The P-Bomb

Recently on the phone my mother admonished me about my children's prolific use of the word "penis."

"You know you will be sorry one day about that word. One day they will use it in a way that will completely embarrasses you to death. Then you'll wish you'd never gotten that started."

I sat for a moment, bewildered. "Got what started? What was I supposed to do... pretend there isn't a word called 'penis'? Are we supposed to call it a 'wee wee' or 'weenie' or 'pee pee' or 'wing wang' or... or... well, you get what I mean."

"Well, I don't know, but you just mark my words. You'll see."

* * *

The other day I was on the phone with a client discussing her impending closing which wasn't going very well. It's been a very long, protracted transaction full of twists and turns, bumps and bruises. My children were babbling in the background as usual. One of my ears was tuned into her, the other was listening to the Charlie Brown "wah wah" of my children droning.

As my client took a deep breath to launch into another paragraph of things that were not going well I heard, "Wah wah wah wah wah wah PENIS wah wah wah PENIS..."

And then I heard my client says, "Oh."

To which I responded, "Um, yeah. Sorry."

* * *

The boys and I were on our way home at the end of the day. One of the things I really enjoy about my oldest son is that he frequently has interesting observations about the world around him.  I love getting his perspective about the things he is learning and am often amazed at his notice of many things I take for granted. Child development is fascinating.

This particular day he was discussing the movie Avatar. We've not seen it yet as he is still 6 and isn't allowed to see PG-13 movies at the movie theater. (Sometimes he is allowed to watch PG-13 movies on video if his dad or I have pre-screened it.)

Julius said, "Mom, did you know what the guy who made that movie saw the whole thing in a dream he had -- the whole movie in one dream?"

"You mean he dreamed it and then made the movie?"

Julius nodded. "Yeah, that's what I mean."

"Huh. I didn't know that.  Where did you hear about that?"

"I saw it on Oprah."

I glanced in the rear view mirror. "When were you watching Oprah?"

"Sometimes I watch it with Dad in the afternoon when he watches it."

I cracked completely up at the image of my husband and son sitting around the house in the afternoon with their feet up watching Oprah. I made a mental note to myself to mock my husband about it at the first opportunity.

Suddenly, Tristan, who had been silent the entire time, pipes up.  Looking over at Julius he says, "Stop talking to me."

I laughed even harder and Julius started laughing, too.  He said, "Tristan, I'm not even talking to you. Nobody is talking to you."

Tristan said, "Stop talking, penis head."

Man, I hate it when my mom is right.

(No) Help for Haiti

Snow. We got it. And in our awesome snow-boundedness, my stir-crazy six year old son decided to make a video with his personal plea for Haiti. Except he's not a videographer. Also, he's not particularly focused. What he does have is enthusiasm and a good heart, so that's a great start, right?

Without further ado, here is his debut as a spokesman for Haitian charities.

The Smell of Change

I love living in the country. I've lived out of the city most of my life except for a small stint in a big college town in my 20's and a longer stint in a big coastal California town where I could hang out anonymously and not know any of my neighbors until I learn later on the news that they all committed suicide because of a comet.

When you live in the country it's a lot easier to become in tune with the natural world around you. The smells are different, there is little light pollution, noise pollution, and general... pollution pollution.

The other night I stepped out onto the porch and on my first deep breath I thought, "Hmm, smells like snow is coming."

Seriously? On a conscious level I have no idea what it smells like when snow is coming, but apparently my highly evolved limbic system does because that's what it was telling me.

This coincides with an interesting conversation I had with my brother the other day.  I drove to where he works to give him a late birthday present I made for him. I dreaded handing it over to him because I was certain that he would hate it.  First of all, it's homemade and what guy likes homemade crap?  Second, you just have to know my brother -- he's half Farmer's Almanac, half UnaBomber. And what I made him was knitted cowl out of camo yarn to keep his neck warm while he is hunting or working in the woods. It's a gift that was doomed to fail on so many levels.

Turns out after an agonizing three minutes that felt more like ten minutes of him looking in the mirror and turning side to side and peering out at me with one eye he proclaimed, "You know... I like it."  At that point I had to sit down for a minute.

He then walked me outside and took a smoke break and complained that people were putting their cigarettes out in his pansy planters. My brother the UnaBomber Almanac loves to plant pansies in the winter. He describes them as "hardy as hell."  We went on to discuss the unseasonably warm weather we were having and how nice it was compared to the icy abuse that Mother Nature had heaved on us a couple of weeks ago.

"It will be like this a few more days. It's always like this until your birthday. Every year right after your birthday we get it again. It will be bad."

I stood there staring at his butt-filled pansy planters and didn't say much, wondering how in the world he remembers stuff like this that there is always a cold snap after my birthday. Who pays attention to that stuff year after year? We stood in silence for a while longer with just the sound of him blowing second-hand carcinogens out into the fresh air.

Soon I went off with not much thought about it again until I stepped out onto my porch the day after my birthday and realized that a cold snap was coming. And sure enough it's here with more to follow this weekend.

Who knows if we will get snow. We'll see. I'm no weather girl, but I do smell a change comin'!