So this morning the fun started pre-coffee, which is to say pre-coherent mommy. I usually start the morning with coffee and a little Good Morning America. That way if the world ended last night & I haven’t noticed yet (the pre-coffee state aforementioned) someone will mention it and I won’t have to get boys ready for school or me ready for work. BoyChild II is usually up at this time (often enough that he calls it GMA) & will watch while getting dressed in the living room. So this morning I’m doing the wander around, make sure BoyChild I is getting dressed, more coffee, get breakfast on the table, more coffee, tell people to eat, more coffee, dress myself, more, well I think you can see how the morning goes around here. Through all of this Good Morning America is playing in the background. (In my defense I also catch the local weather/traffic report when it comes on). So, now that you can picture it, back to this morning.
I’m doing that rushing cause I’m running out of time stumble that comes from not having hit my third cup plateau when I go back through the living room to check my purse for actual presence of car keys and to add helpful reminders to my sons’ mornings. You know, things like, “Seriously 10 minutes, 1 sock?! I dressed myself completely while you managed 1 sock!?” and other equally supportive, patient and understanding motherly gems. (What? I can’t be cheerful all the time dagumit, & 10 mins is a long time for 1 sock) Anyway, so as I have confirmed key location and am about to get that third cup which will transform me into the fairly pleasant woman I try to be, BoyChild II looks up at me and say, ” did they have to cut us out of you?” (Slightly horrified face here) I do exactly as any parenting book would recommend, I say “hold that thought, I need to get coffee.” (It’s in the fine print, I’m sure) I come back in the room and sit down and ask, “what on Earth are you talking about?” To which he replies, (pointing towards TV) “there, on GMA, they had to cut the baby out of the mommy. Did they cut us out of you?” So I glare accusingly at the TV (Robin, I thought we were girls?) and then reply, “no, the doctor did not cut you out of me when you were born.” As a side note I’m a firm believer in the whole we never have to have a sit down TALK about sex-ed (we being my children & myself) because anytime that they ask a question I answer, honestly and age appropriately. Now I have said to a small child “this isn’t an appropriate place to talk about something so private, but when we get home we will talk about that.” You know, when they ask in the car, church, grocery store, etc, but other wise I’m a very ask = answer mama. So he looks at me and says, “well how did we get out?” Sigh, of course. “Well, you remember how we talked about babies aren’t really in stomachs, since that’s where food goes, but in a special place in a mommy’s tummy next to it called a uterus?” “Yes (laughter) cause dropping food on a baby’s head would be NASTY!” Potty/dirty humor is fabulous when you are 7. “Right well babies grow there and then the mommy uses here tummy muscles to push the baby out.” “Out where? Like you throw it up?” (more hysterical laughter & BoyChild I walking in & then immediately out of the room) “No, silly, that would be gross.” (I laugh a little here as the sight of him rolling is way more fun than this convo) “The mommy’s tummy muscles push the baby down, and out.” Silence, dawning shock, horror, and then concern. Uncertainly he continues with this early morning inquisition. “Out like, back door or front door?” This takes me a minute to get, I’ll give you a moment too, just in case you are on my level too… “Oh! Um, more towards front door, on a lady’s privates it’s called a vagina, remember?” (I’m also big on correct terms, not slang/dirty ones for bodies, in case you missed it. Which is why the door reference threw me at first.)”What if their shoes catch?” Laughing I inform him babies are born naked. The reality of what I’m saying starts to sink in and eyes huge now, he softly asks, “Doesn’t that hurt?” “Yes baby, it hurt, but just like any other hurt it went away, and unlike when you scrap your knee I got something way better than a band-aid.” I smile smugly to myself, very proud of my answer. “What? A baby? Dude they cry and smell. I’d rather have a Spiderman Band aid.” I laugh and give him a hug,” well lucky for you I’d rather have you than a Spiderman Band aid. (that by the way is the height of love/affection since Spiderman Band aids are so cool) Besides that’s one of those things that just girls have to do, remember girls have the parts to be the mommies and boys have the parts to be the daddies, so you’ll never have to do that.” Eyes narrowing in what I like to call his evil imp face “Does GirlChild know about this? (Grinning now) Can I tell her?” I laugh again and tell my littlest tormentor he can tell her the next time she is mean to him. “Thanks mom, I’m glad you pushed me out. I’m also really glad I can tell GirlChild she’s going to have to do that to get a baby.”
Wow, what a way to start the day, huh? One more little chuckle to remind me I’m glad I “pushed him out” too.