Mom, Are You Broken?

We live in a naked house.  Not in a creepy way but we are pretty open about our bodies and the general idea of nudity.  We don’t want to make Alister feel weird about his body or feel weird about seeing other people naked.  (this is me, attempting to not completely screw him up because I’d rather him pay for us to have a nice old folks home rather than years of therapy to undo whatever damage I might do in the coming years).

I only grew up seeing girls naked because I didn’t have brothers.  I did not grow up in a naked house.  Alister has seen me naked practically everyday of his life.  He only started wanting to bathe on his own in the last year.

One day, I was getting out of the shower and he looked at me and asked, “mom, are you broken?”  I was a bit confused at first and then I noticed WHAT he was looking at.  Ah, he noticed that mommy does not have a penis.

I tried to explain that mommies don’t have penises (at the time, we called them “weiners”, not because we feel weird about calling our body parts by their proper names but because some words just sound funny.  Weiner is one of them.

We spent some time that morning with him telling Aaron and me that mommy doesn’t have a weiner but we still went for about a month of him asking me if I was broken.

He recently started learning the proper names for our “bits” as he was calling them.  Anatomy according to Alister is that, “boys have bits or weiners, called penises.”  and that “girls have bits or baginas.”  Yes, mom has a bagina now.  It’s starting to get a little weird to have conversations with him about who has “baginas” and who doesn’t.  I mean really, who wants to think about Grandma’s bagina?  Not me.

Having a little boy is weird.

Shaving with Dad

Alister, getting ready for work in the morning with Dad. (don’t worry, we took the blade out of the razor).

Grown Up Party (or How I Ended Up In the Men’s Room 10 Times In One Night)

Last Friday I received a text message from my husband that he was picking Alister and me up to go to a party at his new office that he shares with another company.  They had some sort of potluck thing going on that was after hours.  There were going to be kids Alister’s age there and food so it seemed like it wasn’t the WORST way to spend a Friday night.  I was still a bit skeptical though.  Usually office parties where children are welcome are kind of a drag.  There are too many vegetable trays usually and I get bored really fast.  I often end up hanging out with the kids because the adults are so dull that I want to shove a knife in my eye after what feels like an eternity of mindless chit chat.  I start daydreaming of the time I can spend more productively (with a video game or possibly a coloring book).  However I was pleasantly surprised when I walked in and was instantly handed a beer.  (Not a veggie tray).  Alister was given kiddie crack in the form of a juice box so we were both ready to party.

Aaron ended up being a participant in a board game.  I was asked beforehand if I minded staying awhile so he could do this.  Of course I was apprehensive because if I said yes, that meant I was committed and my couch time would be further away.  Finally I said screw it.  My couch is the world’s most uncomfortable couch on the planet anyway so what the hell?

I found myself clinging to a gal I met at a BBQ a few weekends before because she was fun.  When someone comes up to me and starts talking about how they have dreams of going to Burning Man, I’m instantly their friend.  She is also a stay at home mom and a desperate housewife so we had lots of common ground; mostly that our children make it so we want to hide in the bathroom a few times a day.  So we did what any self-respecting wife/moms would do when allowed out of the house…. we took advantage of the unlimited access to all the beer we wanted.  We made sure to ignore our kids properly and used the generous stock of juice boxes as pacifiers.  They seemed to be playing together nicely so it all seemed ok.  I was at a grown-up party for a change and it was AWESOME…..

Then my kid decided to be… well, my kid.  Like any good party beverages, the juice boxes started to catch up with him.  Everything started to happen at once.  Aaron was still playing his game and as a dedicated wife, I didn’t feel right making him take Alister to the bathroom when it was easy for me to.  But then it wasn’t.  It probably would have been fine had the ladies’ room key been accessible right then but it wasn’t handy so I did the next best thing; I took him into the men’s room (which required no key).  The problem with the men’s room is urinal.  Alister is so fascinated by the urinal that we could have hung out there for hours and that would be a fun party to him.  I managed to get him out of there but not for long.  By this time he was asking for juice boxes so that he’d HAVE TO GO TO THE MEN’S ROOM.  I was becoming so familiar with the layout that I was already having ideas of how they should decorate.

As the fluid intake became a problem, so did the sugar.  Who knew that uncut juice would cause such a problem?  I mean, I did but I was busy getting drunk so it didn’t factor into my decision-making that evening.  We were all looking after each other’s children to make sure nobody got hurt but who was looking after their sugar intake?  Certainly not the drunk people.  We had our own consumption issues.  Things became even more interesting when I had my back turned to the fridge and someone said, “hey, whose kid is that with his mouth on the water/ice maker?”

Aww, crap.

I looked behind me and, yes, that was MY kid, hugging the fridge, with his mouth on the dispenser.  Somehow I knew it’d be him.  None of the other children there were nearly as take-charge as Alister when it comes to… um, anything.  If there is ever a child who would have his face stuck to the fridge and run to the urinals all night just for the novelty, it’s my Alister.  Once he discovered the giant row of switches that controlled all the lights in the office, the party was over.  The harsh flourescent office lighting took away from the ambience… fun’s over.

Looking back, that was a good time for Alister to let everyone know it was time to go home.  One of the employees commented that the place was a mess and Aaron replied that it actually looked like our house (wall to wall toys, not beer bottles).  The other children were no longer adorable and were turning into demons.

The next day, Aaron had to go in and drop something off.  He said that things must have gotten pretty crazy once all the kids left because there was an empty bottle of Fireball and some shot glasses on one of the tables.

I’m guessing those people needed to get drunk after hanging out with so many children that night…. I completely understand.

This Is All Your Fault!

We went to Portland, OR one weekend for Valentine’s Day.  We weren’t even in an actual relationship at the time.  In fact, we’d been on a break for about a year and a half.  This was what we refer to as “the in-between time”.  We didn’t even live in the same country.  He is from Vancouver, Canada and I am from Seattle, WA.  I came to live in Vancouver with him for a short time (in the before time) and when things didn’t work out, I went home.  So as any smart and self-respecting people would do, we saw each other from time to time on weekends.  I always promised myself it was the end and I’d never see him again.  I even had a serious boyfriend for a few months.  Then I spent The Saddest Christmas Ever with this drag of a guy who gave me a folded up $50 bill and told me to go pay a bill (as my gift).  I had been laid off a couple of weeks before so I guess this was, in his mind, a loving a practical gesture.  I felt terrible.  My boyfriend was clearly a jackass, I had no job and my family had moved away to another city and I was very lonely.  When my in-between love, Aaron asked me a few days later how my Christmas was, I cried.  The next day, he showed up at my house with presents and took me to lunch.  I came back up to Vancouver for a few days and completely forgot about the douchebag I was dating back home.  When we went out a few days later, there was the stupidest argument ever, which sealed the deal.  I was out of there.  The next few weekends were spent with Aaron.  He would come down and life was fun again.  So of course when Valentine’s day in 2009 fell on a weekend, we opted to drive to Portland and had an amazing weekend of fun and adventure, not to mention drinking and lots of sex.  Funny… when you have lots of sex, you open yourself up to a lot of things.  Pregnancy for example.

A few weeks went by and there was no period.  You know, same old story.  I peed on a stick and nothing happened so I thought we were ok.  A couple of weeks later, I was at work and stepped out for a morning coffee/cigarette break and found myself wanting to vomit.  I couldn’t consume caffeine or nicotine properly so something was obviously up.  I mentioned this to a few of my coworkers who happened to be friends by this time and they all said the same thing.

“Go home at lunch and take a pregnancy test.”

That’s about the dumbest advice ever so of course, I took it.  I like to cause myself as much stress and chaos as possible or I don’t really feel as though I’m living life to the fullest.  So, I did as I was told.  And guess what?  There they were… 2 pink lines.  The 2 pink lines that distracted me from doing my work for the entire rest of the day.  I refused to believe this was happening.  I was taking birth control pills and Aaron and I only saw each other on the weekends.  This was a fluke.  I needed a second opinion.  So I bought 2 more tests and went to Planned Parenthood for one of their tests.  A total of 4 positive pregnancy tests.  The shock and disbelief turned into blame.  This was clearly HIS fault.  So while my egg was being all sparkly and neat and tidy, his high-powered rocket sperm just waltzed right in like it owned the place.

And THAT’S where Alister came from.  And it is Aaron’s fault.Image