Braydon and I are overly educated. We both have doctorates. We read a lot. We understand the intrigue of thinking deep thoughts and pondering life’s curiosities. However, we’re regularly stumped by the questions our two three year old’s pose. Is there a “right” answer????????????? Are there cliff notes on any of this??????
Top Ten K & O Questions From the Past Few Days:
- What is ‘God’?
- Mommy, you have a beard under your armpits?
- Why is Curious George so curious?
- In the toilet, when I flush it, where do my poopies go?
- Why are spectacled bears afraid of pumas?
- Mommy, what are you afraid of?
- Do girl bugs have a vagina?
- But mommy, why aren’t your breasts so big and huge like that other lady’s breasts?
- When can I get a real real trombone – a real instrument trombone – so I can make trombone music – WHEN?
- When I’m grown up can I have a penis and a vagina both??
P.S. Since writing this post I’ve received the funniest emails this morning from people asking me what I actually have said in response to these questions!! Just for the heck-of-it, here ya go:
- What is ‘God’? What went through my head: “Oh my God, I have no idea!!!” What came outta my mouth: “Go ask Papi!”
- Mommy, you have a beard under your armpits? What went through my head: “Oh my God, I really need to shave. When did I last shave???” What came outta my mouth: “Yes, sweetie, it is kinda like a beard!”
- Why is Curious George so curious? What went through my head: “Oh my God, I HATE these freeeekin’ Curious George books soooooooooo much.” What came outta my mouth: “I don’t know why sweetie. Why do you think he’s so curious!??”
- In the toilet, when I flush it, where do my poopies go? What went through my head: “Oh my God, why do we alllllllllllllllwwwwwwwwwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyys have to talk about poopies around here?” What came outta my mouth: “Go ask Papi!”
- Why are spectacled bears afraid of pumas? What went through my head: “Oh my God, I HATE these freeeekin’ Diego videos soooooooooo much.” What came outta my mouth: “I don’t know why sweetie. Why do you think they’re afraid of pumas!??”
- Mommy, what are you afraid of? What went through my head: “Oh my God, where do I even begin?? Ummmm…. I’m afraid of you dying; I’m afraid of your brother dying; I’m afraid that you’ll both hate me when you’re teenagers; I’m afraid you’ll get a terrible terminal illness; I’m afraid you’ll never be able to catch a cab in a city; I’m afraid I love you too much; I’m afraid of dark alleys and scary men; I’m afraid our house is going to burn to the ground and we’re going to lose everything; I’m afraid that you and your brother will drown in the swimming pool because I’m so exhausted that I can barely keep my eyes open right now……………” What came outta my mouth: “Who wants a snack?!!!”
- Do girl bugs have a vagina? What went through my head: “Oh my God, I have no idea.” What came outta my mouth: “Go ask Papi.”
- But mommy, why aren’t your breasts so big and huge like that other lady’s breasts? What went through my head: “Oh my God.” What came outta my mouth: “Who wants a snack?!!!”
- When can I get a real real trombone – a real instrument trombone – so I can make trombone music – WHEN? What went through my head: “Oh my God, how much does a real trombone cost??? How heavy are they? Could he even hold one??” What came outta my mouth: “Maybe for your birthday sweetie?!!”
- When I’m grown up can I have a penis and a vagina both?? What went through my head: “Oh my God, I suppose that if they can do surgery to change the genitalia then they could technically do surgery to give someone both, right? Well, at least by the time he’s 21 they’ll probably have that technology in place, right???” What came outta my mouth: “When you’re 18 sweetie, then you can make that decision for yourself. And I’ll always love you no matter what because I am your Mama. Now, who wants a snack?!”
This past week Alex was away on vacation so I was home with the boys. One great thing about this summer is that when all is said and done we will have had four full weeks of no non-parental-childcare. One week in May when we all went to Virgin Gorda (click here), a week at home in June (click here), this past week of July at home, and another week that we have coming up in August. It is really challenging to maintain my career while also devoting this much time to my bambinos. And the stress and anxiety and pressure sometimes take a toll on me (we had a couple low points this past week — just read between the lines of this blog and you can see the cracks in the pavement). But I have worked my a** off in order to be at a point in my career where I can even consider doing it this way…. and I’m maximizing on that as much as I can this summer. This post is a sort of random series of snippets from the past week.
As you’ve probably noticed from the photos on the blog, we’re rarely dressing the boys in matching outfits anymore. I had always told myself that when they turned three I was going to try very hard to avoid the cutesy-twinsy-matching-outfit-temptation. I’ve been more or less successful. But from time to time the boys still insist on wearing the same things. On the day of the photo above they had both wanted to wear overalls. Luckily we still do have a few things that are “match to match!!” (as the boys say), so we do have a few cutesy-twinsy-matching-outfits for when the need arises. On an entirely other note –> cute story: I have taught/trained the boys the following ~~ If I say, “Where are you going to go to college?” They say, “Howard University!” So, we were sitting at the table having lunch. I said, “Owen, where are you going to go to college?” Owen said, “Howard University!” I said, “Kyle, where are you going to go to college?” He said, “Howard University! With my brother!” Suddenly Owen threw up his hands saying “Wait a minute! Wait a minute guys!!! I have a good idea! Mommy say ‘where are you going to go to college?'” I said, “O.k. Owen, where are you going to go to college?” He said: “Howard University! With my brother and my mommy!”
The second half of the week was totally thrown off by Owen’s sudden intense sickness on Sunday-Monday. We know our life is really in a frenetic-crazy-spiral when we find ourselves having sandwiches (in this case turkey on bagels)
and *
cosmopolitans* for dinner at 9:30 p.m.
The Day of the Penguins (
click) turned into Day
s of the Penguins. The boys just can’t get enough of these silly little pool penguins.
Day of all days!!! Wednesday afternoon Q (
click) and his girlfriend Ashley came to our house to visit Kyle and Owen. The boys are in love. With Quadir Carter. They love him more than they love the penguins. After he left I found that he had left this little note for K & O (it says “Hi Kyle & Owen – Lehigh Football – Quadir Carter”). How sweet is this??? Quotes regarding Q ~~ Kyle, at the dinner table: “When I am grown big just like Q I will jump with Q into the swimming pool. I will jump with Q into the big deeper and we will make a big huge splash. And Q will say ‘Yay Kyle!’ O.k. Mama???” Owen, at bedtime: “Mommy, I love Q. I am so sad that Q left me. I want Q to come see me again. I
love him.”
Yup! That’s my boy! Playing dominoes. He doesn’t have “Johnson-McCormick” for a last name for nothin’! Some of you dear readers who have had the privilege of being subjected to dominoes games at our house or my parents’ house or my grandparents’ house know what a
huge deal this is. Yup! We broke out a “new game!!!” (Auntie Sabrina had given this dominoes game to the boys a long time ago and I had kept it hidden away until they were old enough for it). The boys caught on fast and Kyle announced, “I like this new game!” We’ve been playing dominoes every day since. Yup! That’s my boy! Playing dominoes. Preschooler dominoes. But still. Dominoes. All is right with the world.
Last night, on the eve of Alex’s return from vacation Kyle and Owen made these for her. It amazes me how much time and care go into something like this when you’re three. The boys spent at least a half hour working diligently on these — finding all of the right letters, sticking the little foam pieces on just so, coloring with markers, etc. They were very excited to give these to Alex this morning. Kyle and Owen are learning (and Braydon and I are continuing to learn) the complexity of bitter-sweet emotions. It is “sad” that mommy will be back to work, and it is “happy” that Alex is coming back. “Happy and sad.” All at the same time.
My first blog award! Thank you Leslie! Can you see me blushing through the blogosphere?!!!
Executive Chef: The executive chef is in charge of everything related to the kitchen, including menu creation, staff management and business aspects. The position requires extensive cooking experience and often involves actively cooking. They can also be referred to as the “chef” or even “head chef.” Although “head chef” may seem redundant, the word “chef” has come to be applied to any cook, kitchen helper or a fast food operator, making the distinction necessary.
* * *
I am the Executive Chef around here. Executive Chef And Then Some. Once, back in the day, when we threw dinner parties on a weekly basis and had a constant streaming social life, we had a landlord in Boston who accused us of (and I quote) “running a hotel and a restaurant” out of our apartment. We weren’t — at least not officially. But our landlord was definitely onto something. These days I don’t so much feel like I’m running a hotel. But I feel like I’m running a restaurant now more than ever—- a one star, short order, fast and furious, catering to the toddler set kind of restaurant. This is not gourmet. This is nothing fancy. It is “family friendly” in the worst sense of the term. In my past life (i.e., Pre K & O) in preparation for cooking for others, I’d spend hours scouring my Silver Palate and Jacques Pipen cookbooks for fantastic menu and recipe ideas. Now, I rarely open a cookbook. But if I do crack one open it is Rachel Ray for a “30 Minute Meal.” I used to watch her Food Network show and think things like, “Gosh, why even bother cooking if you’re going to cook like that??!” Now if I catch a glimpse of her I think, “Gosh, can’t we make it a 20 Minute Meal?! Who has time for THIRTY minutes????????!”
Ok, seriously… is it normal for 3 year olds to eat this much? I sometimes feel like my primary job in life is simply keeping them fed. I know I’ve blogged about it before (I should probably just make it a whole blog post category called “FOOD”), but for the sake of our family history I feel the need to record this in detail. It is a primary aspect of K & O’s childhoods. Plus, someday when the boys are older and mouthing off to me I want to be able to show them who’s been keeping their big mouths fed all this time…
I swear every other day I’m saying to Braydon, “God help me! If they eat this much now, what on earth are they going to be eating when they’re sixteen?!” He just laughs like a proud father of a man. Yeah, he laughs. Just like all the other men who witness Kyle and Owen eating. That’s because he/they are not in charge of food around here. Women who witness it have a different reaction. They look at me with raised eyebrows, kinda like an unspoken female-to-female “I feel your pain sister.” To give Braydon his due credit– he’s in charge of laundry (which they create a lot of too, for sure), and cleaning (which they definitely keep him busy with), but me… my household job is FOOD. All things food. And it is a big job. I have a little family with a big appetite.
In an attempt to chronicle just how much my darling sons eat I decided to photograph a day of meals yesterday. I am not including snacks here — just actual meals. And you can’t tell from the photos how much or how often the two of them asked for second helpings of any given thing (or third helpings or fourths, fifths, etc.). Obviously this does not document my food production situation in detail. But it does at least give you an idea of what it is like around here.
Breakfast: Cereal (Kix and Cheerios mixed together — for whatever reason they’ve both always preferred multiple cereals mixed together in one bowl ~ My job is not to question, only to serve, so I just keep my nose to the grindstone and try do my job as best I can); bananas; OJ. We are currently going through 2 gallons of whole milk per week and 2 gallons of OJ per week and 2 big bunches of bananas per week. (Note: Braydon and I only drink skim milk, we rarely drink any OJ, and between the two of us we probably eat 2-3 bananas per week max).
Lunch: Whole grain bagel; strawberry cream cheese; deli turkey meat; cut up fresh tomatoes; grapes; apple juice to drink. When they eat turkey from the deli they’ll
easily polish off 1/4 pound of it. They also can’t get enough fruit. At this particular lunch, for example, Kyle went through 4 helpings of grapes (Sweetly: “More grapes please Mama?!” Fake Cheerily: “O.k. Kyle!”) and 2 helpings of tomatoes.
Dinner: Rice pilaf; blackened tilapia; steamed green beans; “salad and dip” (“salad and dip” for K & O = salad minus the lettuce — i.e., all the cut up veggies — with some salad dressing on the side to dip the veggies in. The only exception to this is caesar salad at Carrabbas or the fuji apple chicken salad at Panara Bread… they’ll eat both of those lettuce and all.). To drink: water and “wine” (i.e., a
Dora the Explorer cup with some watered down wine in it). When I was preparing this meal I was getting out that classic ol’ box of
Near East Rice Pilaf and I actually thought to myself, “I should probably make two boxes of this.” And then I thought to myself, “No! That is ridiculous– they’re only 3 years old! I’m not making two boxes!!!” So I only made one box. Big mistake. Braydon and I only had small spoonfuls. The boys devoured the rest of it and would have had more if there was more to be had. Toward the end of dinner I said to Braydon, “God help me! If they eat this much now,
what on earth are they going to be eating when they’re
sixteen?!” He just laughed. Of course. I said, “No, seriously Braydon. I thought about making two boxes of rice pilaf but then didn’t. I should have! If I have to make two boxes of rice pilaf when they’re three, how many boxes will I need to make when they’re sixteen?” He said: “Three boxes. One for us. One for Kyle. And one for Owen.” Anyhoo… When we were in Virgin Gorda we discovered that Owen loves fresh blackened fish. He now requests that we get “fish” when we go to the grocery store. Go figure. Kyle now eats it too. And they love green beans. As you can see in the picture below, Kyle loves green beans so much he eats them double-fisted shoving them in one by one as fast as he can swallow. Oh, and after dinner they each had strawberry ice cream and whipped cream for dessert. Then each requested milk… and each guzzled down a large sippie cup full before heading off to bed… Thank heavens that at least they
do sleep ~~~ that gives me a chance to rest… after all, it is only a matter of hours before breakfast begins another day of steady work for the Executive Chef.
I’ve been reading her blog for awhile now… and love it… here’s a post that helped me end my day today feeling significantly less misunderstood than I have the past few nights: click here. And sometime soon I’m also going to be posting about the awesome camp songs CD that this same Blogger Girlfriend of mine sent us too!
Alex, I know you’re on vacation but are you reading this while you’re away? Today I took K & O to their beloved “Castle Playground” in Doylestown (for those of you reading this who are unfamiliar, see photo above and
click here). Alex, I know that
you go there all the time with the boys, but I hadn’t been there with them for awhile. Today, Kyle went down the “big slide” (the huge spiral dark tunnel slide) all by himself over and over and over. Owen was still too scared to do it. But Kyle finally mustered up the courage — and he was all about that slide today. He was right in there with all the other 10 and 12 year olds (uh, yeh, I didn’t see any other three year olds anywhere in sight). Anyway, tonight after dinner he told me that he “wants to tell Alex” about how he “did the big slide today.” He wanted to call you on the phone but I wouldn’t let him because I wasn’t sure your cell phone would work all the way on the other side of the country. But I swear, it was one of the sweetest things ever… he really wants
you to know that he did that slide today. We miss you and we (me especially!!!) can’t wait for you to be back on Thursday!!! Love, Heather (and Kyle)
Well, as a sociologist (a sociologist whose training and expertise is in the areas of: 1] race-class in the contemporary U.S., and 2] sociology of children and childhood) it is very hard for me to not be totally fascinated by some of the dynamics in my very own little family. I am committed to never writing a book about it. I am absolutely determined to never sociologically or professionally exploit my children. And I have promised myself to try my darndest to not let my sometimes-too-complex-thinking get in the way of the simple gut-level-basics of my parenting. However… at times it is almost impossible for me to not deeply ponder some of the stuff that is going on in my only tiny little universe because, really, it is all so totally sociologically fascinating. You’d have to have zero sociological imagination to not be at least a little bit intrigued. And my sociological imagination is definitely not in the zero category (actually, it is probably located quite firmly in the “overactive imagination” category). Long before K & O were ever on the scene I had read more than most human beings ever will about children and racial identity formation. Since Day One with K & O in our lives I have been really curious about(amongst many, many other things) when — exactly — they’ll start verbalizing their recognition of our family as an inter-racial unit. My assumption is that they’ve noticed for quite a long time now (if not since the start), but specifically, I’ve wondered when they’ll note — out loud — their awareness of our racial difference. When will they actually verbalize their recognition that we are an inter-racial family? Today, we were driving in the car. We were driving on the same road that we used to take to go to/from the boys’ daycare. We were talking about how “it is summer!” and that means “no daycare!!!” Then, suddenly, out of the blue, the following happened… (background note: there were two “Miss Jen’s” who worked at the daycare)…
Owen: “Mommy, do you remember the other Miss Jen at daycare? Do you remember?”
Heather: “Yes.”
O: “The other Miss Jen was black like me and my brother.”
H: “Yes Owen! She was!”
O: “Mommy, you are not black like me. You are not. You are different color skin. Your color is different than mine’s.”
H: “That’s right Owen!”
And we left it at that.
The other day I was in Target and I saw these penguin pool toys that I just knew K & O would love. On a whim I bought them each one. With Owen having been sick yesterday and still not 100% today (Braydon is going to post about that soon), today was purposefully a low-key day at home with no plans and no outings. I thought it would be the perfect day to bring out these little penguins. Seriously… NEVER have the boys been so enamored with any one toy. Ever. We were at the pool by 10:00 this morning, and other than taking time to eat lunch and nap the boys played with these penguins in the pool non-stop the entire day until 6:15 p.m. I have never seen anything capture their attention like these two penguins did today. The penguins were cheap — like $3 each or something — and they have battery operated propellers that make them swim underwater. Seriously, the boys adore them. All day today they played with “Black Penguin” (Owen’s) and “Red Penguin” (Kyle’s). Granted, Owen was not at full throttle today, but still… for two kids with an attention span of about 10-15 minutes MAX… the Day of the Penguins was quite something to witness.
We have an apple cart; a very beautiful, solid apple cart. Maybe it’s maple, maybe it’s oak. An apple cart a collector would love. An apple cart many people would love to have, but most will not. An apple cart people dream about. It’s our apple cart and we built it from scratch.
It took help from family and friends, and taking advantage of materials that came our way- both found and given. And when we had what we needed, we set our hands to build the best one we could. After many a splinter, bent nail and splashes of paint we got it into some reasonably good shape and ready to carry a load.
We’ve filled our cart with tremendous bounty of all types and where ever we go we try to share that bounty and be thankful for it. What we carry is live and thriving. It has a clean scent and a crisp sound like laundry on a windy line. It has substance and heft – like a sun-warmed river rock. It’s many things in many ways and has many meanings. It’s rich in spirit, in life and in love.
It can get heavy and it overflows sometimes, but we try to remember that most people don’t even have a cart, let alone a full one. We try to always be happy with our cart and what we put in it. Generally we do ok with that.
We try to remember to do regular upkeep on our cart. Occasionally we oil the wheels, and put some paint on the sides. We leave the handgrips untouched, they are worn, woody, and smooth. But they are warm to the touch and have a sense of trust and ease of being held.
Sometimes we forget to do the maintenance. When we’re running with a load, and sharing and giving, and filling and enjoying, sometimes we just forget. But we trust the hard work that went into building it, so we’re confident it’s still solid. Occasionally we give it a hard knock, but so far it just gives a sharp crack when you rap it with your knuckles – not a soft thump. Like a fresh, ripe apple.
There is another little thing about our apple cart though. Our apple cart’s on rails. Thin train track rails. Smooth rails. Strong rails. But it’s very hard to keep the cart on these rails all the time. We do a pretty good job of it, even in inclement weather, or up hill, or down hill. We focus together and keep it going. One person often guides while the other pushes, and then we switch places. But it really really takes both of us to keep it on the rails. Sometimes we feel we could use help – but there are only two handles and it’s hard to have more feet pushing forward.
You might ask why we put it on rails, when we could have it on stable ground. The answer is only that our path is on these rails and the stops to our destination are on these rails. Any other path and we would be who we are, nor would we be as fulfilled with life as we are. It’s just like that. For us, these rails are our rails.
And from time to time, our cart goes off the rails and the front wheel gets mired and stuck. It just happens. It happens to everyone in any circumstance of course, and it happens to us too. Contents in the cart shift dangerously, things tip precariously, and more contents in the cart fall off than usual. Sometimes it tips over completely and everything is dumped out. Sometimes it’s raining and everything gets muddy – the earth clinging in an attempt to reclaim what’s rightfully hers.
And in our case, because we are on our own rails, most of the time there is no one around to see it or help. We’re never sure if we should call out for help, and so we don’t. Maybe it’s the pride we’ve put into building the cart, I am not sure. And it doesn’t matter really, that’s the way we are.
So, after we make sure no bones are broken, we shake ourselves off, right the cart, and put everything and everyone back in. We then look around, find a branch to lever our cart back onto the rails and push forward. It can take 5 minutes, it can take 5 days. It has never yet taken 5 weeks. Let’s hope it never does, I feel deeply for people who take even longer, and some never get back on – for all kinds of reasons. Maybe they didn’t have help. Maybe their foundation was not strong enough. Maybe they didn’t have the strength. Maybe others wouldn’t let them.
We work so hard to keep our cart on the rails. And it’s completely worth it. The extra effort, the tired arms, legs and backs. It’s worth it and we’re glad we have a full cart and rails on which travel.
I do worry that we will get tired. I do worry that we will slip off and need some help, but we will be to far for that help to arrive. I do worry that we are too far from help now. Right now it is just a worry, but we see glimpses of it from time to time.
Although Owen was only sick for 36 hours, and the clinic visit only took a couple hours this time, there was something that really struck me. It was Heather, scrambling to check her email and put out a fire at work. It was the first time she had been able to work at all that day, and she had about 15 minutes in between Kyle going down for a nap, getting Owen down, and trying to get a shower, eat something, clean up and get ready for the next round of Sick Toddler.
I could see the stress and anxiety. Our babysitter was on vacation, I am flat out on work and we have twin three year olds. Work wouldn’t wait, but neither would Owen. Of course there’s not even a choice there – Owen comes first. But I could see the strain. The apple cart had slipped off and took a bounce. We caught it and got it back on the rails, but in that brief moment it made me worry about a blind trussel that could be around the corner.
It’s a beautiful, full apple cart, I treasure it and everything in it more than anything else and I want to make sure it’s safe for my family.
The boys love to pretend/play that they are “going to work!” Here is Kyle “checking his email!” and “having a meeting on the phone!”
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