Underwear... Never Leave Home Without 'EM

My grandmother used to say, "You always wanna make sure you got on clean underwear... ya never know what might happen. Ya might have to go to the emergency room or somethin!"
Well my underwear was clean but... okay I was rushing before I left the house and I hadn't washed clothes in some time, so, it's summer and it was there in sight- I grabbed my blue bikini bottoms. No big- I wasn't going to be out long. No one would know.
Maurissa and I had an errand to run then I decided to stop in a local clothing store... to look. We both saw something we liked, so, what the heck- we tried it on. We would just zip in and out.
Walking to the dressing room I realized what I had on. There was no way I was going to let "silly" see. But I couldn't let her have her own fitting room so I thought it will be okay.
We went in, I closed the curtain and rushed her to change. While she lifted her shirt over her head I quickly tried to take my shorts off so she wouldn't notice.
"What in da world!"
Too late.
I tried to shush her. "Just try on your dress!"
She slowly tried on her dress- disgustingly distracted by my appearance.
"That looks cute on you," I sweetly said, trying to distract her. "Now take it off- we gotta go," I quickly switched.
The snickering started. I closed my eyes and thought, I can't believe I'm acting like this with a six-year-old.
Realizing there were other customers in the fitting rooms, I gave her the look: DON'T START NONE, WON'T BE NONE! Her look: NO COMPRENDE!
As I begin to pull off my shirt, she asks, "Mommy, why you got your swimming bottoms on?"
"Just- just- just don't worry 'bout it," I whisper with my shirt over my face.
"Mommy where is the other part?" she asks, while pulling at my bra.
I snatch away- stuck with my shirt over my head- and the laughing begins.
"Mommy look at your-"
I try to cover her mouth with the shirt still over my face, and we scuffle. She continues to laugh. She has managed to turn this into a game. The giggles get louder as I try to cover her mouth.
"Look at your belly!" she giggles.
I can finally see, and I am out of breath.
"It looks like you're havin' a baby in dair," she pats my belly. "Mommy you gotta do your exercises."
I hear people in the fitting rooms giggling now.
"Well, I've had TWO kids come out of this belly!" I said loud enough for all to hear. "Let's go Maurissa!"

The Toof Fairy is a Teef

Maurissa (now six) lost another tooth! Actually it was loose and SHE pulled it.
“Oh my gosh! I hope I get a lot of money this time from the tooth fairy!”
She was so excited about it. She had to find something to put the tooth in-before putting it under her pillow.
“You’re puttin’ your tooth in a sock?” I asked.
“Well, last time I loseded my toof, the fairy didn’t get it. I don’t think she could see it.”
That was our [mommy and daddy] fault. We are new at this stuff. We put the money under the pillow but forgot to get the tooth. Gotta remember that this time.
“Last time you ‘lost’ your tooth. And try to get an old sock or one without a mate,” I told her.
Skipping off to her room, she nonchalantly replied, “Mama it’s just a sock. It’s not a big deal.”
I glared at her going up the steps as she flashed her new jack-o-lantern look.
“Well, maybe you can buy your own socks with your money from the TOOF fairy!”
On any other night, it was like pulling teeth- all pun intended- to get her and her younger brother to bed. But just like the previous three times, she lost teeth- she was getting in bed…on time…on her own…with a short prayer and a smile. Praying that God would…
“Please help the toof fairy to give me more dollars so I can put it wiff my oder monies I got so I can get the Polly Pocket boat. You know da one like my friend Ricki has at her house. And please help my wittle brother (grimacing) to lose his own teef so he can get his own stuff and not play wit mines! Amen!”
It didn’t take her long to fall asleep.
Daddy and I planned to go in just before we turned in, and do our tooth fairy duties and exchange her little tooth for two or three dollars.
Well…it didn’t happen that way. We fell asleep watching television.
Fortunately, I did wake up-as most moms do- before the two little ones. Minutes after starting breakfast, it hit me- I FORGOT TO PUT MONEY UNDER HER PILLOW!
Frantically, I ran to my bedroom. Fumbling through my purse, I realized I spent my last bit of cash at the grocery store yesterday. For a brief unrealistic moment I looked at my checkbook.
“NO!” the rational part of my brain said.
I rant to wake daddy.
“Please tell me you have some cash on you?” I asked.
He slowly moved to look for his wallet. Slowly.
Snapping my fingers I told him to hurry. “You know she will be up any minute. Come on!”
But he didn’t have any cash on hand either.
Then it hit me! I remembered her prayer. She had money in her jewelry box in the top of her closet. I could take a few dollars from there and replace it later after breakfast. An ATM was five minutes from the house. I took three dollars out and quietly slipped them under her pillow.
It was close. Minutes later she was up.
“The toof fairy came!” she yelled.
We ran up to her room with a convincingly surprised look.
“Wow! How much did you get princess?” I asked, smiling and winking at Daddy.
“I got three dollars!”
She jumped out of bed and followed us downstairs for breakfast.
“See mommy’s are always thinking on their feet,” I whispered to Daddy.
“I’m glad you were thinking,” he replied, gulping down a glass of orange juice.
Putting the glass down on the table, he asked, “Now how much do you need for that Polly Pocket thing you were talking ‘bout?”
I vividly pictured the eggs in front of me, hitting him in the face. But I let go of the bowl. I put my face in my hands and shook my head.
“What?” he asked.
Maurissa’s fork hit her plate and she was off to her room… to get her jewelry box…to count her money.
I just looked at Daddy while he calmly ate his breakfast- being careful not to look up.
She slowly came back to the table.
Disappointed she said, “I think the toof fairy took some of my money. And…(she opens her hand) she forgot the toof.”
I didn’t know what to say.
“The toof fairy is a teef!” she said.
“You mean a Thief,” Daddy corrected.
I stared at him again in disbelief.

Too Early For the Birds and the Bees

Our kids' creativity can be such a lifesaver. We see two animals having sex and before we have to come up with our fabricated story, our three-year-old comes up with an explanation.
He tells his sister, "Wook! He giving him a piggyback ride!" And his thoughtful sister replies, "Ooh, that's so sweet of him." Daddy and I look at each other- we'll take that (explanation) one.

Packing A Child's Lunch

Okay. Okay. I probably shouldn't write this one. I don't want anyone to hold me responsible for what my husband does. But I gotta tell it, and I would love to get some feedback from someone out there in cyberspace. I mean hey, maybe it's just me but...
Yesterday I get called out of my classroom to pick up a call on line one. I "book-it" to the phone, confident that it is an important call for them to interrupt our class. My first guess... it's probably the daycare and our son is either sick or "showing out" and I had my money on the latter. I pick up the phone and announce my name and it is the daycare..... director.
"Is everything okay? I ask. "Well, your son doesn't have anything to eat. Well, all he has is popcorn." I look around then simply ask, "What?" She explained that all he had in his lunch bag was a BAG of popcorn- nothing else. "Not even a Capri Sun to drink?" I asked. He did have a drink. "I'm so sorry. My husband must have been in a rush or something this morning and forgot to pack the rest of his lunch." "Well does he eat raviolis?" she asked. Our son eats is a finicky eater. He loves chicken, french fries, potato chips and.... did I say chicken? We usually slip him grilled pork chop and fish by telling him it is chicken and he will examine it first, which consists of putting his nose on the meat, before he eats it.
I apologize to her two more times and offer to bring him something but she says she will find him something. "If he doesn't want to eat what I have, I guess we could just pop his popcorn," she offers. By this time, my eyes are closed and I have bitten my bottom lip. Dude packed a bag of popcorn for them to pop. I thanked her, hung up, then picked the phone up again and dialed Dude at work. Can you believe he actually thought it was okay.
"Well, that's what he asked for! He didn't want anything else!"
"You know those daycare teachers are talking about you- no us. They think we either don't have food in the house or that we (hate it has to be plural) are just dysfunctional parents," I told him. We will just have to let our THREE-YEAR-OLD pack his own lunch. Who's the parent here?

Sometimes the Apple Does Fall Far From the Tree

I really do try to live right and try to teach our kids to live right. Well sometimes "the dark side" creeps in. (I could hear James Earl Jones voice and see the black plastic suit as I wrote that).
"The apple don't fall far from the tree", I hear this adage too often- especially when I am telling a relative about our kids. I finally told my mom something the other day and there was a silence instead of the recycled adage.
Our daughter constantly runs in to tell us that her "little" brother hit her. I usually call him in and reprimand him for it. Well.... this time my response was different: "Hit his little butt back!" Once the words left my mouth, I stopped what I was doing and just closed my eyes. What kinda mom are you? You don't encourage your children to fight! The good part of my brain said. I folded my arms and laid back in my chair. Well your mama told you if someone hits you that you betta try to knock 'em out! The other part of my brain said.
I could hear commotion in the other room. Then she [daughter] came in with her hands on her hips. "Mommy. He won't stay still so I can hit him back!"
I shook my head. "Baby it don't work like that. You gotta-" Before I could go into my spill here comes the little one- being all boy. "Nana, nana pooh pee, you can't git me!" he teased her.
She ran after him.
Now back in my five-year-old days, my little brother would have been the one crying, so she didn't get that from me.

The Nerve to Question Me

Earlier this week our two little angels got themselves in a bit of trouble. Are ya surprised? Well we had to "get them". Afterwards, in between sniffles and "I won't do it again" looks, I explained that we are supposed to correct them and that the bible tells us to spank them when they do wrong... over and over.... and over again. "Yes mam", they said in unison.

Well I thought it was done and the next few days were new days- their slates were sorta wiped clean. Well the little smart five-year-old comes to me while I'm cooking spaghetti yesterday and she has a book in her hand. She looks up at me inquisitively and says, "Mama can you show me in here where God tells you to spank us?" I bang the spoon on the side of the pan to get the sauce off. "You can look it up... it's in Proverbs!" I tell her. So she goes to the table and begins looking it up. "It starts with a P mama, right?"

I Don't Even Have A Title for This One!

WARNING! THIS BLOG IS NOT- IN ANY WAY CELEBRATING OUR SON'S ACTIONS.

I told a friend recently that I should write a book and title it Diary of A Dysfunctional Mom. I must say two things before telling this: 1) We really do discipline our kids; 2) We don't sit around and teach them these things.
I pulled up front and waited for Daddy to go in to get our three-year-old from daycare. Before going in the door he looked back and held up his fingers... they were crossed. I united with him and raised my crossed fingers.
A voice came from the seat behind me. "Mommy, why did you show your fingers to my daddy?" our daughter asked.
"We are just hoping he had a good day and stayed on green and not red," I sighed. "Yellow would even be acceptable".
"Oh. But he'll be on red," she said. "But I had a good day mommy!"
As more time went by I grew skeptical that it was a good day.
I watched as people continued to come out smiling. Finally it was their turn. The windows of our van were up but I could see Daddy's mouth moving and our son had a walk of purpose with his nostrils flared.
Daddy slid the door open.
"You know better!" Daddy shouted. He continued to reprimand him while buckling him in his car seat. As he closed the door, our son said, "Yes ma'am."
Daddy glared at him as he got into his seat. "I'm a sir!"
I safely assumed he didn't have a good day.
"We gone have to start pattin' him down every morning before he leaves the house," Daddy said. "He had a tantrum because he snuck his Thomas the Trains in and when they took them he had a fit."
I looked back at our son.
Daddy continued.
"I knew something was up when he ran into the building and told me bye."
"What's wrong with that?" I asked
"Normally he wants me to walk him in or pick him up. Not today because he had stuffed a train in each of his pockets."
The teacher asked him to calm down and he said, "You calm down!"
Did I mention he is three?
She then told him to cool it and he said, "You cool it!"
"I'm going to call your mom and dad," she warned.
He put his hand on his hip and said, "Excuse me!"
A week or two earlier we had to get him because his teacher told him he was not going to get a treat because he had not been good in class and he told her, "I'm going to get all the treats and eat them."
His back was to the door that day so he didn't see Daddy come in and see him acting out. When he saw him he jumped and started crying. So he knows better.