Ok, Break! Katy Perry Dance Party – GO.

You know, sometimes it’s frustrating to try to work from home at the same time as parenting.

But then there are moments where Katy Perry’s Firework comes on iTunes and Braden runs into the room and is all “ZOMG THAT IS ONE OF MY FAVORITE SONGS EVAR” and then I’m all “NO. FREAKING. WAY. Do you wanna bust a move with me to it?” and he’s all “ARE YOU KIDDING? YESSSSSS.” And then that happens.

#winning

“I Need To Ask You About A Part Of My Body I Don’t Know About”

That’s what I heard from the bathroom the other night during Braden’s bathtime. Was I afraid? No. Was I offput? No. I’ve always been frank and open with him about his body, including telling him the actual names for things rather than the cute ones. Now, if you want to teach your children that they have a pee-pee instead of a penis, I don’t hold it against you, but that’s just not for me, man. I teach my son that he has a penis, we fart instead of pooting, and when a bitch gets uppity, you gotta smack that bitch down. Okay, so maybe I got a little carried away there at the end, but you get what I mean.

So when Braden made this announcement, I marched right in there and told him to go for it. He was sitting there looking very calm and relaxed, and at my arrival he stood up. With a glorious erection. If that wasn’t enough (it really, really was enough. no. really.) then he yanked at his testicle skin and demanded, “What. is. THIS?”

“Testicles.”
“But what’s INSIDE there?”
“It’s skin on the outside, and on the inside those are your testicles.”
“Okay. But what happens if I… SQUISH THEM?”
“Um. Well. They are very delicate and if you hit, yank, smash, or SQUISH them, it will probably hurt very bad. So be careful with them, okay?”

>pause. pensive look.<

“Okay, Mommy.”

>sits back down in bath. more pensive look<

“Mommy?”
“Yes?”
“Actually? It feels very nice when I squish my testicles with my fingers. I like that. I like it very much.”
“Braden?”
“Yes, Mommy?”
“I’m happy for you. I’m going to leave the room now.”
“Okay, Mommy.”

>quiet moment<

From the bathroom:

“MY TESTICLES LOOK LIKE ALMONDS!”

“MOMMY? WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING?”

Merry Christmas To All And To All A Good Night

mapping the vault of memories

Children laugh a lot. It is a beautiful thing.

A few nights ago, I heard my son laugh from upstairs. The laughter tinkled merrily down the stairs from up high to down where I was standing in the kitchen. It was the laugh of a four year old – giddy, unrestrained, and in those chucklesome, high-pitched, and somehow fairy-like tones that only children that young can achieve.

That night I heard the free, sincere, heartfelt laughter of my son, and I had a thought, suddenly. It hit me without consideration and washed over me harshly. It did not care what I was doing when it came on, or where it would leave me after it fled into the night beyond me.

And the thought was this:

There will come a day when I will not be so privileged as to hear that sound anymore as a common occurrence in my life, my day to day What Is, my moments possible to take for granted (even though I don’t want to). There will come a time when that laugh does not even exist anymore.

There will be a day when forever more I will not be able to hear that sound. His laughter will still be accessible to me (sometimes) but it will never sound that way again. It will become lost forever in the vault, deep and wide and sometimes difficult to navigate, that contains my lifetime of memories.

And memories have this awful way of fading and being so hard to recall in a tangible way, so hard to truly feel in the same way as they were once experienced.

I stood there, at the foot of the stairs, frozen in that moment. I stood there, playing that brief sound over and over in my head, savoring it. I was all alone, and may have nearly appeared catatonic in that moment of true consideration and revelation.

Braden may never know that he’s ever done something so simple but so incredibly and effortlessly meaningful that it captivated his mother so greatly. He might not realize that she once stood quietly relishing the joyous beauty of a 3 second laugh he uttered about a little bit of something more than nothing that faded into the night without him giving it another passing thought.

When I write these moments, it is like I’m drawing a map to put up on the inside of that vault, so that when I dive into it later, so much later, maybe I can find these most important of thoughts and feelings, these memories of the most golden days, and hold them near me again for a few moments.

And I will know.

And now you do, too.

Taking the heart road.

Sometimes Braden (now age 4.5) asks me how to say things in Spanish. I go to this website and we enter words and then we learn now to say them together. He especially enjoys the feature where you can actually listen to a pronunciation of the word. Unfortunately, however, he gets really frustrated when we encounter a Spanish word with an “r” in it, and he can’t say it exactly the same way. I’ve tried to help him learn how to roll his r’s, but he hasn’t been successful yet.

Today he asked how to say “tree” in Spanish. The answer is “arbol.” He became very frustrated about the sound of his r’s again. I began encouraging him to keep trying, but he just kept telling me, “NO, because I CAN’T do it.” This prompted me to launch into a long discussion with him about how you have to keep trying when you can’t do something the first time, rather than giving up, if you really want to learn it. I even gave him examples from my childhood.

(I totally went through torturous and seemingly endless trials in front of the bathroom mirror to learn how to roll my tongue. I was going to be damned if my brother could do that and I could not, and refused to believe the BS idea everyone was feeding me that it’s a genetic trait and you can’t do it unless you inherit that. IN YO FACE, FALSE POP SCIENCE.)

Braden indicated he didn’t agree with my sage advice about trying and learning. So I told him that he can take a slightly easier path and trust my advice, or he can be stubborn and take the hard road through life. He considered this for a few moments, and replied, “I think that instead, I am going to take the heart road, Mommy.”

Me: “What?”
Braden: “I’m going to take the heart road instead.”
Me: “Oh? What is that road like?”
Braden: “It has lots of heart patterns on it. Red ones and pink ones too, and I like them. And lots of heart rocks. And heart shaped trees.”
Me: “How does that make you feel?”
Braden: “It makes me feel so happy.”
Me: “And where does this road lead?”
Braden: “It leads to everywhere you want to go. And there are stars racing in the sky.”

My friends, the heart road is paved with red and pink heart patterns, strewn with heart rocks, and lined with heart shaped trees. It will make you feel happy, stars will race in the sky overhead as you travel, and it leads to “everywhere you want to go.”

I guess being happy on “the heart road” is better than being miserable while struggling to learn rolling your r’s in the long run, huh? This kid kind of totally disarms me every damn day. And he really has no idea how brilliant these things he says really are.

I’m still a firm believer in trying for the things you desire, but I’m glad to have someone in my life who reminds me it’s not always a bad idea to voluntarily take the heart road.

Fatherhood: It’s all about providing a positive role model.

Sharing my joy.

Every single time I look at these, I feel pure joy. Thought I’d share that with all of you.
You don’t mind a little joy in your life today, do you? *wink*

Happy Saturday!

He may never have a girlfriend if I share this.

I’m not sure what my willingness to show it to you anyway says about me as a mother. But let’s not dwell on that. Instead, let’s spend some time in your life that you will NEVER GET BACK together, shall we?

Braden and I like to have “Elaine Benes” dance parties together. Nobody on this earth is allowed to see what we do when we crank the music. Not even my husband. If some poor, unsuspecting person happened upon us… well. I would say that I’d have to kill that person, but I’m sure they’d find the nearest cliff to jump off of themselves, unable to bear living with the mental images of what they’ve seen.

Today Braden started busting a move and then perfected it and began repeating it over and over again, and really, what is a dedicated, tech-savvy, camera obsessed mom supposed to do? Film that shit, suckas. I was not disappointed with my decision. I did have trouble trying not to laugh, which just resulted in a squeaky, half-assed muted laugh. All in all, this video is the worst video you might ever decide to watch.