Another post I wrote, but never published. This one from 5/18/11 at 12:05 AM
----------------------------
Eight years ago, a counselor suggested that I read, "Wherever you go, there you are," by Jon Kabat-Zinn to help me reduce my stress level.
Now, I'm the kind of girl who has two speeds: Turbo and sleep. It's not a super healthy way to live but for most of my life - with the exception, I would suspect, of when I hadn't started crawling - I lived it in this way.
So, at the advice of my counselor, I read the book. Then I read it again. And then I read it again.
I didn't understand a lick of it.
"Wherever you go, there you are" is a book about being present. Who can be present when you are either moving at the speed of light or comatose? My being was completely wrapped up in titles, jobs and doings. What was my title at this job or that? What kind of job did I have? What did the outside see and think of me when I was a teacher, journalist, and even a daughter and mom? Most importantly, was I doing such an amazing job in these roles that I was indispensable?
This is how I measured my life.
A few weeks ago I left a job that I loved. I just up and quit. After 20+ years of working my ass off to move up in titles, jobs and doings, I had enough.
And I owe it all to a person who I would never want to be.
Without getting into specifics, I'll just say that I purposefully chose to walk away from toxicity.
Let me tell you something. I've been "being" for three weeks now. No title (unless you count trophy wife), no job so to speak (and I do not believe being a parent, wife or daughter is a job - it is a privledge),
and no particular need to "do" anything.
Guess what!?
There is a speed between turbo and sleep! And it is euphoric! I don't even know if you could call it a speed - because it is just a being. It is the "wherever you go, there you are" speed.
Wednesday, June 28, 2023
Walks with Mollie
I actually wrote this post at least 8 years ago, but hadn't published it. Mollie is now in puppy heaven. I miss her every day.
A while back, I wasn't working outside the home. The part I loved most about being home was my morning walks with Mollie - our golden doodle.
Once the kids and husband were out the door, Mollie and I would take a 2-mile walk around the neighborhood. She loved it. I loved it. Toward the end of our morning journey, we'd make a pitstop at my parent's house (Mollie knew the spot well - about a block away, she'd start looking at me questioningly as if to ask, "We ARE going to stop, right?) We'd always stop. My mom would make me her "special coffee" and she, I and my dad would visit for a half-hour. Mollie would get a bowl of water and lots of lovin', and then we went on our way back home.
The freedom to take a leisurely walk each morning with a creature that found joy in every step down to her doggie soul was such a blissful feeling. I didn't worry about anything. I didn't think about anything troublesome. I let my ADD mind jump aimlessly from one thought to another - how cute Ethan looked when he hopped out of the car to go to school, the funny thing Zayd said, how much I loved Paul, how big Zach had gotten, and how thoughtful Evan had been -- dotted with thoughts like, "The sun feels great, the air smells so energizing, I can't wait to have my mom's special coffee and I wonder if I should try knitting?"
I loved it. But I had this nagging feeling that I shouldn't. I should have a career shouldn't I? I should contribute to the family income, shouldn't I? I should set a good example for my children by being an empowered and upwardly mobile working woman, shouldn't I?
I should.
I took a job. And what a primo job it was! Challenging, lots of responsibility, diverse, educational, great colleagues, an excellent career move and good pay and benefits.
For a year, each weekday morning I said goodbye to Mollie. At first, she would get excited as she watched me put on my shoes and coat - thinking "We are going for our walk!" Then, after a while, she would stand about four feet from the doorway and look at me with the saddest look - knowing there would be no walk, and she would be alone all day.
I too would leave thinking -- No walk. Just a cubicle with no windows, no energizing fresh air, no wandering thoughts, no special coffee, no chats with my parents and no Mollie.
I quit almost a year to the day I started.
I am very happy.
So is Mollie.
Once the kids and husband were out the door, Mollie and I would take a 2-mile walk around the neighborhood. She loved it. I loved it. Toward the end of our morning journey, we'd make a pitstop at my parent's house (Mollie knew the spot well - about a block away, she'd start looking at me questioningly as if to ask, "We ARE going to stop, right?) We'd always stop. My mom would make me her "special coffee" and she, I and my dad would visit for a half-hour. Mollie would get a bowl of water and lots of lovin', and then we went on our way back home.
The freedom to take a leisurely walk each morning with a creature that found joy in every step down to her doggie soul was such a blissful feeling. I didn't worry about anything. I didn't think about anything troublesome. I let my ADD mind jump aimlessly from one thought to another - how cute Ethan looked when he hopped out of the car to go to school, the funny thing Zayd said, how much I loved Paul, how big Zach had gotten, and how thoughtful Evan had been -- dotted with thoughts like, "The sun feels great, the air smells so energizing, I can't wait to have my mom's special coffee and I wonder if I should try knitting?"
I loved it. But I had this nagging feeling that I shouldn't. I should have a career shouldn't I? I should contribute to the family income, shouldn't I? I should set a good example for my children by being an empowered and upwardly mobile working woman, shouldn't I?
I should.
I took a job. And what a primo job it was! Challenging, lots of responsibility, diverse, educational, great colleagues, an excellent career move and good pay and benefits.
For a year, each weekday morning I said goodbye to Mollie. At first, she would get excited as she watched me put on my shoes and coat - thinking "We are going for our walk!" Then, after a while, she would stand about four feet from the doorway and look at me with the saddest look - knowing there would be no walk, and she would be alone all day.
I too would leave thinking -- No walk. Just a cubicle with no windows, no energizing fresh air, no wandering thoughts, no special coffee, no chats with my parents and no Mollie.
I quit almost a year to the day I started.
I am very happy.
So is Mollie.
Hello again!
After the last post on Najmania featuring my boys - I realized that I couldn't share the conversations I had with them with all of you anymore. I needed to keep those conversations private - not that it wasn't hard to keep away from typing them up! (I really should have at least typed them up for myself).
So... hello again!
The boys have grown up! They are now 28 (married), 25, 23 and 20. We are living now in Colorado...
AND... get this...
Three of the four boys are here with us! Not like living with us, but within 10 minutes of us.
WHAT?!?!
I know. According to my mother, I have controlled their minds and their lives. (IF ONLY).
According to one of our boys of whom shall remain unnamed...
"We like being around you guys."
OH. MY. GOD.
WIN WIN for parenting!
And we really like being around them!
Anyway - the hubby, Paul, (you remember Paul?) and I just moved into our new house (well not a "new new" house - but new to us) about three weeks ago. I've learned a few things about myself in that time...
1. I do not know how to be content. I wasn't taught that concept.
2. I am a nester. I need to have my house feel like my home before I can move onto anything else... and
3. I fixate on things I don't like.
Oh... and BIG NEWS! I was diagnosed earlier this year with ADHD.
I mean, knowing that at 55 is great, however, that might have been helpful to know when I was like... 10. It explains a lot.
Okay. So, I decided I'm going to write again for anyone out there in the cyber universe who is interested in hearing from another 55-year-old woman.
I might talk about my ADHD, or being 55, or my house and my plans for it, or occasionally about my family (without naming names, of course). Or I may talk about being raised by two narcissists! It's all game!
Stay tuned...
Friday, February 22, 2013
What's Italy?
Some random comments from the boys when Paul and I announced that we were taking everyone to Italy:
ETHAN
Ethan: Are there roller coasters there?
Me: No.
Ethan: Is there a waterpark?
Me: Ahhh.... no.
Ethan: Will our hotel have a pool?
Me: No.
Ethan: Well WHAT the heck are we going to DO there?
ZAYD
Zayd: Uh... I don't know how I feel about going somewhere where everything is in a different language.
Me: It will be cool! We'll learn some Italian and there will be people who speak English.
Zayd: We won't learn enough Italian.
Me: We'll learn enough to get by. Between that and acting things out, we will be fine.
Zayd: But EVERYTHING will be in Italian. Even the menus!
Me: Think of it as an adventure.
(Pause)
Zayd: I hate adventures.
EVAN
Evan: But we have to fly over the ocean.
Me: Yes. We can't get around that.
Evan: I don't know if I like that.
Me: Well... if you want to go to Italy you'll need to fly over the ocean. We aren't taking a ship.
Evan: It kinda creeps me out. Just out there with nothing but ocean. I mean - what if we crash.
(Pause)
Me: Well, think of it this way - if we crash into the ocean, it will be a lot softer than if we crash into the ground.
Evan: Thanks mom. That helps.
ZACH
Zach: Huh. Cool.
(Pause)
Zach: I'm going over to Jake's house now, k?
ETHAN
Ethan: Are there roller coasters there?
Me: No.
Ethan: Is there a waterpark?
Me: Ahhh.... no.
Ethan: Will our hotel have a pool?
Me: No.
Ethan: Well WHAT the heck are we going to DO there?
ZAYD
Zayd: Uh... I don't know how I feel about going somewhere where everything is in a different language.
Me: It will be cool! We'll learn some Italian and there will be people who speak English.
Zayd: We won't learn enough Italian.
Me: We'll learn enough to get by. Between that and acting things out, we will be fine.
Zayd: But EVERYTHING will be in Italian. Even the menus!
Me: Think of it as an adventure.
(Pause)
Zayd: I hate adventures.
EVAN
Evan: But we have to fly over the ocean.
Me: Yes. We can't get around that.
Evan: I don't know if I like that.
Me: Well... if you want to go to Italy you'll need to fly over the ocean. We aren't taking a ship.
Evan: It kinda creeps me out. Just out there with nothing but ocean. I mean - what if we crash.
(Pause)
Me: Well, think of it this way - if we crash into the ocean, it will be a lot softer than if we crash into the ground.
Evan: Thanks mom. That helps.
ZACH
Zach: Huh. Cool.
(Pause)
Zach: I'm going over to Jake's house now, k?
Saturday, August 25, 2012
How 3 fits into 1 and 2
It was on a summer-night drive to Culver's -- just me and my four boys -- that I learned some things:
1. They talk to each other a lot
2. They talk about a wide variety of topics
3. Their youngest brother is highly influenced by them
I was so excited about 1 and 2. I mean, here are my boys... and they talk to each other! I've always told them that it's important for them to be there for each other as they grow up.
But then there's 3.
I hadn't really considered how 3 fits in with 1 and 2.
(pause)
I mean I've got Zach who is now 17, Evan 14, Zayd 12... and then Ethan 9.
Yeah.
(pause)
So on this drive to Culver's I learned how 3 fits into 1 and 2.
Zach: (addressing his three brothers) Yeah. You aren't really a man until you've done it.
Zayd: Oh my God. Are you serious? I don't know if I want to.
Zach: Then you're not a man.
Evan: I'm a man.
Zayd: You've done that!?
Evan: Yeah. Once. It was okay.
Ethan: It sounds fun!
Let's review:
Not a man until you've done it. Zach has done it. Evan has done it. Zayd isn't sure about doing it and Ethan thinks it sounds fun.
Me: Uh... what are we talking about.
Zach: Mom. Man stuff. We're talking about man stuff.
Evan: Yeah mom. Man stuff. You don't really want to know.
Yeah. I kinda do.
Me: Uh... yeah. If Ethan thinks it sounds fun and it is a man thing - I kinda do want to know.
(pause)
Zach: Sleeping in the buff mom.
(pause)
Here's where I go blank.
Zach: So freeing. Amazing.
Zayd: So just sleeping with everything just kinda hanging out there?
Zach: Yeah. It's awesome.
Me: You sleep in the nude.
Zach: Yeah. A lot of the time.
(pause)
Zach: Why do you think I lock my door.
Actually I had several theories about that... but... whatever
Ethan: I'm going to do it! Tonight!
Zach: Do it Ethan. Do it. Be a man.
Zayd: Oh my God Ethan! I don't want to sleep with you in our room when you are naked!
Zach: It's not like you are sleeping in the same bed.
Zayd: I know, but ... Oh my God (he starts laughing again).
Ethan: I'm serious, I'm going to do it.
(pause)
Ethan: Can I mom? Can I do it?
As if I have a say.
Me: I guess so.
Ethan: Awesome!
Everyone cheers
Okay, except me. I do not cheer.
Ethan: And... I'm going to wear my Angry Birds hat!
Everyone cheers louder.
OMG.
At bedtime, I'm reading in my room and I hear a lot of screams, laughing, teasing and general loudness coming from the hallway. Things like:
"Oh my God!"
"You da man!"
"Get that away from me!"
"I'm clean!"
"Mom! When are you going to put me to bed!"
After a while - quite a while. It settles down and its quiet.
I walk do my nightly ritual of walking into everyone's room to give them a good-night kiss and back rub...
Well, not Zach's.
I walk into Ethan and Zayd's room...
And there is my little precious Ethan fast asleep.
Naked.
With his Angry Birds hat on.
1. They talk to each other a lot
2. They talk about a wide variety of topics
3. Their youngest brother is highly influenced by them
I was so excited about 1 and 2. I mean, here are my boys... and they talk to each other! I've always told them that it's important for them to be there for each other as they grow up.
But then there's 3.
I hadn't really considered how 3 fits in with 1 and 2.
(pause)
I mean I've got Zach who is now 17, Evan 14, Zayd 12... and then Ethan 9.
Yeah.
(pause)
So on this drive to Culver's I learned how 3 fits into 1 and 2.
Zach: (addressing his three brothers) Yeah. You aren't really a man until you've done it.
Zayd: Oh my God. Are you serious? I don't know if I want to.
Zach: Then you're not a man.
Evan: I'm a man.
Zayd: You've done that!?
Evan: Yeah. Once. It was okay.
Ethan: It sounds fun!
Let's review:
Not a man until you've done it. Zach has done it. Evan has done it. Zayd isn't sure about doing it and Ethan thinks it sounds fun.
Me: Uh... what are we talking about.
Zach: Mom. Man stuff. We're talking about man stuff.
Evan: Yeah mom. Man stuff. You don't really want to know.
Yeah. I kinda do.
Me: Uh... yeah. If Ethan thinks it sounds fun and it is a man thing - I kinda do want to know.
(pause)
Zach: Sleeping in the buff mom.
(pause)
Here's where I go blank.
Zach: So freeing. Amazing.
Zayd: So just sleeping with everything just kinda hanging out there?
Zach: Yeah. It's awesome.
Me: You sleep in the nude.
Zach: Yeah. A lot of the time.
(pause)
Zach: Why do you think I lock my door.
Actually I had several theories about that... but... whatever
Ethan: I'm going to do it! Tonight!
Zach: Do it Ethan. Do it. Be a man.
Zayd: Oh my God Ethan! I don't want to sleep with you in our room when you are naked!
Zach: It's not like you are sleeping in the same bed.
Zayd: I know, but ... Oh my God (he starts laughing again).
Ethan: I'm serious, I'm going to do it.
(pause)
Ethan: Can I mom? Can I do it?
As if I have a say.
Me: I guess so.
Ethan: Awesome!
Everyone cheers
Okay, except me. I do not cheer.
Ethan: And... I'm going to wear my Angry Birds hat!
Everyone cheers louder.
OMG.
At bedtime, I'm reading in my room and I hear a lot of screams, laughing, teasing and general loudness coming from the hallway. Things like:
"Oh my God!"
"You da man!"
"Get that away from me!"
"I'm clean!"
"Mom! When are you going to put me to bed!"
After a while - quite a while. It settles down and its quiet.
I walk do my nightly ritual of walking into everyone's room to give them a good-night kiss and back rub...
Well, not Zach's.
I walk into Ethan and Zayd's room...
And there is my little precious Ethan fast asleep.
Naked.
With his Angry Birds hat on.
Monday, December 19, 2011
Number 4
I thought having three sons would prepare me for son number four.
I was wrong.
Very. Very. Wrong.
Last night, as I was putting him to bed, I smelled a strong odor of urine.
Me: Ethan? Did you have an accident in your bed?
Ethan: No.
Me: It's okay if you did. You just need to tell us. We won't get upset. But I don't want you to sleep in stinky sheets.
pause
Ethan: Welllll...... maybe.
Me: Okay - well, let's get up and I'll make your bed all fresh!
I pull off the sheets, and wipe down the plastic mattress protector with some wipes, and start putting on new sheets.... and all the while talking...
Me: You know it's okay to have accidents. But you really need to let us know, okay?
pause
Ethan: Uhm... mom? Could the pee have run down the side of the bed?
I stop.
I turn.
I look at him.
Now... let me backtrack to two days ago when Paul and I learned that Ethan had peed in the garbage can in the laundry room - where we put all the lint, candy bar wrappers, and other stuff we find in pockets...
Ethan had chosen to pee in the garbage can because, as he put it, "He couldn't make it to the toilet," which happens to be right around the corner...
Instead, it took Paul three days to discover that the strong urine odor was coming from the garbage can... the small pool of liquid at the bottom cinched his investigation.
Me: Why would it run down the side of your bed?
pause
Ethan: I don't know.
pause
Me: Ethan. Did you pee on the carpet?
Ethan: No!
I bend over and smell the carpet. Nope - nothing.
I turn a bit and notice an "under the bed" plastic storage container sitting on the floor.
Me: Ethan? Did you pee in the container?
Ethan: Nooooo.....
I'm still standing in one place, but looking around and wondering...
...and then it hits me.
The container is covering the heating vent.
No. No. Way.
I pull the container away, exposing the closed white vent.
Me: Ethan? Did you pee in this?
pause
Ethan: I don't know.
pause
Me: Ethan. You need to tell me the truth. Did you pee in this?
pause
Ethan: Maybe.
HE. DID. NOT.
I lean over and smell the vent.
Yup. He peed on the vent.
But I didn't notice any stains on the white vent...
Oh. My. God.
I pulled the vent up and smelled inside the vent.
YUP. He peed IN THE VENT AND DOWN THE VENT.
Me: Ethan? Did you pee down this?
Ethan: Are you going to get mad?
Me: Answer my question.
Ethan: Yes.
Me: You pulled this cover off and you peed down this hole?
Ethan: Yes.
I stare at him for a moment, then get up and walk out - looking for his father... who I find in the kitchen downstairs. Paul asks me what I said to Ethan.
Me: I didn't say anything - I was too grossed out to say anything.
Paul: Well you need to get after him.
Me: Where do I being! He PEED DOWN OUR VENT! GROSS.
Paul: You need to tell him that isn't okay.
Ugh. Excuse me for being a little overwhelmed by this - I mean, how in the world do you begin to tell an EIGHT-YEAR-OLD that he shouldn't pee down your heating duct?! Should I be having this conversations AT ALL?
I get back upstairs and begin my lecture.
Me: Ethan. Pee is poison. Your pee is poison. Everyone's pee is poison. It is all the yucky stuff that your body cannot use - so it gets rid of it as pee. So, you put poison in the heating duct... and now, the air that come through this pipe to heat your room is going to smell like pee - which is poison - and is harmful to smell! You don't PEE in here! We pee in the toilet. We don't pee in the garbage can, or on the carpet, or in a bottle (that's another story), or anywhere in the house EXCEPT for the toilet!
pause
Me: Do you understand?
He has the slightest hint of a grin... just the slightest... and that throws me over the edge.
Me: ETHAN! This is not funny! If you EVER EVER pee in anything in our house besides the TOILET, you... you... YOU.... are going to be grounded for the rest of your LIFE!
Now he looks scared.
Good.
I stomp out of his bedroom and into mine where I find my husband and my oldest son laughing their butts off.
Me: Stop it. If he hears you laughing he'll do it again!
Zachary: Oh my God. That is amazing. Where does he come up with this stuff?
I don't know. But clearly our other three sons have ill-prepared us for EPIC son number four.
I was wrong.
Very. Very. Wrong.
Last night, as I was putting him to bed, I smelled a strong odor of urine.
Me: Ethan? Did you have an accident in your bed?
Ethan: No.
Me: It's okay if you did. You just need to tell us. We won't get upset. But I don't want you to sleep in stinky sheets.
pause
Ethan: Welllll...... maybe.
Me: Okay - well, let's get up and I'll make your bed all fresh!
I pull off the sheets, and wipe down the plastic mattress protector with some wipes, and start putting on new sheets.... and all the while talking...
Me: You know it's okay to have accidents. But you really need to let us know, okay?
pause
Ethan: Uhm... mom? Could the pee have run down the side of the bed?
I stop.
I turn.
I look at him.
Now... let me backtrack to two days ago when Paul and I learned that Ethan had peed in the garbage can in the laundry room - where we put all the lint, candy bar wrappers, and other stuff we find in pockets...
Ethan had chosen to pee in the garbage can because, as he put it, "He couldn't make it to the toilet," which happens to be right around the corner...
Instead, it took Paul three days to discover that the strong urine odor was coming from the garbage can... the small pool of liquid at the bottom cinched his investigation.
Me: Why would it run down the side of your bed?
pause
Ethan: I don't know.
pause
Me: Ethan. Did you pee on the carpet?
Ethan: No!
I bend over and smell the carpet. Nope - nothing.
I turn a bit and notice an "under the bed" plastic storage container sitting on the floor.
Me: Ethan? Did you pee in the container?
Ethan: Nooooo.....
I'm still standing in one place, but looking around and wondering...
...and then it hits me.
The container is covering the heating vent.
No. No. Way.
I pull the container away, exposing the closed white vent.
Me: Ethan? Did you pee in this?
pause
Ethan: I don't know.
pause
Me: Ethan. You need to tell me the truth. Did you pee in this?
pause
Ethan: Maybe.
HE. DID. NOT.
I lean over and smell the vent.
Yup. He peed on the vent.
But I didn't notice any stains on the white vent...
Oh. My. God.
I pulled the vent up and smelled inside the vent.
YUP. He peed IN THE VENT AND DOWN THE VENT.
Me: Ethan? Did you pee down this?
Ethan: Are you going to get mad?
Me: Answer my question.
Ethan: Yes.
Me: You pulled this cover off and you peed down this hole?
Ethan: Yes.
I stare at him for a moment, then get up and walk out - looking for his father... who I find in the kitchen downstairs. Paul asks me what I said to Ethan.
Me: I didn't say anything - I was too grossed out to say anything.
Paul: Well you need to get after him.
Me: Where do I being! He PEED DOWN OUR VENT! GROSS.
Paul: You need to tell him that isn't okay.
Ugh. Excuse me for being a little overwhelmed by this - I mean, how in the world do you begin to tell an EIGHT-YEAR-OLD that he shouldn't pee down your heating duct?! Should I be having this conversations AT ALL?
I get back upstairs and begin my lecture.
Me: Ethan. Pee is poison. Your pee is poison. Everyone's pee is poison. It is all the yucky stuff that your body cannot use - so it gets rid of it as pee. So, you put poison in the heating duct... and now, the air that come through this pipe to heat your room is going to smell like pee - which is poison - and is harmful to smell! You don't PEE in here! We pee in the toilet. We don't pee in the garbage can, or on the carpet, or in a bottle (that's another story), or anywhere in the house EXCEPT for the toilet!
pause
Me: Do you understand?
He has the slightest hint of a grin... just the slightest... and that throws me over the edge.
Me: ETHAN! This is not funny! If you EVER EVER pee in anything in our house besides the TOILET, you... you... YOU.... are going to be grounded for the rest of your LIFE!
Now he looks scared.
Good.
I stomp out of his bedroom and into mine where I find my husband and my oldest son laughing their butts off.
Me: Stop it. If he hears you laughing he'll do it again!
Zachary: Oh my God. That is amazing. Where does he come up with this stuff?
I don't know. But clearly our other three sons have ill-prepared us for EPIC son number four.
Friday, October 7, 2011
It's pencil... not penis
Ethan had to stay after school yesterday.
According to his third grade teacher, he had a rough day which translates into, "His was being a little shit."
This morning he showed me his "Behavior Correction Sheet."
Ethan: You have to sign it.
Me: Okay - let me read it first.
I read aloud: I was flinging... peee...nn. Pee..nni... Pee...niisses. I was flinging penises at Christian. What? You were flinging PENISES at him! ETHAN! What are you doing?
Zayd was standing next to me reading and starts laughing.
Zayd: Oh my God Ethan! How do you fling your penis at him!
Not to mention I was unaware Ethan had more than one.
Ethan: NO! No! I didn't do that! I was flinging my PENCILS at him! God!
Me: Well it says PENISES here!
pause
Ethan: Oh.
Me: Holy cow Ethan. You can't spell penis when you want to spell it, and now you are spelling penis for everything else!
Ethan: I'm sorry! I didn't know how to spell pencil!
Me: So we spell PENIS instead?
Zayd: Well, we did teach him how to spell penis yesterday.
pause
Damn, I say to myself. That's right.
According to his third grade teacher, he had a rough day which translates into, "His was being a little shit."
This morning he showed me his "Behavior Correction Sheet."
Ethan: You have to sign it.
Me: Okay - let me read it first.
I read aloud: I was flinging... peee...nn. Pee..nni... Pee...niisses. I was flinging penises at Christian. What? You were flinging PENISES at him! ETHAN! What are you doing?
Zayd was standing next to me reading and starts laughing.
Zayd: Oh my God Ethan! How do you fling your penis at him!
Not to mention I was unaware Ethan had more than one.
Ethan: NO! No! I didn't do that! I was flinging my PENCILS at him! God!
Me: Well it says PENISES here!
pause
Ethan: Oh.
Me: Holy cow Ethan. You can't spell penis when you want to spell it, and now you are spelling penis for everything else!
Ethan: I'm sorry! I didn't know how to spell pencil!
Me: So we spell PENIS instead?
Zayd: Well, we did teach him how to spell penis yesterday.
pause
Damn, I say to myself. That's right.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Penes
When Zayd got home from school, he sat at the family computer and opened up his gmail. Then, he spun around to face me, and started chuckling.
Zayd: (mumbles and chuckles)
Me: Huh?
Zayd: Are you going to get mad at Ethan?
Me: Why?
Zayd: Come and see what he sent me.
I look over Zayd's shoulder and see an opened message with "(no subject)" from Ethan. In the text box is one word:
"penes"
I stare at the screen for a moment.
Zayd starts chuckling again.
Zayd: Are you going to get mad at him?
Me: Why would he do that?
Zayd: (laughing) I don't know! He didn't even spell it right!
Me: Yeah, but why would he do that?
Zayd: (still laughing) He thinks it is funny!
pause
Zayd: You're mad.
I walk over to the basement door, open it, and yell down the stairs.
Me: Eeeethhhaaan!
Ethan: What!
Me: Come here please.
He appears from the basement.
Ethan: What did I do?
Me: Just come up here for a moment. Zayd, will you show him the message.
Zayd: Ooops. I deleted it.
Me: (sigh)
Zayd: Wait! Wait! Shoot! I didn't want to delete it! Let me see if I can find it!
Me: Never mind. Just tell him about the message you got from him.
Zayd: Ethan? (he gets the giggles again). Why did you send me a message that said penis?
Ethan tries to hide his guilt by acting like he has no idea what we are talking about.
Zayd: You didn't even spell it right!
Ethan: It was just a joke.
Me: What if you had mistakenly sent it to grandma?
He looks at me shocked. Clearly, that hadn't crossed his mind. He starts to walk sheepishly toward the basement steps.
Me: Ethan! And you spelled penis wrong! Do you know how to spell it?
Ethan: (stops and turns around looking embarrassed) Don't tell me how to spell it!
Zayd: It's spelled p-e-n-i-s. Not p-e-n-e-s.
Me: Okay?
He starts heading down the stairs.
pause
I yell after him.
Me: If you are going to send inappropriate messages, at least spell them right!
Zayd: (mumbles and chuckles)
Me: Huh?
Zayd: Are you going to get mad at Ethan?
Me: Why?
Zayd: Come and see what he sent me.
I look over Zayd's shoulder and see an opened message with "(no subject)" from Ethan. In the text box is one word:
"penes"
I stare at the screen for a moment.
Zayd starts chuckling again.
Zayd: Are you going to get mad at him?
Me: Why would he do that?
Zayd: (laughing) I don't know! He didn't even spell it right!
Me: Yeah, but why would he do that?
Zayd: (still laughing) He thinks it is funny!
pause
Zayd: You're mad.
I walk over to the basement door, open it, and yell down the stairs.
Me: Eeeethhhaaan!
Ethan: What!
Me: Come here please.
He appears from the basement.
Ethan: What did I do?
Me: Just come up here for a moment. Zayd, will you show him the message.
Zayd: Ooops. I deleted it.
Me: (sigh)
Zayd: Wait! Wait! Shoot! I didn't want to delete it! Let me see if I can find it!
Me: Never mind. Just tell him about the message you got from him.
Zayd: Ethan? (he gets the giggles again). Why did you send me a message that said penis?
Ethan tries to hide his guilt by acting like he has no idea what we are talking about.
Zayd: You didn't even spell it right!
Ethan: It was just a joke.
Me: What if you had mistakenly sent it to grandma?
He looks at me shocked. Clearly, that hadn't crossed his mind. He starts to walk sheepishly toward the basement steps.
Me: Ethan! And you spelled penis wrong! Do you know how to spell it?
Ethan: (stops and turns around looking embarrassed) Don't tell me how to spell it!
Zayd: It's spelled p-e-n-i-s. Not p-e-n-e-s.
Me: Okay?
He starts heading down the stairs.
pause
I yell after him.
Me: If you are going to send inappropriate messages, at least spell them right!
Friday, September 30, 2011
Baby comes to visit
I'm babysitting a baby today.
The last time I spent four consecutive hours with a baby by myself was eight years ago. That's a long time. But I'm excited. I think this is how being a grandmother might feel.
Baby comes.
Najla babbles like an idiot with baby.
Najla feeds cute baby.
Baby naps.
Baby wakes up.
Baby cries.
Fussy baby goes home.
I announced to my boys this morning that their mother was going to spend part of her day babysitting a baby.
Zach: Uh... is said baby going to be here for an extended period of time?
Me: Her name is Freya. She's a girl. She's staying for several hours.
Zach: I'll be referring to the baby as an "it."
Zayd: Will she be here when we get home?
Me: No.
Zayd: Thank God.
Ethan: Are you babysitting because you miss holding a baby like when we were babies?
Me: Well, I do miss holding a baby, but I'm doing this because a friend needed my help.
Ethan: Will I get to see the baby?
Me: No. I don't think you'll be home in time.
Ethan: Dang.
Zach: Are you qualified to take care of said baby?
Me: I believe I am.
Zach gives me a look that clearly questions this response.
Evan enters the scene late.
Evan: I heard you're watching a baby today.
Me: Yes.
News travels fast.
Evan: Love the way we are the last to find out about these things. Just like your trip to New York. Had to find out on Facebook.
I didn't realize that I had to run my activities by my sons before I proceeded to tell whomever I wanted to tell. Is this going to get worse as they get older?
Evan: Are you nervous?
Me: No - I'm looking forward to it.
Evan: Yeah. Will we get to see it?
Me: It's a she.
Evan: Will we get to see her?
Me: I don't think so.
Evan: Oh. That's too bad.
pause
Evan: What about Mollie?
Me: I'll keep her in her kennel if she is a problem.
Ethan: Are they going to pay you?
Me: They want to but I told them I wouldn't accept it.
pause
Ethan: That's because you're so nice.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Worst news on Prairiewood Drive
This morning, Ethan, Mollie and I took a jaunt around our neighborhood on Prairiewood Dr. Ethan road the new bike he got for his birthday this past week.
Ethan: Mom. I have the worst news ever for Prairiewood. I mean, it sucks. It just sucks.
Me: What happened.
Ethan: You aren't going to believe this. It is bad news. Are you ready for the bad news?
Me: I'm ready.
Ethan: You know that big bump in the sidewalk? The biggest bump on the sidewalk in all of Prairiewood?
Me: Yup. I know the bump you are talking about.
Ethan: Well... it's gone. It's all gone. The biggest bump on Prairiewood is gone.
Me: What happened?
Ethan: It just disappeared! Gone!
Me: You mean someone fixed it?
Ethan: Yes. They fixed it! That was the best bump ever. It was such a fun bump mom and it was the biggest one.
Me: Oh no. Yeah. That was a great bump.
Ethan: I'm going to miss that bump. I loved that bump.
Ethan: Mom. I have the worst news ever for Prairiewood. I mean, it sucks. It just sucks.
Me: What happened.
Ethan: You aren't going to believe this. It is bad news. Are you ready for the bad news?
Me: I'm ready.
Ethan: You know that big bump in the sidewalk? The biggest bump on the sidewalk in all of Prairiewood?
Me: Yup. I know the bump you are talking about.
Ethan: Well... it's gone. It's all gone. The biggest bump on Prairiewood is gone.
Me: What happened?
Ethan: It just disappeared! Gone!
Me: You mean someone fixed it?
Ethan: Yes. They fixed it! That was the best bump ever. It was such a fun bump mom and it was the biggest one.
Me: Oh no. Yeah. That was a great bump.
Ethan: I'm going to miss that bump. I loved that bump.
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