Proud Mommy of a Lion Taming Psychic Lesbian

15 Jun

My 6.5 year old daughter HB and I have had more than a handful of talks about what it means to be gay. The first talk was when she was 3 years old, she told me that a kid in her Preschool had two Mommies and no Daddy.

My initial thought was, really? Already? I already have to answer the tough questions, she’s only 3!

Now that I look back on it, I’m not sure why I thought it was such a hard question. The way I feel about homosexuality and same sex parents is pretty straight forward.
If a person is gay, cool. If a person is straight, cool. If a couple wants to provide a loving home for a child, awesome.

What was I scared of? That if I didn’t explain same sex parents or gay people properly that she would misunderstand and become a lesbian? If I condoned her falling in love with a woman, then would I be discouraging her to be in love with a man?

This morning, HB asked me, “Do you think I’m gay?”
My initial thought was, of course you aren’t gay, you have been boy crazy since you were 18 months old!
But, I stopped myself, I didn’t say that. I wanted her to know that if she was gay, or an artist or an atheist, or a lion tamer or an astronaut, that was for her to discover on her own.

So I just said, “Do you think your gay?”
Her reply, “Nope, I like boys, but I wanted to know what you thought.”
And I said, “It’s cool either way, just be yourself. I love you.”

There we had it. She just wanted to know what her Mommy thought in case she was gay.
Now she knows. She can be whomever she decides to be and Mommy will love her.

As parents we walk a fine line between wanting to teach our children what we believe to be right and moral and allowing them to be true to themselves. It’s extremely difficult to not just tell them how to live and what to do to have a happy life. After all, we have lived and learned much longer then they have. The problem with imposing our recipe for happiness and contentment on our children is that every single human being is unique. My own shiny yellow brick road to enlightenment might look like a steep dirt path to nowhere for my children.

They will find their own paths, their own passions, their own moral code, their own equation for a happy life.

All I can do is be true to my self and let them see that they can live the same way. No matter what these 3 little people turn out to be like, I want them to know that they can live a genuine life and that their Mommy supports whatever that life may look like. Gay, straight, single, married, lion tamer, doctor, psychic hotline operator, pierced, vegan, or a nudist.

Unless, of course, any of them decides to get a pet Tarantula. Because Mommy will never be supportive of that.

xoxo

As always, I love to see all your comments on my blog. Unless you are a child, then do not comment, ever.

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Oral Fixation – Them, Not Me!

11 Jun

Just when I thought I was out of the “they put everything in their mouth” danger zone, I am jolted back to reality.

The twins turned 3 in April and usually by this age the intense oral fixation has worn off. They slowly stop licking, biting, and chewing on everything that comes near them. Now, of course the oral fixation doesn’t disappear in all people and that’s a whole different topic and this isn’t that kind of blog.
Back to my story – I’ve started allowing smaller toys and objects in to my house which were previously banned. Growing up, my Mom instilled an intense fear of choking in all five of us children.
I knew better than to allow the deadly quarter sized bouncy ball and marker caps anywhere near my children. TR and HB are now old enough to play with Barbies together and who am I to deprive them of a tiny Barbie heel or a minuscule Barbie lipstick?

Well guess what?
I left the twins alone for two minutes today while I went to the bathroom (pee pee). Upon my return to the play room I found one of my worst case scenarios playing out right before my eyes.
TR (3) was standing on the couch with her mouth wide open, JH (3) was standing about two feet in front of her with a teeny tiny bouncy ball.
I hear JH say,

“That’s good, keep your mouth big open and I gonna throw the little ball in.”

It was a scene from a movie, a horror film. Everything was blurry from there….

I know I screamed, “Noooooooooo!!!!!!!” and I’m pretty sure I leapt through the air towards them. I intercepted the tiny choke ball and tried to calmly explain to the twins that we never NEVER never try to throw a small object into someone else’s mouth.
I have no idea how many attempts JH had made before I caught them.

Terrifying.

Was this my fault? I mean, I had to pee…

I had never told them specifically not to do that. I have also never told them not to shove each other in the dryer. I have never told them not to hit the TV with a baseball bat. I have never told them not to climb out a window. I have never told them not to eat paper clips, staples or batteries.

WHAT DID I LEARN TODAY?
That after almost seven years of being a Mother, I still can’t go to the bathroom in peace.
That 3 year old twins should never ever be left alone, even for a minute.
That I f**king hate those little plastic bouncy balls.

xoxo

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I’m Raising A Sociopath.

30 May

A couple of weeks ago, my oldest daughter HB, age 6.5 came home from school and announced proudly that she had been voted Class President. At first I was a little confused. Class President in first grade? How does a first grader campaign for office? I was also surprised that her teacher would decide to do this now with only about a month left of school.

Nonetheless, I was thrilled, beaming like a strobe light. My baby girl, Class President. Maybe I wasn’t doing such a bad job mothering these kids after all.
HB told my sister and I all the exact details about how her teacher had selected three students, the class would get to choose their President from these selected three. HB explained that these kids were picked because they had a positive attitude, great grades and are fantastic leaders (really beaming now.)
Then all the children in the class voted by putting their heads down on their desks and raising a hand when the teacher said the name of the person that they wanted to be their Class President.
Lo and behold, when the votes were tallied my girl had won the vote of her peers by a landslide she reported.
My sister and I then heard all about the cool responsibilities that she would have and all the choices she would get to make on behalf of her fellow classmates. I called the grandparents on both sides and told all my closest friends about this huge accomplishment.

I thought to myself, “These are the moments that make all those crappy moments totally worth it.”

-Flash forward to a few days after her big election news-

HB comes to my room and says with a smirk on her face that she has something really hilariously funny to tell me.
I cannot frickin’ wait to hear this one, I tell her.

HB: You know how I told you that I got voted Class President last week…..well…..um…I didn’t win.
ME: Oh honey thats ok, you will win next time, you don’t have to be embarrassed.
HB: No Mommy, I made the whole thing up.
ME: HUH?
HB: There was no election, no three people chosen, we don’t do that kind of thing in 1st grade.
ME: —-BLANK STARE—-
HB: Sorry, It won’t happen again, You should probably call everyone and tell them it was a joke.

Not only did my child not win the title and honor of class president, but she single handedly fooled me, my sister, my friends and all of our relatives. She had the details down pat, she had a straight face the entire time!

The bad news is, she might be a pathological liar, possible sociopath and I seem to be failing miserably as a Mother.

The good news is, looks like she is actually heading for a life in politics.

xoxo

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Child Eating Squirrels – aka Childproofing

29 May

Dear G-D, (or whomever is residing over all things good)

Today I am feeling especially thankful.
No, I am not under the influence of any mind altering substances.

The List:

1. Summer Camp. If it wasn’t for the bright light of camp starting just a week after school gets out, I would have nothing to strive for. Even if I had to pay in teeth, I would get myself some dentures and write the check.

2. The family across the street. They have five children. The screaming that comes from that house makes the screaming that comes from my house seem much less painful.

3. Froyolife. It is my reward, my comfort, and my hangout. It is also my reason for still having those last 10 pounds. It’s fine, I can blame my hips on the twins.

4. Hot Dogs. Without these disgusting excuses for food my son might actually starve. Literally.

5. Black Tights. I can wear a skirt that leaves little to the imagination without being “THAT Mom.”

6. Benadryl. Because I know that if worse comes to worse, and I can’t take another minute of my psychotic children, I can always break out the “allergy medicine.”

7. Kat Dennings, Christina Hendricks, and Catherine Zeta Jones. For reminding me that I am not fair haired, bronze skinned, a size 2, or a flat chested waif and I am finally (FINALLY) finally alright with that.

8. The Crossing Guards of Beverly Hills. Without them I would definitely be serving a life sentence after killing some moron in a Maserati racing through a school crosswalk. I don’t give a flying fu–how much you paid for that car, slow down loser.

9. The Squirrels that live in the trees in our front yard. When JH, my 3 year old son tries to escape the house via the front door when I’m not looking, all I have to yell is, “I hope the squirrels don’t get you!” Works every time.

10. My 3 little monkeys. They show me how absolutely wonderful life is. They make me want to be a better Woman, a better Mother, and an example to them of how to live life as it is meant to be lived. They have shown me that life is meant to be lived not just endured.

xoxo

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Childbirth – Sometimes drugs are the only answer.

29 May

I had dinner last week with two women who are a few years younger than I am, both single and without kids. After a couple drinks the woman who I had just met that night through my other friend looked at me point blank and confessed, “My biggest fear in life is childbirth, how did you do it three times?!?!”

It’s funny, before I had children I remember being terrified of childbirth too. The thought of being out of control and without the ability to turn back. The concept that once I was pregnant the only way to get that baby out was to deliver it, horrified me. Today, as a woman who has delivered 3 children, I can honestly say it wasn’t that bad. I would also like to say, why the hell didn’t anyone tell me that it wasn’t going to be that bad?!

For those of you that read my blog and have not had kids yet, I would like to take this opportunity to ease your mind so listen up:

If you get an epidural to help with the pain during childbirth, it doesn’t hurt that bad!

It’s uncomfortable, exhausting, frustrating and at times annoying. Having Velcro monitors wrapped around your enormous swollen itchy belly that beep every time your move, is not fun. Having people stick things in your vagina while a 7 pound object is trying to descend out of said vagina, also not fun. Having your family squeeze clown car style into a hospital room just to stare at the freak show you have become, totally not fun. But, I promise you none of this is excruciating or horrifically painful.

Now, all that being said, if you choose to be a much braver person than I am and forego the epidural then you are on your own girlfriend. All I know is that with my first I tried to go as long as I could without getting one. They told me in birthing class that I should try to see how far I can go naturally. By the time I caved in and the anesthesiologist was paged, I was hunched over sobbing, muttering over and over, “Why isn’t he coming? What if he never comes? Why isn’t he here yet? Why is he doing this to me? Why isn’t he coming?” he finally arrived and I’m pretty sure that I told him that he as the love of my life. At that moment, he really was.

By the time I arrived at the hospital to deliver my second and third children, the scenario was a little bit different. We parked, I checked in, and I immediately requested my epidural and any and all allowed drugs.

So what’s the moral of the story? Don’t be scared to have kids because of giving birth. I assure you that everything that happens after you bring the baby home is much more terrifying.

Those of you that disagree with me – feel free to pipe in in the comments section. Those of you that gave birth in your backyard in a blow up pool and think I am evil for promoting the use of a hospital and drugs during labor, I look forward to reading your emails privately later this evening.

xoxo

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