Cursing, references to sexual orientation, and theft. -a day at the playground

     Ok, maybe I'm dramatic, ( hey! stop laughing, Mom) but I cannot believe what went on at the monkeybars. Or is it that I'm so uptight now, I've become an overly sensitive? (Mom! breathe! It's not that funny) No! It was unbelievable.

   "But, Kristen," you say "Don't you live in a... um... kinda..um, rough spot?" And I say to you, "Don't make me cut you!" No, I live in Frankford (a section of sunny tropical Philadelphia), it's true. Where we are famous for... shooting pizza delivery guys in the face, Frankford High School knife fights, and the very interesting people who dwell under the El (elevated train). But I live in a pretty little bubble called Northwood within Frankford. I've NEVER had a issue with a neighbor. My son lives next to Haitian, Hispanic, and Irish, Jew and Muslim and Baptist. There are doctors and police and even a former professional boxer on my block. He will learn that "love thy neighbor" doesn't mean just the ones that look like you. And besides, this playground was in a "nicer" area, anyway.

    It was 5 pm when we arrived. Kids get my son excited. He hangs out with me all day or plays with just one or two. So, when he sees children en masse, a mob mentality possesses his brain and he begins screaming at them "Hey Friends! Play with me. I'm Henry!" It's all very cute. I was pushing him on the death trap, (a triangular tower made of rope that is attached at the base to a merry go round, so not only can you climb 12 feet in the air, you can be spinning while reaching the summit) when I heard a few kids wrestling in the middle of the rubber ground. They were no older than 8 or 9 and their language was like a episode of HBO's Boardwalk Empire,only more raunchy.

   I turned to find my son, to move him away from the onslaught of filth, when I found him next to the cartoon like ball of arms and legs rolling on the ground. The look on his face removed all doubt that we are born with inherent evil in our soul. Remember the Grinch when he decided to rob the Whos' christmas? Yeah like that.  He saw this chaos and knew it was something wrong and he was enchanted.

           Then he began cheering them on. "You're gonna eat lightnin' and you're gonna crap thunder!" was the equivalant to what he was shouting in his psycho toddler babble. Just then, as I was about to be "that mom" who tells these kids to watch the potty talk. My hero, a policeman or fireman (he had the hair and wore a shirt with his district or something, like they do.) was there with his little girls and began giving these kids what for.  My son removed his gaze from the now sheepish boys, to the man who broke up the fight. Hmmm, Authority! Way more appealing then garden variety naughtiness! But a kid offered to play soccer with my son and he was distracted from his lust for power.

         Just then a group of 12 year old GIRLS began to chase the young kids calling them, well, it rhymes with Zagat.  A mother started screaming like a certified maniac at her son for interrupting her cell phone call. A couple, who must have been seperated, doing a drop off/ pick up with their kids began making a scene. As I was about to grab my angel from all this anarchy. It happened. My son stole a toy from a child and ran for the Mexico border.

        A flimsy, poison-lead based paint, made in China, MickyD's pink plastic nothing caught my son's eye and he had to have it. He took it from the 10 year old skinny cutie girl and her Hippie-patchouli-soaked hemp pants pacifist father try to encourage the girl to share with the thief. "Come on, Serenity-Echo, let the little boy enjoy the toy, too." (I didn't hear her name but I don't think it would be far off) Before I could say I'm sorry and ask what a hippie is doing with a McDonald's toy, Henry has climbed to the top of the death trap tower with the toy, much like King Kong.  "Am I at a playground in hell?", I think as I pry him off the tower after making so much noise it makes the ugly-divorce couple look at me in judgement. I give the toy back to Chakra-Clover, make Henry say he's sorry and run with my son for our lives.

    I guess my point is, when you are home with your kid, people have a hard time believeing you are so busy all day. "You just went to the park, today? That's it? Wow, must be rough!" You got no idea, bub! I was fighting the minions of Satan, protecting my child from spinning Mt Everest, and shaping his character by thwarting a life of stick-ups and mugging. What did you do today?

WARNING: MARRIAGE MAY RESULT IN SWEATPANTS AND HIGH FIVES

        I admit it. I have a brain full of worms. My husband tells me that when I get worked up about something small like the dishwasher leaking or China poisoning my child's applejuice, worms in my brain start to wiggle. These worms make my voice get high and squeaky and I can't focus on the smallest task and then the worms hit the "DELUGE" button on my tear ducts. I will not ever tell him he was right, but when my impression of Fran Drescher starts to get spot-on and I begin to butter the dog and pet the toast, I think, crap, there is worms in my brain. Do you have someone who knows you so well that it feels almost intrusive?

      Dating is so fake. Blah.  You'll say anything to seem agreeable if you like the person. "Oooo you like balsamic vinaigrette? Me too!!" "You love big-game taxidermy? Me too!! I would love to see your basement workshop!! Is that a Buffalo head? It's stunning!"

     Being with someone that is as real and honest as Eric was quite jarring at first. True event: we were dating for like a week. We were all snugglely, watching something that I said, in true dating fashsion, "Ooo dying to see this too!" When Eric turned to me all rugged and handsome "Kris, you got a bat in the cave." I screamed and ran to get a tissue, completely mortified. But he was fine, no recoiling in disgust. I thought "hmmm, this man knows people are flawed and weird and may have worms in the brain. Wow."

  Married people are boring, for the most part. I get it. I have sweatpant dates on the couch and high five "goodnights" and arguements about face stubble in the sink and "honey, does this mole look weird?" But I have someone who can forgive the fact that I'm not Megan Fox, Betty Crocker, Rosie the robot maid from the Jetsons all in one. I get to be just the way I am, which is a pretty exciting to me. Beats being on a date and  pretending to like Nascar, or firearms, or the band "Kiss", or medievel King Arthur lore. (all of which I've done. yep. for real.) Enjoy their flaws today. It confirms what you have together is real.

Toys

Sweet Dreams, peanut.

           Toys.  Boys toys did not confuse me. I grew up on a block where I was the only girl among a dozen boys. I was the Wonder Woman to their Superman, the G.I. Jane to their Joe, the effeminate Orko to their He-Man.

What does confuse me is how toy-riddled my life is as a parent. Dear sweet single people : look around the room at your place. Is it messy? Sure it is! Last night's party clothes are in a ball on the floor, caviar and champagne are still chilled in the melting ice sculpture on the grand piano. Ticket stubs from last night's performance of something too cool for old married people lay about the room like confetti all over your original Andy Warhol painting of Liz Taylor. (I'm not bitter, your uppance shall come) I know you think your friend's house who has kids is a mess all the time.  I know. I was there. I felt the same way. But after you clean up your mess, it will stay there. I want you to think of a mess that regenerates itself everyday that you had nothing to do with.

               Toys. Now, you with the chubby lovely baby, I know what you are thinking too. "I only want toys that educate my baby, that fosters imagination and encourages early milestones. My baby will be a genius, not some drooling, nose picking doof who needs lots of bells and whistles on their toys!"  I know because I was there. I felt the same way. But mark my words, you will be in a toy aisle some day saying something akin to "Honey, Look!  This one has so many bells and whistles! Your baby's name here will love this!! Baby's name!, get your finger out of your nose and and look at this!" At that moment, an apparition of my image will appear above your heads, cackling with victory.



an actual Russian roulette-type toy from the Far East



         Toys.  You play with them yourself. Your husband will buy age inappropriate action figures to construct an all out battle of good and evil in your dinning room. And you will use them to bribe. If I told you what I promise my son Henry to just make poopy in the potty, you might have me committed.

 If that kid did poop in that moment of bribe and begging it would be like the end challenge of Supermarket sweep where the people run around the store piling groceries in the cart for the biggest total. Yeah, like that, but with dragons and Spiderman merchandise.

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         The truth is kids love to A-bomb a room with goofy toys. You may not get it. It might never be how you pictured your life, but it makes for great giggles. Lighten up, Toys are for PLAY. You never get this time back, they grow up soon enough. My good friend's teenage daughter got a toy in the shape of a Honda, don't think for a minute my friend wouldn't want to go back to silly Barbies all over her floor.

Mother in-law

                Have you ever met anyone who, without hesitation, would give you their last drop of blood in their body? Have you ever met someone who you could tell, yep, this person could most likely kill me and no one would ever know? Have you ever met anyone who surprises you with heartfelt generosity, daily? I've never met anyone like Sue before and I'm so blessed I did.

              Picture this:You have just been through a very scary delivery of your first child.  You are trying for the first time to breastfeed. You think "I didn't think this would be kinda difficult". In comes you mother-in-law, but you can't see her small frame behind the Mt. Rushmore pile of gifts. She chucks the gifts at her son without ever making eye contact with her first born. She is honed in on the baby completely missing your exposed breast. She says so soft and so sweetly, "Thank you, thank you for this baby."  She is looking at you, and you know that this women was made to be a Mom-mom. But before you can share in this sweeping Hallmark moment, you now releize that she has her one hand on the baby's head and the other hand on... second base and she is smooshing them together. "There." she says. Boom, a breasting feeding child.
      
         Alot of you would never have this happen to you, or if it did you would be mortified or freaked, but not me. You see my mother-in-law loves in way that is all her own. She sees a moment of need, and she does whatever to help. I'm grateful for someone who can fix anything or do anything with  the know-how of a tribal sage. We had ants in the mud room, Eric sprayed like fifty times. Sue was babysitting, I came home from work and she said "Saw you had ants so I sprinkled bay leaves in the door way." Boom, an ant free house.

        Sue fun facts: She was in the army. She is one of eight. She could kick your ass. She makes amazing cheesecake. She takes everything she has two of  to a homeless couple. She will  bring my son a prize everytime she comes to my house. She is a retired nurse and if she worked at Children's hospital she would adopt 20 crack babies. She will kick your ass if you hurt her family. Eric and I were joking around about me taking the boy to Hollywood to be a star. (it irks him) He told me if I tried to runaway with the boy that Sue would plant herion on me and take custody of the boy and I would be in an orange jumpsuit for 10 to 20. I completely belive him. Don't cross Mom-mom and her babies.

         . If she is with her grandkids she is on the floor playing dinosaurs verses racecar crash rally to the point I think she might need traction. She slept on my couch during hurricane Irene so my son was cared for while Eric and I were stuck at work. She brought 3 lanterns, a dozen candles, lighters, matches and enough food that Anna Nicole, when she was fat, couldn't finish (ooooh, too soon?)   I love this woman and you know what, she loves me too. I am not a disappointment even though I may feel like it. She is made of iron with a sweet Cadbury egg center. I have as much strength as the yucky pudding skin that developes in fridge. She never makes me feel Eric could have done better. She is encouraging and honest. She breaks through every evil mother in-law sterotype. Thank you, Sue for everything. You are magic. Boom, an appreciative daughter in-law.

   

Perspective and a urine stain

              I was not planning to write a post today. I just got off a 12 hour shift at the hospital and I have just as many penetrating and enlightening thoughts as a stale marshmallow Peep. But I can't help but want to share. Today, I saw some very sad things. You see, I want you to picture your work. Do you work in an office, store or school? Maybe you don't work because you are rich, then stop reading this, and buy me a couch. Ok, for the rest of you back to the office, now picture eating lunch in your cubicle. Now picture someone in your cubicle wailing for their family. Not quiet tears, but when Sally Field had to bury Julia Roberts in Steel Magnolias. Feel like eating that Lo Mein, now?

           My point is not to get you to feel bad about what I do or  for you to think, "yum. Lo Mein sounds scrumptious." My point is today, somewhere, someone is having the worst day of their life, right now. What would that be for you?
      
           I will go back to writing about the madcap antics of my angel and how his newest phase is stripping naked and peeing through the slats of his crib on to the berber carpet during naptime. But today, I was so thankful that my boy was well enough to do that, I had to keep calling home just to hear his voice. So whatever it was that made you crazy today, just think, "This wasn't the worst day. I know what the worst day would be." Now excuse me whilst I joyfully scrub toddler piss out of the rug.

Boys

     Last night I was bouncing some ideas off my bedroom ceiling for today's entry. But EVERYTHING went out the window due to my son's apparent speed overdose today. Time-out offenses included : wacking me on the head with a baseball glove, hurling one of the sofa legs at my throat and speed pitching wiffle balls at Daddy's nether region.
       This picture above is NOT my son. It is how every boy reacts to any boundary. They will do bodily harm to test them. Mothers of girls may look down their noses at the glaring difference. "My girls would never act that way", they may think as they watch my son lick the glass at the zoo's polar bear enclosure. (I promise you, nothing is made up here.) And the truth is, no, your girls wouldn't act that way. Don't get me wrong, girls can have outrageous behavior, but boys live every moment trying to imitate a kamikaze pilot. So is a leash the answer? Nooooooooooo! Run them. Run them like champion greyhounds.  What was the cure for this morning's declaration of war on my sanity? Outside, we would walk, I'd let go of his hand and said "Show me how fast Spiderman can run to that trashcan!" He'd tear off like he was on fire and the trashcan was a polar bear cage he could lick. We played this game for blocks. Now we are home, he is eating his orange slices, sweaty and jolly.
       If you are a mother of a boy, remember he will always test his boundries. The way to help yourself keep them safe, make sure the boundries are strong, but let go his hand and let him run till he passes out with orange bits on his smiling face.

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