Stop Me If You've Heard This One Before

The Babydoll: Daddy, who's that?

Hubby: Oh, that's a policeman.

The Babydoll: Why is he standing there?

Hubby: He goes around and gets people who do bad behavior. He takes them to jail.

The Babydoll: Bad behavior?

Hubby: Yeah.

The Babydoll: Oh. I'm gonna go tell him that Brother hit me. That was bad behavior.

All children seem to have this thought, but I still laughed my head off! Hilarious!

Thoughts inspired by Chris Rock's Good Hair

1) Nia Long should sooo play me in the movie of my life.

2) I had the culture of hair on my short list of dissertation topics in the beginning stages. If I had stayed with that, maybe I'd have been in Chris Rock's film.

3) What was Barbara Walter's issue on "The View" this morning? She asked a question about black women's hair that Whoopie answered about 5 times. Then she immediately asked Chris Rock, who gave her the same answer.

An addendum: Thoughts about my crappy day that should shock teenage girls into using birth control every single time:

1) I've actually had poop in my hands today. Twice.

2) Yesterday my son sat on the toilet and peed a straight line. Onto me.


*And happy, happy birthday to The Diva!

Done and done.

I spent part of the weekend purging. No, not upchucking the hot fudge sundae that I had, quite appropriately, on Sunday. I was going through boxes of baby clothes and toys, preparing to give them away to The Diva and her little Popcorn. It was hard. I think I may be a potential hoarder, but I also get really excited about organizing, so it's hard to do both. More than that, though, I realized that my time of mothering infants is basically gone. It makes me sad.

I held up each outfit, remembering a picture we snapped or an outing we took. I remembered dressing my babies, putting their tiny feet into the one-piece jumper, and receiving to-die-for dresses from loving relatives. I could not imagine at the time that my itty-bitty bundles would ever be big enough to fill out a large size. All the while, they were laughing and playing with the toys they have already outgrown. When people say that it all goes by too fast, man, they are not kidding. I felt like I was pregnant for more than two years continuously, and now I don't have any babies. Even my two year old is stretching out, his legs gaining some length and his chubby tummy slimming down.

I read an article not long ago that asked how we know when we're really done having babies. The answer was that mothers who are really done, say so immediately and without reservation. I can't do that, but I think our family probably can't comfortably handle another child. I watched Lynnette on "Desperate Housewives" deal with her serious lack of commitment to the twins she's unexpectedly carrying and wonder if I might feel that way with another baby. Then, of course, there are ck's heart-wrenching posts about her surprise third pregnancy, and the loss of it. They remind me of how complicated my emotions are around this issue. I kind of thought that this year would be the year of an "accidental/on purpose" baby because I promised myself that I would be done by my 35th birthday; that will happen next month. I don't think we're going to be having a surprise, on purpose or not. Hubby is talking about getting snipped, and he was nearly dancing with glee at the empty space created by the absence of those boxes. "Having all that stuff will not force them to be your babies again," he said.

So that's just it. I had a great time mothering infants, having them snuggle next to me, need me, love me. They changed my life (and my body) and then just went on with their lives, on the road to being big kids.

Of course, after all the stuff was given away, they showed up again, whining about this and fighting about that. Talk about a buzz kill. That's when I suggested that ice cream was in order.

Can you imagine me at high school graduation? Have mercy.

Just Checking In

I have really been M.I.A. lately. I'm still here. Popcorn has been sick and I have been trying to take care of her while making frequent trips to see doctors. Because she was born so early and was on a ventilator for so long, she has chronic lung disease. These factors make her more susceptible to illnesses such as the flu and the common cold. Well, she doesn't have the flu--thank God--but we're not sure if she has a cold, RSV, or a flare up of the lung disease. In any case, she is quite congested and has a truckload of medicines to take. I am grateful, however, that she doesn't seem to feel bad. She has been playing and kicking and "talking" up a storm.

So, I'll be back when I can get a longer moment to write. I wanted to comment on Kanye West's behavior and Patrick Swayze's death when they happened. I still might do so later.

Thanks for the time of my life

Oh my. Just watched the Patrick Swayze tribute on "Dancing with the Stars" and I'm so moved by so much beautiful artistry and creativity. They recreated the fabulous last seen from "Dirty Dancing" and--oh my. Sad and joyful and full of life, all at the same time. Boy, I wish I could dance.

Stay Outta Grown Folks' Business

I question myself as a mother. A lot. Did we pick the right pre-school? Is her outfit cute enough? Am I giving them enough spiritual guidance? Am I giving them too much ice cream? Right about now, though, I'm feeling pretty good about one particular parenting choice.


I almost named my son Kanye.


But I didn't.


Thank God.


We originally wanted a K name, and Kanye had a nice ethnic, original sound and meaning without being weird. Ultimately, we figured that it was just too dangerous to choose a rapper's name. I didn't want to explain for the rest of his life that, no, he was not named after West. After Kanye's ridiculous outburst at the VMAs, he can have that name all to himself.



For those who didn't watch because they don't care (like me), West appeared out of nowhere on stage when Taylor Swift was receiving her award for Best Female Video, snatched the microphone, and basically said that Beyonce should have won. Now I'm no big Beyonce fan either, but I'll give it to her; when she accepted another award later, she yielded her time to Swift so that she could have her moment. That was classy and compassionate. There was no reason for West to steal Swift's shine. Remember that line about opening your mouth and removing all doubt that you're a fool? Nobody asked for his opinion. He didn't need to defend Beyonce's honor. I assume that he didn't have anything specific against Taylor Swift. He's just a buttwipe and everybody seems to agree. Plus, I like that song.


It's a little disappointing to me that he's so unlikeable because his music is interesting. And, truthfully, I just wanted to like him because his mother was an English professor.


Alas, that dream is over. He's a buttwipe. Good luck with that.

First Time for Everything

There's a first time for everything, right? Today marked:

• the first time my daughter spontaneously told me she loves me. I nearly had a sobbing fit. She has said "I love you" to her father and her brother without prompting, but never to me. I spent Sunday and Monday near death and face down in the pillow with migraines, but she came to rub my back; today she kissed my forehead and asked me if I was okay now. I asked why she kissed me, and she said, "Because I love you." I'm crying right now . . . .
• the first time I had a student throw up in class. It was lovely. It was the last class of the day and I was a hand sanitizing fool all morning, directing coughing and suspiciously nasal looking students to sit on the other side of the room. I was inclined to comfort this regurgitating girl from across the room; instead I threw caution to the wind and rubbed her back and felt her head for fever. But I sent a student with her to the infirmary. After all, I'm not actually your mother.

Maybe both have something to with today as the first 09/09/09? Oh, wait--it's not the first, huh?