"I'm peeeeeing in my bed. Ohhhhohhh yeayahhhh. Pee pee in my beeeeed. I'm shaking my boooootayyy and pooping and peeeiingg in my beeed."
Yeah. That's what my 2 year old, tutu-wearing "princess" is singing at the top of her lungs right now. At 9:18 p.m. In the room next door to her 3 month old brother who spent the better part of the evening screaming like a banshee, but is now sleeping peacefully, but not for long if his sister doesn't stop singing about excrement.
Gross.
Another thing that's gross is the fact that I just put my kids in the bed without a bath even though we just left the "splash pad" at Renaissance. I'm sure there's a fair amount of urine flowing through that thing, but things were going south FAST, and sanity trumped being sanitary. They'll live.
I'm going to go ahead and warn you. If you're not okay with reading about gross kid talk and genitalia (which I've learned are one in the same), you may want to leave now. For those of you who want to read about my potty mouthed, crazy kids...stay with me. This is going to be a good one.
I guess I'm going to have to back track to early June. We'd just heard an awesome
sermon on sex and marriage (click it...it's good stuff), which among many other things, pointed out the importance of teaching our little ones the correct terminology for their body parts. Well, we taught Cade "penis" when he was super young because little boys just love to tug and shake it just as soon as they discover it. We figured he may as well know what it is. Brandon and I pretty much detest baby talk and all these little made up names people come up with for things, so we shot straight with him, and "penis" it was from day one. I'm not sure why we hadn't had this discussion with Eve yet, but that night at bath time, Eve and I had a little talk about her parts and how she differed from her brothers.
The girl was fascinated. She probably said "bagina" 50 times that night. She named all the females she could think of...stating that each and every one of them also had one. She would ask any and everyone she came in contact with if they knew she had one, and then she'd ask if they had one too. You get the picture. This was a week or so before Sports Camp (our VBS), and I just knew she was going to take it upon herself to educate her entire class of 2 year olds about their sexual organs. Great. We'd only been to this new campus a handful of times, and I could just see all of these parents giving me the stank eye because their little one learned the "v" word from my fireball.
Fast forward a week later. Eve and I were butting heads BIG TIME, so I thought maybe we just needed a little mommy/daughter outing. Since we'd just joined a gym with a pool (insert hallelujah chorus), I figured I could use this outing to search for a swimsuit. Gag. I decided it was a necessary evil, though, so we hit up the Target swimsuit section. Immediately, Eve starts oohing and aaahing over the ruffles adorning the microscopic triangles that were obviously designed to adorn parts of a female who had never breastfed 3 kids. She picks up one of these tops and yells "Look mom! This is to go over your nickels (nipples)." A chorus of laughter from several ladies erupts. Great. This is just like pouring gasoline on a fire. Then, she picks up some bottoms and asks (loudly, of course) if these "cover up a penis or a bagina?" Swimsuit shopping immediately ended.
All this talk about body parts has piqued Cade's interest in the subject, and he also feels the need to discuss and display his parts often. Both of my kids think "I'm Sexy and I know it" is the greatest song ever. Shake your head, wag your finger, tsssk tsssk all you want to. They hear it EVERYWHERE and think it's hilarious to dance to it. In a month or so, this song will be a faint memory, but for now it is nothing for me to hear that phrase a few dozen times a day. Really.
Sooo, a few days ago my granny brought the kids a few dollar store toys. Eve's toy was a pack of elastic rings that had a different colored light on each one. Of course, the kids fought over them, and at one point I stashed them on top of the microwave and forgot about them. Well, after a morning "swim" in the kiddie pool, Cade was supposed to be changing into dry clothes. I heard him making some noise in the kitchen, and then I heard him quietly giggling in his bathroom. Since I was feeding Trek, I called him into the living room to see if he was getting dressed. This kid walks to the doorway, butt naked...except for two of these ring lights which are wrapped around...you guessed it...his penis. He stops in the doorways, starts shaking his hips, and sings "Girl, look at that penis" (as in "girl, look at that body" from the song I just mentioned...if you're clueless, count yourself lucky). I wasn't sure whether to freak out about the possibility of him cutting off circulation and ruining my chances of being a grandmother, or to be impressed with his impromptu lyrics. So, I did what anyone else would have done. I laughed so hard I almost cried and ordered that crazy kid to remove the disco from down below and get some clothes on. Craziness. Pure craziness.
There's probably 50 other stories I could tell...if I remembered them...about their sudden fascination with these words. Once upon a pre-Trek time, I had an on-going sticky note or word document on the computer with this stuff so I could remember it. Now, my brain is mush...along with my tummy and thighs, but that is going to change. Not the mushy brain. That's probably going to be the state of my brain for the rest of my life, or until all the kids are out of the house. No, the tummy and thighs are about the change. We joined the Y, and this girl is about to bust it to get these pounds off. I've been really enjoying going to work out. It's a win, win, win, win situation. #1, I get some time to myself because the kids go to child watch. #2, the kids get some non-mommy time, and usually have a few kids to play with. #3, I feel better and have more energy. #4, Brandon gets a hot wife and a cleaner house since I have more energy. Best money ever spent. I'm not gonna go all crazy and post a before pic along with my weight. I'm crazy, but not that kind of crazy. But, I will keep you posted on how much I've lost and such. You know, every few months when I actually sit down and write a post.
You've probably noted that there still has not been a "Trek" post. Penises and vaginas were just more fun to talk about for now. After this evening I needed to laugh, not re-live a 10 pound baby exiting my body. If I get around to that post before his first birthday, I'll consider it a success.
Speaking of success, I finagled a quick run in Kroger with no infant carrier or sling tonight. Trek ditched the carrier a couple of weeks ago. The boy couldn't stand it. So, tonight, on the way home I remembered I needed some things from Kroger. Since Brandon has worked nearly 9 days in a row, and I'm operating on borderline single parent status, I knew I just needed to suck it up and go in with all 3, even though Trek had been screaming since we left the fountains. So, I lugged the ginormous double jogging stroller out of the back of the van, and proceeded to position the kids strategically so that everyone is perched in a somewhat stable fashion, but not crushing one another. This, in an of itself, is a feat. But, oh. I didn't stop there. I actually got Cade and Eve positioned so they weren't even touching each other because you know that irritable siblings touching each other is like pouring acid into a paper cut. It's ugly.
Despite the craziness of the riding situation, it was an overall, somewhat enjoyable experience. I mean, I was even nice to the guy in line who read Trek's bib (which had his name monogrammed on it) and asked "What's his name? Shrek?" Well, I guess I was a little edgy with my answer of "Yeah, it's like Shrek, except it starts with a "Tr" instead of "Sh" and he's not green, so noooo...not really. It's not like Shrek at all." He gave a little laugh like he couldn't really tell what just happened in the interaction, and before he could figure it out, I swerved my loaded down stroller around to the next self check register; at which we completed a transaction without a kid putting his/her hand on the scanner, which usually throws off the weight and alerts the cashier, who is trying to monitor 8 self check stations which are being used by people who really should have used the 15 items or less cash register manned by an honest to goodness human. In short, it was a miracle. We made it through the store without any tears, touching, or toppling out of a stroller built for 2 kids which for 23 minutes moonlighted as a triple stroller and shopping cart all in one.
Now, I guess I'll include some random photos that are grainy and not in focus since I rarely have the brain cells to use an honest to goodness camera, and my phone is always an arms length away. *(insert 5 minutes of searching for photos on my hard drive) Oh wait. Psych. We just got a new computer and my pictures are on an external, which we've yet to import. Sorry if you got your hopes up. If you're "friends" with me on Facebook, you've probably seen them anyway. Speaking of friends, I hope we're still friends now that you know that my kids talk constantly about genitalia and sing highly inappropriate songs.
Now, you may think that I'm just throwing some "token" spirituality in at the end of a post full silliness and vulgarity, but here goes.
These kids are constant reminders of the broken world we live in. It's not because they are "bad" kids. They're so young, but they've already picked up so much junk that's out there. They aren't even in school yet, and they are bombarded with so much "stuff" just in the small (well, most of the time it's small) amount of time they watch TV. If it's not sexual things or language, it's commercial after commercial showing them what they "need" and what will make them "happy." Sometimes I find myself wishing they were better behaved and didn't say inappropriate things that make people question our parenting, but then I realize how crazy I am, and I snap out of it. They are His creation...made in His image. They are rude, and then they are gracious. They are loud, and then they are meek and obedient. They are selfish and loud, and then they are brokenhearted over the homeless and hungry. I LOVE how
human they are. Kids are like the
ultimate accountability partners. They are precious gifts entrusted to me and Brandon, and they are so multi-faceted because it's good for us as parents to be stretched and challenged beyond our comforts.
This season of being home with them has caused me to grow sooo much, whether I wanted to or not. Sometimes I feel like I'm sitting at a potter's wheel (I wish!) and the "pot" that I'm throwing is my family. Every time there's a little wobble in the pot, I have to hunker down and steady my hands and arms; re-centering it. When there's a small rock, it has to be removed, and there are often thin spots or tears to repair. And sometimes, when I've over-worked the pot because I can't get it to look the way I wanted it to look, I have start over fresh and try a new shape...maybe one I've never thrown before and I'm not familiar with, but the artist inside of me knows it's the direction I need to take. I'm so thankful that my potter has the patience to steady and repair me and to take me in new directions that challenge and stretch me. I pray that He continues to use the joy and heartbreak these kids bring me to break my heart for what breaks His and take me to new places physically and spiritually that I never would have imagined.
Wow folks. That was a long one. It was good, though. I needed to sit and reflect. It doesn't happen enough...thanks for joining me.
