Baby Musings and Too Many Cookies

All three of us stood in front of the bathroom mirror brushing our teeth.  It was nearing bed time hour and my boys were clad in pj's.  Though my bed time hour wasn't for another 3 I was too.  As my tank top inched up my stomach while helping the boys with something I caught sight of it in the mirror and laughed.

"Oh my goodness guys!  Look at my belly!  I look like I have a baby in it."  I am fit with a reasonably flat stomach but the monthly bloat, which was the obvious indication that there was no baby, plus too many home made cookies that day had literally made my stomach look like I was 4 months along.

Finley asked, "Why you look like you have a baby?"

"Mommy ate too many cookies today."

They reached out to touch and rub it to my amusement and Adrian asked for the 100th time, "Why can't you have another baby?  I really want a baby sister."  The answer of-course isn't easy.  And it's not because I can't, thankfully.  We're at a good stage with the boys.  Dare I say an easier one.  The sleepless nights are few and far between, we aren't tied down to nap schedules and can do whatever whenever, they're pretty independent and I don't have to load up the truck with bags the size of kingdom come when we decide to go anywhere.  Of-course the urge for another hasn't left me.  I often wonder if it ever will.  But for now, for right now no more babies. So all I could really say was, "Oh honey.  You are sweet.  But Mommy and Daddy aren't going to have any more babies right now."

They continued their teeth cleaning and therein went the rest of the nightly bed time routine.

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Here we were again the next morning.  Same place, different time.  I was dressed and standing beside my 3 year old brushing our teeth side by side.  He suddenly reached over from his step stool and lifted up my striped t-shirt to reveal a much flatter stomach than was there last night from an 8 hour famine due to sleep.  He rubbed it not so gently then began to smack my belly hard over and over again and asked, "Why you eat so many cookies Mommy?"

Oh dear God.  

Maybe I shouldn't have eaten so many cookies...but it sure was time to eat my words.  

From Math to Mermaids: A Moment of Our Day

It's a terribly dull and rainy Wednesday.  I've cooped them up because I'm not feeling great and they've done well to entertain themselves for the most part of the day.

My eldest child is eating frozen blueberries by the spoonful.  I am sitting beside him at the kitchen table when he turns to me and he asks me what 3 plus 3 is.

"Well I know what the answer is.  You tell me what 3 plus 3 is."

He turns away from me but I can see him holding up 3 fingers, specifically his middle, ring and pinky, on each hand.  Two five year old awkward ok hand signals.  With the middle finger on each hand he carefully counts quietly and determinedly.

He turns to me with a blueberry stained triumphant smile.  "It's six!"

"Very good!  You're right.  I love that you love learning so much buddy."

His little brother speaks up from the floor a few feet away counting brightly coloured plastic coins, "I don't like a learn!"

"Yes you do Finley."

The love of learning is innate in every child I believe.  I wonder where that love happens to go when middle school and high school hits...I suppose some still do but others - most - get derailed by hormones and social lives.

God I hope my boys aren't anything like me in high school.

"No I said I don't like mermaids."

Oh good.  Oh. What?  Oookay.  

Wait.  How did we go from math to mermaids in less than 2 minutes?

Adrian is still gobbling up frozen blueberries and he turns to me with a big knowing smile and an imperceptible shake of the head as if he just read my mind.

Sometimes I think he can.

I laugh, "Adrian your mouth is entirely blue.  Go look in the mirror and see what you look like."

He runs off as Finley stands from his spot on the floor, walks toward me in all his 3 year old buddha bared belly glory and asks me for a bowl of the same of-course.

My hand instinctively reaches out to stroke his soft, delicious bared tummy as I rise to oblige.

Assholes and PMS = Not a very good day

After we bid my husband adieu for his work trip away my children's behaviour began to take a downward spiral.

It was a conspiracy between both my sons to make me feel like we were going to have a beautiful afternoon in the sun because it began so nicely.  I donned my rain boots and rake to start in on my garden as it was the first really warm day we've had since Spring has not sprung.  They donned their shoes and actual clothing and came outside to play.  I kept finding worms in my garden and they were playing with them, making them swim in puddles.

They trick you, you see, by making you feel like you can actually do stuff like gardening.  So you get in a zone, you're feeling good. So comfortable in fact...that you might even feel like a great parent because look!  Your kids are out in nature and learning about vegetable gardening and playing with worms!  But then Adrian freaked out because Finley told him that worms WILL DIE IN WATER but Adrian couldn't bear the thought of someone telling him incorrect information and so the fighting began.  And it just got worse.

And it all began over whether or not worms will die in water.

For. The. Love.  

Not even an hour after my husband quietly and sweetly spoke the words to each of our boys, "Be good for your Mother.  Listen to your Mother. Be nice to each other.  No fighting.  Behave.  Adrian...you're the man of the house now."

And because I've been dealing with PMS for 15 days straight for some god forsaken reason...possibly because I just turned 35 and apparently what comes with age is really freaking HORRIBLE pms I don't know but good Lord give me a break!  My boys began to act like top notch assholes.  More specifically my five year old.

I'm sorry if calling my children assholes offends anyone (technically I'm not calling them assholes but merely saying they're acting like assholes - the two are not one and the same) but if you've never had the thought that your children are being assholes then either you have angelic-like children (kind of an ironic statement if you ask me...devils in disguise is more like it...don't let those boys wide blue eyes and cherubic cheeks fool you) or you're simply not being honest with yourself.  If that is the case you are quite welcome to excuse yourself now after I remind you that  I often write about the beautiful and at times chaotic moments of Motherhood...like here, and here, and here, and here.  But I'm all about being real about life as a parent and this is one of those times where I'm being bluntly honest.  There is no doubt that I adore my children beyond and back but when the whining, yelling, fighting and unending demands come at you like a black vortex of noise and negative emotions on top of feeling like my head might start spinning from all of the mood swings I have no control over for 15 days straight one can't help but get ... well ... pissed off.  (yes my husband practically whistled and tra-la-la'ed whilst doing a jaunty side jump heel click as he left the house today.  Okay so he actually didn't. But in his head I'm sure he did.  And I can't say I blame him much.  Anyway...I'm on B Complex vitamins now so by the time he returns I'll be one shiny happy person.  Well.  We'll see about that.  Perhaps this is far too much information for one to divulge about themselves but I dare you to say it to my face right now.  Go ahead.)

Anyway.  Back to my asshole story.

So I'm rational at first.  I use phrases like, "If you do such and such than your making the choice to lose your privileges of such and such..." but after so many of these annoying sentences (because I even annoy myself when I start saying crap like that) that don't work I begin the more common cliched sentences such as, "That's it!  I've had enough!  This is ridiculous!  Go to your room (yeah right ... when do they actually just start doing this?)"  And when he mouths back (and they do!  Oh do they!  With a smirk which is so much more infuriating than anything else)  I actually said this sentence to Adrian, "Okay your chocolate Easter bunny is gone.  Clearly you don't need ANYMORE sugar...BYE BYE BUNNY!!!!"  Maturity at it's best right there as I stomped up the stairs intending to do what  ??!!  I'm not sure with that (delicious) hidden gold wrapped Lindt bunny rabbit from Gramma.

That is until I found it, unwrapped it and scarfed it down like it was the first food I'd seen 6 months.

Oh yes I did.

There.  That should do it.

I even covered my PMS chocolate craving.

Baaaad Mommy.