I am seriously neglecting this blog thing. Would it be fair to say that the holidays were busy and I just didn’t have a chance? In the years past, I had found myself saying, “I can’t wait for Christmas to be done and life getting back to normal.” Well, this year I sit here and find myself in a much different situation. Life back to normal means, Rob is back in Detroit and I am back to my busy life of kids and work. I am so used to this life so I can manage, but I will be honest in saying…..I really miss Christmas.
I got to spend a lot of quality time with the kids this year over the break. Once we got past all the questions that is. We could have had much more time if I didn’t spend so much of the time answering all the damn questions. A simple statement such as…..
“Hey guys lets go to the movies?” turned into half a day of questions such as……We are going to the movies? Why? What movie? What movie theater? Can we get popcorn? Can I have pop? What else are we going to do? Who’s going? Can I bring a friend? What other movies are playing? How much is this going to cost? You get the point!
As much as I hate the questions, some leave me laughing for days. Like the statement that quickly turned into 50 questions. My daughter was in the tub the other day and out of the blue says….
“Mom, I don’t ever want to have babies.”
“Why is that sweetie?” I respond and begin thinking…shit what did I just get myself into.
She very collectively answers, “Well, because they have to cut your stomach open and I don’t want to mess up my stomach like yours and I don’t want to have stitches.”
Now I can go on and let her think she is going to get mutilated, according to her, or explain that not all babies come that way. She will also need to be informed of where exactly the babies do come from. Knowing this is only going to lead to the 50 questions, I’m finding myself in quite the predicament at this point. I decide to go with, “Honey not all babies come out that way. Your brother didn’t get cut out of my belly.”
She screams, “Wait…what? Where did he come from? Your belly button? Your butt? Your mouth? Did aliens drop him off? Did a big bird bring him?”
I am snickering at this point and am scrambling for a simple explanation that is not too graphic for a 6 year old. “Well, um, ahh, um….They come out of a special place on your bottom that only girls have.” Simple enough and no more questions right? WRONG! What was I thinking?
She comes back with, “So your butt?”
Laughing I say, “No dear not your butt.”
Then this came out of the mouth of my 6 year old, “Well you said bottom and my bottom is my butt. I am never touching my brother again because that is SO gross!”
I am beyond laughing at this point, basically crying and can hardly contain myself. I walk away and pray the conversation isn’t repeated any time soon. We are good as of now and no mention of babies and by the way, she has touched her brother!
