How to Get Paid

There’s this “game” that my husband and five-year-old son play. I think it must be a testosterone-fueled initiation of sorts for boys as I watched my two younger brothers play the same “game” throughout my adolescence. Simply explained two males want the same object (i.e. the last slice of pizza, the remote control, all of dad’s loose change on his nightstand) and then proceed to beat on one another to prevent the other from getting said object. Of course my husband suffers far more abuse than my son ever does and nine times out of ten my son ends up with the prized possession.  

Now hold that thought and cut to this mommy and her kids packed into their truck and headed to a play-date. As it was still quite early in the morning it was no surprise to the kids to find us in the local coffee shop drive-thru. And is almost always the case, I had no cash on me. I was rummaging through my wallet trying to put together the required buck ninety for a large coffee with cream, all the while muttering about how daddy has all of the money and mommy never has any.

From behind me I heard my son say, “If you just lay on daddy you can take his money.”

Out of the mouth of babes I tell you! Of course I knew that Brennen was referencing the “game” that he played with his father, and was suggesting that I hold him down to take the loose change from his nightstand.  That fact, however, did not stop me from laughing at the simple truth of his pronouncement.

“My son,” I said as I rolled up to the drive-thru window, “you are wise beyond your years. When I lay on top of your dad I do get to take his money.”

What more can this mommy say except that it pays when daddy gets laid!

Those Things That Stick Up

My daughter's hockey team was set to compete in an 'away' tournament, which meant that my family would be spending the weekend in a hotel. The kids were jacked!

It was the night before the tournament and I had started packing everyone's things. I was working on the toiletries when my young son wondered into my bathroom. Of course he wanted to help. I watched as he grabbed a handful of Always pads from beneath my sink and threw them into the bag that I was assembling.

"Here mom," Brennen said cheerfully, "you'll need these."

"Thanks bud,” I grimaced, “but I don't need those."

The next thing I heard was, "Here mom, you'll need these too."

I turned cautiously towards my son and found him holding my razor, shaving cream, and waxing products. I was beginning to think that my son had spent too much time with me in the washroom.

"Thanks bud," I muttered again, "but I don't need those."

Apparently my not needing those things did not matter, as Brennen stuffed his treasures into the now bulging toiletry bag. He was so happy to help that I couldn't bear the thought of his thinking that I didn't want him too. So I stomped down my objections and decided that he could pack whatever he liked. I would simply unpack and repack later when he was asleep.

"Where are the things that stick up?" Brennen asked suddenly.

Stick up? I had no idea what he was talking about. “I don't know what that is, Brennen."

"Yes you dooooo know. The things that stick up!"

My son's frustration was evident, and my patience was wearing thin. Clearly I needed to come at this from a different angle.

"What does it look like, Brennen? What do you use it for?"

"You know mommy - the things that stick up your ba-jyna!"

Lord, what is a mommy to do?

Let this mommy answer her own question. She needs to start locking the bathroom door behind her – that’s what!

Truth is funnier than fiction I tell you. Truth is funnier than fiction!

Poop in the Sink

It was Sunday night and the end of a great weekend was fast approaching. My family and I had spent the day visiting with friends and the time had now come to say good-bye. The boys had spent the majority of their day in the basement playing hockey, so everyone was helping to gather up all of the gear and move it to the front door. During the process our little friend Sammy passed me as he was exiting the downstairs washroom.

“What’s brown in your sink?” he asked.

Brown in my sink? I had no idea. Rust stains? The more I thought about it, though, that didn’t make sense. We had a water softener and the house was still new-ish.

As soon as I could I checked out the situation. I am not sure what I had expected to find when I pushed open the door, but it surely was not what I found – poop in the sink!

Soft, brown poop was smeared around the sink basin and had plugged up the drain. Right away I made the assumption that this had been done by my daughter, who at times liked to “play” with unconventional substances. The next assumption I made was that Cinderella – that’s me – was going to have to clean this mess up. Really, there are no words!

Parenting 101 states that you should never humiliate your children in front of others – or at least that’s what this mommy says. So I closed the door behind me and casually announced that should anyone need to use the washroom before leaving they could just head upstairs. Although more than one questioning glance was sent my way, I just smiled and then quickly helped our friends to, and out, the door.

With our company gone I thought how best to handle the situation. If I was correct and it was my daughter that I needed to speak with, asking her why there was poop in the sink would not be the right approach. So I asked her to join me in the washroom, and then I simply pointed and began with, “Did you do this?”

“Yes,” came her response.

“What were you doing?”

“I wanted to conduct a science experiment!” And the tone of her voice said that she felt that was pretty obvious.

I wish there were a manual telling parents how to respond in situations such as finding poop in the washroom sink.  But there isn’t. Once-upon-a-time this mommy would have reacted in anger. I would have yelled unkind words and undoubtedly crushed my child’s spirit. But to what end? So this time I chose humor.

“Well my girl,” I said matter-of-factly, “if you were trying to conduct a science experiment then you certainly earned yourself top marks for originality. In the future, however, I would advise that you rethink your choice of materials.”

What more can this mommy say except that poop happens!

A Boy's Confidence

"Mommy," my young said blurted out while watching TreeHouse, "my penis is HUGE; it's all the way down to my knees!"

What can I say? My son is confident! But seriously, as a mother how do you respond to that? This mommy chose humor, of course!

"Don't tell your father," I whispered conspiratorially in my son's ear, "he'll want to know your secret." And just as I knew he would, my son jumped up off of the couch and ran towards the stairs.

I stood in the kitchen listening to his little feet climb as fast as they could. And I burst out laughing when I heard him call, "Daaaaddddy, where arrrre you? I have a secret to tell you."