Suzy Q Homemaker

Spring Break around these parts happens during Master’s Week.  If one doesn’t give a crap about golf (like us!), there are a few options:

1. Stay home and avoid all the traffic/tourists/people camped out on the sides of roads with signs that say ‘BADGES WANTED’.
2. Risk life and limb to ogle all the nerds with badges who wander around Augusta looking spiffy in their polo shirts and golf pants.
3. Go out of town.

We opted for a little of number one and a little of number three.  On Tuesday of Master’s Week, we surprised the boys with a trip to the Riverbanks Zoo to celebrate our anniversary and to get out of the house.   The last time we went to the zoo as a family, Corey was three and Aiden was a baby!  I took Aiden and Simon to the zoo a few years ago with our playgroup, but neither one of them remember because at the time, Aiden was three and Simon was a baby.  So it was about time for us to revisit the zoo and see what Simon thought about all those animals.

Like most road trips that we take, this one was not without its trials.  We are notorious for having to turn around at least once.  Thankfully, we did not accidentally drive to Florence, North Carolina like a friend of mine did on the way back from a choir retreat.  No, Jamie and I only missed the exit by about five miles, so we were able to turn around and do some fancy driving to get to the zoo.  We both swear there used to be more signs for the zoo along I-20.  WE SWEAR!

Parking at the zoo was its own adventure.  The overflow parking was backed up to the point where cars had to turn around at the end of a row, creating the biggest cluster-you-know-what in the universe.  Add to that a dumb girl in a Toyota who stole a parking spot that we were waiting on, blinker and all, a few hungry kids, and you’ve got a recipe for disaster.  Jamie and I both said some words we should not have in front of the boys.  Oops.

When we finally made it inside of the zoo and into the restaurant for lunch, Simon took one look at the map and announced that he wanted to see the penguins.  Aiden wanted to see the Elephants, and Corey wanted to see the crocodiles.  There was to be a penguin feeding at 3:30, so we decided to save that for last.

In general, the zoo was great.  The weather was perfect, the crowds weren’t too large, and the boys were well-behaved.  Timothy even slept for a bit while he was snuggled up in the Didymos on my back.  Everyone got to see what they wanted, including the new Brown Bears and the baby giraffe.  When it came time to head over to the penguins to watch the feeding, we were glad to be getting out of the sun.

The crowd was starting to gather for the penguin feeding and the boys were enjoying watching the penguins as they dove in the water, stood on the rocks, and waddled around in that penguin way they do things.  I can’t say I was surprised by what happened next.  In fact, I’m surprised we had not witnessed an event of this nature earlier in the day, because nearly every time Jamie and I have been to the zoo, this happens.

So this one penguin was standing on a rock right in the middle of the penguin display when another penguin sauntered up behind it.  The penguins then proceeded to do their thing and an uncomfortable murmur spread throughout the not-so-innocent bystanders.  Parents exchanged knowing and awkward glances while children squealed.  Corey then yelled,

“WHAT ARE THEY DOING???”

As it was, the penguins had some beak action going on, so Jamie was like, “They’re kissing!”  I’m glad he jumped in there with an answer because I was pretending I didn’t hear him.

Other parents with even younger children who weren’t asking questions just laughed and laughed.  I wanted to point at them and tell them that their time will come.  Oh-ho!  Their time will come!  No longer will trips to the zoo be sweet, innocent fun!  No!  You’ll see ostriches “wrestling” in the grass and flamingos “fighting” in the water and “kissing” will no longer be an acceptable explanation for bizarre penguin behavior.  Yes.  YOUR TIME WILL COME.

When I visited Aiden’s class on Monday for “All About Me Day” one of his classmates asked him if he liked to watch “rasslin” on TV. Aiden stared at him blankly and I had to say, “No, Aiden doesn’t watch wrestling.” The kid then proceeded to tell us that it comes on at 9:00 or 9:30. Aiden’s teacher gasped and asked what he was doing up so late. I was shocked, too. All of our kids go to bed between 8:00 and 8:30. The only day of the week that they get to stay up late is Wednesday night because we’re at church and my choir rehearsal runs until after 9:00.

So my question is this: What time does your first grader go to bed?

Aiden’s teacher was very firm when she told that kid, “Eight o’clock is a first grader’s bedtime.” And I agree.  Weigh in on the poll below and leave me a comment if you have anything to add.

“Dinosaur Train!!! pooopoooo!!”

And then Simon covers his mouth and giggles like a stereotypical Asian girl who just heard a penis joke.

Aaaaaaand that’s how the potty talk wars usually begin.  They happen at least twice a day.  Simon starts babbling to himself and it turns into this:

“Simon, that’s enough potty talk.”

“Ooookayyy.  peeepeee buuuuuuttt.”

And it’s not just the words.  Simon, when getting into potty talk mode, takes on this tone of voice that’s a cross between the witch on “Dora the Explorer” and the one on “Tom and Jerry.”   His voice gets all high and raspy and sing-song-y.

I don’t know what to do!!

I don’t remember the potty talk being this bad with the other boys, but I probably have just blocked it out.

So, um.  How do you handle it?  I could wash his mouth out with soap, but I don’t want him to go blind.  I’ve made him leave the dinner table when it happens during supper.  I just don’t know what else we can do.  Should I ignore it and hope he grows out of it?  Ok, that may be ideal, but the thing is, when Simon gets going on his doo-doo poo-poo tirade, the other boys get all giggly and it escalates into a full-blown fartpooppeepee-fest.  Not so easy to ignore.

Please, someone help.  Point me in the direction of a non-violent way to handle this craziness.  I’m about to loose my stinking, pooping mind.

See more Mommy Confessions and add your own at Life Starring the Kids and Me.

I haven’t done a Mommy Confession in a while, but this week made me realize I need to get something off my chest:

I feel guilty for being sick.

There. I said it.  Why do I, as a mother, feel so guilty when I can’t do what I’m here for?  Sure, I like the peace and quiet that comes with healing.  And it’s great not having to wipe anyone’s butt, clean cheese out of the carpet, or solve major crises between children.  There’s just this part of me that misses being able to snuggle, bounce, and pace the floor with Timothy.  I want to bend down to kiss boo-boos and buckle belts.  Mostly, I don’t want to see my husband overwhelmed like I usually am.

For these guilty feelings, I’m going to blame modern medicine.  If this had been a few decades ago, I for sure would still be in the hospital with nurses tending to my every need.  I’d have flowers by my bed and visitors bringing candies for me to nibble.  But Timothy would not be with me, so I also have to thank modern medicine for allowing me to come home so soon.  I just hate that I can only provide him with my milk and occasional cuddles right now.

Leave it to a mommy to feel guilty about getting her appendix out.  Hopefully, I can heal quickly and get back to doing what I do best…whatever that is.

Every parent sends their kids outside, right?  The thing is, I can’t stand it when they are constantly coming in for one thing or another.

I’m thirtsy.
I’m hot.
I need a sword.
Look at this leaf.
Look at this flower.
Look at this bug.
Look at this rock.
Look at this stick.
Look at this pinecone.
I need to go to the bathroom.
He’s being mean to me.
He hit me.
He called me a meanie butt.

So I lock the door.  They can get water from the hose and pee in the woods.  I send them outside when I can tell they’re getting stir crazy or I need to mop the kitchen.  No matter how many times I tell them to stay outside, the only way they get the hint is if I make it impossible for them to come back in.

MOMMY WINS