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Home > Blogs > Adventures in Motherhood > Archives > 2008 > May > 30
Friday, May 30, 2008
My 3-year-old said what???????
You never think it will happen to your child.
You do your best to raise them right. But no matter how hard you try and how well you succeed 98 percent of the time, something like this happens and makes you feel like a complete failure as a parent.
My 3-year-old daughter dropped the F-bomb.
Yes, I confess. I’m a total failure.
Let me back up here.
My daughter has long, beautiful curly hair. The down side is that it tangles very easily, and that hair-brushing is now a daily all-out war that usually leaves both of us in tears.
Well, one day when I was at work, the hair-brushing duties were left up to Grandma, who so generously cares for my little girl while I work. Well, when Grandma pulled out the brush, my daughter says:
“Don’t use that fu*&$@ brush on me!”
GAAAAAAASSSSSSSSPPPPPPP.
When my mom called me, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I think I did a little of both. I admit I was slightly amused and shocked at her ability to use it in context, but I was mostly just plain horrified. Where did she get this from? Where did I go wrong? How can I make sure this never happens again without shielding her from the rest of the world?
In the end, we had a long talk about nice words and dirty words and knock on wood, haven’t heard any dirty words since. Let’s just hope she never utters the mother of all words again — especially at preschool.
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We’re going to France!
In a mere 17 days, I will be jetting off with my two older kids (9 and 12) and a group of friends to spend two fun-filled (I hope) weeks in glorious France.
We’ve got passports in hand (the kids’ documents were back in just three weeks, so the recent logjam must have broken up), but that’s all the preparations I’ve been able to get accomplished so far.
My to-do list is a mile long: Haircuts, shoe shopping (with time for breaking in), bookstore excursion for travel guides, French lessons, financial planning, cell phone arrangements, packing, packing and more packing.
But the biggest cloud hanging over my horizon is preparing my 2-year-old for two weeks without mommy.
Because of exorbitant airline ticket prices and the young age of our youngest, Hubby and I agreed that it would be best for him to stay stateside with the toddler so the trip wouldn’t put us in the poor house. Apparently, jet fuel ain’t cheap. We kept waiting and waiting for flight discounts, but they never materialized. C’est la vie.
You’re probably thinking, “Are you crazy? This is the worst time ever to go abroad economy-wise!”
But the opportunity was too good to pass up. We’ll be traveling with our best friends — one of whom happens to be a Wright State French professor who has led her students on a dozen of these trips. With her at helm, the language barrier will be a non-issue, which is a relief.
(Last time in Paris, Hubby and I had a few near catastrophes: He once almost asked a waiter for “bidet” instead of ordering a bottle of Badoit mineral water. Oops!)
Unfortunately, in leaving Hubby and Baby behind, I’ll be missing my compass (husband is the directionally gifted one in our household, while I’m directionally challenged), and my heart.
I spend all day every day with my toddler, so the two-week separation will probably feel like an eternity — for both of us. How do you prepare a tot for something like this? I’ve been away for business before, but Hubby and the older kids (and the occasional grandma) have always been there to fill the gap. This time, however, there will be a baby sitter for a good chunk of the day — something he’s been lucky enough to avoid.
I plan to start talking about the trip casually with Baby next week. I picked up a book at the library about a baby owl who is separated from its mom for a time but then reunited. That might be a way I can broach the subject.
While our sitter is a competent young lady whom he adores, I’ll still be fretting till he’s back in my arms.
There will be seven children (none younger than 9) and six adults in our group. Because overseas calls are so danged expensive, we’ll be communicating with each other through text messages, which I am also petrified about. (Yes, I’m a Luddite who has never texted before!) And there’s batteries and converters and chargers to worry about.
What else am I forgetting? Who among you have braved the high seas and traveled with children? I’m longing for some sound advice on how to survive this extended excursion.
