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Thankful for boogers and dribbles on the seat


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Yep. I’m going to say it. I know, it’s a complete change of heart. Especially after all the complaining I do and when I threaten to go on strike. You guys know that’s just hyperbole right? (what a big juicy word, ‘hyperbole’)

Every day a child is taken too soon from this world. It’s the sad fact of life. Childhood cancer, bike accidents, car accidents happen every day. Children by the hundreds die in the  Sudan because of starvation and disease. Why did the Sandy Hook Elementary tragedy make such a difference for me? I don’t know. Maybe because it’s relatable to me based on the victims’ ages and location and its absolute randomness. It could happen anywhere.

So I’m still my snarky self. Trust me. But I decided first to remember before I gripe at my kids ONE MORE TIME about the clothes that needed picking up and the wrappers left randomly around the house, to take a breath, to speak calmly, and not let the little things bother me.

Will I still parent and make them hate me from time to time because I put my foot down on setting boundaries? You betcha. Will I do it with respect for them and their dignity? Absolutely.

This weekend I told McSweetie I’m not going to nag. He probably thought it was a Christmas miracle that came early. I will kindly ask him to remove his toenail clippings from the bathroom floor and whiskers from the sink. And then I’ll flash him my boobs when the kids aren’t around. It’s a win-win situation for both of us. He might start doing more chores, more often.

I will remember not to roll my eyes (it’s hard for me). I roll my eyes and see my brain sometimes. I will try not to get exasperated when Owen asks for the bajillionth time questions like this- “how tall is Marshawn Lynch from the Seahawks?” “How much money did Steve Jobs make before he died?” “Is the White House the biggest house in America?” “What kind of car am I going to drive when I get my license?” “Does Dad make more money than so and so’s dad?”

You get my point.

He is one inquisitive kid. But hey, what a blessing, right?

Then there’s Emma’s fits of absolute dissolve over something minor. But never tell a pre-teen girl ‘it’s not a big deal’. Because guess what? It’s a pretty big fucking deal I didn’t wash the socks she was planning to wear today.

I will remind her, without screaming at her, that I am not a mind reader. That I’m happy to wash her socks with the rest of the laundry after she gathers it up off her floor and into her hamper. But then I will smile, and hug her (but only when she’s ready, because hugging a pre-hormonal adolescent girl before she’s ready is as dangerous as wrangling an alligator.) I will smooth her hair and wipe her tears and offer her a snack.

Most often kids are cranky when they are hungry, so I will make sure she doesn’t need anything to eat.

So I think this will be a good plan. When Owen hands me a booger, the size of his thumb and announces, “I was digging for gold!” I will smile and tell him that his gold needs to be put in a kleenex treasure chest.

Those little stinkers!!

I love them and their boogers, and their tears, and their farts. And McSweetie’s toenails. I kinda love them. Sort of.

 

 

 

 

 

Peace in Connecticut


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I don’t always like to blog about controversial topics. I don’t. But I’m a writer. So I write my feelings. My blog is my voice and I try to use my voice with a purpose.  Here are my thoughts on the horrible event at Sandy Hook elementary in Connecticut.

The fact of the matter is- I hate guns. But before all my NRA readers get hot under the collar at me- give me a chance here. I support the 2nd Amendment. Sure. I don’t like it, but that’s my opinion. You can carry a handgun. You can own hunting rifles. But get those mother fucking automatic assault rifles out of the hands of citizens. I don’t know why we don’t agree on that. The assault ban law expired years ago. Why?

So with that said, yes, I’m sure I’ve pissed some people off, BUT- here is what I know we can agree on. The persons who have committed these atrocities in the last year, and the last 10 years, all were mentally ill. Right? Nobody does this is thinking soundly. Clearly we can use these examples as a learning tool. Can’t we?

Politicians, lobbyists, activists, LISTEN UP- we need to stop reacting in a knee-jerk fashion, pointing fingers, spending millions of dollars on lobbying, blaming parties (this is not a party issue, I assure you.) I have Republican friends who hate guns and Democratic friends who own them. We need to get to the root of the problem and fix those who are mentally unsound.

It isn’t easy. I’m not stupid. But why do all the stories of family members and acquaintances to these criminals start with, “I knew something wasn’t right with them…”

I don’t know how you can argue your right to bear arms of a semi automatic firearm to a mother who’s 5 year old was gunned down while sitting in their Kindergarten class. Or tell the surviving children of that class why their teacher’s son came with so much fire power to kill his own mother and their classmates.

This could have happened anywhere, to anyone. It has. We’ve seen it. From Amish communities, high schools, movie theaters, places of worship… there is no place safe in America. There just isn’t.

So this is why I’m asking those that sound off in the argument on this to be kind, to be respectful, to honor those that are surviving the aftermath. Yes, people kill people. But guns used by people kill people too. Terrible things will continue to happen in our world. This event rips out our hearts because we can’t understand it. The fact is, more children die from auto accidents, bicycle accidents, and childhood cancer than they will from a mass shooting. But why does it always feel like there was something that could’ve been done?

30,000 people have friends and family members who are missing them in just this passed year lost to gun violence. My question is for all of us, what can we do to lower that number? What can we do to protect people’s rights, without threatening people’s safety.

What countries in our world have fewer gun deaths and better mental health provisions? What is their system? This isn’t a socialist or capitalist problem. This is an American problem. We need to honestly and thoroughly look at every single possibility we can do to prevent this, or minimize this from happening again.

The date on the calendar, 11 days until Christmas, makes this more painful. I think about the presents I’ve already wrapped for my children that are under the tree, that are unwrapped hidden around the house in special places. Their advent calendars happily opened each morning. I can’t not break into tears thinking of those advent calendar doors that will go unopened in those houses in Connecticut.

My heart is truly broken.

Peace. Truly, and sincerely- peace.

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year!


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The Perfect Christmas (brag) letter from yours truly,

 

A happy holidays to all of you that I know and even the little people that I don’t really know.

I hope this year has been as full of blessings for your family as it has been for mine. Most people who know me in real life read my blog. So that means that a lot of you are already up to speed on just about everything. But for the few of you that don’t pay attention, or are new here, I will catch you up to speed. Or give you all a recap on my awesomeness.

January was the month of the perfect storm. There wasn’t anything perfect about 7 days straight of the apocalypse snow storm of 2012, not to be confused with the apocalypse of the Mayan prediction of the end of the world here to happen in a few days. But the Northwest was covered in snow and ice and subzero temperatures for well over a week. Sadly, just about everyone we knew was without power for a solid 3 to 4 days. Or longer even! Lucky for us, we stayed warm and cozy with the lights on and all our appliances powered. What a relief! Sorry to our in-laws and several Facebook friends, I hope you weren’t jealous.

February was filled with dreams coming true. You won’t believe this- but… I GOT TO GO TO THE GRAMMYS!!! You heard that right. You know, the star-studded music awards show. A friend of a friend’s dad got tickets and we were treated like VIPs! Even though we weren’t allowed to bring our cell phones in, or cameras,  we walked on the red carpet! Well, the red carpet that extended behind the backdrops for all the networks and their interviews. I saw quite a few handsome security guards up close. From a distance I saw A-list stars like Paris Hilton and Tia Carrera. But only because I think Tia Carrera got lost and wandered in to the NVIP area (Not Very Important Person) and was waiting for her manager or agent to come fetch her. She looked a little annoyed. But then again, I think the Botox in her face makes her look annoyed no matter what.

It was a magical evening that made for memories that I will never forget. Memories like how we weren’t allowed any food, unless you want Red Vines and Mt. Dew at the concessions (no thank you) and I snarfed on my protein bar I carried in my designer small evening bag. It was organic and vegan, so not to worry, I would NEVER eat any PROCESSED food.

Speaking of, I went completely vegan in February. It was a little hard at first. The idea of giving up all that fabulous cheese that I had delivered to our home by the cheese of the month club breaks my heart- it was on one of Oprah’s ‘favorite things’. By the way, I subscribe to O Magazine. I hope you do too- Suze Orman’s advice saved us!

But back to me being healthy and all natural and meat and dairy free. I realized that my tremendous gas and bloating troubles were in fact my intolerance to lactose. What a tremendous burden off of  my back and the family’s. No more suffering through my flatulent evenings. Even the dog is relieved!

Oh, the children did fine in school. Emma’s in 7th grade, Owen is in 4th. You know- they’re kids. The usual, soccer, theater, honors class, Scouting, etc.

So anyway… this was definitely MY year. I mean, the Grammys, blogging, PTA, Twitter- Ashley Judd responded to a tweet of mine. It was exciting. I’m on Pinterest too. It keeps me so busy while the kids are in school.

It was one of those big birthday years- I turned 40!! You can’t really tell. I mean, all those high-end beauty products I use, really do their job! People are always telling me how young I look. So I wear my 40 years with pride.

We celebrated my birthday with a family trip to Maui. We had never been and the kids were so excited. We stayed at the Grand Wailea Resort. It’s gorgeous. Have you ever been? You should. I highly recommend it. They have cabanas with staff that come and bring you popsicles and spritz you with water to cool you down. There’s a luau 3 nights a week. The fish at the world famous restaurant, Humuhumunukunukuapua’a is out of this world. The Ahi just melts in your mouth. Try the fillet on a bed of sticky rice with a seared bok choy on the side with a honey soy reduction. Delicious.

James is employed, thank God. That’s all that matters. Someone has to pay the bills!

Well, here’s to a wonderful 2013 for everyone. Especially me.

 

If any of you took this seriously, my apologies. And get a sense of humor. 

 

 

Today I’m over at Bonbon Break- in the bedroom


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Well, I’m not actually over there sitting like a miniature person in the computer screen waving at you. That would be very Willy Wonka ish, wouldn’t it?

But click on over to their holiday issue and read about a coming of age story. Yes, Emma has reached a milestone about old St. Nick.

These are those parenting moments that keep you on your toes.

Enjoy the magic while it lasts. And by magic, I mean, the lying facade of trying to be a magical fat man who spies on sleeping children.

Read here- Bonbon Break

will-santa-return

I’m thankful for vaginas. My kids are too.


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So last year when we gathered around the table for Thanksgiving at my parent’s house, Owen did a tear-filled thankful sharing that made my heart burst with gladness. I wrote about it here. It’s pretty damn special.

Well, this year, I got choked up at the dinner table again, but it was my mom talking about my dad and how very grateful we are that all went well last week with his procedure. You can read about THAT here.

I was really hoping for another zinger from my Boy. You know one that REALLY pulled on the heart strings. I mean, I had already had 2 glasses of wine, so I was pretty well greased for some sappy stuff to bring me to tears.

His turn comes. He’s sitting next to me. I’m waiting in anticipation. This is going to be good, I’m thinking in my head, I’m putting this in my journal.
He says, “I’m thankful for my mom.” He touches me on the shoulder…. wait for it….. here it comes….”I’m thankful that she pooped me out.”

Hmmm. That’s not what I was expecting. What? I pooped you out? That’s the best you got?  Well?

So then Emma chimes in, “It wasn’t her butt, it was her VAGINA.”

To this, I think I groan. Loudly. And lay my head in my plate of mashed potatoes. Thank goodness, my father, who is sitting right next to Emma, is pretty much deaf. So he doesn’t hear any of this. And he’s chewing his food, so that probably drowns out some of what we are saying.

My mother let’s out a howl of laughter. James rolls his eyes, like, “who are these people?”

My father chimes in, “what’s so funny?”

To which my mother responds, “Oh nothing, we’re just having some gyno conversation.”
We continue on.

There were no more references to either bodily functions or gyno occurrences. So I had some more wine.

I’m so grateful for pooping you out Owen, and you too Emma! And more grateful you came out of my vagina like you were supposed to.

Self love. Yes, THAT kind.


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Please be advised this is no pervy, whack-off post. Any of you who found this by Google or other key words, just go elsewhere. This is about parenting. If you’re looking for anything otherwise, move along.

Masturbation.

Yep. That word. It’s a doozy. What comes to mind when I hear that? That character on Family Guy, was it Master Bates from the Morning Wood Academy?  Ha ha. Insert frat humor here.

Okay. Have you had THAT talk with your kids? I’ve had that talk with my kids. But I’m talking about this talk. The other talk. You know, where you tell them that if they touch themselves they will go blind. Or their hand will shrivel up and fall off. I’m kidding! I just said that small puppies will die. Okay, seriously.

I have NOT had this talk with my kids. We’ve talked about sex and how a baby is made. Emma is pretty clear on most things between a man and a woman. I mean, you know, the basics. She’s had family life in school, she knows about STDs and drugs and alcohol. She’s got it covered.

Okay, well maybe I did have THIS talk about Master Bates with Emma. But it was not on purpose.

My children have always been, uhm, you know, precocious. They are big farters and announcers about their farts. They talk about their privates. ALL. THE. TIME. We’re pretty comfortable talking about pretty much anything.

And then, the other day, Owen asks me if it’s true that when you rub your nuts your penis gets hard. Well, I said, I don’t have that equipment so I can’t say from experience. (Yeah, I know, easy way out.) But that if at any time you want to touch your privates, it’s totally fine to do as long as you are by yourself and privately at home. And then I asked him where he heard this bit of information. And he said a kid at school said that rubbing your junk makes it hard. Lovely.
AWKWARD. So I just casually said that if he had any questions he should probably ask his father. And that if he ever feels like touching himself, it’s totally not a big deal and again, reiterate that it is to be done in seclusion. And to please not talk about it with anyone outside our family, like at school or the playground.  It’s best to just come to me or dad with questions.

I think I handled that pretty well.

Moving on to a different day and Emma makes a joke about rubbing the cats balls while she was petting his belly. Technically he doesn’t have any balls, since he is neutered, which is also more fodder for discussion and jokes in this house. We like to talk in funny cat voices and talk about his missing balls. It’s a whole ‘nother story.  I said to please not molest the cat, it invades his privacy. One should only rub their own privates not anyone else’s or any animal’s for that matter. (Seriously, I need to have these conversations? WTF?) So she says, “Why on earth would anyone ever want to rub their privates?!”

Uhm. Well. Uhm. No reason.

Is what I should have said.

But instead, I start to pontificate on the benefits of self pleasure. Well, not exactly. But I said that masturbation is totally normal and nothing to be ashamed or afraid of. It is perfectly common for when you start to reach adulthood and sexual maturity to want to touch yourself only with the means of making it ‘feel good’.

Insert big shocked face from Emma here.

“Oh my gosh!! There is NO WAY that I’m just going to stick my hand down to my vagina because I WANT to! Do I just start flapping around my labias and clitoris for fun? NO!” (okay, this girl knows her parts and it kinda freaks me out every time she uses them in context!)

Me- “Well, your brother was discussing that boys at school talked about rubbing their privates and it felt good, so I was just making sure you were clear on the whole parameters on that kind of thing.”

Her- “DISGUSTING! So dad rubbed his junk when he was a teenager? Like I want to think about that!! EWWW!!! No thank you!”

Me- (Totally not trying to crack up and make her think I think this is a joke. She makes Taylor Lautner pectoral jokes all the time, now she goes all prude on me?) “Hey, that’s fine sweetie, whatever you are comfortable with. And if you have any questions, feel free to ask.” (please, please, please, don’t have any questions.)

Her- “Okay, well thank you for that mom. I’ll just go to bed now and try not to have nightmares about this sort of thing.”

Drama queen much?

So there you go. If you ever need any advice on how to talk to your kids about anything sexual, feel free to ask me. No, actually, I’m kidding. You’re on your own.

But I have said this- as much as we parents squirm and dance around this stuff- if your kids can come to YOU about it, Elle Woods finger snaps to you.

Because parenting is about being there. And then blogging about it after they walk away.

A urinal. Would you have one in your house?


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You know, I really have my children to thank for many things. My loose and flacid bladder. My jiggly tummy riddled with stretch marks. My boobs that hang down to my belly button like deflated water balloons complete with their own set of stretch marks. But also, I have them to thank for so much blogging fodder, it’s ridiculous.

The Boy genius, Owen, said to me today, that what we really need in our house is a urinal. Now I always know to put ‘an’ in front of a vowel, so is it ‘an urinal’? That’s just weird and I can’t do that. So, I will say just- urinal.

Okay, he said this of course, while peeing in the toilet. Let me describe to you the situation. I’m in the kitchen getting my 12th morning cup of tea. (I jest.) I can hear him in our powder room down the hall with the door open, peeing. Like a race horse. Then I hear a no pee sound. You know, when the stream isn’t hitting the water anymore. Yeah, that’s the sound of the stream hitting the seat or the side of the bowl. You would think by now at 9 years old, he has pretty good aim. Think again.

That sound is like nails on a chalk board to me. That sound is why I have a container or Clorox wipes under the sink in the cabinet. Sure he takes a square of toilet paper and ‘wipes’ up his dribbles. Barely. I mean, it’s not like he’s thorough or anything. There’s a reason 9 year old boys aren’t in charge of cleaning homes. When he was little he would sit on the toilet. Yes, sitting. How I miss those days. He was a lot more accurate then. Now he revels in the power of standing to pee.

And then he says, “You know what we need? A urinal. Why are houses not made with them?”

After bursting out laughing, I thought for a moment. He’s right. A household urinal would be really great. I mean, I wouldn’t be sitting on it. I think it would catch all the wee and there wouldn’t be any stray spray on the wall or floor. It would be handy for other male guests that come to visit. I could create a whole line of scented urinal cakes. We could have pumpkin spice, creme brulee, caramel apple.

Sure, it wouldn’t be pretty. But it’s not like a toilet is that pretty either. We are just used to it. We can get used to the urinal too.

I, personally, would love a bidet. I’ve always wanted a little sit and sprinkle on my lady bits to save time. My grandparents in Germany always had one. I would ask as a little kid when I visited, what the extra toilet is for.

So we’ll just get our home replumbed with a urinal in the downstairs bathroom, and a bidet for me upstairs.

Now I just need to find on Pinterest any powder room decorating ideas for urinals.

Speaking of urinals, don’t forget to enter my prize giveaway.

Nope, no fancy bathroom plumbing or deodorizers for prizes. But real cash! And cook books, and aprons and all kinds of things. Perfect for the holidays. You just click on the Rafflecopter link to the side. For reals. Don’t worry, your info isn’t used for anything. But I appreciate you spreading the love and sharing my blog so your friends can enter too. November 12th we’ll announce the winner.

Douchey kids and parents without a sense of humor.


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I am pretty nice. I am. Ask folks. But I do bottle up my frustrations. So I’m smiling on the outside, and inside, I’m shaking my head going , ‘what the fuck?’  WHAT in THEEE FUCK are you thinking people?

Okay, here goes. Deep breath.

Do you lie to your kids? YES! We all do people. Our mom shaming craze is taking over Facebook. Woo hoo. I love a funny joke. I am the queen of self deprecation. I will dance around in a leotard wearing a turban if it makes you laugh.

But if you don’t think when I confess things I do behind my children’s backs isn’t funny- that’s okay. I guess. But I guess we won’t be friends. And that’s okay too. I mean, how do you NOT laugh at such honesty from moms?

Poor Somewhat Sane Mom got in some trouble from some ass-holey trolls who said she was a mean mom, a liar, a bitch, she needed to go grocery shopping, they felt sorry for her kids. Whatever.

Wow. All over a granola bar. A fucking granola bar. You say there are no more in the box. Eat one behind their back. No biggy. A unicorn isn’t going to drop dead somewhere people. Tinkerbell isn’t going to die because you told a fib to your kids.

Here’s a fib I tell my kids. Put your tooth under your pillow so the Tooth Fairy can come and bring you a dollar.

Yeah. That is called a LIE folks. Do you tell your kids- “put your tooth under your pillow so I can trip over random objects in the dark while you sleep and try to shove a dollar under your sleeping little melon without waking you up.” Huh, do you?

Lighten up people.

When you see a splayed out opossum on the road with it’s entrails on the concrete out like sausage and meatballs, do you say, “Wow, sucks to be that fella. Must have hurt real bad when the front end of a large moving vehicle crushed his insides and caused massive injuries and bleeding.” Huh, do you?  Or do you say, “that little opossum is sleeping with someone’s ground hamburger next to them.”

Do you see my point here?

Okay, I would also like to address the assholey little crotch fruit of other people that like to go around kicking, smacking or just spewing their little demon antics on every one.

When your kid hauls off and hits another kid, do you stay standing 10 feet away and say, “hey, let’s not hit, okay?” Or do you run on over to your uterus spawn and take his arm and say, “knock it off! Apologize or we are leaving!” Huh, do  you?

Just asking. Because I see a lot of just parenting from the sidelines. When my kids would do shitty behavior, especially around the age of when shitty behavior is rampant- translation- preschool years through elementary on through middle school…. (ha ha, I’m kidding)… I would get up in their grill and make sure they knew that I was on to them.

Are parents afraid of hurting their kid’s feelings? Are they afraid that if they blow it off in front of other parents those parents will somehow not notice the douchey behavior of the other kid?

Don’t raise a Nellie.

I don’t know.

So there you have it people. My rant on people who parent without a sense of humor and assholey uterus spawn whose parents enable their assholey-ness.

I can only save the world so many folks at a time. If you need a funny intervention or a wake-up call regarding your kid, just message me and I’ll slap some sense into you.

What got me all sporky last week- cleaning the Girl’s room.


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I know. I’m a horrible mother. I let my children just have their way and leave their shit out everywhere. They don’t make their beds. They have piles and piles of crap. It’s like an episode of hoarders in their rooms. Minus the rat feces and ferrets living in an arm chair.

My friend was coming to stay with us and she was to sleep in Emma’s room. I couldn’t imagine her in there in the state it was. Let alone, you couldn’t even see the floor to put an air mattress on it for her daughter. So I was going in. We are talking, rubber gloves, Haz Mat suit, Asbestos mask, the full meal deal. It was necessary.

This is what I was faced with:

The problem was, Emma doesn’t part from her things very well. She’s sentimental. There were dolls, Polly Pockets and journals from 1st Grade. She’s in 7th Grade now people! She is also very lazy. She doesn’t put away her clothes. They are just all over the room. Not in drawers, not on hangers, not even in the dirty clothes hamper. Just …. everywhere. Sometimes, I’ll find a sock on her book case. Or a  rogue pair of underwear she tossed will be sitting on her window sill. Really.

It took me two days of just pulling stuff out of drawers, from under the bed, out of the closet, and making the choice of- toss it, or keep it. I drove to Goodwill with 8 bags of clothes and crap and 3 boxes of books and knick knacky shit.

I put the other bookcase in Owen’s room. He’s a book hoarder. That’s better than most kids, so I’m okay with that.

Once I vaccumed, washed the bed (even the dust ruffle!), put everything back together again- I felt amazed. And clean. And tired. Very tired.

I told McSweetie that I did such a good job I’m going out to buy myself a present. One guess what his reaction to that was.  Yeah, you’re right- he rolled his eyes.

So here’s the big reveal. Pretend it’s the Nate Berkus show and I’m waving my magic wand. Cue tinkly chime music-

Next on the list- my home office.

Holy crap, we are frickin’ slobs!

Yep, parents have sex. Ew, gross!

Like the Modern Family episode- the Anniversary- the kids walk in on the parents to surprise them with breakfast in bed.

They get more than they bargained for.

Luke- “It looked like they were wrestling and dad was winning.”

.
I should send the following dialog to ABC. I think they would appreciate it. My screen play is in the works.  Okay, I will try to capture every essence of the HORROR my daughter experienced during this conversation:
(Some background, my daughter is 12. She is a very mature 12. Knows the birds and bees stuff. But she still thinks sex is icky (thank GOD) and she definitely thinks the thought of her parents having sex is SUPER ICKY)

Me: You and your brother need to go to bed before 10 tonight. You guys have been staying up too late. Plus, mommy and daddy need some mommy and daddy time.

Her: What do you mean ‘mommy and daddy time’?

Me: Well, you know, it is after all, your father’s birthday. It would be nice not to watch Phineas and Ferb before we go to bed, and also get some time together. (So trying to be subtle here.)

Her: Eww!!!! WHAT???? You do not DO THAT??? Are you saying you and dad do THAT in the house??

Me: Where would you like us to do it, in the back yard?

Her: MO–om! I mean, don’t you like, DO IT when we are gone?

Me: When are you and your brother gone and we are home alone? Never. So yes, when you go to Grandma’s in a couple weeks, we’ll have some time then. But every other week, we gotta do it under the same roof as you.

Her: So, when we are home sleeping in our beds, you and dad are all, like, kissing and stuff NAKED??? What if Owen walks in?

Me: We take our chances and lock the door. (seriously, I’m grinning so hard on the inside during this convo.)

Her: Well, then I’m coming in your room at night from now on to prevent that from going on!

Me: You sure you want to do that? I mean, what if you come in at accidentally the WRONG time?

Her: OHMYGOSH!!!! YOU’re right!! I’m never coming in your room again. Oh, I’m going to throw up.

Me: Seriously, sweetie. It’s no big deal. We had to make you and your brother at some point. Just think, each of your grandparents did too. And THEY have 3 kids each.

Her: OH MY GOD!!! SCRUB MY BRAIN SCRUB MY BRAIN!!!! WHY did you SAY THAT??? Now I can’t help but think…… oh….. EWWWWW!!!

Me: <giggling> I’m so glad we had this talk sweetie.

Her: I’m going to go scrub my eyes and watch kitten videos on YouTube. I might vomit first.

Me: You do that honey. Just remember, bedtime is 9:30.

Her: <No words just the hugest eye roll EVER.>