Saturday, February 9, 2008

Some stuff I swore I'd never...

1. The first time the phrase, "Because. Because I said so," came out of my mouth, I was horrified. How had I become one of those parents? Was I so devoid of imagination, so lacking in patience that I couldn't come up with a decent response to the zillionth "Why?" from my two-year old?

Yep. Turns out that becoming a mum really does cause loss of brain cells, and I'm ok with that.

2. "Would you like to go pee-pee on the potty?"

Like so many before me, before kids, I thought I had all the answers. And I swore that I would never use cutesy words for body bits (except vagina as the word makes me shudder, for no good reason at all) and bodily functions should be referred to using only ONE syllable: Poo. Pee.

Ha! Here's a snippet of an actual conversation with Matthew, while he oversaw my bath for a change:

Matthew: "Mummy...that your boobies?"

Me: "Yes, Matthew, these are my boobies. No, no, honey, please don't grab them. That hurts Mummy."

Matthew: "Mummy, that your pee-pee?"

Me: "No, sweetheart, that's Mummy's 'gina. Only boys have pee-pees."

Matthew: "Boys have pee-pees?"

Me: "That's right. Boys have pee-pees. Girls have 'ginas."

Matthew: "That MY 'gina?" (pointing to his penis)

Me: "No, no, Matthew. That's your pee-pee, remember? Only girls have 'ginas."

Matthew: "How go pee-pee, Mama? Pee-peeeeeeeee!"

Me: "Well, Mummy goes pee-pee with her 'gina. You go pee-pee with your...uh...pee-pee."

Is it any wonder that my child loves the word pee-pee? Apparently, it's both a verb AND a noun!

3. "Honey, could you shift over? Matthew and Luke don't seem to have enough space!"

Poor Mark. Here he thought that getting married would, if not guarantee nooky every night, ensure a warm, wifely body to snuggle up to at day's end. Alas, despite all my pre-parenting ideas ("The marriage should be the number one relationship - kids are secondary!"), we are a co-sleeping family.

Oh, it didn't start out that way, but little people have a way of sneaking into their parents' beds as slyly as they do our hearts. Luke, at four months, still nurses during the night and having mastered the whole "roll-over-here's-a-boob" thing, I'm not about to give it up. We usually hear the pad-pad-pad of Matthew feet around 2 am, when it's easier to scoop him up than to get up and battle him back to his crib.

Morning light will often find us - Matthew, Mark, Luke and Liz - blissfully squished together, snoozing away. These magical days are fleeting and I, for one, want to revel in every. single. moment.

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