Say Cheese

This morning while getting ready for school, Kate put on some sticker earrings. So of course B wanted some. I obliged him, because its not like his preschool friends are at the developmental stage where they openly mock other kids. I mean, Beckett eats his own boogers sometimes and he still has friends in his class, so I’m pretty sure a little bling isn’t going to ruin his rep just yet.

Sadly, when I picked him up I had to have THIS conversation…

Teacher: Did you put earrings on Beckett this morning?

Me: Uh, well, his sister did (slight bending of the truth to avoid judgement from particularly judgy preschool teacher).

Teacher: Oh, Okay, because he told me that his mommy put them on him.

Me (mental headslap): Oh, haha, the things these kids say…

(awkward silence)

Teacher: Well, so, ANYWAY… today was picture day.

Me: OH.

Teacher: Yeah. And, well, we tried to take them off, but he wouldn’t let us.

Me: OH.

Teacher: So, yeah, he is wearing those earrings in his picture.

Me: Oh.

Teacher: Yeah. Haha, even the photographer was all, IS THAT BOY WEARING EARRINGS?? And I was all, HE WON’T LET ME TAKE THEM OFF! Haha. So. Um. See you next Monday! BYYYYEEEEEEE.

(Teacher waves and walks off)

Me (to Beck): …. Thanks a lot buddy.

Beckett: (big grin)

Me: *SIGH* I have to call your daddy. I don’t think he is going to like this one.

Conversations of a mad woman

A sane person should never have these conversations. And I’ve had them all. GO FIGURE.

“Don’t wipe your boogers on your car seat. Well, I can’t REACH a tissue, I’m driving. Okay, fine then, wipe them on the car seat. Just don’t eat them.”

“Do not let the dog lick your food before you eat it. I don’t care that you are sharing, don’t share. Yes, you SHOULD share with your friends. But do not share with the dog. Yes, unless he is starving, then you can share. No. Jackson is not starving right now.”

“I don’t know what lady bugs eat, but I’m fairly certain peanut butter isn’t it. I’m also fairly certain that petting her like that is going to kill her.”

“Sure you can clean all the bathroom floors, what a fun game. Here is a wipe. Yes. Yes that IS gross. Here are some plastic gloves to wear. Now get to cleaning.”

“I am NOT calling you names. Hellion is a term of endearment.”

“Everything that is covered by your swimsuit is private. Do you know what that means? Good, so what are your private areas? Yes, and yes. And no. That is your armpit, it’s not private. Okay, fine, sure, it’s private. Don’t let anyone touch your armpit.”

“If you sit still, I will give you a cookie. No, you know what, if you sit still for just five more minutes, I will give you 10 million dollars. Fine. I’ll keep the dollars, here is your cookie. Sucker.”

“Be a giant! Come on, be a giant and eat your trees. Yummy. See? Mommy is a giant, YUM! Ew, yuck, yeah, don’t eat those. Let me put some butter and seasoning on those trees, plain broccoli is super gross.”

“Go play. Mommy just needs a few minutes of privacy. Don’t bang on the door with a toy Beckett. Kate, I can hear you telling him to bang on the door. Stop it. Guys, seriously. Just a minute. Go away. GUYS! THE NEXT SET OF FINGERS THAT REACH UNDER THAT DOOR ARE GOING TO BE CHOPPED OFF SO HELP ME GOD.”


Just a little leak

I’ve suffered a lot of indignities since becoming a mother. It’s all part of the deal. I’ve spent a few days sitting on an icepack while my husband asks me if my “junk” is feeling okay. I’ve had toddlers pull on the neck of my shirt and expose my bra… in church. I’ve had my skirt pulled up so my underwear could make an appearance… in a gas station. I’ve had to start wearing THREE sports bras to the gym because my previously perky breasts are now roughly the size and shape of a sack of flour poured into two knee socks.

Sure. Not ideal, but I got two awesome kids out of it, so I just kind of go with the flow. Besides, I’m never going to see those truckers again, and I WAS wearing my good underwear (the ones without holes) so whatever. You just approach life as a mom with a sense of humor and an ability to laugh at yourself. Like, a lot.

Which was always my philosophy. Until I peed myself at the gym today.

Yeah, you read that right. Halfway through kickboxing I realize that I have peed myself. Just a little, but still. I guarantee you THAT would never have happened in my 20s. Honestly, as soon as it happened I immediately thought, “FREAKING KATE AND BECKETT.” Like, it’s their fault (lets be honest, it is) and my second thought was, “Gotta go, gotta go, gotta go…” as I skipped out on the second Turbo to race to the bathroom. Which ticked me off even more, because now I just assume everyone in the class thought I couldn’t hack it through the hard parts. And I’m all “I JUST WET MYSELF EVERYONE. NO WORRIES THOUGH BECAUSE I REALLY CAN MAKE IT THROUGH THIS CLASS.”


The upside is that I learned some valuable lessons from this experience. First off, I need to change my circuit to include some new exercises. Squats, lunges, push-ups, kegels. Kegels, kegels, kegels. Repeat.

Second, yes, my babies are worth every moment of embarrassment and pain, but there are some things that I plan to hold against them. Like, for life. Losing control of my bladder just a teeny, tiny bit? At the top of that list. I’m just imaging the first time teenage Kate screams at me, “I HATE YOU!” and I’m going to be all, “YEAH?? Well you made me PEE MYSELF, so NOW we are square.”

Third, no matter how low you have sunk, there is ALWAYS the opportunity for it to get worse. So don’t complain when you eat a bite of pre-chewed brownie or have to clean sunscreen finger paint off the side of your car. Just think.

You could have peed yourself.