He's full of them lately...

I told Monkey this morning that he gets to wear a tie everyday to school. He got so excited. His reply, "I get to wear a tie everyday to school?!?! At my language immersion school? I'm going to get to be rich and famous too?!?" I told him I wasn't sure about the rich and famous part. I do know that he'll be adorable in a tie and blazer.

More 5 year old musings...

One evening the boys were with babysitters and after swimming, the sitters were unable to find Monkey's underwear and shorts. They were in there, but weren't found at the time. The sitters found a pair of their sister's smallest underwear and pants. After washing, we tried to return them. First the underwear, when they were finished in the washing/drying cycle. The little girl (maybe a little embarrassed?) said don't worry about it and to throw them out. So this evening, Dirty brought the shorts back. When Monkey gave the shorts back to the mom, he said, "We can't find the underwear, but that's okay. My penis kept falling out anyway." We're working on our tact here in the House Full of Boys. Ha. Also, yes we use very techinical terminology for our "tenders" or "bits and pieces" or (insert whatever politically correct term you use for your swimsuit area here).

Can I play out in the rain?

9YO: Can I go play outside? Like out front.

Me: Wouldn't you rather play out back?

9YO: Why do you want me to go in back?

Me: I'm afraid someone might steal you.

9YO: Why? No one would want to steal me. Anyways, probably the only people out right now are hobos. And I don't think they'd want to take me.

Yes, this is an actual conversation with my nine year old.

Five year old ramblings...

The Older boy is gone on a play date for the afternoon which gave me an afternoon with Monkey. We immediately left for the grocery store to pick up some lunch meat and milk (and diet cola :). Monkey must not have heard The Older being picked up and at the bottom of the steps, he yelled back into the house, "The Older, come on we're going to the grocery store."

So I told Monkey, "He's not here."

Monkey asked, "Where is he?"

I replied,"He's at J's house. Remember? He had a play date with her."

Monkey's response as he shrugs, "Well...that was quick." So we were off to the grocery store. We had a pretty decent run. I love going to the grocery store in the mornings during the week. I honestly used the grocery store like some people use coffee shops or bars. Before I started school, almost two years ago, I was at the grocery store daily. I have also always enjoyed my time with either of the boys at the grocery store. It may sound weird, but the grocery store was my favorite place to teach my children stuff. We would talk about food or the polite way to leave your cart when you are perusing the shelves looking for items or using manners to interact with people at the deli or seafood or bakery counters or the checkout persons. I find it better to "hang out" in than say Target where I would just buy crap that I don't really need or couldn't really afford. There's always some food item that could be picked up though. (I'm looking into getting a therapist to deal with some of my eating/food issues. They run deep.)

Anyway, after the grocery store on our way home through the park, Monkey yells out, "Hey, I think that's E.'s car." Our incredibly cute two year old neighbor girl.

I said, "Yes, it probably is. They were going to be in the park today."

Monkey asked, "Well, does she even know how to swing?"

"I would say probably yes. She does."

Monkey then asked, "Does she know my name?"

"Maybe. I'm not completely sure."

His final question that left me giggling the rest of the ride home, "Well, does she know what the back of my throat looks like? Because I've looked at it in the mirror before."

My response, "No, no she probably doesn't know what the back of your throat looks like."

Once home, we had a nice little lunch chatting about his friends. This started because he wanted to watch Minnesota Cuke before nap time, which is about dealing with bullies. That led to him talking about people who he thinks are bullies and how he would go about being friends with them. Then he said something slightly disturbing, "D. always tries to kiss E. (a friend from school not the neighbor) and he shouldn't do that because they don't match."

I pushed this a little further, "What do you mean they don't match?"

"D. is brown and E. isn't."

I asked, "Who says it has to be that way?"

Monkey stated, "I do. It's a simple puzzle."

My teaching moment, "Well, I'm here to tell you that even though people don't match it doesn't mean that they can't kiss and love each other." I then gave as many examples as I could think of including his grandparents.

Monkey added, "But D. is mean to E. sometimes, and they're not best friends."

I state, "Well, I guess that's good."

Monkey asks completely shocked, "To be mean to people?!?"

I clarify, "No, that it would be good to be best friends before you kiss someone."

Monkey says a little relieved, "Oh. Can I save the rest of this spaghetti for later?"

"Yes, but I want to make sure that you know that it's okay for people who don't match to kiss each other."

He asks sounding a little bored, "Back to the D. thing again?"

"Just that." And thus ended the intercultural education of the five year old at lunch. Apparently, he was most offended by a boy being mean to a girl sometimes, but then trying to kiss her other times.

I keep thinking....

I should write something. I read other people's blogs and advice on twitter about blog-keeping. I don't seem to have time to edit photos to add to this here blog. So, what's been going on...I just finished The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck. I loved the book through all of it UNTIL THE END!!! Here's a what do they call them spoiler alert, the pregnant sister at the end nurses the dying man in a barn because she's just given birth to a stillborn baby and allegedly has milk to spare. I breastfed two babies (maybe TMI get over it. This here's a family blog.) and happen to know firsthand that breastmilk doesn't come in for days. Colostrum sure. However, this was allegedly the day after giving birth. Take that John Steinbeck with all of your vivid imagery and insight into the human spirit and your Nobel Prize for literature. I really did find most of the novel beautiful and what I just described, but the final scene (that of the teenager nursing a grown man) kind of ruined it left a bad taste in my mouth (pun intended? not so much I found it while editing :). So while I find breastfeeding beneficial and a really "good thing" a la Martha Stewart, I was a bit disappointed by this final impossible scene. Sure Rose of Sharon's Rosasharn's breasts may have been of porn star proportions (have I written about my own experiences with that I can't remember? It's a funny little story. Maybe someday.), her actual milk dropping wouldn't have been an actuality...at that point. I apologize and digress. I guess it was really bugging me. To the point, of reviving my blog after months of disuse. If I haven't lost my entire readership (all three of you) from lack of writing, I just may lose it with my breastfeeding candor. Or I'll lose it if I can't get out of thinking in this "Okie" dialect. Thanks a million, John Steinbeck, for vividly placing me in the mind of a migrant worker during the Dust Bowl (Click the link and learn somethin' folks). I may have officially tipped into the country folk side of things, despite being a city dweller.

What else...we've spent much of the summer at the pool, or baseball related little league stuff, or school for me. The house was going to pot when I stayed home last night to clean and tidy up a bit. It felt good...and liberating...to once again have a clean house. I've also started working out again after two months. That feels good...and liberating too. I almost passed out twice during that workout restart though. It was a fun time explaining to my nine year old that I was about to pass out because "I'm overweight and out of shape. Please just get me a big cup of water!" URGH.

I don't have anything else to say really after class and a few drinks at The Royale. My first alleged bloody mary was sad and it made me sad. I pouted to David, my favorite bartender, though and he made it all better with two wonderfully made bloody mar(ies?) I'm glad we now have an understanding aka I tip well so he remembers my face. There's nothing worse than paying extra for ambiance and getting a poorly made cocktail. Thanks, David and good evening/morning/whatever time zone you may be in (most likely the midwest area). One final thought, should I go through and label all my previous posts? I mean as a stay-at-home mom of two boys/full-time student/doting wife/fabulous housekeeper I have a TON of time on my hands. HA! Maybe once my fall schedule starts up.