Mominator - Mommy Blog Mommy Blog

While I was helping Aryanna wash her hair at bath time last night, she looks down and says, “Did you know I have a hole?”

I assumed she was talking about her belly button because she was looking down.  Wishful thinking. 

Me:  “We all have those belly button holes.  Some people actually have ones that stick out.”

She looked at me like I was stupid and said, “I know that silly.  I’m talking about another hole I have.”  She paused, pointed downward, leaned in towards me and in a really low voice said, “Down there.  By my privates.  There’s a hole there you know.”

I almost fell off the toilet seat.  I was trying not to laugh in my nervous reaction because 1) I wasn’t prepared for this conversation and 2) she kept talking like we were being spied on or something. 

I just looked at her for several seconds and it must have been several seconds too long because she looked at me and said, “Well?”

Me:  “Oh sorry.  Right.  The hole.  Well the hole…”

She interrupts me:  “Do you even know what the hole is for?”

Me:  ” Oh Mommy knows what the hole is for I’m just trying to figure out how to explain it to you properly.  Have a little patience here.”  I mean really people, she’s only 5 and this was not a planned birds and the bees discussion.  I wasn’t ready to go there.  So I went half way there and managed to get around it.

I just stared at her again.  I sighed and smiled and then said, “All girls have that same kind of hole.  It’s where babies pop out of when you are older.”

Her eyes opened as wide as they possibly could open and her jaw dropped.  She said, “What?!  A baby is going to come out of that hole? I pee from this area you know.  That’s gross!  Will that get on the baby?”

I thought to myself that I better take real charge of this conversation and end it before I had to do some real explaining.  So I said, “Ok…first of all, your pee comes from a different hole.  A tinier hole that’s a little further up in your private area.  Second of all, when there is a baby in your tummy waiting to come out, your body will be bigger and the hole will grow with your body.  Your tummy muscles will help you push the baby out.  It has to go through that passage to get out once it’s all done growing.”

Her:  “There’s another hole down there that I didn’t even see?”

Me:  “Yes, but it’s tiny.  Don’t worry about it or even try to look for it.  Please.”

Her:  “Did I come out of your hole?”

Me:  “No.”

Her:  “But you said that’s where babies come out of.”

Me:  “I know I did, when Jordyn was in my tummy he couldn’t fit through…”

She interrupts me, “Because your hole wasn’t big enough?”

Me:  Trying desperately NOT to laugh, “My hole was plenty big thank you.  The bones in this area (I pointed to my pelvis) were to small for him.  He couldn’t fit through.  So, the doctor had to make a cut on my tummy and actually pull him out.  The same with you.  The doctor had to cut me again and pull you out when you were ready.”

Her:  “Do you have a boo boo on your belly where the doctor cut you?”

Me:  “Yes.  I guess you want to see it?”

Her:  “Yeah.”

I pulled the front part of my pants down far enough for her to see the scar.  She gently rubbed her fingers across and looked at me with a sad face.  She asked, “Did that hurt Mommy?”

I thought, ok this could be a conversation that traumatized this child and never makes her want to have children if I tell her the truth.  Let’s be real.  I really wanted to say, “Hell yeah! Both C-sections hurt like a bitch, I could hardly wipe myself for a few days without being in pain, I couldn’t take a shower without help or get out of bed or up from a chair without help and I walked like a 90 year old lady for 2 weeks after.  Yeah it hurt!  It hurt like a mofo.”  Instead I said, “Well it hurts a tiny bit, but every time it hurts the doctor gives you really good strong medicine so it doesn’t bother you.”

Her:  “Woooooaaah.”

Me:  “Is there anything else you wanted to know or ask?”

Her:  “Yep.”

Me:  “What is it?”

In a whiny voice she says, “Do we reaaaally need to blow dry my hair.  You know I don’t like that thing.”

WHEW.  Glad that was over!

I generally love a day where we spend the whole day in our pj’s, but 3 days is a bit much for me.  Since Friday Aryanna has been sick.  Jordyn got sick Saturday night and woke up Sunday miserable.  For him to say, “I don’t feel well at all.” means he was feeling mighty crappy because he usually will hold out as long as he can to admit he’s sick.  So we’ve been cooped up in the house for the past 3 days.  Aryanna has been running a low grade fever but is up and around.  Jordyn is congested but is up and about as well today.  I can tell we are all going a little stir crazy though.  We are starting to get on each others nerves.  God help us if we ever take a road trip that last a few days.  I’m just happy to not be sick with them.  Let me go find some wood to knock on now.

I find my son to be a straight shooter.  If I bust him doing something he doesn’t try to lie about it.  He fesses up.  I try to reiterate how fibbing is wrong, blah, blah, blah.  Today he lied.  It was right in front of me no less.

We went to McDonald’s for a quick dinner.  He ate a burger and when he was done he asked for another.  My husband asked him if he was sure that he wanted another one several times and Jordyn said yes each time.  So, he bought him another burger.  While he was eating the burger we all decided we wanted dessert so my husband left again to order it.  I heard Jordyn say he was done with his burger and when I looked it was half gone.  Before I could say anything he quickly ran to the garbage can and threw it out.  When he came back to the table he said, “Don’t tell Dad because then I’ll get in trouble and won’t be able to eat dessert.”  Again, before I could say anything my husband comes back to the table and says, “Here’s your dessert.  Wow!  You finished your burger?”  Without hesitation he says, “Yep!”  and then takes his milk shake happily.

I just sat there looking at him thinking, okaaaaaay, are you going to feel guilty and fess up now.  I kept looking.  And looking.  And watching.  I quietly ate my apple pie and just kept waiting for the moment of truth to come out so I could gleam about how my son is a truth sayer. 

That moment never came.

I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to embarrass him and I also didn’t want him to lose his milk shake.  I mean really, he did eat a double burger and half of another in addition to the fries.  It was just the principal of the matter.  Thing is I can’t sit here and say I never lied to anyone.  I have lied if there was something I knew I was going to catch some flack for but didn’t want to hear it.  Sure.  I worked around it somehow. 

I can’t quite put my finger on it.  It was just weird and slightly disappointing.  Thing is, I wasn’t disappointed in him.  I was disappointed in myself.  I felt like that decision he made was a reflection of my own parenting.  Having said that, I am hyper aware that he spends 7 hours a day with other children.  We all face those moments where we have to make a choice between truth and lies.  I would have lied too to get the milk shake!

I have ruined it for the man who winds up wanting to marry my daughter. By loving her and wanting to share his life with her, he will bind himself to a life of servitude. Wait a second. Isn’t that how it should be anyways? <--- I see some hate mail coming for that one. hehe

About three weeks ago she asked me to rub her feet while we were in bed at bed time. So it started out where I would rub or scratch them (she especially loves that) to relax her. Then, I'd sing a song and she'd nod off. At some point she figured out that if she lays belly down on the opposite end of the bed her feet fall into the perfect position which happens to be right next to my hand. Imagine her delight about this.

This is how our nights are now. Every night she lays next to me. We chit chat a minute. She does some super-flexy move that bends herself in half to where she winds up on the other end of the bed sticking her feet in my face, asking me in that sleepy sweet voice, "Scratch my feet please." How does a mother resist that? A mother can't. Not this mother. She now falls asleep in less than half the time, all for a foot rub or scratch. Again, I ask, how does a mother resist that? Oh, how this mother can’t.

It has now been like this for about 3 weeks. I was just thinking today, what will she make her poor husband do for her? If her personality is anything later on what it is like now, my guess is that he’ll be rubbing her feet every single night. My guess also is that if her personality is anything later on what it is like now, she’ll be the kind of woman that deserves a foot rub every night.

I was going through the memory card of one of my cameras to empty it out a bit.  I came across a video of Jordyn.  I realize now how invaluable this clip is.  Priceless, as Mastercard would say. 

One day when he is older, or maybe even more than one day, I will carry on one of my many Motherly duties that has been passed down from generation to generation in most families; I will embarrass the hell out of him.  I will parade everyone into the office where I will bring this clip up on my monitor and play for all to see.  (Although, maybe by then, it will play out in the form of a hologram in the middle of the living room.  Who knows with as fast as technology is moving these days.)  Any which way, hopefully a girlfriend and maybe some pals will be in that audience.  MUAH HAHA

For now though we’ll just revel in how absolutey cute he is trying to hoola-hoop in his Iron Man costume at Sea World.