Wordless Wednesday: Sometimes you just have to get away from it all

Legos

My son never asks me to play Legos.  

It's something he and his Daddy do together.  

So when he asked me the other day (Daddy was at work, and I was second choice, but whatever, I'll take it), I made a big deal out of how flattered I was to play.  

I immediately sat down, grabbed the Lego Star Fighter he had made and begin to fly it around the room, saying "Ptchew, Ptchew," like I had seen  him and his Daddy do.

"No, no, no!" Boyo said, very distraught.  "Dat's NOT how we pway!"

"Oh, okay,"  I said surprised.  "How do we play?"

"You go through the box to find the Storm Trooper's head," he instructed me.

I began to get the feeling that I was being played -- not getting to play, rather my Mommy finding skills were being dug out.  

 

So I spent the next hour, digging through this:  

To find a head for this: 

That's love, people.

And while I was digging, I unearthed all sorts of Lego weapons.  Apparently, Lego men have organized and created a militia.  Who knew?

And it quickly became VERY apparent that I was raised with three sisters.

"Here's a tree," I told my son.

"That's a grappling hook," he informed me.

"Oh.  Well, here's a wrench."

"That's a storm trooper arm," he said.

"Oh.  Well, here's a knife," I told him.

"MOM.  That's a sword.  Maybe we should wait for Daddy to come home."

I'm not sure if I'm sad to be fired or relieved. 

Love is a battlefield.

After Valentine's Day, Boyo sat down next to me with his Valentine's and sighed.

"What's up, buddy?" I asked a little absentmindedly -- I was working at the time.

"These are from my three girlfriends," he said.

Well, that sure got my attention.

"Three girlfriends?" I asked.

"Yes.  I have three," he said matter of factly.  "They are in my class."

"Girl friends or girlfriends?" I asked.

Apparently, the difference in definitions was lost on my 4 year old.  "Girlfriends, I guess," he shrugged.  Then he sighed again.  "It's really hard having 3 girlfriends."

~~~~~~~~~~

"Mommy, Joshua wants me to marry him," she told me.

"Oh.  Um, do you want to marry him?" I asked her.

"I don't think so.  I told him I wanted to be just friends."

Great.  My 5 year old has all ready learned the standard break up line.  If I ever hear her say "It's not you, it's me," I'm going to hide under my bed. 

Wordless Wednesday: Happy Valentine's

Found this written with bath crayons on my bathroom wall after our Valentine's Day Playdate. Love it.

F-A-T

I've mentioned here how hard it is to raise girls -- how I need to have high self esteem so that they do.  I have to be the role model they look up too.  

Still, after 4 kids, my body has been through the wringer.  And with a colicky baby and 4 kids under the age of 6, getting to the gym frequently is a pipe dream.  And a healthy diet?  Ha!  I eat whatever I can grab in the 10 seconds a day I have between the kids, the dog, the house, and work. Hell, getting 5 hours of sleep straight would be manna from heaven. 

Why do I mention this?  We baptized BabyBug last week.  Which meant that I needed to wear something other than yoga pants and a spit up stained sweat shirt.

But nothing in my closet fit because I'm stuffing my face with Girl Scout Cookies at every available opportunity and only doing half of a work out once every ten days.  

So I decided to head to the mall, Girlie in tow, for some girl time.  But nothing there fit either.  I took picture after picture to send to my sisters for their opinion, but nothing worked.  I wasn't feeling it. 

I was fat.  And tired.  And, sweet Jesus, I looked old.  And whoever decided that three way mirrors were a good idea should be shot.  

And what was worse?  I couldn't denigrate myself because Girlie was with me.  I couldn't say my arms are too flabby or my butt is too big or my stomach is too poochy.  I didn't want her to think it was okay to say that about your own body.  I want her to love her body, no matter what.  I am trying to show her how to love her body by loving mine, but I just couldn't.

I felt fat.  And I couldn't call myself fat.  And I couldn't spell it out either, because she learned to read. 

So I was frustrated, and miserable, and wanted to cry.   And it was when I tried on this that she said the one thing that made me feel beautiful: 

No, I didn't buy this.  Ultimately, I decided on pants so I didn't have to shave my legs.

"Mommy, you look like a princess!"

She doesn't know that my butt is too big, that I still have a "love pouch," from where I carried her and her brother and sisters, or that I have what my sisters affectionately call "teacher flab" arms.  She doesn't know that I need to go to the gym and stick to my diet.  She had not idea that the sheer blouse was too boxy, or the skirt was too long, or that my double chin makes an appearance when I smile too big.  

To her, I am a princess. 

Boyo's New Song

Three little cannons were sitting on the bed

One went boom and fell down dead.  

Two little cannons sitting on the bed

One went boom and fell down dead.

One little cannon sitting on the bed.

It went boom and made a sad pirate.

Wordless Wednesday: This didn't make my heart stop AT ALL....

Girlie swears she was "protecting" the baby by kneeling over her.... I don't think she was expecting BabyGirlie to climb on her back...

BabyBug's Baptism and Boyo's Problem with Clothes

We baptized BabyBug yesterday.  She was perfect.  Only cried a little.  

The priest was awesome -- shortest baptism in history, I think.  

BabyGirlie was a little cranky, but my mom was on it.  

Boyo and Girlie -- so excited and well behaved.  Sort of.  Take a look at Boyo in the baptism pictures.  

 

I was able to grab him before he got his shirt totally off. 

But it was up around his neck before I noticed. 

Difference Between Boys versus Girls, Part 5

When Girlie gets a hold of a camera, I get about 50 pictures that look like this... 

When Boyo gets ahold of my camera, I get about 50 pictures that look like this... 

Wordless Wednesday: They told me they needed their own house...

Look Mom! Boobs!

Girlie decided that when she grows up she is going to be a "ball dress designer girl."  Thus, all stuffed animals and dolls must be dressed up at all times.  The other day, she showed me this...

As I stared at it in disbelief, she said, "Look Mom!  I gave her big boobs!"

I began laughing hysterically even though I'm not sure if that was an appropriate response or not.  But what else are you supposed to do when your five year old daughter says: "I gave her big boobs"?

Then Girlie upped the ante.  She began giggling too and said, "I'm a great little girl."

"That you are," I managed to choke out.  "Very silly."

"I was going to use cotton balls," Girlie informed me.  "But they were too small."

I was laughing so hard I nearly peed my pants. 

New Park + Boyo = Flying Wolves. And Pirates

Boyo and I decided to check out a new park the other day.  It was just him, his two little sisters, and me. 

The park was awesome -- but there was no one there.  Seriously, NO ONE.  Picture a western, with tumble weeds rolling down the main street of a ghost town.  That was this park. 

Which means Boyo had no one to play with.

"MO-OM!" he shouted.  "You HAFTA play with me!"

I'm mildly ashamed to admit that my first thought was crap. 

Normally when we go to the park, we go with other moms and kids.  So I get to sit and visit while my son runs around like a maniac and BabyGirlie eats sand and BabyBug naps in the stroller. 

After my initial bad Mommy moment, I decided to get into it.  After all, I rarely get Boyo all to myself.  And when I do, half the time he doesn't want to play with me -- he wants to play on my phone. 

I put BabyGirlie in the sandbox, my phone in my back pocket, and parked BabyBug in the shade.  Then I turned to Boyo. 

"What are we playing?" I asked. 

I expected Tag.  Or Hide and Seek.  Or pushing him on the swings. 

Oh no. 

"You hafta run," he instructed me. 

"Run where?"

"Up," he said like I was an idiot.  "The pirates are coming!  The pirates are coming!"

So we ran around the park screaming about pirates for about 20 minutes.  And then he crawled under the play structure -- "Hurry Mommy!  The wolves are coming!!"

"Wolves?" I asked.

"They are flying from the sky and will eat us up!"

So we hid from the flying wolves.  Then the pirates and the wolves started fighting, but it was okay because we were Jedis and we fought them away.

Then we had to save his sisters from the "otopus" that was going to steal them away.  So we fought off the "otopus" with blaster guns like Buzz Lightyear.  And then the bugs from Wreck It Ralph showed up, so we had to fight those off too.  Then we needed to swing super high so we could fly up to be with God.  Then we ran around some more, yelling about Darth Vader and how we had to save little Anakin.

I had the best time.

For a good hour, I didn't say no.  I got to yell with my son instead of at my son.  I got to see my son's creativity blossom.  I got a work out.  And I got to laugh hysterically with him. 

I was feeling pretty good as we got in the car -- smug.  You know, having one of those, "I'm a rock star Mom" moments.  And I told Boyo - "Thanks for playing with me today."

"Yeah," he said.  "I guess you are okay to play with -- for a girl."