Pena, Pena, Pena

So my 2 year old son has discovered his penis...well, actually he discovered the actual body part a while ago, but recently he is falling victim to that downfall of so many males- penis pride. You mothers of boys know what I'm talking about. He grabs it and dunks it in the bathtub and tries to fit the shampoo cap on the end of it and (this really freaks my hubby out) stretches it waaaay beyond what I would think would be comfortable. He takes off his diaper and runs around the house chanting "pena, pena, pena, pena" and generally thinks his particular member to be the most wonderful body part ever to grace a household. He even went so far as to pity his "poor sissies" who don't have one. As he marches through the house after each bath, stretching it nearly to his chin and admiring his perfection, I sigh and tell my husband I can't wait for this phase to pass. With a huge grin, my husband replies..."Phase? Honey, he's a boy."-- I guess I'd better not hold my breath.

Q-Tip Terrors

My 9 year old daughter is afraid of throat swabs. She has made it through stitches and shots with barely a whimper, but throat swabs strike terror in her soul. Yes, I know, I find this hysterical too. With all the myriad of uncomfortable and painful procedures that one can experience at the doctor's or dentist's offices, what is so terrifying about a little 2 second Q-tip action? Still, we go through the same rigamarole every time, almost like clockwork. First comes the tearful confession- "Mommy, I didn't want to tell you this, but my throat is sore." This is followed by at least 2 hours of reassurance and coaxing until I can finally look in her throat with a flashlight and see if she needs a doctor's visit. Next comes the hysteria (part 1) where she freaks out when I tell her we've got to go to the pediatrician- followed by another 2 hours of reassurance. Next comes denial- "Maybe I don't need a throat swab...it's probaby just sore from coughing/drinking juice/talking/dust,etc." Then comes acceptance- "I'm gonna be brave and just get it over with, I'm not gonna cry." After all this comes the actual visit and hysteria (part 2).
If you have never seen a 9 year old absolutely freaking hysterical over a q-tip, then you have missed it. There she is, panicking, screaming and praying so loud that I can barely hear the doctor talk. I know it sounds cruel to find this funny, but when someone is screaming "Please God, destroy the q-tip" over and over again, it's hard to keep a straight face- and even worse, the doctor can't either. So I am holding her down, the doc is trying to coax her to open up and let us get this over with, she is screaming and fighting to grab the q-tip and the doc and I are trying to calm her down and keep from laughing at the absurdity of the whole situation. Finally after 30 minutes of hysteria, coaxing, soothing and bribes the doc manages to do the 2 second swab and we are mercifully finished. She is ready for a lollipop, the doc is ready for us to find a new pediatrician and I need a good stiff drink. And the thought that keeps running through my head is- what the hell is going to happen when she has her first GYN appt!?

Snow Day

I am a winter person. I love the cold, the icy air that smells so pure, the silence of a cold night and especially snow. Living in TX we didn't see any these past few years so you can imagine our household the other day when we awoke to a NC winter wonderland. Abby came bounding into the bedroom at 6am yelling "It's a miracle!!", trailed by Alex who has never seen snow, never heard of snow, but was determined to be a part of whatever had his beloved sissy in such a state. We all crowded around the windows, ooohing and aahhing over the magical sight of a humdrum backyard transformed by a blanket of snow. That was about where the magic ended. Abby bounced off to suit up for her trek outside while I frantically attempted to help Elisabeth and Alex get dressed before Abby left them behind. I didn't succeed. Which meant that Abby made it out the backdoor (leaving it open) while I was still trying to help Beth find her shoes and socks while she whined every breath about a sore foot, a sore throat, her shoes were too big, the same shoes were too small, it was cold, she was hungry and she didn't like her mittens. This child doesn't often cause any disharmony, but when she does...watch out. Finally after getting her all set, I turned my attentions to Alex.....wait a minute....where is Alex? And there he was, outside in snow up to his knees without coat, hat or even socks, Abby leading him around the backyard. I quickly grabbed his outerwear and headed out, but it was too late. The minute I was spotted, he launched into full blown tears, holding up frozen little hands and wailing "cold, mama!". His 10 minute journey was over and he wanted to go back inside to get warm. This we did, followed for some reason by a 15 minute tantrum because he didn't get to swing. I guess at 2 swinging and cold are mutually exclusive? Later on when the fire was lit and the kids were all warm and glowing from 2 cups of cocoa, my husband came home regretful of missing Alex's first trek into the snow and eager to hear all about it. Unfortunately I had to tell him that I missed it too.

What!!?? Breasts!!???

Over Christmas, my mom happened to point out a horrifying thing...my 9 year-old daughter has little breast buds going on. When this happened exactly, I do not know and I am having a pretty tough time with it. I mean, I always knew this day would come, but since I didn't actually need a bra until sometime in my mid-twenties, I was more prepared to help her deal with the disappointment of being flat-chested through high school. The idea that she might end up a voluptuous early bloomer never even crossed my mind. Looking back, I realize this has been coming. The potent cocktail of prepubescent hormones has been brewing for several months now, but I chalked up the emotional outbursts, desire for privacy and sudden necessity of daily showers and deodorant to the coming tween stage, never expecting it to actually be the start of something more. So here we are, ready or not, and instead of consoling her with trips to Victoria's Secret for padded bras, it looks like we might be looking for ones with actual support. I guess it will be just me looking for those padded push-up ones after all.