Homage to Stay-At-Home Moms

This is my love letter to stay-at-home moms.  I know people have done studies about how many full time jobs and what the salary equivalent would be for stay-at-home moms if they were paid; and I can  honestly concur from my own personal experience, it has to be the hardest job I've ever had.  I have the priviledge for two and half months every summer to be a stay-at-home mom with my kids, and let me tell you...I think I'll keep my day job. 
Just trying to take a shower on a daily basis is a challenge.  If I turn my attention for more than a minute, my kids are in to something they shouldn't be...not because they are naughty kids, but because they are interested and curious.  The other day, I finally got a shower at 3 in the afternoon.  When I got out, my two-year old had found scissors in my computer bag for work and cut my earbuds to my iPod in pieces.  Later he found a black permanent marker, and drew all over his face and the dining room furniture.  He's no Picaso.
I've also been trying to potty train my son this summer (which I'll write about later).  I made the mistake of trying to multitask potty training with sorting through the gazillion toys they've acquired in their short lifetimes.  I was pulling out the baby toys they haven't played with in over two year for a garage sale or charity.  Of course, these were the only toys they wanted to play with, and within 15 minutes, Dylan had wet through three pairs of Thomas the Train underwear and no successful attempts in the potty.
We try to go outside and play to run off energy.  The thing is, I don't have that much energy and would prefer to sit and watch them play and maybe get a little bit of tan in the meantime.  This also is not an option because Natalie is turning on the water hose to fill up her wading pool or drown out the bugs on the patio, Dylan is pushing his bubble mower into the street, or they are trying to coax a stray cat to come across the invisible fence line so our dog can chase it up a tree.  They also take their inside toys outside, which would be okay if we didn't have a dog that chews EVERYTHING.  I guess its just the circle of life: the dog ruins the kids' toys, they destroy my house, and the circle of life continues.  I should have waited to write this during naptime because as I'm typing, Dylan hands me his sister's Barbie boot with chewed gum pushed inside.
Being a stay-at-home mom is a constant on-the-clock job.  There are no 15 minute breaks or leisurely lunches.  I'm always thinking about how what I do and how I interact with them will influence the way that they see the world.  I'm trying to balance free play with more structured play.  We try to mix it up by doing crafts, and I am not creative or crafty.  The other day I bought some googly eyes, pipe cleaners, and construction paper and felt like there must be something crafty we can make out of these.  We like to take day trips to the zoo, the science center, or just run errands to get out of the house.  Last week our special trip was to Casey's General Store for some donuts with sprinkles. 
All of the chaotic moments are balanced by the times when Natalie says, "Guess what, Mom?  I love you."  or Dylan comes up to me with his toy phone pretending to talk to Grandma, or hands me a book so we can snuggle and read.
I just don't know how stay-at-home moms do it all year long...dealing with the pee on the carpet, the spilled milk, and the applesauce dried on the kitchen chairs day in and day out.  Not only that, but the stay-at-home moms I know make it look so easy.  I get the job done, but its not graceful or pretty.  I'm thankful that I have the ability to spend this time with my children.  Research shows that the first five years of a child's life are the most important, and I'm glad I get to have my influence on them during this time.  I'm also thankful that just when I get tired of eating fish sticks and hot dogs,  I can go back to work and look forward to doing it all over again in 192 days.

Beyond the Birds and the Bees

We've seen it played out on many sit coms where TV parents are faced with needing to give "THE TALK" to their preteen.  However, from my own personal experience, I don't believe there is just one TALK, but several little talks along the way to teaching your children about their bodies and human sexuality.  My daughter is only four and here are some of the conversations we have already had.  Fortunately for me, my husband immediately leaves the room whenever the topic comes up and leaves it up to me to be thoughtful, honest, and poised.
I guess the "talks" started when Natalie was probably two and a half.  Dylan could sit up independently in the bathtub.  That's when Natalie asked me why Dylan has a tail and she doesn't, which led to our first conversation about one of the differences between boys and girls.  We, okay I, use the anatomically correct words for body parts, and my husband is starting to come along since he's realizing that he sounds silly calling it a wee wee when everyone else in the house (4 year old, 2 year old, and me) is using the word penis.  Once we learned about the names of our body parts, we had to talk about that they are private and that no one should touch their private parts and if anyone does to tell mom and dad right away.  As a result, one day in the kitchen, my loving husband grabbed my butt while I was cooking dinner and Natalie yells out, "Dad, don't touch Mom's privates!"  That's all I need for her to be telling her daycare providers. 
Keep reading it gets worse/better...you decide.  So, as my daughter gets a little older (she's going to kill me for writing this someday) she starts exploring her body parts.  As a social worker, I have seen/heard about a great deal of sexual deviant behavior, so maybe I'm overly cautious about wanting to create sexually healthy human beings.  My husband and I told Natalie that if she wants to touch her own privates, she needs to do that in her bedroom...this, too, has come back to haunt me.  A few months ago, I was changing Dylan's diaper and Natalie says to me, "Those are Dylan's privates and no one can touch them except mom and dad and grandma and daycare when they are changing his diaper, right Mom?"  'Yep, that's right.'  She continues, "But Dylan can touch his own privates in his bedroom, right Mom?"  'Yes, if he wants to touch his own privates, he has to do that in his bed room.'  Here it comes, "Mom, do you touch your privates in your bedroom?"  Her question put me in panic mode.  I had 3 seconds to come up with the most appropriate response.  If I said "no", she may feel shame about her body or believe that she is doing something wrong by exploring her body, if I said "yes", she's going to tell every stranger in the grocery store that "my mommy touches her privates in her bedroom," so I responded with, "Natalie, we don't talk about what we do in our bedroom with other people."  That seemed to satisfy her and the conversation ended.
I'm curious to know if those of you reading this have children that are just as interested in their bodies as my daughter and how you've handled it.  At least once a month Natalie lays a big one on me.  Like the time we were sitting in church listening to the sermon, and out of no where she asked me why I had boobs.  The whole pew chuckled under their breath and awaited my reply, "To feed my babies."  I whispered.  Then just today, which is the reason I decided I should write this blog, I was at the mall with my two kids.  Dylan holding my hand and Natalie holding his.  I looked like mama duck and her two little sweet ducklings as we walked passed a woman's clothing store.  There were manequins in the window wearing strapless dresses.  Natalie commented about how beautiful each of the dresses were.  Then out of left field, "Mom, I wish I had boobs like you."  'You will when you get bigger.' "Will they just pop out?" I laughed, 'yes.' "Will you laugh at me when they pop out?" I responded more seriously, 'no, I won't laugh at you.' "When I get big, I'll have boobs, and I can wear necklaces and get my ears pierced and wear earrings..."  Oh how I love this child, but she certainly keeps me on my toes.  I'm not sure what I'm going to do when Dylan is old enough to start asking me questions.  Since, we've attempted to start potty training, he's already in love with his penis.  I guess Penis Pride starts young and carries all the way to adulthood...something I didn't know about boys.  He also sang, "my penis, my penis" as loudly as he could in a restaurant a few weeks ago.  I guess singing about his elbow wouldn't have gotten the same response from his audience.   I'm hoping that as we continue to have these "little" talks, it will get easier for me and by that time, my children will be the ones embarrassed.