COLLEGE

Over breakfast…

Me: (Holding up a grapefruit) Have you ever tried a grapefruit?

Jonah: Yes. Ash-a-lee (his old babysitter) shared a grapefruit with me one time.

Me: Did you like it?

J: I did. (Pause). Mommy, how come Ash-a-lee doesn’t pick me up anymore?

Me: Because she moved and is going to college.

J: College????

Me: College. Yes, it’s a school for older kids. You go there to learn about the things you love. You study interesting things in college.

J: Study??

Me: Yes, if you love numbers then you study math... If you love books and reading you study English. Or art… You could study art and about painting and drawing. (Pause). What do you want to study at college?

J: Doctor.

Me: (Beaming) You want to study to be a doctor?!

He nods.

Me: Okay! Great, well, then at college you’ll have to study about health.

J: Health-Y?

Me: Health. Doctors make sure we’re healthy. Doctors study people’s bodies. In college (I start pointing), they study bones, and organs, and skin and-

J: Fingers?

Me: Yep, fingers...

J: (Pointing) And arms and toes and eyes and mouth and hair and place mats?

Me: Um (smiling), not place mats. But they study your nose… and your teeth… and your tummy… and..

J: And poo poo, and pee pee and fro-up?

Me: Yep. Definitely pee pee and poo poo and throw up.

He takes a bite of oatmeal.

Me: You know, I went to college.

J: Where, mommy?

Me: New York University. In New York. And Daddy went to UC Santa Barbara. Where do you want to go?

J: Um, O. K. J. V. U. I . T. C...

Me: Oh, really?

J: Yeah.

Me: I think you should go to a place called Harvard. Or Yale.

He thinks about it.

J: Um, mommy… But... Do mommy’s go to college with their children?

Me: Aw. Well, no. Not usually. Because college is for big kids. You're almost an adult when you go to college. So usually, no. You don’t go with your mommy.

J: (his eyes widen) But mommy, I don’t know how to get to college. I will need the directions.

Me: (Melting) Oh, well I will absolutely make sure you have the directions to college. I will help you get there. Don’t you worry.

J: All done! (he pushes his breakfast away).

I want to scream, "No. Never. Stay at this table like this forever." Instead:

Me: Me too! Let’s go to school!

WORDLESS WEDNESDAY: PUMPKIN PANCAKES

Well, it's official. NOTHING in my life is cookie cutter.

PARK RULES

A couple of years ago, I wrote a post for Momlogic about the Top Ten Reasons Why I Hate the Park. Although there was a little truth to it (yes, I hate birds. Always will), I mostly meant it as a joke (kind of). Now that Jonah is older, I definitely do enjoy trips to the park more because he's able to explore and play in a different way than when he was a toddler. I love watching him interact with children he doesn't know and climb on equipment confidently.... That is, until bitches get in my way. Let me rephrase: Old bitches.

Okay. I know that is going to sound very harsh, but what happened to us over the weekend needs to be shared, examined and discussed, because I have a feeling this has happened to other moms too.

Let me paint the picture:

We're at the park. Jonah is having a great time. He's climbing, playing, moving merrily along and minding the other children (and their space) appropriately. And like any energetic 3 year old, he's happy to slide down the slide, and climb up the stairs 47 times in a row without missing a beat.

Fine. So he makes his way back up the stairs for thrill #48. He gets to the top of the slide and sits patiently as another kid gets to the bottom. Just as Jonah is about to slide down, a little girl, (being watched by an older, very tucked and pulled woman), starts to climb UP the slide. Said Old Bitch says nothing.

"Jonah," I say. "It looks like this little girl is going to climb up the slide now," I say somewhat incredulously in OB's direction. She doesn't flinch, but I assume it's just from too many visits to Dr. 90210.

Jonah stares at the girl. "I want to go down."

"Please wait, sweetheart. She is coming up and isn't going to let you slide down. I'm sorry," I say gritting my teeth.

"But it's my turn!"

"I know. But---------" WHOOSH. He slides down RIGHT into the girl.

"WAHHHHHHHH!" The girl cries.

"Jonah! I told you to wait! I'm so sorry!" I say to the little girl.

OB let's out a little "Tsk, tsk," and I feel botox needles stares coming from her eyes. I try to contain my rage.

I pull Jonah off the slide and say to him loudly, "I know you got really excited because it was your turn, and you were following THE RULE by going DOWN the slide. But next time, even when there is someone breaking the rules and potentially getting hurt, you need to be good person and make good decisions for yourself, no matter what the other children are doing."

OB's older grandson (maybe 6 or 7?) says, "We can go up and down the slide any time. There are no rules."

"Actually," I say loudly in case they tucked her ears too much, "There ARE park rules. Going up the slide can be dangerous."

OB says under her breath, "You're something else."

Wha- whaaaaaaaaaaaaaat???!

"You're unbelievable."

"Excuse me?!" I turn to her.

"There are no park rules. Children can go up and down the slide whenever they want."

"UM, no. No they cannot. When children are going down, the person going up the slide needs to wait."

"Whatever," she says.

"No, not whatever. Is it okay for a kid to stand in front of a moving swing because that's where they want to stand in the no-rule park land you live in?!"

"You're unbelievable," she mutters trying to garner sympathy from a nanny who I'm guessing had zero comprehension of the words we were exchanging.

"Come, Jonah. Time to go."

On the way home, Jonah asked me a dozen times to explain to him what had happened on the slide and why mommy yelled at the lady. (Oy) Each time, I tried to explain the importance of being a good person and how to make good decisions, in spite of adversity, blah blah blah.

Though Jonah totally "hurt" the little girl, I 100% believe she and Cat Eyes are to blame. I think about it like this-- In the state of California, if you open your car door and a car drives by and takes it off- guess what?-- it's YOUR fault. You opened your car door in to on-coming traffic. Sure, the car COULD have been driving slower or could have swerved, but essentially, you were not being cautious or waiting until the coast is clear.

Well, in my opinion The UP-DOWN slide rule at the park is exactly the same. And to say that there's no such thing as "Park Rules....?" Well... that just seems plain ludicrous.

What do YOU think? How would you explain this to your kid if they were going down OR if they were coming up? Do you think I should have punished Jonah?

Tell me your thoughts!!!

EVERYTHING'S COMING UP POOP.

Considering I think farts are the funniest things in the world, and would be happy to share my own bowel history and issues with anyone willing to listen, I suppose it should come as no surprise that my son may have a genetic predisposition to an excitement and interest in "potty talk."

Pretty much every other word these days is "Poop." I'm not kidding you, he weaves it into every story, every thought, every answer, and every scenario.

Me: "Jonah, would you like eggs or oatmeal for breakfast?"

J: "Um, I would like... Eggies.... aaaaaaand poop!"

Me: (Lights out. Story time). "Would you like to hear the story about William climbing the tree or William going to the moon?"

J: "Um, I would like to heaaaaaar.... The story about William, taking a big, big poop."

Me: (At park). "Let's put more sand on the castle."

J: "No, let's take a poop on it."

Me: "Jonah, please pick up your lunch box. It's time to leave."

J: "Okay! I'm ready to poop!"

Me: "Please do not bang the broom against cabinet."

J: "Oh, ok. Poop."

Here's the thing though, this might entirely be my fault. Frankly there are times, my brain is so fried, and he asks me a question or demands something, and the only thing that comes to mind is one word: POOP!

J: "Mommy, why do snakes shed their skin?"

Me: "Um, um, because they need to get rid of skin in order to..... (pause. I got nothin'.) um, um... Poop." (WHAT?!)

J: "Mommy, I NEED that toy!!!"

Me: "I need that poop." (REALLY?!)

And it probably didn't help that a few weeks ago, he put on his superhero cape that Mimi made him and said, "Look Mommy, I'm a Super Hero!" and I said, "You're my Pooper Hero!" to which he fell on the floor laughing and asked me to say it fourteen times in a row. (Doesn't being the funniest mom count for something?)

Certainly the time Auntie Alli made up the "get the poop out song" during a week long stand off with constipation (his, not mine) didn't make matters better either. To this day, we sometimes sing that song for no good reason. It really is quite catchy.

But I promise-- I've tried to curb the poop talk and make it clear that "this is not appropriate conversation for the dinner table/ library/ playdate/ Yom Kippur, etc." Please. You know what Jonah's response was today on a play date, as he was shouting "poop" like like had Touret's???

Me: "Jonah, enough of the poop talk. Please choose other words."

J: "Okay. (beat) PEE!!!"

Great.

SO, tell me, Is this normal? How do I stop the madness? Do I ignore? Do I punish? I need help!

Yours truly,

Jonah's mom aka sh*t for brains.

WORDLESS WEDNESDAY: THE APPLE DOES NOT FALL FAR...

Me at 3....

Him at 3...

OPEN LETTERS TO LOUD NEIGHBORS, "NO STRINGS ATTACHED," LADY GAGA AND MORE...

Dear Neighbors,

I'm starting to think you are covert spies and/or are running from the law, because shredding papers at 3:51am is just plain shady. Btw, does your cat wear heels?

Love,

Me

Dear Lady Gaga,

Congratulations. You have a new fan: Me. You can thank my 3 year old son for enjoying how "koo koo" you are and loving "Telephone." He... er, we're hooked.

Love,

Me

Dear Neighborhood Dog,

I can't blame you because you'd poop just about anywhere if you could, so if you could please pass this kind letter along to your owner, that'd be swell. Tell him this: Los Angeles is a real big city, would you mind taking your smushy, stinky, white- turded dog in for a bowel check-up? Something is just not right. OH, and if you would have your eyes checked out too, that'd be great. The last time I checked, my lawn was not meant to be a poo cemetery.

Love,

Me

Dear "No Strings Attached" Producers,

Cute concept... "friendship with benefits." But can we get real for one sec? a) Why are romantic comedies these days always about a gorgeous, successful guy head over heels for a gorgeous, successful girl who's too caught up in her life to want to be anything more than friends? I call BULLSHIT. In my life, I have yet to see that happen to anyone I know. Isn't always the opposite? And b) the tag line on the billboard: "Can Sex Friends Stay Best Friends." Yah. Um, okaaay. I'm no relationship expert, clearly, but isn't it much harder to stay "Sex Friends" when you're comfortable as "best friends?" Clearly Ashton Kutcher and Demi Moore don't have a lot of ice cream and "The Office" reruns in bed nights.

Love,

Me

Dear Pretzel Stick,

Yes, it's a "carb free" day. But would you rather get stale and rot? Deal with it.

Love,

Me

Dear Massage Therapist,

Your hands were miracle workers and you gave one of the best massages I ever had this weekend. However, might I suggest that the next time you lean in to knead out a knot in someone's shoulder's, you make sure their hand isn't accidentally cupping your nuts as they fade into blissdom? Talk about slippage...

Love,

Me

Dear Neighbors,

Oh, I forgot to ask: Do you own a drawer factory up there? Please find what you're looking for and move on.

Love,

Me

WORDLESS WEDNESDAY: HOPE

Big hope.

Little hope.

IT ALL STARTS MONDAY

It all starts Monday.

I don't know what it is about new year's (and diets for that matter too), but no matter the day or date it falls on, my "new year" and the resolutions that I make and vow to keep don't actually go in to effect, in my mind, until MONDAY.

So it's only fitting that I discuss my resolutions TODAY, the THIRD day of the New Year....

I'm sick of saying how challenging 2010 was, so let me share something that really happened to me as an example that really ought to sum up just what a cluster effer of a year this one was: 2 flat tires in 2 days. DONE.

Though I have no idea what karmic luck, or lack thereof, is in store for me in 2011, I can at least try to put my best foot forward and try to make it all go a lot smoother....

Here's what I'm thinking.... Generally speaking, of course, as a laundry list of resolutions will surely bore you and, quite frankly, there would be too much I'd be making up. So I'm keeping it simple with three big areas that need to be tackled:

1) PARENTING: I want to figure it out. I'm not saying that it has to be perfect, but holy shit. I need to get better. From dropping empty threats, to not eating at the table nearly enough, I want to do it better and figure it out. Figure out what my son needs, BUT take control and lead the way so that there is no confusion of who is in charge. I want consistency, routine, and predictability to reign in both of our lives. And I want him/me to sleep more. A lot more.

2) FINANCES: I need to tackle my debt and figure out how to go from making ends meet to feeling like I'm again in control and leading the way. Feel free to send me a check and/or lotto ticket as I figure this one out...

3) BODY, MIND, SOUL: Take care of my body. Eat better. Eat more. Eat less. Workout more. Work less. Think about lovely things. Put the bad things behind me. Read beautiful stories. Write beautiful stories. Travel far. Travel near. Stay home more. Get out more. Let love in. Let some love go. Forgive myself. Forgive others. Trust that it will all work out. Be good. Be kind. Be me.

Happy new year.