One day my children are going to read all the embarrassing stuff I wrote about them on Facebook and this blog – and there will be hell to pay – or massive royalties! I imagine elaborate retribution scenarios involving maniacal laughter as they drop me off at a nursing home, or fill my denture cream tube with super glue, or “accidentally” slip me a double dose of blood thinners! But while they have no idea that I am using their lives as fodder for my blog, I’m seeing it as a way to capture them at this moment. They are curious combinations of humor and intelligence and empathy, along with equal parts strangeness and stupidity and complete self-absorption – its wonderful! One day, when I’m old and senile, I can read my Facebook posts and my blog and relive their childhood …. as I sit in a nursing home with teeth permanently in place and extremely thin blood.
It seems that now I have entered into a phase of child rearing where my child basically sees more of the back of my head than my face. I drive the kids to karate, to soccer, to swim class, to their friends houses, to grocery stores, to visit relatives – I am the chauffeur and my kids are the cantankerous Miss Daisy! On the flip side, we do have some marvelous conversations in the process.
Maya: I can’t believe that I’m going to be in 5th grade and Adam is going to be in 2nd grade next year!
Me: [all choked up] I know! I cant believe it either!
Adam: I don’t want to go to 2nd grade
Maya: You have to Adam, what’ll you do otherwise
Adam: I think I’m going to stop going to school and have a family and kids
Me: You cant have kids till you are 30 Adam
Adam: I thought that was the rule for Maya
Me: No, it applies to both of you. You need money to have kids so you can provide for them.
Adam: Wait, WHAT?!
Me: You need money to provide for kids, give them a proper education, make sure they are healthy ..
Adam: Wait wait, whatdya mean you have to have money to have kids – you have to PAY to be PREGNANT!!
I would actually have let him continue to believe that you do, seriously, have to pay to be pregnant, but I’m afraid that given how single minded he can be he would have started to save up for it – right next to his savings for Legos! Sometimes I just want to bottle his cuteness so when he’s driving me up a wall I can crack open that bottle and take a little whiff! I’d label the bottle “Break in case of extreme Adam-induced Aggravation” – its a condition, look it up!
Here’s a recent conversation with Maya
Maya: Mom, your eyes are darker than mine but your hair isn’t as curly
Me: Yup, you can thank my forefathers
Maya: Wait,…you have FOUR fathers!!
She worries me. But really, it’s my mother who needs to probably clear up this mess!
And now that my daughter has discovered texting its opened up a whole new line of communication between us which is good….sometimes. Here is a text I received recently:
Maya: Mom, guess what this is
Me: Ummmm…no clue, but I’m scared to ask!
Maya: This is 4 skittles I’ve sucked on for the last 5 minutes!
Me: Oh Maya!! That’s just gross honey!
Maya: I know!! Hahaha :-)!
I’ve created a monster. The good news is I hope she never stops talking to me, but on the flip side, I think I may have passed on my sense of humor and that’s just troubling!
Adam recently had a play date with his friend N and over lunch they talked about a DIY project they wanted to start:
N: we should build a club house in my backyard
Adam: Great idea! Lets go look for some wood!
N: Or we can have our moms buy the wood and our dads nail the wood together! [Seriously, 6 year olds are gender stereotyping already!]
Adam: Ummm…ok, but what we really need first is to get a pair of axes!
Yeah, that’s going to end well – two 6 year olds with axes chopping down trees for wood for their clubhouse! And the Mom-Of-The-Year Award goes to….!
So – sorry kids, I know your friends all have lovely childhood scrapbooks and mementos and albums and quilts of their onesies – all made by super crafty mothers who can tell one end of a crochet hook from the other. Unfortunately, all I have to offer are these nuggets of sarcasm, put together to maximize your humiliation – love you xxxx00000xxxx!
For the Weekly Writing Challenge.