Badin vs. Fredericktown
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Home > Blogs > Adventures in Motherhood > Archives > 2008 > May
May 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.
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6-year-olds in makeup?
As usual, I came home from work too keyed up to sleep. Here’s my regular routine, which begins around 2:45 a.m.:
1) Drop purse and assorted Tupperware.
2) Pick up five discarded dirty socks sprinkled throughout the main living area (only God knows why there’s an odd number).
3) Quick toy cleanup/school backpack check.
4) Fix snack plate and nightcap (neither of which is medically necessary).
5) Give squealing guinea pig a handful of cilantro.
6) Start daily paperwork management, updating “to do” list for next day. (MUST plant those lilies of the valley withering in pots out front!)
7) Turn on TV for background noise.
At 3:08 a.m. I realize “Oh, no! I’ve missed the Quickfire Challenge!” and switch over to Bravo’s “Top Chef,” my one and only no-reality-show compromise.
And right there, sandwiched between the car insurance ad featuring that celebrity who can make the cool noises and an ad for Wii’s new yoga software (which is weird in its own right) is a plug for Kid Cuisine frozen dinners. During Top Chef, no less.
(For the record, I have no aversion to convenience foods. Trader Joe’s helps kick-start our family meals a couple nights a week. And in the vein of full disclosure, I have, at the insistence of my older kids, purchased Kid Cuisines exactly twice and was extremely disappointed both in the scant portions and the quality of the product. The kids even thought the meals were a waste and have never asked for them again. So I guess I’m admitting an existing bias.)
Back to my current bolt of outrage: Although I had tuned the ad out, it slowly seeped into my conscience that the little girl in the commercial was wearing heavy makeup! Noticeably not-natural blush, lip treatment and eye shadow. She looked to be about 6 years old, for goodness sake. Haven’t they perfected kid TV makeup to the point where it’s there but not there? The poor little moppet looked like she was about to leap onto stage and into a warm-weather rendition of The Nutcracker.
What in the world would possess an ad agency/food corporation/parent to display a child like that in this “enlightened” day and age? At the “family” dinner table, all tarted up like JonBenet Ramsey, beaming above her plate of processed food.
Am I being too harsh? Does anyone out there like Kid Cuisine? Or think makeup is OK for a 6-year-old?
(And no, I don’t equate this with the Hannah Montana/Annie Leibovitz faux pas, which was a mistake but not an unforgivable one.)
OK, rant over. Now I can sleep!
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(Not so) Terrible Two’s
I’ve said it before: My little guy is ornery. It seems every day brings a funny new incident that I can crack up my co-workers with. Here are a few in a recent string of memorable moments:
1) Every parent knows how hard it is to extract a toddler from a playground, no matter how many “time warnings” you give. This delicate operation often ends in tears, screams, the stomping of feet and the pounding of fists.
Last week, we had one of those painful extractions. I finally tucked my flailing, sobbing tot under one arm and marched off the elementary school playground — and nearly bumped into the school psychologist in the process. What a proud moment in my parenting portfolio.
(I’m slightly ashamed to share a trick I’ve learned since then: With my first two children, I always packed a snack and drink for the playground. Now I just pack the drink, and often use the snack as a way to make a smooth transition toward home: “Let’s go home and have a cookie!” works every time.)
2) Another playground episode: On the way home from our neighborhood park the other day, Baby was dawdling a few steps behind Sister and Dad, who turned to try to prod Baby to step it up. What Hubby reported later sent chills up my spine: Baby was swinging around a dead squirrel that he had apparently picked up from the sidewalk! AAAACCCKK! Much hand-washing and sanitizing followed.
4) We walked in a community parade this weekend, with me pushing Baby’s stroller, which became a catch-all for our other marchers. He had extra bags of candy, fliers, umbrellas and such at his feet. At the end of the parade, I found out why he had been so quiet and “well-behaved” throughout the parade: There were about 30 discarded wrappers from the candy he had been snitching all day littering the bottom of his stroller!
3) Today, Hubby took his boy-o to the grocery store to get him out of mommy’s hair. When they came back, Baby was covered from head to toe in scribbles from an inkpen he had gotten ahold of in the back seat. Why he thought that was a good idea, I’ll never know. Again, much scrubbing ensued.
As my mother-in-law put it, he’s like Dennis the Menace. My own mom says he’ll be the death of me. At least I’ll die laughing.
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What did you get for Mother’s Day?
Before every gift-giving holiday, be it Valentine’s Day, Christmas or Hanukkah, the media always provides predictions — what we want, what we don’t want, how we’ll return what we got that we don’t want, how much we’ll spend, how much we spent last year, how gift cards are “the new black,” etc., etc.
But what we often don’t follow through with are the two most obvious questions: 1) What did you get? and 2) Did you like it?
Did you get a homemade card? A tissue-paper corsage? Get breakfast in bed or get taken out for dinner, or did you have to do the cooking (and the dishes)?
I’ll go first: I had a rough weekend — Hubby and 9-year-old were on a father-daughter campout from Friday to Sunday, and older son came down sick with some type of virus that had him on the couch moaning with pain and feverish, so I played nursemaid to him, placater to toddler and also volunteered at a school fundraiser. By Sunday afternoon I was tired and snarly. I even left Hubby a mountain of dishes as penance for his abandonment in my “time of need.”
But he saved the day in true Mighty Mouse fashion: He poured me a mimosa and presented me with a half-dozen roses and a basket full of stress-relief aromatherapy products from Bath & Body. Then we tripped off for dinner at Mimi’s Cafe, located in the suburbs of that faux city The Greene. All in all a good day, not counting our pitifully sick 12-year-old.
I’m offering you a forum if you want to praise or pan your partner’s/children’s picks. Speak now or forever hold your peace!
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Two more days for Boonshoft exhibit!
I recently took the kids to the Boonshoft Museum, on DeWeese Parkway in Dayton, for an afternoon of discovery. We hadn’t been there in a while; it was actually the first visit for my 2-year-old.
My older kids — ages 12 and 9 — have been there many, many times, though. Three incidents that come to mind:
1) At about age 8, my older son constructed such a complex contraption at the water play area, that when he plugged the final piece in, it started spouting a fountain about 10 feet into the air and all over the parents standing nearby. Oops!
2) Daughter, at age 4, got stuck at the top of the climbing tower, and I was (am) too plump to get to her, so her 8-year-old brother had to rescue her. I know, I know, there’s an age requirement, so she shouldn’t have been up there in the first place, but she was a quick little thing and I was (am) too plump to catch her.
3) I hit my head so hard on one of the low door frames that I fell to my knees and nearly blacked out. I think it was in the veterinarian’s office. The details of the rest of that visit are a bit fuzzy, for obvious reasons.
Despite these embarrassing moments, we’ve had lots of fun peeking at the animal skeletons, big bugs and mummies; dancing in the light room; playing dress up; watching the otters; “shopping” at the general store.
(Although I do wish some handy volunteer would re-create the animal costumes for the see-through stump tunnel — the old ones are getting rather ratty.)
On our most recent trip, the kids had a ball checking out the Engineer It! exhibit, which is only going to be in town till May 14. You have two more days to catch it. (Check it out here.) They especially enjoyed building arch bridges with giant blocks and constructing a quake-proof tower (especially relevant with the recent tragedy in China). The toddler loved messing with the paddle boats. It’s so fun to watch your children having fun while learning at the same time.
You can almost see their brains growing right before your eyes — which would be a really cool exhibit, come to think of it.
I missed the white alligator that was visiting the Boonshoft a few years back (bummer), so now I always try to check for upcoming exhibits that pique my interest. There’s a Chinasaur show, fossil vault and giant snapping turtle coming this summer, so don’t miss out!
Most years, we buy a family membership pass, which is a great way to help fund a local attraction and at the same time enjoy discounts to places like the Cincinnati and Cleveland zoos, the Indianapolis Children’s Museum and COSI.
Want to check out the Boonshoft but don’t have the extra cash for the admission price? (adults, $8.50; kids 2-12, $7) Here’s a little known secret: Every third Tuesday is Free Family Fun Night! Fifth Third Bank sponsors the event, which I believe starts after 4 p.m.
And don’t forget to bring two quarters and a shiny penny for the kids to crank out a souvenir on your way out. That’s still my 12-year-old’s favorite part of the outing!
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‘Juno’: It’s a must-rent!
Most parents don’t get baby sitters often enough.
Skyline, the schoolyard and ‘Spiderwick’ notwithstanding, we don’t go out to eat often enough, we don’t get together with friends often enough, and we definitely don’t go to movies often enough.
Some parents I know have never even been away from their children overnight, which I think is a darn shame. I mean, I love my kids to the core of my being, but a weekend away with Hubby is pure bliss.
We have to steal our ‘me-time’ moments when we can. That’s why I say: Thank God for DVDs!
We’ve rushed the kids to bed more Saturday nights than I can count, eager to make nachos, mix a cocktail and settle back with a good movie. Last Saturday night — with “Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead” tempting us from its little jewel box atop the TV — I turned to Hubby and asked if he was ready to put the kids to bed. He said, “It’s only 7:30!”
Maybe I get a little too eager for “date night” to begin.
Anywho, on with my mini review of ‘Juno,” the best movie I’ve seen in a while.
You’ve read the reviews: Wise-cracking pregnant teen makes hard choice. But, oh, ‘Juno’ is so much more than that. It’s the kind of movie that you’re sad to see end.
The talented cast — including Oakwood’s own Allison Janney — created quirky characters that really stick with you. Watching the dynamics between father and daughter, stepmom and stepdaughter, pregnant friend and nonpregnant friend, prospective adoptive parents, and the teenage lovers felt so real, it hardly seemed like they were acting.
Ellen Page simply charms the screen. The scenes have this duality thing going, portraying real-life scary issues with the floaty feeling of teenage surreality. Like “Napoleon Dynamite” with an edge.
And the choice that Juno made surprised even me, someone who prides herself in being able to unfold a movie’s plot before anyone else in the room.
‘Juno’ is sweet, witty and wry. Give it a try!
