Saturday, June 16, 2012

My favorite things

Monkey loves chocolate milk (and strawberry/pink milk for that matter).  He also loves straws.  Most drinks are required to have straws.  This is great for when we go out though, mess free, portable.  Or so you would think.

The drinks you get from restaurants always come with a lid and a straw.  This allows for you to leave with your drink and not have to worry about that ridiculously priced 8oz chocolate milk that your child never finishes being thrown away and your child leaving being thirsty and you being frustrated because they didn't down the last 6oz.  However, I don't allow the kids to drink in the car.  I remember gagging myself with a straw when I was young.  My mom claims it was a French fry, I remember a straw.  Regardless, they don't have either in the car.  This means they need to drink as much as they can before getting in the car and then waiting until we get home.

As usual, Monkey didn't finish his overpriced chocolate milk.  I bring the milk out to the parking lot and he's having that one last chug through the straw before I take it away from him.  I'll admit, I was rushing him, but he drinks and eats slow and I didn't want to sit in the sweltering parking lot for the next 20 minutes while he nurses his milk.  I finally am able to get the cup from him and splatter.  Twenty little drops of chocolate infested milk splatter all over my shirt.  It's my blue shirt and one of my favorites.  It fits nice and the colors is flattering.  We also have someplace we need to be later on and I don't want to be wearing a chocolate speckled shirt there nor do I want the stain to set in the hot summer sun.  I'll say though that Monkey did apologize a couple of times without me asking.  It made me feel slightly better with a feeling of pettiness about my shirt potentially being ruined.

So off we go, back home for me to change my shirt.  I change my shirt, soak my other shirt and am ready to go.

Monkey sees my new clean shirt on and he says, "I like that shirt Mommy."

Aaww, that's sweet, "You do?  Thank you."

"It's my favorite, I like it more than the other one."

That's an odd thing to say from a 4 year old's mouth, especially since the new one is a pinkish orange and the other was a blue.  "Really, why?"

Monkey continues, "Because there's no chocolate milk on it."

Next time I need to remember have him quit while he's ahead.


Thursday, June 14, 2012

The tiger that wore a dress

Sunshine is entering first grade (yikes!).  This means that she has learned all sorts of things in kindergarten.  I'm not talking about reading, writing and arithmetic kind of stuff.  I mean the things that she learns from other kids.

I suppose some of them are good.  I suppose.  Acceptance of others and yourself.  Making friends.  Taking turns and playground rules.

Hmmm... Taking turns and playground rules...  I'm not sure she's quite figured that out.  Maybe I should say it hasn't transferred over to playing with her brother.  She has learned one particular playground necessity.  It's that obnoxious "Eenee, Meenee, Minee, Moe", the one that will ultimately decide who gets to go first, who gets the last piece, and who is right in some bizarre debate.  Sunshine has learned that she can control who wins, sort of.  Now many children figure out that depending on how many there kids there are and who you start with will depend who gets the coveted item.  Not Sunshine.  She knows that when it lands on her, she wins, but she hasn't quite gotten the rhythm yet.  The solution?  Cheat.  At the end of the phrase, when she realizes she has lost, she will continue.  And continue.  And continue.  Until it ends on her.  This means it can last for quite a while and may go something along the lines of:

"Eenee, meenee, minee, moe,
Catch a tiger by its toe,
If he hollers let him go,
Eenee, meenee, minee, moe." - Now this is when it should end and the winner is pronounced.  Sunshine may continue with the accepted.
"My mother told me to go out and pick the best one." - Again, if it doesn't land where it should, she continues.  Unfortunately for her there isn't an accepted phrase(s).
"And she should get buy a dress to wear to a party
Because her dress is dirty." -Ooh, still not a winner.  Continues:
"And she goes to the store to buy a dress,
And some milk and some bread."

By this point I hear what is happening and I tell her that it's Monkey's turn.  I've heard her go on for quite a while though and her train of thought goes flitting from one topic to the next.  Tigers, mothers, dresses and stores for that matter are forgotten and she has moved on to another idea.  So far Monkey hasn't complained, if nothing else, it is good entertainment for a few seconds.


Monday, June 4, 2012

Sharing bodies

When I was pregnant with Sunshine people had asked if I was going to breastfeed, not wanting to feel like a failure if I didn't or decided to stop very early on, I always answered, "I'm going to try."  I was quite surprised when I was still nursing her when she was 15 months old and I became pregnant with Monkey.  I continued to nurse her until she was 17 months and I was almost 3 months pregnant.  It was a gradual weaning, going down to one morning nursing.

When I was pregnant with Monkey, people asked again if I was going to nurse and I said, "Yes, for at least a year."  This way if I decided to continue, people weren't going to be questioning me as to why I was still nursing the baby, after all, he's 13 months now and you said one year.  I slowly weaning down to one nursing and when he was 18 months old, we went on a family vacation.  One morning I realized that I didn't realize when I nursed him last.*

Then with Bug, people stopped asking and just said, "You're going to nurse this baby, right?"  No one asked how long and I didn't feel the need to justify how long I chose to or not to nurse my child.  He's now 19 months and is nursing only one time a day.  He's been down to one time a day since April.  I thought I would wean him when I went out of town and realized that I wasn't ready to stop.  Unlike with Sunshine and Monkey, this is it.  He is my last.  There will be no others and no opportunity to have another.  One morning he will nurse for the last time and it will be the last time.  I will never have that kind of bond with a baby again.  Ever.

But I'm torn.

I'm also ready to get my body back.  I've shared my body with a baby almost non-stop for 7 years.  Of course when I say my 'body back', I won't be getting my pre-pregnancy body back.  I'll be getting some other body back.  A foreign body that has never belonged to me before.  A body that has never been without milk.  I have never completely dried up before getting pregnant again and then I was pregnant and bodies are supposed to be different; growing, shifting, bloated, stretched.  I'll admit, I'm scared.  What on earth is going to happen when I'm done?  I know what I look like now and it's, well, it's scary!  This is definitely not the body I had 7 years ago.  I was never completely comfortable with my body, which I don't know if this makes it easier or makes me angry that I never appreciated what I had.  Then I wonder, should I be appreciating this body?  In 30 years will I be saying that I wish I had appreciated this body?  Probably.  That's not very promising.

Whenever it happens though, I hope it's my choice.  I hope that one day Bug doesn't decide to reject me.  I want to be able to stare into his eyes and caress his cheeks and run my hand through his hair while he nurses for the last time.  When I nurse him for the last time, I want to be ready, I don't want to be told that I'm done.  Bug doesn't ask to be nursed, he never really has.  I guess it will make it easier, I won't have to ever worry about telling him 'no' and I hope I will never need to tell him 'all gone'.  One day it will be gone, I just don't want to know when that day happens.

*Please realize that I did NOT forget to feed him.  He was happily eating at every breakfast buffet we went to.