Effective Birth Control For Your Four Year Old

Hope got married a few weeks ago at preschool.

I know, I was surprised too, but both her and JJ planned it out, she wanted to wear one of her pretty dresses to school the day of the ceremony and JJ showed up all dressed up too and also raided his very own piggy bank to bring her flowers…


Seriously? How adorable are they?

I can almost forgive her for not giving me enough time to buy a fabulous, thunder stealing, mother of the bride dress…

So I can only assume that the wedding was the reason Hope’s mind turned to having babies the following day…

As we were in carline to pick up the boys, Hope asks me Mom? How do the babies get out of someone’s tummy?

I’ve had experience with this line of questioning before with Blake and Jack, and thanks to my C sections, the mention of vaginas has never had to come up with the talk of babies…score! The boys very easily took the explanation that the doctors cut my belly open and took out the babies, no more questions and they went on their way…how easy it that? I expected the same reaction from Hope.

Oh, how wrong I was…

Hope immediately burst into hysterical sobbing.  Hysterical.  I could not console her.

Hope! Hope, honey, what is it? Why are you crying? 

I. I. It’s. I. It’s just that I want babies so bad but I do not want to ever ever have my belly cut open! There will be blood and it will hurt!

Followed by more hysterical crying.  I felt like the worst mother ever. Maybe I should have just showed her Dumbo and gone with the stork theory…

Hope, I promise the doctor gives you lots of medicine and it doesn’t really hurt too bad and it’s so worth it! Mommy loves all of you and I would do it all over again just to have you! I promise!

Mommy, I don’t want my belly cut! I don’t! Isn’t there any other way for the babies to come out!

Hmmm, now that you mention it, there is. But how do I tell a four year old that instead of getting your belly cut open your vagina is the way?  I just can’t win…but I had to give it a shot…anything to stop the tears…

Well Hope, now that you mention it, there is another way…

I immediately have her attention…What?

Um, you can push the baby out…

What do you mean? Push how?

Um, out of your privates…

Hope stops talking. Then her lips start to quiver and more tears fall down…

But mommy! Babies are very big and my privates are very small!

Yes, that’s true honey, but privates get bigger when the baby is ready and then they get smaller again…

And yes, I do want to just smash my head into the steering wheel…what am I doing? I’m obviously not equipped to explain anything to this child, I fear I’ve just set her up for years of therapy….

Hope said nothing for 45 minutes…she just sat in the car sadly….and refused look at me…

So I think it’s fair to say I scarred Hope for life…

Time to start saving for therapy…but hey! At least I won’t have to shell out for day care while she’s still in high school!

*and yes, I am linked up with Mama Kat today writing a post inspired by the word red…

 

 

Please Find Jesus

That was the header of the email I received a few weeks ago.  At first I assumed it was spam even though it made it into my regular inbox,  and though I figured that as soon as I opened it my computer would blow up, I’m glad to say report that I’m in fact typing on the same computer! Crisis averted!

However, that’s where the good news ends.

Because apparently I’m a wretched, horrible person! Yes! Me! Can you believe it?

The email, from a Christian group that I will not name, felt it necessary to email me after finding my blog just to beg me to immediately go to church and find Jesus.

These people can already tell I’m not a believer because I talk about VAGINAS! GASP! I also tend to say fuck…

Fuck fuck fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

FUCK!

Oh, and I’ve called my kids out on being assholes a time or two…

Christian women don’t do any of those things…

According to these people.

But I ask why not? Why can’t a Christian woman have a sense of humor? Why can’t I be honest about my kid’s assholery? And why can’t I say fuck? For fuck’s sake!

Is it because I’m a church going gal who also teaches Sunday school and participates in two separate Bible studies? Is it because I’m also on the steering committee for our MOPS group for the third year in a row? Is it because I happen to love the Lord?

And you know what? He loves me too. He made me the way I am, and even better, only He, not the group that emailed me, knows what’s in my heart.

Guess what? I’m here and writing to make you all laugh. To share my life with you. To share my imperfections…

And I’m pretty sure that Jesus is down with that…

Memories Captured

I’ve never hidden the fact that I’m a nose picker…

Yup, for those of you who may be new to my page or somehow have skipped my declarations for my love of boogers, it’s true…

I love to pick. I like boogers.

But don’t worry…I don’t eat them. Because that? Would be crazy…

I will admit to trying to hide my love of picking from my kids, since I don’t want them ridiculed by others for digging and I do want them to have manners…

So when I caught Jack picking his nose at the dinner table I immediately sent him to his room for being disgusting…

As an apology he drew me this…


And he even left me a little something on the paper…

Why on earth would he wipe a booger on the paper?

Everyone knows that behind the bed is the best place…

Right?

*linked up with Memories Captured….

She’ll Be a Great Bagger One Day

Is what the cashier at my grocery store said to me this morning as I was paying for my food while Brooke babbled in her seat…

With that one sentence I almost jumped out of my own skin and nearly throttled that woman…

Although Brooke has many people that love her and a huge support system of friends and family I constantly feel like the general public underestimate her.

A bagger.

Why is that the first thing that people think when we I discuss Brooke’s future?

What is it about this child’s face that screams “Paper or plastic?”?

Do people see almond shaped eyes and automatically assume she can’t do anything else?

Because we don’t assume that.

We don’t assume that Brooke will automatically wear the polyester pinny while bagging boxes of mac n cheese carefully so as not to smoosh your bread.

We assume that Brooke will live her life to its fullest potential and be a happy and contributing member of society…

That may mean she goes to college, or to some sort of trade school, or maybe she will live in a group home and bag groceries…

But if she does bag groceries, you can bet your ass Brooke is going to be the best damn bagger you’ve ever seen, and not only that, but she’ll be bagging your apples and strawberries on her terms, because she wants to be there…

Because it’s what makes her happy.

Which is all Eric and I want for her, just like what we want for all of our children…

All of that went through my head in the 3.2 seconds I was seething at the cashier before she said…

Just look at the way she’s paying attention! You can tell she’s so smart and has an amazing attention span.

Okay, so maybe I jumped the gun a little bit on her original statement…

Or maybe she still think Brooke won’t amount to much other than a bagger when she’s grown up…

And with that last sentence typed, I schedule this post with tears streaming down my cheeks, because I don’t know what to think of her words, or how to convince the world at large how much more Brooke actually is…

Brooke is amazing…

Just remember that…