Speak No More Evil

A weird thing happens when you have a child. All of a sudden you must watch what you say. I've heard it a thousand times but I never actually do it because, truth be told, I'm not a potty mouth. But it wasn't until recently when Hayes told me, in a very unconcerned way, that he thought I was going to kill myself that it really sank in.

I admit, he got the words from me--not because I am at all suicidal, or have ever been. But because whenever I do something disastrous and normal like trip over one of Hayes's toys and almost fall flat on my behind, I often say things like, "Oh my god, I'm going to kill myself!" It rolls of my tongue just as easily as "please" and "thank you." I've never considered it odd or inappropriate, it's just the way I talk. And Hayes hears me speak that way all the time. So, just like a three year old who does not yet understand the intricacies of language and expression, he repeats it like it's totally normal. And it is. But it's so not. Besides that, those words, coming from a small child, are frightening.

I'm just glad he said it behind closed doors first. It gives me time to correct my mistake before he goes blabbing about his pseudo-suicidal mommy to everyone out in the world.

Kids or Curry?

Stacey and I are proof that three-year-olds aren't the only ones who can be easily distracted, obsessive and totally selfish. We can too!

For about a week, the plan has been to celebrate Stacey's new job, that now allows her a more flexible schedule, by taking the boys out for an exciting, new adventure today. We were hoping for a cool outside activity, but the damp weather spoiled those plans early.

So by the time we picked the boys up from school, we had settled on an old, familiar inside activity instead. It was sure to be a good time. But I couldn't stop thinking about food. Random, I know. But I was totally obsessed by the thought of sitting down to a table full of food that I didn't cook to feast on, uninterrupted, until I was completely satisfied. And since Stacey is always open to the power of persuasion, and is as easily distracted as I am, it didn't take long before she was co-signing the idea.

So, like the self-absorbed mama I am--and that Stacey is working on becoming, we ditched our plans with the kids (actually, we ditched the kids altogether) and went out for Indian. But like the famished and tired mamas we are, we sat across the table from one another in near silence scarfing down the alu motor gobi and vegetable curry dishes we ordered.

In the end, we agreed the time spent in hedonistic hush was a refreshing change from spending another hectic evening out with the kids.

Much Ado About Bugs

No doubt, one of the cooler things about being a blogger is getting free stuff in the mail. Well, recently, the good people at Lifeway Organic sent Hayes a package of Probugs Organic Soy Kefir. This was after a package of the whole milk snack pack arrived just the day before. But, of course, since Hayes is vegan, the whole milk pack went to his good friend Kimani. This was a perfect gift for Kimani because Lifeway is convinced that Probugs is liked by even the pickiest eaters. And Kimani, as much as we love him, is the pickiest eater there is.

A few days later, Kimani's mom announced that he had tried it, hated it and didn't want to touch it again. So, I rest my case. Hayes, in typical fashion, loved it. (Though I'm not completely sure that the soy milk drink is actually vegan since the label says it contains soy and milk).

So, since I am very easily amused, I decided to sit Hayes and Kimani down to ask them a few important questions about their very different Probugs experience. Here's the official interview, complete with my thoughts:

Me: So, what did the Probugs drink taste like, guys?

Hayes: It tasted like summer and it had a little fire, but it was sweet. (Interesting).

Kimani: I didn't like it. And then I did. And then I tried it. And then it was my favorite thing. (Promising).

Me: And would you like to drink Probugs again?

Hayes: Yeah! (Cool).

Kimani: Yeah! (Really cool).

Me: Do you think the Probugs was good for your body?

Hayes: It was just crawling through me. (Huh)?

Kimani: It was good. But then I didn't like it. (What)?

Clearly, the not-so-cool thing about being a blogger is trying to craft a solid story out of an interview with a couple of very silly three year olds.

But on the other hand, maybe Lifeway is totally right about Probugs. Maybe.

Planning Postcard Moments

What's the saying about the best laid plans? Something with mice and men, and things inevitably going wrong.

Well, all day today, I was excited about a plan I had for Hayes and I to enjoy the afternoon in simple leisure. I decided that since our bicycle tires needed air, Hayes and I would walk to the local bike shop to fill up. Then ride through the neighborhood's tree-lined streets to the park where we would ride some more. Sounds like an adorable postcard image. Well, it wasn't.

The first upset was noticing that the training wheels on Hayes's bike were no longer attached to his bicycle. (They were recently removed when he wanted to practice riding in the park like the big boys). And though I try, I'm not good with tools. But I slapped the third and forth wheel on the bike as best I could, shoved the...wrench, is it?...in my back pocket and was out the door. So, of course, I spent the entire walk to the bike shop stopping every couple of blocks to tighten the...bolt, is it?...on the wheels so as to keep Hayes from falling and knocking his teeth out. Not cute.

The second upset was realizing that when we left the bike shop, wheels finally full of air, there was nowhere for Hayes and I to ride our bicycles together down the beautiful, tree-lined streets to the park. Because we live in a city that doesn't allow adults to ride on the sidewalk. I would have had to ride my bike in the street. Not cute--or safe.

And the final upset was watching Hayes ditch me and his bicycle for the jungle-gym and slide once we finally arrived at the park.

Not exactly the postcard moment I had planned. But here's a totally unrelated melancholy song from Audiotransparent about the best laid plans that I hope you like as much as I do...

Conversations with Stacey

As you already know, I've been anxious to make an autumn to-do list to combat impending winter cabin fever. And I suppose it's coming along well, since the most recent activity I have added is to visit an orchard upstate with friends for apple picking and hay rides. Yes, I'm totally excited about it. But my friend Stacey, Kimani's mom, called me today with one of her bright ideas.

The conversation started when she claimed there is something exciting for us to do with the boys this fall. She mentioned that it costs seventy-five dollars before proceeding to give details about a cruise line along the Hudson that stops in upstate New York for a picnic lunch, then takes you to celebrate Octoberfest.

I was immediately turned off at the mention of Octoberfest. Only because I've never considered the beer guzzling crowd to be quality kid company. With that said, Stacey tried to sell me on the foliage by telling me that the leaves would just be sooooo pretty. That's when I thought to ask if the kids would be able to actually play in the leaves. The answer was no. And that is when I realized she meant that the leaves would be sooooo pretty to view--from the deck of a six-hour cruise ship!

Two toddlers trapped on an adult cruise ship for an entire day! Can you imagine the hell we would all experience? Oh! I can!

OMG! I'm Like So Totally Old!

I'm an eighties baby. There's no denying it. I have fond memories of swatch watches and Pac-Man. I still listen to Joan Jett and Pat Benatar. I had friends with beepers. And I actually believe primetime television was better 20 years ago than it is today. All this makes me old school. Fortunately, being old school is alright for now because it's cool and retro. But one day, having grown up in the eighties is going to make me just plain old. And no one reminds me of this more than my darling Hayes.

I wish it were simply Hayes's deft manipulation of a laptop that is making me notice my age. Or that the words email, blog and text are already verbs in his three-year-old lexicon. But these are not the reasons why I am suddenly feeling dated.

Over the past few weeks, I have heard Hayes refer to someone he didn't know as a dude. He called his friend a maniac, and answered one of my annoying questions with "Uh...Hellooooo?...Duh!" And that is enough to count me among the elderly, as far as I'm concerned. Because as much as button-up cotton shirts and classic sneakers might be making a comeback, eighties vernacular is not. But, whatever dude.

Gold Fish?

What do moms talk about when there is absolutely nothing to talk about? Well, me and my friend Stacey, Kimani's mom, talk about fish. And it was a pretty funny conversation...

Stacey: Have you seen the colored goldfish?

Me: What do you mean colored goldfish?

Stacey: They're selling rainbow colored goldfish now.

Me: What?

Stacey: Yeah, I saw them today. And Kimani somehow already knew about them. He was like, "Look mommy, the colored ones."

Me: Well, how do they make them all different colors?

Stacey: Food coloring, I guess.

Me: Gross!

Stacey: I know! And you would think in this day in age...

Me: ...That they wouldn't feed goldfish food coloring.

Stacey: Wait a minute...What?

Apparently, even a toddler would have guessed we were talking about Goldfish--the crackers. However, since fish are not a part of either Hayes's or my diet, I assumed we were talking about goldfish--the live ones. Because if you say pork, I instinctively think of a pig laying in the mud. It's the vegan in me.

The best part was what Stacey said once the topic had been clarified...

Stacey: Kimani asked if I would buy a bag. And I felt just like you when I had to tell him, "No, we don't eat that!"

Hilarious.

Cybergroup Dynamics

It's beginning to feel a lot like fall in my neck of the woods. This means seven long months of inclement weather. Like most toddlers, Hayes loves the bleak and blustery stuff just as much as the lovely sunshine. But all I can think about is the fated cabin fever I suffer every year. I'm anxious to combat the winter blues with some serious kid activity.

So, like a true cybermom, I turned to the web for ideas. My first thought was to join all of the parent groups in my area just to connect with fellow mommies about what's out there to do and see. I googled and found a site that listed all of the cybergroups in my area and proceeded to join each of them one-by-one. For the most part, it was quite simple...until all of a sudden it was not.

One parent group in particular had a multiple-step acceptance process for potential members. Seriously. Not at all intimidating, I must say. Just plain annoying. As if the initial tell-us-in-200-characters-or-less-who-you-are-and-why-you-want-to-join-our-group mandate was not enough, the second step of the process was to complete an in-depth questionnaire detailing who I am and why I want to join. And as if that was not enough, I was then sent an outline of the group rules. To which I replied, "please unsubscribe me."

If hanging out with that group of parents is what I have to look forward to this winter, it's sure to be a long one. No thank you.