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August 2009

July 2009 entries

Role Reversal

We just staged an original Connor Family Production in which Mike and I played the roles of "Son" and "Daughter" and Aidan and Gabrielle were the parents.  Highlights included Mike getting a time out and me insisting that Gabrielle pick me up.  It is an off-off-off-Broadway production, but I think it's destined for the big time.

She loves me, She loves me not

Gabrielle likes to tease me about whether she loves me or not.  Sometimes when she gets angry at us, she'll proclaim, "I not love you anymore!!!" for dramatic effect.  But other times, she will hop up on my lap and tell me, "I love you soooo much, Momma" and give me a smooch.  Then, with a sly smile on her face, she will say, "I not love you!"  and I will pantomime crying.  She then says, "I'm just kidding!  I am love you!" 

Thank goodness, right?  She am (or would it be is?)  loves me!

The Facts of Life

Two nights ago, I put a sleepy Aidan to bed after a long day of playing at Grandma Tina's.  He told me, "I saw a picture of a baby in a mommy's belly at Grandma's.  It looked like it was in a bubble."  I said, "Yes, it does sort of look like that doesn't it?" thinking this is going to be a pretty easy line of questioning. 

"How does the baby get out of the mommy?"  

That's simple, I think.  "She goes to the hospital and the doctor helps her."

"Do they cut her belly wide open and take the baby out?"

Hmm...if he asked Grandma, who has had two C-sections, she might have told him that.  But he looks concerned about that hurting, so . . . "No,  they don't have to cut her wide open."  Sigh.  That should do it.  Isn't he tired yet?

"But if they don't have to cut her, HOW does it get out?"

Gulp.  Ok, here we go: "Well, Mommies have a special place in their bodies that babies come out of.  God made us that way."  Nice touch citing God -- that usually ends all disputes.

"Where is the special place?"

Uh.  Oh.  I.  Didn't. Think. Sigh. "It's in our bottoms."

"YOU POOP THE BABY OUT?" Aidan exclaimed in dismay.

"No, no, honey.  It's a special place that we only use for babies, nothing else. I know it's hard to understand, but God made mommies special so we can have babies." Please let this end.  

Aidan looked at me, studying my face as if to determine whether I was telling the truth or not.  Finally he said, "I'm tired.  Let's just do our night-night prayers."

Congrats, Footloose Cast!

Mike and I went to the Friday night show of Footloose -- a production that features 70 kids from 17 different schools from our region.  It was a great show, and I so glad that we have opportunities like this for our talented young people in the Williamsport area!  Break a leg at your last show today -- ya gotta cut footloose!



Gabrielle's New Concept

For little Gabrielle, everything is "up in heaven".  When she sings her impromptu songs, there is inevitably someone or something that dies or has a relative that dies and goes "up to heaven".  Today, she saw me shaving my legs and asked me what I was doing "with that sharp knife". Was I "trying to get a boo-boo"?  

I explained, though honestly -- how do we explain to a two-year-old why women shave their legs?   I mean, without using the words "patriarchy" and "superficial beauty"?  She asked about the hair being cut off -- "Does it go up to heaven?"  I mean, I've heard of all dogs going to heaven, but leg hair?

But then again, Gabrielle has no qualms about questioning or announcing the most private of affairs.  When my friend Seth called today to make plans for Friday night, Gabrielle asked to talk to him on the phone.  She gleefully exclaimed, "Hi!  I'm on the potty, and I'm pooping!"

At least she hasn't asked me where that goes when we flush -- because I'm pretty sure it's not "up to heaven".

It's the Police!

No, not the popular 80s rock group.

Today while we were in the car, Aidan told Gabrielle to stop crying (I don't even remember what she was upset about -- every day is filled with near tragedies when you are two).  When she didn't, he pointed out his window: "Gabrielle!  Look!  It's the police!  They are coming after us because you are being bad in the car!"

Surprisingly, she stopped crying.

Weather Forecast

I am not really sure why I check the weather in the Williamsport Sun Gazette.  It's always, always wrong.  Always.  For example, it has been "raining" and "thunderstorming" for three days now. It's been sunny, except for today: it was slightly overcast. 

Yesterday, on the way to the dentist, Aidan and I talked about the possible things we could do after our appointments.  I lamented the newspaper's prediction of rain, and Aidan told me, "No, Mom.  We're supposed to get one drop of rain and then after that, it will be delightfully sunny."

It turns out he was more accurate than the paper.