical Saturday

Eric: Mom! MOM! Come quick!

Mom: Uh, I'm kinda busy--what do you need?

Eric: I'm pooping, and it's SOOOO big! It's a HUGE poop! Come see!

Gee, tempting, but I think I'll pass...

Mom: I'm making breakfast--sorry, bud.

Several minutes pass.

Eric: MOM! I need some help here!

Mom: With what?

Eric: I need help wiping my butt!

Mom: You're a big boy; you know how to wipe your own butt.

Eric: But this is a BIG poop, and it's ALL OVER!

Sigh.

Mommy stands in the bathroom door. To observe. And guide from afar. My mantra is to teach self-sufficiency. Especially if it involves poop.

Mom: You're doing fine, Eric.

Eric: Yeah, but I really hate wiping butts. Wiping butts is so disgusting. It's so gross.

Tell me about it. Try wiping someone ELSE'S butt. Welcome to parenthood, son.

Mom: Well, it's better than NOT wiping your butt.

Silence. Eric digests this thought.

In a tone of awe suggesting that maybe, just maybe, Mommy is NOT dumber than a pile of rocks...

Eric: Yeeeaaaaaaah. That's true!

Nice to know someone out there is still awed by my brilliance.

Family Home Evening, Eric-style

Mommy: So, before you came to earth, we all lived with Heavenly Father and Heavenly Mother--

Eric: Hey, who's Heavenly Mother?

Mommy: She's your Heavenly Mother, the mother of your spirit, just like Heavenly Father is your Heavenly Father.

Eric: Oh! Like Mary, right?

Mommy: No, Mary was Jesus' earthly mom, but she's not your Heavenly Mother.

Eric: Then what's her name?

Mommy: Um, we don't know exactly. We just know she's our Heavenly Mother.

Eric: Oh, because she and Heavenly Father are divorced, right?

*************

Eric: Dear Heavenly Father, we grateful for playing pick-up-sticks and for surprises and for chicken nuggets and thankful that Mia could eat peanut butter and thankful for Madame Blueberry and Mommy and, and, and....

(eyes tightly closed and arms folded, Eric stands up and begins madly jigging in place)

thankful that we can dance really fast like this.

*************

Eric: Mercie! You cannot sing "I Hope They Call Me On a Mission" with me because you are a girl!

Mercie: MOM! Eric told me that when I grow up I can't be a missionary because I'm a girl.

Mommy: That's not true. Girls can be missionaries if they want to.

Eric: Well, she's only going on a pink mission, then. Boys go on blue missions and girls go on pink missions. The end.

************

Mom: CHILDREN!!! It's not reverent or respectful to booty-shake during a prayer! If you want to dance, wait 'till we're done with family prayer!

(children wait out the prayer, as reverently as a 6, 5, and 4-times-2 year old can).

Mom: ....Amen.

Children: Oh yeah, oh yeah, WE LOVE JESUS!!! WE LOVE TO DANCE FOR JESUS! JESUS LOVES US SHAKING OUR BOOTY FOR HIM!! OH YEAH! OH YEAH! DANCING, DANCING, DANCING, WAVE YOUR ARMS, SHAKE YOUR LEGS, MOVE YOUR BOOTY 'CAUSE WE LOVE JESUS!!!

Call me sacrilegeous, but I think Jesus grins every time my kiddos start workin' it in His praise.

Why He's My Favorite Boy

Eric: "Hey, it's a magic wand! Poof! I turned you into a beautiful princess! Wait--you already WERE a beautiful princess-mommy! I didn't even need a wand!"

I think he's preparing now for his high school harem.

Advice:

Never skip church to stay home alone and sneak the last quarter of the lemon meringue pie before the kids get home. Karma will bite you in the butt.

Thanksgiving Traditions

Somewhat unexpectedly the kids are going to be with me on Thanksgiving. Since I a.) don't have it in me to do the big dinner thing this year, and b.) want to make the most of a whole, entire day at home with my kids, I told the kids that this year for Thanksgiving we'd start a new tradition called "You-can-each-choose-one-thing-to-make-for-Thanksgiving-dinner-and-Mommy-will-help-you-make-it-all-by-yourself."

Mommy didn't think this one out very well. Here is our Thanksgiving Day Menu:

Mac & Cheese (Grace)
Ramen Noodles (Mia)
Hot Chocolate (Mercie)
Doughnuts (Eric)

I tried to steer them toward more traditional choices, but I was reminded that I'd said they could choose. Okay-dokey.

If anyone needs more starchy carbs to round out Thanksgiving Day feasting, apparently you can just stop by our house.