CWK #24.7.365-7.11: The F Word

Posted in Convos With Kids, So that happened by

Lady J, timidly: Mom? What does fuck mean?

Bud: Heh, heh. Fuck.

Me, more than a bit dumbstruck: Where did you hear that word?

J: Stewart* asked me if I know what the “F” word is and I told him, “No.” Then Mathew* spelled it: f-u-c-k. I told them I didn’t know that word, but I could sound it out. Mom? What does fuck mean?

Inner-momologue: Oh Fuck! Crappity crap crap fuck this shit and the asshole who mentioned it to a second grader and now my kids know it, even though I’ve probably fucked up a few times in front of them too, FUCK!

Me: Well, first of all you should both know that it is a word that is rude, disrespectful, and will get you sent to Mr. Wollensky’s* office immediately, should you say it at school. In school, it’s worse than “stupid” or even “hate”. It will also get you sent to your room at home.

J: I know that, but what does it mean?

Me: Well, most adults use it when something goes wrong, like “Oh no!” or, “Oh dear!” 

J: Why wouldn’t they just say, “Oh no” or, “Oh dear” then? Or even, “Oh my goodness?”

Me: Sometimes, in the adult world, things go so wrong that a stronger word comes to mind first. It’s not polite, but it happens. 

Bud: Fuck! I can’t buckle my seatbelt! Heh, heh, heh. 

Me: Bud, you may not use that word. Not even to repeat it. Next time, it’s a timeout. No warnings. 

Bud: Poop. Well, I guess that’s ok. 

J: But, Mom, if it just means, “Oh no,” then why is it a bad word. What does it really mean?

Inner momologue: Fuuuuuuuuuck!

Me: I honestly need to discuss this with Daddy before telling you the real definition of the word.

J: Why do you need to talk to Daddy about what a word means?

Me: You asked a great question and I want to answer it honestly, yet appropriately. It’s a word that has some pretty grownup meanings and I want to make sure Daddy and I are both present for this conversation…

… The conversation we had at dinner included explaining that the word “fuck” was a derogatory word that often referred to disrespectful references towards outer appearances and inappropriate behavior. In their language we used terms such as “bucket dipping” and “bullying” and made sure that they knew it was a word that is never acceptable to use towards another person nor to be accepted in a humorous manner when directed at another person. We let them know that anyone who refers to them using that word is not a friend and that they may stand up for up for themselves, while they also have an obligation to stand up for others if that word is used against them and to report it to us, a teacher, or another trusted adult….I hope it fucking worked….

#innocencelost #herewegrow #convoswithkids #thefword #sothathappened

*all names have been changed

The End of Innocence 

Posted in Convos With Kids, So that happened by

Yesterday, while cleaning off my desk, I moved a picture Lady J drew for Toothiana, our tooth fairy, to put in her keepsake binder and accidentally left it out in plain sight before properly filing it. Of course she found it and asked why I still had it. Trying to think fast, I told her that Toothiana returned it to me so that I could save the memory just as Toothiana saves the original memory in the teeth she collects. If you’ve read William Joyce’s books about the Guardians of Childhood or seen the movie Rise of the Guardians, this makes sense, and J accepted this as truth. 

Today, while on the phone to his parents, Mr. TheKing mentioned that I go to the bank to get two dollar bills all the time. We only use two dollar bills for tooth fairy money. J was within earshot and immediately looked at both of us with The Look…

…Looking forward to tomorrow night’s bedtime conversation, you know, once she has time to mull it all around for a bit longer…

#SoThatHappened #ParentingFail #TheEndOfInnocence #HereWeGrow

  

Not Another New Year’s Post about Working Out!

Posted in Inspiration by

First day back to gym in the new year is: Crowded. My 67-ish laps (“ish” because I lost count after 4…) around the indoor track were a dizzying constant bob and weave between moving pylons of people and interval pacing to make up for the stop and go traffic of idle chit-chatters and bottle necking near the merges from the weight and cardio rooms. The rubber necking was kept to a minimum and I did my best to thank those who let me into their lane or made a shoulder for me to squeak by, though I’m never quite sure if I’m loud enough when I say, “Thank you!” My headphones and music give me a false sense of my own volume and I don’t want to be the shouter or the rude girl who squeezes by without so much of a puff of “thank you” or an “excuse me.”  It would be easier if the track was marked with a fast lane and a slow lane, but I’m not there enough to put in a request like that.  I prefer to run outside, but today’s temperature didn’t break twenty-five and I’m kinda secretly hoping global warming or El Nino or climate change comes back by later this week, but not really… Remember December? That was lovely!… Besides, even if winter is here to stay, I’m pretty sure that most New Years Resolutions are not, if history is any indication, so I can continue my interval training for the next 2-ish weeks, until more space opens up.

Side note: can we discuss gym gas? I get it, your digestion may be off from the holidaze or breakfast or last night’s Chinese takeout, but “better out than in” should be used only when out…doors. Running though fart clouds is gross. Especially when they linger… Ain’t nobody got time for that…

Anyway, my indoor tracker says I walked 2.5 miles and my phone’s step count says my 9800 steps were equivalent to 3 miles but I walk faster than a 2o minute mile, even when injured, which I am thankfully not. In reality I probably ran 5 miles in the hour that I was there and it felt amazing to be back at it after taking such a long a hiatus to heal post marathon. After the NYC marathon I initially took a few days off and then tried to run easy 5-10ks 2-3 times a week.  After 2 weeks, my quads were shot and my stride actually hurt. It was awkward, I was awkward, the whole thing was just a mess. I couldn’t even jog to the mailbox without cringing.
So I took December off.  Totally and completely with the exception of 2 cardio classes and 2 swimming sessions, I just took it off.  I focused on the Holidaze and did them right.  My intention was to return to running, strength training, and eating well during winter break, but the children and husband decided to get sick instead so we all just lazed about the house trying to break fevers, Lego Starwars records, and the scale that we don’t have.  Besides, Doritos were on sale, and I’m fairly certain that I counted the nacho cheese as a protein one fine morning for breakfast.  The kids were simultaneously confused and elated.

Anyway, my point is, although 2016 started out with quite the fizzle, for more reasons than those mentioned above, I’m bringing the bang back. It may have been 4 days late, but I finally made it out of the house, back to running, back to healthy eating, and started the P90X3 program thanks to some dear friends who are Beachbody coaches, and this is only the beginning of the plethora of positive potential for this year.  Bring it 2016… I got this…

Redefinition #24.7.365-7.11: Headbang

Posted in Redefinitions by

Headbang: verb

That moment when you’ve spent the day accomplishing every tedious task on your to do list including but not limited to laundry, dishes, vacuuming, dusting, taking out trash & recycling, straightening out the damn rug that’s always lopsided and actually gorilla gluing that shit to the pad underneath, finally changing all closet knobs in kid’s rooms because one has been broken since you purchased the house in May, showering and putting on real clothes and maybe some makeup, spending 1/2 hour on hold waiting to speak with IKEA customer service to find out if an item could be placed on hold until your husband arrives because he is driving from one IKEA to another because he’s not very good at planning ahead in his personal life {with a few exceptions that may or may not be explained in another post} and he’s actually quite surprised that the one item he wants isn’t available THE WEEK OF CHRISTMAS and his honest surprise doesn’t surprise you at all, but IKEA is a first come first serve store and shipping on that item costs 4x the price of the actual item so he drives to the next state and next IKEA with your 4yo while you continue to meal plan and make a shopping list for the upcoming holiday that you are hosting, cook dinner, set dinner table, get child’s CCD costume ready for the play that you just learned about this morning even though the play is tonight and you’re the parent from the other faith of your interfaith marriage, text fervently with class parents from public school trying to figure out if you were supposed to do anything for the class winter party or if there is even a party since the class parents haven’t mentioned anything about the supposed party that is on the calendar for tomorrow but your children have said isn’t happening due to “too many allergies” in the class, take a deep breath, wrap and hide all gifts for the next round of “holidaze”, clean up, realize you actually got it all done and are ready to celebrate but just as you’re leaving to go pick kids up from school, the doorbell rings and you see yet another package from UPS that contains things that need to be wrapped while your husband backs into driveway with 2 IKEA boxes in the trunk that will need to be assembled…

 #soclose #nicetry #bangsheadonwall #holidaze

(This #redefinition brought to you by P&BS {Parenting & Baloney Sandwiches} and sponsored by Murphy’s Law Firm, the only firm you can count on for true accountability.)

CWK #24-7-365.7-11: The Crush

Posted in Convos With Kids by

Me: Why do you look so glum?

Lady J: Someone has a crush on me. 

Me: Ok…Why are you upset about this?

J: Because I’m just not ready for crushes. I’m not old enough. 

Me: Well I’m glad you recognize that and I’m pretty sure that somewhere in the universe, your father’s hair just started to grow back. But, J, a crush isn’t a bad thing. 

J: It’s not?

Me: No! It just means that this boy recognizes how special you are! It should fill your bucket! 

J: But I’m not ready to have a crush on anybody. 

Me: That’s very mature of you! You don’t have to have a crush on anybody. But it is important to be respectful of this boy’s feelings and not to dip into his bucket through unkind words or actions. Just keep being you… Incidentally, how do you know he has a crush on you?

J: Matthew* told me that David* has a crush on me. So I asked David if that was true and he said, “Yes.”

Me: Huh. Well you were brave to find out the truth and David was brave to tell you. Great job! I’m curious though, is Connor* still your boyfriend?

J: Mom, we’re just good friends. He’s my closest friend who’s a boy. But he’s not really my boyfriend. 

Me: Well, thanks for the clarification… Hey, J?

J: Yeah, Mom?

Me: I love watching you grow. It’s a really great view. 

J: Beaming from the back seat, ear to ear…

#bestviewever #motherhood #firstcrush #parentingwin

*all names have been changed 

Convos with MTK: Hanukkah Gifting

Posted in So that happened by

It must be said that Mr. TheKing is extraordinarily generous but truly needs help when it comes to gift giving.  Even when provided with an explicit wish list, he often goes rogue and tends to favor practicality over desire, which, although useful, is also a bit…um…boring… Two years ago, we decided not to get each other a gift for both Hanukkah and Christmas, or so I thought:

Originally published on FaceBook on November 29, 2013

30 days of thanks: day 29

Mr. TheKing: I got you a Hanukkah present.

Me: You did? I didn’t know we were doing that this year. (I’m intrigued and excited)

MTK: Well, it’s “for you-for me”

Me: Does that mean it’s for me and somehow benefits you? (I’m suspicious)

MTK: Kind of…

Me: Vodka? (Maybe that bubblegum flavored one I’m kinda curious about)

MTK: Better than vodka.

Me: What could be better than vodka? (I say jokingly…but not really)

He pulls out a bottle of Polo Sport…

Me: Oh! So it’s for you and you think it will somehow benefit you too…I get it! Vodka would have worked better.

He just smirks.

Today, I am thankful for my husband’s sense of humor and the fact that he still sees me as 24. He keeps me laughing on the inside…and feeling young & pretty on the outside.

polo sport

CWK: Wascawy Wabbit!

Posted in Convos With Kids by

Originally published on facebook on November 21, 2012

Bud: m m m m m mommy! Da da da dawe’s a wabbit n n n n next to da pond!

Lady J: No, Bud. It’s a rrrrrrabbit, not a wabbit. Say dat. Rrrrrrabbit.

B: I I I I I did say dat! See? Wabbit!

J: No, Bud. You said “wabbit”. Now say rrrrrrabbit.

B: I DID SAY WABBIT!

J: NO YOU DIDN’T!

The conversation escalates into some back and forth yelling and after a minute Bud calmly looks up and says:

M m m m m mommy, I see a bunny outside!

Very reminiscent of the argument I used to have with my older sister before I went to speech therapy… Except that Bud is apparently intelligent enough to figure out synonyms before his third birthday… We’we in so much twouble…

#HowDoesHeKnow?

Thoughts from a Fitting Room…

Posted in Momologues by

I am sitting in a fitting room with Lady J who is trying on pair of pants after pair of pants in hopes that just a few of them will “feel as good and comfy” as she wants, and hoping that this will end the morning battle of getting dressed. We have been here for no less than 45 eternal minutes.

Despite my knowledge of whether or not the clothes actually fit, I am keeping my opinion to myself and only asking her, “Do they FEEL right?” It is excruciatingly torturous.

Of the 23 pairs, only 3 are just right for Goldilocks. We go back to the store floor for more sizes and styles…
After another funtabulous round in the dressing room we find only 2 styles that work. They are too short, just barely reaching her ankles. Yet they hug her miniature waist line without those godforsaken buttons that usually need to be adjusted to the last loop, thus creating enormously uncomfortable bunching.

She claims her boots will cover the length issue, a valid argument, so I give in, knowing her ankles will be cold on gym days.

We return to the display and choose a rainbow array of leggings and jeggings. I hope they match her tops at home, but after trying to mentally match them, I realize that I don’t care that much at this point, although I will tomorrow morning.

My only thoughts now are of my own mother and the shopping trips she endured throughout my childhood:

Mom, I love you. I’m sorry. You were right. Thank you.