Networking or Cereal Boxes?

I was on time--in fact, I was early this morning. Until I checked my voicemail. Turns out, today is the day we were supposed to take in empty cereal boxes for the kids' class because they were making a book using the box fronts, and my boys were the only ones without their boxes. Yep, there goes mommy/daddy of the year award yet again! Mark's message: "I told the boys that I'd call you and see about the cereal boxes...thought maybe you could bring some on your way to work."

Damn, in a split second, I'd gone from happy and early to crazed and late. Oh, well, my boys had to have their boxes--I couldn't have them think they were the only kids whose parents didn't care enough to send them in with their "homework" done!

So, here's where it gets funny, and where the mix between working professional and parent come together so nicely--you become an Action Jackson... I call Mark and we have a 2-second conversation about this oh-so-serious situation and immediately the two of us brainstorm about where to get the boxes..."we don't have any empties..." "I don't have time to go to the store...." Then, light bulb from Dad: "Just take the bags out of two boxes and bring 'em..." Problem solved.

So, rather than mosey my way to a networking coffee, I now bee-line it to the kids' school with an empty box of Cheerios and an empty box of some Date & Pecan cereal that makes us look like hippies. The best part? I run in the door to their classroom and they run to me with open arms--not for me, mind you--but for their cereal boxes. Their teachers crack up and have a moment... and I'm thrilled because I've now hopefully avoided one year of therapy for my kids when they get older and remember how their parents never remembered to bring the cereal boxes that meant so much to them, etc. etc. Woo-hoo! Big hugs and kisses and I run back out the door.

And for the next 6-8 quality minutes as I drive the speed of light to get to work, I had a good laugh thinking about how hilarious my life now is. And how I hope I have pants on and the same color shoes. And yet how I wouldn't have it any other way. What a day.

"My pee-pee hurts, mommy..."

So I have to admit, this whole "boy part" thing is new for me. Don't get me wrong, I get how it works...I just don't "get" how it works, if you know what I mean. Today, Rhys turns to me with his hand fully down his pants, clearly grabbing himself and says "Mommy, my pee-pee hurts." And what's my clever response? "That must mean you're growing, kiddo..." Nice dodge, eh? Especially since we all know that an erect pee-pee is the first sign of growth. Geez, are we sure I even grew up??

So much for me tackling the tough stuff head on... I totally wussed out, and I have no idea why. Maybe it's because I didn't want to have a sit down conversation with a 3 1/2 year-old about the fact that a lot of times guys have, as my male coworker says, BWARs...or something that rhymes with "Donors" Without A Reason. The first time he said that to me I just lost it laughing, but now I know what he's talking about!

For some odd reason I'm just avoiding the whole "Well, honey, see boys often times have little erections..." (Rhys: "What's that mommy?") Well, see it's when your pee-pee feels like it wants to stand up and cheer like as if it's at a football game...." You see where I'm going. It's not that I can't deal with it, it's that it just seems like something my husband should have to tackle instead of me, so I'm punting. In fact, I'm thinking we should just get it all overwith at once and give Rhys and Cole a box of condoms and the birds and bees talk now. Our kids are precocious, why not just get it all out in the open and avoid the awkward stuff later on???

Ok, maybe not, but I swore I wouldn't be one of those parents who found a million reasons to avoid the tough talks--one that tries to rationally explain why their door was mysteriously locked the night before and the TV was blaring CSpan or a Western all night. "Obviously, kids, it was because your dad and I were having an all-night dance party in our room and we fell asleep without turning the TV off." Right, obviously.

I just want something other than a burrito

I realized the other day that I eat an Amy's Organics Burrito topped with cottage cheese at least 3 nights (and some lunches) every week. I think it's a fair statement to say I like them. The reality is that I do like them, but it's more about convenience than anything. (And I really don't eat them as much as I inhale them by the way, often times burning the roof of my mouth.)

Why do eat so many burritos instead of the zillions of other options, you might ask?
1) I'm a rut person - if it works, I stick with it more often than not...these "work." Just ask me to tell you how long I ate PB&Js in school for lunch.

2) They're healthy and filling, and I'd rather eat a healthy burrito than walk around with a ziploc of carrots pretending I'm full.

3) I'm putting off the inevitable--that I need to start really cooking for my family...I'm told that
growing boys need fully fortified meals, not bits of cheese, half of a soy chicken patty, apple bites, etc.--go figure.

4) Did I mention I'm a rut person?

I'm sort of wondering if one day I'll wake up and suddenly loathe my good friend, the organic burrito, like I hated coffee during my pregnancy, and then have to find a NEW rut, or better yet, eat normal meals like normal people. Yikes...sounds like a daunting task.

The crazy thing is that I really like cooking--but only when I have time to play and have fun with it. I realized a couple of years ago, though, that I like cookbooks even more than I like cooking, which is probably why I have a mountain of them and still only eat burritos.

Give us a guitar and we're ALL rockstars--just look

Happy New Year! Talk about slacking on my posts, but I know you can all relate...the holidays took over and it was much more fun to experience the nuttiness than to write about it. All in all, it was a winner of a holiday--the kids really got into the Christmas season counting down days using the good ol' fashioned paper chain links, advent calendars, and the newest fad--sprinkling reindeer "food" (sugar, oats, etc.) all over our lawn (basically, it was a coming out party for ants, but hey, they loved it). I even painted one big toe on each of the boy's feet with candy cane stripes to match my holiday cheer pedicure. Yes, we got into the season.

By far, though, the scene that I'll never forget involves a guitar...in fact, it involves 4 guitars and 1 trumpet. I recall my father telling me as a kid that if I wanted a set of drums, he'd be fine with it...as long as I played them at someone elses house. That's love, eh? Same went for any loud, noisy instrument (must have been why I made the oboe my instrument of choice in middle school...ever heard of a quiet duck?? he he). Ixnay on any instrument above the sound of a flute-type noisemaker.

So, you can imagine my reaction when I heard Cole screeching away on one of those Little Tikes guitars at my brother/sister-in-law's house during the holiday. My first thought (insert robot voice): "Loud instrument noises inside house...BAD...must stop." But then I turn to see him looking like a little Eddie Van Halen--knee bent, plastic guitar resting on it, eyes closed and swinging his body back and forth rockin' out to the computerized Muzak, and I just cracked up. So much for nixing loud noises in the house, I'd totally gone over to the dark side.

Jump ahead a few hours to opening presents time and the fun really begins. Now, the rest of the kids (4 others all under 7 years old) join the guitar party--Cole still hasn't given up his new-found fave toy--under the tree. Well, low and behold, Rhys and Cole get the same guitar and a set of (oh, no!) drums! from their aunt and uncle--"woo-hoo!" they scream!--but wait, it gets better... Mark gets the full-size Guitar Hero guitar for the Wii, too. So, suddenly, our cool little Eddie Van Halen is now joined by 3 of his buds in stereophonic sound and oh-so-out of tune, and I find myself now understanding where my dad was coming from.

The piece de resistance? Meaghen, the oldest of the kids, walks out of her bedroom with a REAL trumpet--and no, she can't play, but man can she wail! It was hilarious...we went from 0 to deafening sound in 5 seconds flat...picture the worst possible school band concert you could ever attend but then picture each "musician" giving it everything they've got. Little Abby, who's not even 3 yet, suddenly turned into this Robert Palmer girl with the pouty lips and slow hip swaying moves. Yes, this is what the holidays are all about, my friends. Especially when you see the biggest kid of all--my hubby--leading the pack. Take a peek for yourself. Here's to a rockin' 2009! (Oh, and Rhys took a breather, by the way--every true musician needs a break--which is why he's not pictured.)