Alright, all the parents who read this blog know that there are questions coming or that have come that caught us off guard and haunt us to this day. Jet threw me a curve ball this weekend. We were at his soccer game. The wife of his soccer coach - who is pregnant - was at the game in a hip maternity shirt - it hit above the belly button (might as well painted a bullseye around her belly button) ... and she still looked fit & cute ... even bulging out 12+ inches.
So Jet takes one look and says:
"Mom, her tummy is really big"
I reply, "Yes Jet, she has a baby in her tummy. That's where babies grow."
Ok now I'm expecting a whole 'nother discussion about my tummy, Korea and adoption. But in typical Jet fashion ... another curve ball.
"Mom, look at the coach on the other team. His tummy is big but not as big as hers"
To which I reply, "You are right. He's a boy so there is no baby in that tummy". OK in my mind I wanted to reply, "That tummy is big alright Jet ... but it is big due to another thing that starts with a "B" like baby ... it's called "beer" ... and lots of it."
So our conversation pretty much ends up there until today ... we are driving home from a "Happy Meal Run" ... hey it's Batman Lego week at McDonalds ... the drive through lines have been hell all week ... we only need Robin and the Joker to complete our set. Jet looking out the window says to me:
"Mom, does that woman have a baby in her tummy too?"
I look in the rearview mirror.
I see a 65+ year old woman walking ... who ... by god ... looks darn good for her age.
So I say:
"You know what Jet, not all women with big tummy's have babies in them. It's hard to tell so NEVER NEVER EVER ask somebody (man or woman) if they have a baby in their tummy."
Alright ... here's the plan for the future ... lock the doors .... NEVER NEVER EVER let Jet see me in undergarments or less. The conversation I hope to be avoiding is "No Jet, mommy has no baby in her tummy. Mommy has a big tummy because she was trying to finish off your collection of McDonald Happy Meal Batman toys. Curse you Penguin!"
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Yeesh. When I worked and when I was single, I always wondered about the soccer mom. Why was their vote so important? What made them come to the polls in droves. Well now I know. Soccer moms are the most desperate mom/female type you will ever know. The mom that has little to no ADULT contact for 10 hours per day. The mom who's best friends become "Tom & Jerry", "Bob the Builder" or on a rogue moment "The heroes of the justice league". Do these women vote ... hell yes ... in their Sunday best ... it's a big day out. It's something more important to rally for .... beyond the dysfunctional soccer coach, the latest PTO midriff ban, the partially unwiped bum or the next famous Oprah author. It keeps it interesting for 6 months.
Well I have officially joined the soccer mom ranks. Jet and Charlie joined teams and are in their second week of playing ... OK - kind of - since this weekend was cancelled due to rain. Today was picture day. A feat with in itself. The soccer league had 100+ kids streaming through the high school per hour (4 hours straight) for team and individual shots. It was quite remarkable how they kept it organized & running. Chicago Government could take lessons from this group. Charlie was first up. "Mom, you are going to stay next to me" Charlie said in an anxious, clearly overwhelmed voice. "I'll try" I replied. His team (5 of the 7 showed) was called up for pictures. We come up to the first "yellow tape" ... yes yellow tape you see on a crime scene. "CAUTION CRIME" written over and over again. The rather "manly" looking lady said, "kid's only ... parents in the bleachers waiting". OK, Charlie is not grooving on this. So like a bank robber would say "Lady, I've got a loaded gun and I'm not afraid to use it" ... I say, "Lady, I've got a 4 year old on the verge of a meltdown ... if he goes beyond the yellow tape without me ... you will see a hurricane that will put Ike to shame. So step aside, let me through or be prepared to deal with a storm unlike has never been unleashed in this event before." Quippp ... the yellow tape is pulled back and I am allowed to proceed with the team. "wow" I think ... note to self ... save this card for waiting lines in the emergency room, doctor's office or boys room at the Wiggles concert. Well our pics are taken. It's official. I truly am a soccer mom!
Monday, September 1, 2008
This is summer's last song ... the last three day weekend that includes warm weather. We really took advantage too ...
no multi-tasking (well almost).
OK ... most of you who know that Chris and I are true urbanites ... hate to get the hands dirty, camping means a mattress on the floor of the kids' room, a great weekend is in the city on Michigan ave. Well Jet is our anomaly. He loves everything outdoors ... camping (real tents, real sleeping bags), hiking, exploring and FISHING.
I know, I mean where does the innate desire to fish come from??? Well it must come from somewhere because he's been twice and asks every week when he can go fishing again. Fortunately for us, Chicago Parks do offer some fishing opportunities and these opportunities landed us at a lake on Sunday. OK, maybe not a lake by Minnesota standards ... more like a glorified pond ... ok maybe just a pond, but it was exactly what the boys had in mind. We rented Kiddie fishing poles, bought 36 crawlers and were waived the Il fishing license since the fishermen were under age 7.
Jet is a natural with the rod and reel. He cast to mid-lake every single time. The woman with 5 poles, a pack of Salems and a cell phone wedged into her ear saw Jet cast and asked him to do hers! Charlie ... well our Charlie was not so much of a natural. Oh he found the lake ... yes feet first in ... not once but twice. His idea of fun was not sitting, waiting and catching a fish ... but throwing rocks, mulch, twigs and grass into the lake. "Charlie don't do that you are scaring the fish away" "Ok mom" ... two seconds later "SPLASH" ... it was either the pole, a rock or Charlie. Good news, depth was only six inches by the shore.
So to cap off a perfect morning (minus Charlie falling in), we headed to the Chicken Basket - off of Route 66. It must have been there since the route was thriving. Chris was thrilled to see a resteraunt that had a honey bottle on the table to go with the homemade biscuits (yum yum). It was homey. The fried chicken was not the "southern' variety. It was fried chicken that I grew up on ... you know ... the shake and bake variety. I enjoyed it but Chris was a bit disappointed, first in the chicken and second that the gravy was "brown" not southern style gravy. Oh well, you can't win them all! A good weekend all the way around.