WTF Tapas

L as he darts upstairs pushing past his sister: “Whoever gets there first gets to eat a rotten egg!”

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In the car, listening to Christmas music:

L: I don’t like this song.
me: Why not?
L: Because it has bad words in it.
me: What? No it doesn’t.
L: Yes it does! It keeps saying “Jesus Christ.”
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I love when I find out something new and funny that my kids do or think. Here’s one from a recent conversation with L:

L: Mommy, my gum hurts.

me: Really? Maybe you have popcorn or something stuck in there. Try brushing your teeth.

L: No, not those gums! This one!

 

He holds his thumb out to me and shows me his nail and torn cuticle. L thinks his cuticles are called gums! I stifled my laughter and ran to the computer before I forgot.

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Conversation from the car yesterday:

L: Mommy, can we do that thing with the crayons that we did a long time ago?

me: what thing?

L: When we looked for those special crayons.

me: I don’t know what you’re talking about.

L: Remember? Me, you and Daddy looked for crayons. It was a long time ago. Maybe before S was even born. We looked for crayons in the trees.

This is where I figured out what he was talking about. Any guesses?

He was remembering a hike from when I was early in my pregnancy with S (over 2.5 years ago!). L was getting bored and restless with hiking so we gave him a job – to look for the markers on the trees denoting the trail.

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Is Today Over Yet?

Another Thursday, another miserable day. Instead of having fun at the Children’s Museum, like we planned, we’re still home and L is in a time out. Why the F he has to F with me on Effing Thursdays, I have no idea. (I’m doing a good job curbing my swearing. I already emptied our checking account into my swear jar.)

Clearly something BIG and BAD happened to send L over the edge into obnoxious land costing him a trip to the museum. Right? Of course. The BIG BAD thing was that I asked him to wash his hands after peeing. That’s right. I’m such a bitch. Not only did I ask him to wash his hands, but then when he crumpled on the floor into a puddle of whining misery, I did not acquiesce and come help him wash his hands.

This is after a morning of walks and a bike ride, giving him his favorite lunch (a Nutella sandwich) and letting him watch a show while eating it, all with the promise that afterwards we’ll go to his favorite place ever. All he had to do was pee first.

Another special day, another huge disappointment for everyone. Maybe L and I just shouldn’t spend any time together. I’m so pissed off. I told him that if he made one more fresh face or comment that we wouldn’t go to the museum. He promptly stuck his tongue out at me and said “No, YOU won’t go to the museum.” So, up to his room he went. Apologizing, crying, wailing against the injustice.

And now I have to follow through. In order to be a good mom, I have to find something else to fill the next few hours with. Something certain to be harder for me and less fun for him than a trip to the museum. This sucks. And will he learn any lesson from this? Will he actually internalize anything about actions and consequences? About how mommy is serious when she threatens something and you’d better listen to her? Not likely. He’s missed out on so many things, been dragged out of so many fun places. I always follow through. And he’s still the worst behaved kid I know. (When he’s being bad. When he’s being good he’s a freaking angel.)

Thursdays always suck.

Time to Bring Back My Swear Jar

Another bright shining mommy moment brought to you by your local mom who makes you feel better about your parenting:

me: (dropping my phone by my feet while driving and talking to L’s pediatrician) Damn!

L: Why you always say ‘damn’?

me: Um, I shouldn’t. It’s not a very nice word. It’s a grown up word and you shouldn’t say it though.

L: Then you should only say it at night when S and I are sleeping so we don’t hear it.

me: (sheepishly) You’re right.

L: You should say ‘fuck’ instead.

me: Er, actually, that’s really not a nice word either and no one should say it.

L: Yes it is a nice word! Fuck! Fucking! Fuck. What does fuck mean anyway?

me: (stammering) I really need to pull over to get my phone. Nothing. It means nothing. Want ice cream when we get home?

When I did finally retrieve the phone no one was on the other end. I have no idea how much was heard. I am an AWESOME mom.