Do-As-I-Say Parenting

We went out for a family dinner last night. A little reward for the kids taking one for the team for the past couple of weeks: they had to be shipped off early to before-school daycare to accommodate a little blip in our logistics. We negotiated that in early. Plus some books to read in the hour before school for Norah. They drive a hard bargain.

So the conversation turned to swearing. What? We managed to use the fact that we were out at the "Fanciest Restaurant in Town" (the children use the fanciness of restaurant bathrooms as their gauge and this one is off the charts. Food's ok too) to steer us away from the usual burping & farting conversation.

Max: "so what swearing have you heard Mom & Dad say?" Nothing like asking a loaded question.

Norah: "Well, when driving, Mom has said 'bloody hell!'"

Me: "'Bloody'? That's not even a swear!" [phew]

Norah: "and also 'son of a *bleep*'" (she self-sensors, even when singing along to songs on the radio that have the "soft-swears" in them)

Me: "Well, ok. That's probably not the best"

Max and I exchanged some knowing glances indicating disbelief that this would be the worst that they've heard from us. Really, we try hard - Max tries harder than me - but quite regularly the *real* baddies slip out in whisper and somewhat-less-than-whisper form.

So today, Norah & Pepper were folding our hand towels on the couch (it's one of their jobs. Don't go thinking they just cheerily attack this job or anything). Norah mentioned something sticky on the couch and went to get a wet cloth to deal with it (ok, THAT I'm pretty pleased with).

Norah: "Goddammit! It won't come out"

Me: "WHAT WAS THAT?"

"The sticky stuff. It won't come out"

"No, I mean what did you SAY?"

"I'm trying to wipe it, but it won't come out!"

"[sigh] what. did. you. say. before. that?"

silence and wiping.

"Goddammit, it's still not coming out"

"THERE! Do not say that!"

[nonplussed]"ok, how about 'oh my god'?"

"how about 'oh my gosh'?"

"Whatever. I got most of it out anyway."

It's a work in progress.

Breaking the "F" barrier

I dropped an F-bomb in an email today at work.

I've definitely cursed there before, but despite being in the construction industry, and despite that I work with what I'm pretty sure can at times be a bunch of drunken sailors (metaphorically speaking of course. Only one, who retired recently, actually sails and though I've seen him pretty drunk... but as usual, I digress) swearing is unstatedly verboten. I always get a little I-can't-believe-you-just-said-that quickie glance when it pops out verbally.

So today after screwing up a meeting notice for the third time (and after a pile of crap-on-crap - some work, some Pepper losing her backpack and running crying to the Principal's office because she had no lunch, and a new office staff-type person who hadn't been jaded by dozens of stupid kids losing their backpacks & still gives a crap about the kids [sniff! new favourite at the office!] calling me because she couldn't get a hold of Max because he does try to have a life AND THEN me scrambling to try & track down something for Pepper to eat for lunch, but as usual, I digress...) I replied: "Fuck!" when my dear coworker replied to my meeting notice saying "we're meeting on Mothers' Day?"

He called: "Wow! Stressed much?"

"No," I said "that's how I relieve stress. We're good!"

So the fact that Max won't let me curse in front of the kids starts to explain why my kids do such a number on me...

Pizza Car

I tucked Pepper & Stewie into bed this evening. The lights were out, as I had instructed them to just run from my room & jump into bed. As I was kissing Pepper goodnight and having our goodnight chat, Stewie found not one but two HotWheels cars amongst his blankets. Being dark, he wanted the lights on so he could find out what colours they were. I said no, it was bed time. Surprise, surprise, no meltdown!

So I sat down on his bed for his turn to chat.

He said: "This is a pizza car"

Me: "Really? Is it because it delivers the pizza" [I'm ALL over what the cool kids are into these days]

S: --- [blank stare - It is dark, but I can tell]

Me: "Is it because it is pizza coloured?"

S: "What the fuck, mom? Have you really become so nailed down in your button-down little grown-up world that you can't stretch your mind beyond 'pizza delivery' and 'pizza-coloured'? I mean what the HELL is pizza coloured, anyway?"

Me: "Well I uh, was thinking maybe, uh multi-um-coloured or ... something ..."

S: "oooo... busted your creativity cortex on that one, didn't you? Seriously, are you so tightly crammed into the world of Geotechnical Reports, Briefing Notes, Administrative Directives, and Filling the Fucking Gas Tank that you can't crawl out at take a sniff of fresh air?"

Me: "Hmm... yes, well, um. So, why DO you call it a pizza car?"

S: "Betause it eats pizza! Can I have my cowd bwanket now?"

Me: "Sure sweetie, here you go. Goodnight! I love you!"

S: "Doodnight Mommy. I wuv you too!"

Filthy Furniture

Whilst our basement is being finished, we've had to contend with extra crap orbiting around us in the living zone, as opposed to the dead zone of a basement storage area. You should know that this temporary project was started when I was pregnant with Stewie [he turns four in June. There are still drainage trenches in the floor of our basement].

We had a collective melt-down a few weeks ago and have decided to tackle some of the worst areas & the entrance was this week's project.

Here is before & after for the hats/gloves/bike helmets' hole:

(Pepper has already decorated her own basket).

It's your basic pressboard-assemble-yourself-hope-it-lasts-a-year crap from Rona. It looks OK, but, whatever. It controls the flow of crap. Hopefully.

Most importantly, it afforded Max & myself the opportunity to have a perfectly innocent conversation in the dining room, with the charmingly innocent children surrounding us.

Me: I need some help with the screwing.

Max: I can help you with screwing.

Me: OK, that's good. I just needed it started.

Max: That's fine. I'll just watch you finish.

Me: You like to watch?

Max: Yes. I like to help you start and then watch you finish.

Me: You realize I've been in here screwing without your help for the last half hour?

Despite it being a cheap piece of crap, I think it's suddenly become my favourite piece of furniture.