Living Up to the Last Name

Homemade dinosaur headgear

Matthew repeatedly denied the invitation to accompany me to Walmart yesterday during Spencer's naptime.  A trip to WallyWorld is not an invitation I can ever refuse--but he did--right up until last night when I finally got around to going.  I explained that I couldn't take him at that point because Spencer would want to go to and it was hard to take both of them.

Mr. Conniver offered up a solution that involved telling Spencer that we were headed somewhere that sounded boring so he wouldn't want to come--specifically we would be headed to the post office to mail packages (never mind they are closed at 8:00pm).  When I told him that wouldn't be honest to tell Spencer that, he thought for but a brief second and then slyly responded, "You've been baptized, Mom . . . but I haven't."  Sometimes I think he really is "5 going on 35", as my neighbor says about him.

Do-overs for the week

Would do over (as in I would have made a better choice):

• Getting $7.99 haircut special from Great Clips (Use of the term "great" is false adversting)
• Leaving a 2 year old unattended in the living room
• Eating an undiclosed number of peanut butter cups
• Staying up late to see Facebook updates on people I barely know
• Leaving a five year old up late too many nights in a row

Would not do over:(as in I like it the way it is):

• Neighborhood mom lunch and Easter egg hunt with the kids
• Book a long weekend in Monterey with Corbin (first trip alone post motherhood) before having a business meeting on Monday morning
• Listen to Matthew ask if after a flower dies and is resurrected if it's sins will be forgiven
• Watch Spencer's incredibly gifted dance moves
• Sing Sweet Caroline for the 78,976th time to get the biggest smile you've ever seen
• Apply for Swiss Days because we got in (big craft show over Labor Day)
• Take a Publisher course to learn how to make invitations, brochures, announcements, letterhead and all sorts of nifty jazz which could easily become my new obsession
• Opening the kitchen window and feeling the first warm spring breeze signaling that winter may actually end one day

My Offspring Anti-Aging Thing is Kicking in Again

My kids are pretty sheltered.  I like it that way or else it wouldn't be that way. 

Some day (too soon) they will hear and see and learn things that I and they will wish they hadn't but that is life and we all learn to deal within our sphere.  I just hope that when the time comes my kids will make good decisions.  Isn't that every parent's dream?  I'm sure it was my parents dream and they are probably still waiting for the day they can stop worrying what in the heck I'm doing. 

I can still buy Matthew's clothes and he doesn't care.  If there is a character on the front all the better but he doesn't care what's in the closet or in what combinations they adorn his frame.  Color and style matching are not even on his radar screen.   He adores elastic pants (a boy after his mother's heart).

We don't have video games--a cause Corbin is willing to die for.  I'm sure at some point when the kids are older I will step in to negotiate a contract between the old and the young but for now we are game free.  This includes all types of TV attached or hand held devices--no matter the educational value, thank you Leap Frog.

The kids are hardly ever on the computer.  Matthew is old enough but I just don't want to go there yet.  Sometimes I feel like I will stifle his technological growth but that's the program we're on.  It's a real treat to watch a demolition derby clip on YouTube (for Matthew not me).


Last night I was happily reading the bedtime story we got from the library about families.  It was a cute book but I was completely caught off guard when we got to the part about having two mommies or two daddies.  No offense intended, but that's not what I want my kids to learn although I will teach them love and tolerance.  And I have a right to believe and respect marriage between a man and woman just like others have a right to a different opinion.

On the radio this morning a DJ was doing a celebrity interview with a young woman whose name I won't mention but her Disney character name is something like Rannah Bandana.  I was mortified for her as she carried out the interview.  I'm sure she thought she was really insightful and polished but her language was appalling grammatically not to mention morally.  Please tell me that's not Caroline in 17 years.  (Of course it won't be because no one in our family is capable of carrying a tune in a bucket.)

I feel like I have six months of innocence left and then the flood gates will open when Matthew hits school. Maybe I'm just scared that I won't deal with all of it very well. Remember, I've mentioned before that I have child growth issues. Keep 'em little is my philosphy.  Are there growth stunting steroids available OTC?


So how do I know if I'm successfully helping my kids "get it".  I just want them to act decent--use "please" and "thank you" and not belch in front of their friend's grandmother.  I don't want them to see yucky stuff and think it's ok.  Is that too much to ask? 

In the immortal words of Stevie Nix, "Can I handle the seasons of my life?"

Don't Let Anyone Tell You Kids Don't Pay Attention to PBS Dinosaur Train

The troops have cabin fever.  We have two outdoor dogs boys who have been lingering at the back door just with the hope of catching permission to get some fresh air.  On Friday and Saturday it was warm enough to send them out to run wild.  On Friday my obsessive dirt free self had to declare that only those who stayed out of the garden could enjoy the sunshine of the day.  By Saturday they wore me down and I surrendered helplessly to their demands.  Sometimes the battle just isn't worth it.  I suppose that's the sign of a weak mother but if so, then there you have it.  My old mother to young children days are all about survival and somedays my armour is shinier than others. 

While immersed in a piece of heaven on earth (otherwise known as the garden the previous tenants  painstakingly created) Matthew declared with convinction that he believed he had come into contact with dinosaur fossils.  While dinosaur fossils truly are native to our neck of the woods, even without paleontologist schooling, I was fairly certain it was lava rock from the grill.  But who am I to question a five year old who can rattle off more dino facts than I can eat dino nuggets?

It was one of those moments in my parenting journey when I wondered if either disclosing or not disclosing some tidbit about life will be cause to land a kid on a therapist's couch twenty years from now as he recounts how I've messed up his life.  It's grueling like figuring out how Santa, the Easter bunny and the tooth fairy fit in to your master parenting plan. 

I had no choice but to play along all the while wondering how those darn rocks escaped the grill and dreaming of a bacon cheddar burger done up right.  Matthew declared that he's heard dinosaur fossils are fragile so he had to try the litmus test of dinusaur fossil discovery and drop one.  Just my luck, a piece the size of a Tic Tac broke off and he jumped with glee at the authentication process. 

I gave Corbin the head's up that it was his job (as this technically falls outside of the "home" and yardwork is his domain) to let Matthew down gently.  Corbin explained that he wasn't an expert but perhaps it could just be some rocks from that time period.  Not buying it much--we had ourselves some bona fide artifacts and it was time to call the museum. 

The fossils were washed with Dial foaming soap (all paleontologists prefer Dial--Ivory leaves a film) and lovingly placed on a Rubbermaid lid for preservation.  I suggested that perhaps we hold back on calling the musuem as surely they would want to rush over to see the treasures and more than likely want to take them.  Matthew wasn't quite ready to make them the People's fossils so we held off on the call.

As of last night he thinks they may be "copper light" as I've been informed that's a fancy name for dinosaur poo fossils.  At times I find copper light from other curly haired species on the dining room carpet.  Maybe a museum would come get that so I don't have to.