Dancing Without Rhythm

Recently after Benja was potty-trained we had some minor obstacles to overcome and I realized as I was scooping his poop off of my back porch, there are some aspects of this motherhood thing, I was NOT prepared for. And how could I be? My own mom is in the land of Grandma-bliss---she only remembers these things after I relate an experience. "Oh, yes, I think child #2 did that....yeah, he did that until he was NINE if you can believe that?" At this point, I believe anything. And there are some things they just don't write about in books. Unless, I've just been reading the wrong books. Maybe I'll write a book. I think it'll be something like, "Things You Never Thought You'd Hear Yourself Say, Particularly When You Were a Hot 20-Something, Making Out With the Future Father of Your Children"

The other day, during one of the few short hours my husband was home before he had to fly off again---in which we relish every second and try not to waste utterances on the unnecessary---he heard me say to one or both of our children, "Because when you put your fingers in your bum, it makes your fingers stink and because it's gross" and "where did you put that booger that was on your finger, I need to get it with this tissue?" These are things I'm sure he never imagined hearing when he nervously, but with grand dreams of the future, asked me to marry him. Or when he whooshed me away in my lovely white gown to a secluded honeymoon. Or even just 2 years ago when we had a one year old who hadn't discovered his orifices yet.

I often find myself laughing at things that come out of my mouth. Things I say in exasperation, "Stop trying to snort that milk up your nose, it's going to hurt!" Things I say in praise, "Oh, I'm so glad you stopped sitting on your sister's face, I'm sure she is happy too." Things I say for the 500th time in 4 hours, "Please get your hands out of your pants!" Things I say without thinking, "You won't ever grow up to be a girl, you'll always be a fantastic boy and grow up to be a man like dad. Because we can't change that. Because I'm not a Swiss plastic surgeon." These just aren't things I ever imagined saying.

This morning, I got caught up chatting with a friend and my poor hungry children started to eat each other scavenge for food. I finally went into the kitchen to pour them cereal and it wasn't until I was putting the milk back into the refrigerator that I realized Benja had been doing some of his beloved cabinet scaling. I often find trails. Like marshmallows wedged between the fridge and the cabinet or half a dozen opened granola bars stuff back into their box. This morning, I almost missed it---but spotted it just as I closed the refrigerator.
See, now this forces me to say things I never thought I'd be saying, at least not this soon, if ever.
*Benja, you can't drink Bacardi mixer straight.

*Benja, don't waste a perfectly good daiquiri mix by putting it on top of the refrigerator.

*Benja, everyone knows you need an umbrella with that straw before that's suitable to drink.

I understand his affinity for it, I lived off of these things when I was pregnant with him. Recently I noticed the caloric count of one measly serving and gave it up for carrot-flax smoothies.

Benja of course knew I was taking a picture for the blog. He requested I take a picture of his rash for the blog. Um, I think that actually is illegal.

Posted by Angela on Thursday, August 31, 2006 at 8/31/2006 | Permalink