Motherhood Uncensored

Boob Man

We've been waiting impatiently for the 15 month language explosion to hit. Instead, it's just a bunch of ass and nose explosions, neither of which help me to understand exactly what my son is saying (except don't feed me all that yogurt and perhaps wash my hands a few more times).

I've become one of those moms who annoyingly states and repeats basic words to the point of the on-looker just wanting to say the word for the kid.

"BALL. It's a FUCKING BALL, lady. Now leave the poor baby alone."

It's not that he can't say anything. He consistently offers a resounding "MMMMMMMMMMMMMMM" anytime food is brought to the table. That's always nice for this domestic zero's ego. And he makes "kissing" noises when you ask him what a duck says because my husband taught him to do that to get them to come over to him. We've since added "bwhhhhhhhrrrrrrrrrrrrr" for a truck and heavy panting for a dog or hot or both.   

And over the course of the last few weeks, he's said "mama," "ba" (ball), and "nana" (banana) with some intention. But then the lunar eclipse and the perfectly aligned stars pass over us and it is gone.

He's quite a talented "pointer n' grunter" so much so that we're bound to give him absolutely anything he wants off the kitchen table just to get him to stop. And he's taken to using a few ASL signs, with some fascinating interpretations -- my favorite being the hand to the mouth with loud sucking noise for drink.

Unfortunately, he's also decided to incorporate baby gangster language, like biting - or as he seems to be saying "Give me that toy, bitch," hitting - which is code for "Get the hell off my couch," and tossing things at people's heads (with uncanny aim); that's generally interpreted as "Don't mess with me with or I will cut you." (or as my daughter would tell you, "bruise my freaking forehead.")

So last night, during our nightly story hour, we were reading one of his favorite books*. And being the obsessive good mom that I am, I was saying every single word that he was pointing to. Without thinking, he pointed to the mom's large pregnant breast and I said "Boob."

"Boob!" he said, in his cute baby voice.

Oh Jesus. Are you kidding me? You're going to say that?

"What's that," I asked him, hoping it was just a fluke.

"BOOB!"

Now if I had known he was going to add "boob" to his vocabulary, I would have called it "breast" - being that I'm all for using the "correct" terminology, but I figured best to pad the word count for the 18 month doctor visit.

And "boob" is just way easier to say. You know, other than "jugs."

*Like many books we (and you) probably own, it is not one of my favorite books. But there are lots of renderings of babies, and he loves it.

One Thing's For Certain, Matt Lauer is Definitely Not Here

If you missed the segment, you can watch it here! And read our interviewer, Janet Shamlian's, blog entry. She rocks! Off to enjoy birthday fun with the kids.

Updated for like the 3rd time: Okay. The word is that we're on at the top of, the 10am EST with Heather on at 10:30am talking to Kathie Lee of all people. If that's not worth watching, I don't know what is.

Set your tivos, people. The Today Show segment I shot last month is set to run tomorrow morning -- May 7 -- (unless Miley Cyrus decides to show her naked back or something MAJOR BIG TIME like that). I have no idea when it's on during the show nor am I sure why I'm telling everyone (except because I'm an ambivalent media whore), but I'll update on Twitter and here tomorrow.

It just so happens to be airing on my 32nd birthday. Let's hope that's a good omen!

Nuances.

My daughter has grown interested in private parts over the last few months. It's a combination of a growing awareness of her own, and an understanding that her brother's are different.

I made the decision to call a spade a spade, and a vagina a vagina. It still gives my husband the shivers, mainly because it's one thing to realize your sweet little baby has sexual organs, but another when she can call them exactly what they are supposed to be called in her sweet little voice.

Granted, I'm not the most comfortable with it all, but I fake it. I thoroughly believe that after becoming a parent (okay, before too, at least for me, but still), I could seriously make it on Broadway. My sudden dramatic love for broccoli, the joy I feel when I'm cleaning up toys, and, the God's honest serious face I slap on when I'm talking about vaginas and penises.

That was of course until my daughter asked if she could touch Drew's weiner (while I was on the phone with my husband).

She said it sort of quietly. Like she was asking for a piece of gum. Except, it was a penis. Now honestly, I can't really blame her, considering she had just seen it shoot a pretty rad stream of pee right out onto her carpet (post-bath diaperless moment there). There it hung, it all its total dirty uncircumcised glory.

But alas, she is not allowed to touch it, or anyone else's private parts [cue serious mommy voice] because they are our special personal body parts that are for us only.

And then she replied "Well, daddy lets me touch his!"

EEP. EEK. Sjldkfjlkjewalkfjdlkfjdlfjdlfjdklfjdlkf?!

Actually, that was my husband on speaker phone. I sort of guffawed and snorted at the same time. I mean, way to take the whole three-year-old "Daddy lets me..." logic and twist that around.

After thinking about it for a few seconds and realizing how crazy that actually was for her to say, we asked her if that was true or if it was made up, and she admitted that she made it up.

Ah, my little lying sack of potatoes.

And then the explaining began. First about the lying (again) and then about the serious discussion about how we don't touch other people's parts and if adults ask you to touch theirs that it's not okay and that you have to tell us even if they say don't because we're your mommy and daddy and you can tell us everything.

And then I sighed heavily. Inside at least.

We still wipe her after she goes potty. When she gets older (like way older, maybe 35 or so), she'll be able to touch other people's private parts and she might even ask them to touch hers. We want to explain to her that certain things are not okay, but still save room for the caveats. We want to provide her with as much information as she can process, but not scare her into completely closing off about the topic.

Because even in these cases, there are no total extremes. Just a whole hell of a lot of nuances.

*It very clear to me that my husband DID NOT EVER allow my daughter to touch his penis. I'll leave the comments open for a civil discussion but if you feel the need to hint or overtly comment that he did somehow do so, then I will delete your comment.*

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Okay, so if you haven't gotten the memo yet, all my links are in my left side bar now. So please check them! I just got my real live pics from this place and they rock. Awesome (and very cheap) mother-in-law gift for Mother's Day. My kids might have a photo album afterall...

Mother's Day Is Every Day

I've heard more than a few moms express their disgust about the commercialization of Mother's Day. Like Valentine's Day and other useless holidays, they jack up the prices for flowers and chocolates, and hope some poor sucker whose wife works her ass off 364 days out of the year will come running to spend his allotted $100 the day before.

The truth is that moms deserve way more than a bouquet of flowers and a box of chocolates. And they deserve it every day of the year.

I'm not even sure when the flowers and chocolate thing came into play. Clearly it was not a mom who came up with the idea. "That's right. I lost my figure, shoot a kid out my woo-woo, and wipe butts every day. I think moms everywhere would like CHOCOLATES!"

Yeah right.

On the flip side, I don't think moms want diamonds either. Although, if my husband were to shove one at me, you wouldn't see me running back to the shop begging them to take it back.

But what I do want for myself and for other mothers this Mother's Day is empathy. I'm fortunate that when my husband is home he cleans, vacuums, and plays with the kids. And lately he's been a lot better about not complaining about how tired he is even though he's gets to come home to a quiet house with no kids and no dogs almost everyday.

And I know other moms out there whose husbands rock their socks off. They get it.

But some dads just don't. Too bad they don't sell empathy along with those chocolates and flowers. I'm pretty sure it would be a best selling gift for moms everywhere.

How do you want to be recognized this Mother's Day? (Click the link and see how you can participate in our Blast -- Julie and I are donating $25 to the charity of the choice of 10 winners -- so it's for an excellent cause!