What's Cialis?

Recently I took the kids to the doctor. I don't like this new doctor, though I thought I would at first. We'd had brief interaction with him before we moved four or five years ago. When we returned, I thought he'd be good, and after the first appointment, I felt confident. He explained things.

After a few trips I realized he doesn't just explain things, he condescends.

One of the things I hated about our last pediatrician was that, while a nice lady, she seemed to always be on the lookout for sins. One time she gave my son the once over and said,

"Bruises look normal."

Awesome. I've been working on that.

This new doctor does the same thing, just in a different boat. "So, how much TV does he watch?"

After some years on the WIC program, I've learned how to answer this question.

"Too much."

I'm tired of feeling like a bad mom because my kids drool in front of the TV every now and...ok, more than they should. When we lived in a 900 square foot apartment...among other issues, the TV was awesome.

Squirrel!
I hate having to defend myself to a pediatrician who knows nothing about me. I hate the "he's a cute kid. Great kid. Aren't you a great kid?"

The new doc condescends to my kids, most recently it was Jason.

People, I make a concerted effort to not condescend to my kids, so when someone else does, they always have this "WTF?" look on their face.



But anyway. Do they watch too much TV? While most times it's just on for noise and they're off emptying entire bottles of baby powder or shampoo on a freshly cleaned bathroom floor...Yeah. They probably watch more than they should.

Here's how I know:

One time we were at the store. I needed aluminum foil. I reached for the cheap stuff, but Abbie stopped me:

"No! You need Reynolds Wrap, Mom!"

It doesn't happen on a regular basis, but every now and again they'll stop me dead in my tracks. The most frightening thing is when they tell me I need something because a commercial told them so.

That's usually when I snap out of it, turn off the TV, and tell them to go dump a bottle of baby powder on the freshly cleaned bathroom floor.

Then there are the "ED" commercials. You know. Erectile Dysfunction. These commercials are on all the frickin' time. I wince every time one of these commercials comes on. I get little visions of what may be coming our of our childrens' mouths:

"What's 'ED,' Mom?"

"Why does he look so happy?"

"Daddy, you need that."

They're just bad commercials, cheesy, stupid. Not that I don't think they're doing some men a service, but all. the. time.

So far, though, so good. Until the other day. You know these commercials are ridiculous, and sometimes in the spirit of mockery, I repeat lines from things - commercials, tv shows, etc. Without thinking, I repeated one of the lines from a Cialis commercial.

Abbie wastes no time. "What's Cialis?"

TP? Who needs TP?

Yesterday my son was wiping himself, got a little crap on his thumb, and decided that wiping it on the wall would be the logical solution.
I'd just cleaned the bathroom too.

At least he does it for a reason.

So my son thought it would be a nice surprise if Mom and Dad woke up to a clean fireplace.

That's right.

Eric woke up to the smell of burning plastic.

I want to precede this with this: lately, because Eric and I are absolutely beyond tired, the kids have taken to getting up, putting on a movie; Jason makes everyone breakfast, and they chill until Eric gets out of his shower. Neither one of us is really certain when they wake up some mornings.

It's been good. I mean, make your own breakfast, don't wake us up - yay!

Except this morning.

We just recently started using our fireplace. It's awesome (read: cheap) and the kids get such a kick out of the thing. We've tried to beat it into the kids' brains that you do not touch the fireplace nor anything within the fireplace.

We've used reason.

We've used threats.

You just don't touch the damn thing!

But Jason, like he tells me often these days, does stuff "for a reason!" We think him making breakfast for everyone makes him think he's the man of the house. He likes to be a big guy. He likes being "the boss."

(Really quick: be careful if you ever try telling your kid he's the boss of himself. That doesn't really jive with little kid logic.)

So this morning he decides that he's going to clean out the fireplace. The coals are still hot. Red. Yeah. Mostly out, but we all know how firefighters are always looking for even the slightest red coal in the ashes after a fire, right? Right.

He takes the shovel, opens the door, and shovels out the ash, carries it across the living room and then throws it into the trash can.

You know, just your standard trash can fire.

Sigh.

Conversations with a 4 year old boy

It's after dinner, and we were lazy tonight. Kids ate at the table, Mom and Dad chilled on the couch.

A couple hours later, I decide to clear off the table. There's food on the table, plates, cups, ketchup bottle and...

"Uhm, why is there ketchup on these trucks?" Nevermind why are they on the table. They've been on the table on a daily basis as of late.

"Oh," Jason responds offhandedly. "I was just licking it off."

Right.