More on Body Functions

One of my kids will be talking and start shifting from foot to foot. They keep talking or watching tv or even drawing. Hips start a little wiggle and feet shift from one to the other and back again.

"Do you have to pee," I ask.

"No."

"You look like you have to pee," I say.

"No, I don't have to pee," comes the irritated response.

We both move on with other things. Usually, I'll be engrossed in some task.

Suddenly, panic.

"Mommy, I have to pee pee! I have to pee pee! Hurry, before it comes in my underwear!" That's Laney.

"Mommy, I have to pee, but you have to carry me up the stairs because it's coming too fast! Hurry!" That's Nicky. Who is five. Who ends up carrying himself up the stairs anyway.

One wonders why these children just won't heed their bodily needs BEFORE it becomes an emergency. Why?!

Nicky's House of Style

He's not particular about which shirt or pants he has to wear, but my five-year-old has several hard and fast fashion rules.

1. DO wear rainboots. . .ALL THE TIME. No matter what the season or weather, rainboots complete any look.

2. DON'T wear shorts for any reason. No matter what the season or weather, shorts are always OUT. Bare legs in the breeze, ugh!

3. If your mother forces you to wear shorts saying something akin to, "It's HOT outside. We get one day of summer around here, so you have to wear shorts when it's warm," then pull your socks up to your knees. Shorts with knee high socks are always cool and prevent you from subjecting others to the sight of your bare legs.

4. Tuck your pants legs into your socks. Pants legs flapping about is not only annoying, it's unstylish.

5. Gloves are IN in the summertime, especially dirty gardening gloves. Wear them whenever possible.

Of course, all of Nicky's fashion rules make sense in context.

1. Rain boots -- why mess with Velcro and other nonsense when you've got slip-on comfort right there?

2. Shorts just feel weird. It's like being half dressed. We live in the Arctic after all. He's just not used to shorts and sandals. In his defense, he wore shorts every day in Hawaii, where the heat was just too much for him.

3. One feels less naked when socks cover the bare legs.

4. Okay, this is just quirky -- adorably, lovably quirky, but quirky nonetheless. I think he likes to show off the fancy socks. Those cool Spiderman pictures get lost under the pants. What a waste that would be.

5. Dunno about this one either. He just likes gloves. They keep your hands from getting dirty (very important to my little man), and they make you look more authentic when you're playing the goalie in soccer.

Kids make me laugh.

Sometimes, I find myself arguing, then wonder why. Why is this so important? Live and let live, right? My kid will argue and whine if he has to put on a t-shirt in warm weather, but he wants to wear his Buzz Lightyear costume and rain boots into town. Well, whatever.

Hey, I used to think that styling my hair into a mile-high pouf on the top of my head made me look good. I used to spend an inordinate amount of time in the morning spraying that pouf. I imagine I single-handedly created one small hole in the ozone layer with as much hairspray as I used to use.

People who live in glass houses. . .and all that.

Changing of the times

There was a time, oh, about five years ago, when words like fart or snot made me cringe. I've never been one for toilet humor. It's always grossed me out more than made me laugh. I never developed an appreciation for snot/booger humor either.

However, after the last five years of dealing with all sorts of unpleasant bodily secretions and functions, i.e.-snot, farts, poop in technicolor --who signed me up for this job, anyway? -- I suppose it's a little hard to be uppity about anything of that sort anymore.

Laney and snot
If you have a tissue handy and ask her to blow, she might humor you by breathing heavy into the tissue. Her preferred method of nose-blowing is to wait until her parents are occupied doing something else and blow really hard so that the contents of her nose flow down her face in two little disgusting snot rivers.

I don't know when she started this. She used to blow her nose like a normal little girl, namely, when we had a tissue handy. Now, she just stops whatever she's doing blows really hard and waits for the tissue to come to her.

I'm debating on whether or not I should continue to try and break this little habit. I'm thinking it might work out in our favor down the line. This lovely behavior will ensure that we won't have to chase the boys away when she's 15.

They'll be having an enlightening conversation about how their parents just don't 'get' them, about the importance of love, about how to save the world. He'll be thinking about how pretty she is and if he should try and kiss her. HONK! He, shocked and horrified, runs for the door as she sits in confused silence, little snot bubbles under her nose.

Five years ago, that little story would have made my stomach turn. Now it just makes me laugh. My, my, how times have changed. Kids have made me a gross person. Lovely. Maybe I can start lifting my ass and let a big one rip during the middle of a conversation and not blink an eye. Why not? My kids do.

Bite my head off, why don't you

I've been wondering about a curious phenomenon. There are these little jelly candies shaped like men. They are gummy, chewy and coated in sugar, or at least a sugar-like substance. Very healthy, I'm sure. Let's call them Jelly Men.

My kids love Jelly Men. They especially relish in biting their heads off. Like so.

They call out joyfully, "Look, Mommy! I ate his head!" They laugh uproariously. Then they bite off his limbs, one-by-one.


If you think about it, this is quite a disturbing inclination. Why is it that the slow, deliberate amputation of a man-shaped candy should bring such joy? I know that I eat gummy bears in one of two ways. I take a handful and shove them all in my mouth at once (very feminine), or I eat them slowly, biting the head off of each little one. I'm wondering if there is some biological explanation for this. Is it a primal human instinct? Is it our primitive hunter roots coming out?

Or is it that this kind of sadism only runs in my family?

Yet ANOTHER bathroom tale. . .

I heard this story second-hand as I was at my Norwegian class when it happened.

Seven was getting the kids ready for bed. Part of the nighttime routine is a going to the toilet. This night, Nicky decided he wanted to stand and pee. Most boys are doing this at this age already, but Nicky just hasn't been interested. He said he would do it when he was older. I'm all about precision aim, a skill most 3-and 4-year-olds don't have mastered as well as they might, so I've never pushed the issue. This night, he was ready. On this night, he stood, took aim, and all was a great success.

The story should end there. Of course, it doesn't.

Laney happened to witness the great event and decided that she, too, wanted to stand and pee.

"Laney, you can't stand and pee. You don't have a tisselur (kids' word for penis)," Seven tried to explain to her.

"I do too have a tisselur," Laney insisted. "I do!"

"No, you don't," Seven said in a very tired voice. This is not a battle one should have to fight at the end of the day.

"I do too! I can stand and pee pee."

Laney is not a child easily deterred. To demonstrate the point, she grabbed her little stool and set it in front of the toilet. She climbed up, then she lifted one leg in a sumo wrestler stance and tried maneuver her "tisselur" over the toilet -- one foot planted unsteadily on the stool, the other foot lifted high into the air. This resulted, of course, in failure. Understanding this, she was petulant.

"I'm NEVER going to use the toilet again!"

Ha! Take that, powers that be!

Ever wonder what they're thinking about?

This is my daughter.

This is my daughter with her panties on her head.

She was supposed to be in bed, but I heard little feet pitter-pattering. "Laney, what are you doing," I called. Pat-pat-pat-pat. I heard her running back to bed.

When I came in to check. . ."Mommy, I put underwear on my head!"

Should I be worried about this little habit of hers?