Kids Random Questions and Thoughts

You can learn many things from children. How much patience you have, for instance. ~Franklin P. Jone. 
Facebook is full of baby pics with captions of what they are really thinking. The great thing about having a five year old is that you never have to wonder what they are thinking. I often wonder why they are thinking about that, but there is no answer. I wish I could capture all these random wonderings before they get suppressed by me, his friends, teachers, bosses and social acceptability.
A typical 5 minute drive to Gran's house.
"Which is more important, the brain or the heart" "So without one you would die" "Can a beaver cut down a tree?" "is the Eifel Tower made of metal?" "Can lava breakdown the Eifel Tower" "Which was the last Dinosaur left alive" "Why do we have meat eaters" " I can spell cot C  O  T" "Is Jesus dead" "Why does dvd not work in the cd player?" " How does a dvd work?" "2 sleeps until my playdate" "Superman can't be in real life because he can fly, but Flash can because you can exercise to run faster, Batman can also be real" "Could Superman live inside a volcano if only kryptonite can kill him" "Can a King Cobra kill you?" "You can be an Alligator wrestler but not a crocodile wrestler because that is dangerous" " How does the movie get from the satellite to the TV?"
Look we are here!
It is exhausting. He is also not happy with answers that don't sound logical. Grunts and non commital noises are unacceptable. Full undivided attention is the only acceptable behaviour. I try, but there are certain days when I just can't take the talking anymore. At least once a week I declare that we are to have a silent drive, no one is to talk until we have passed 3 traffic lights. We often make 1 which is enough time for me to take a deep breath and the guilt start to seep in that I am suppressing his spirit and reducing his potential. Then I start a conversation to try make myself feel better and make up for my short comings as an impatient mother. His need to talk overwhelms his need to sulk and remind me I have ruined his thought process. During our minute of quiet time, his head filled with 10 more thoughts that he is bursting to share.
Before I fetch from school now I hydrate, get my sugar levels right and look around at all the kids being fetched by car services and remind myself how grateful I am that I can fetch my kids and get to hear all their random questions and thoughts, soon they will keep them to themselves and I will be competing for their attention.
There are no seven wonders of the world in the eyes of a child. There are seven million. ~Walt Streightiff 

Playing Roses and Thorns

When I read parenting articles I always get something out of it. If it just reminds me to do things again that haven't for a while. At a restuarant watching kids jumping on the castle, reading an article on separated parents. They spoke about playing Hi/Lo or thorns/roses with your kids regularly. When the boys came to eat their pizza's (I mean vegetables and water), I thought yes lets try this. I get blown away every day as to how much I underestimate my boys emotional maturity. 5 year old yes, expected answer. But then when my 2y11m answered, it made me a little teary that he could understand the idea of the game, and that I had never done this before. His Rose was seeing the big snakes in reptile shop, his Thorn when friend Nic pushed him at school.
The holidays came and went and as with all resolutions this game ended. Then suddenly I had some school redusal and tears, so decided to try again with more longevity. As it turned out my youngest was being hit by his friend regularly and was causing the problem. Discussing it with his teacher etc lead to problem being resolved and back to smiles. As always positive results leads to consistency.
My oldest is has taken to this and each night in bed he asks me what mine were for the day. Self reflection is not that easy, but when you get a response " I didn't know that made you sad" I realised that kids maybe need to know sometimes how they can impact on your day, or even that other things are also important to you.
Driving home from holiday, on my own with 2 kids in car, a bit anxious. I ask boys and get the response that there was nothing bad about the holiday, they enjoyed all of it. With a smile I could then focus on the road because it was worth every kilometre.

Lego, the love the pain

While interviewing actors they always ask if they identified with the character they played. I have never identified with any character more than Lord Business in the Lego Movie. I feel his pain. But at the same time I love the time we spend in cloud cuckoo land creating.
There are days when I have searched online for local Lego mom support groups. The emotional conflict towards Lego is tiring. I love Lego for what it is, for what it is to my boys. They can spend hours and hours playing Lego. From building with instructions to creating fighter jets and buildings. I enjoy building Lego, definate sense of achievement when you see this amazing firestation build from tiny pieces. But that is the problem, the tiny pieces, everywhere, all over, in every room.
Our Lego journey started with Duplo, amazing toy. You can put it in a big box, haul it out regularly, it rebuilds quickly and it packs away. Then my husband rescued is cake box of Lego he had as a boy from his mothers cupboard. This is when the joy and the pain began. When a child is left alone with a box of mixed Lego, the only thing to do is tip it out. No biggy, I always put the Lego on my special Lego mat, easily lifted and poured, the dustpan and broom can easily pick up any escapees. But then birthday after birthday, christmas after christmas the generosity of all leads to the slow build up of our Lego World. My son and I have a dream of one day creating a room that is Lego City. Will Farrell got to play in our dream. This dream is what lead Lord Business to the temptation of crazy glue. Once you have rebuild a ambulance more times than you can think, and worse once you have located, sorted and then rebuild the ambulance again more times this is when you start having crazy glue fantasies. Once you have sorted and sorted and sorted through mounds of lego you get to a point where you need to sort and separate in order to maintain your sanity. My sorting project is a work in progress. It started with sorting into colours, good but vaguely effective. Then moved into sorting into piece sizes in draws, more effective. Then moved into sorting mini figures into people and accessories. My recent sort is a mini figure stand, each figure has a place with all accessories. This all seems super until the 2 year old walks in and after a short trip to the loo and a boil of the kettle, you find empty draws and trays and a lego volcanoe of pieces, with heads, legs and arms that is a depiction of Dantes Inferno, a not so Divine Comedy. This is when mom turns on her heel to lock
herself in the toilet and cry. But... Everything is Awesome!

Jugerbomb for the soul

Yes, Jugerbomb bomb for the soul. Who would have thought a drunken dress up night out with your mates could go so far to heal that emotional tumble dryer.
We have been talking up this 30th for weeks now. In a way it is sad how excited a bunch of 30 year old parents can get for a night out on the town. In my world with excitement comes the ever existent mommy guilt. Now in a rational brain and not a mommy brain, the thought process would be; you have had your kids at home for 6 weeks over the christmas holidays and you deserve a special night out. The other factor is that my husband also deserves a night out with his wife and not his children's mother. Regardless before any such event I feel nervous guilt, questioning my responsibilities to my children.
This past week was filled with emotional turmoil. My baby started school for the first time. After 2 1/2 years of being home with mommy, the day arrived. I have been talking up this day for months, laughing it off saying that my christmas day is when I drop both kids at school and run from the gates screaming my new found freedom. In reality it is a day I have been dreading. I equate having to forcibly remove a child from you that is clinging on for dear life screaming "no mommy, I want to come home with you" to ripping a small piece of your heart away. Yes, I know I know, children have to go to school and they will enjoy it, they will thrive on the stimulation blah blah blah... This mommy does not cope well. Listening to all the advice being dolled out over past week, I am still wondering what actually is the best thing to say to that mommy sitting in her car in the parking lot sobbing. My friend had same situation this week, while she was telling me, I caught myself regurgitating the same drivel I had to endure all week and yet still can't come up with a good one-liner.
While managing your emotions of the event, you also need to take into account the feelings of the older child. My oldest started Grade R this week, this meant he moved into "big school". As excited as he was, it came with those butterflies of the unknown. He told me in car on way school that doesn't actually think he is ready and needs a few more days to prepare himself for school. I listened to myself telling the boys all these wonderful things about school while trying not to vomit from the anxious knot in my tummy.
When the school bell rang on Friday I was so relieved that we had all survived the week and were now a little stronger. I could move my thoughts to the problem of the outfit. I love dress up parties. I feel that you should go to some if not a lot of effort for the person that is throwing the party. But, the theme of this particular party showed off some unfortunate side effects of my mommy worry, that being the extra 20kg that does not squeeze so easily into the CEO and office Ho theme. Thanks to the team at wonder bra that unintentionally I am sure designed bras that help you put all that excess into a cup and squeeze it together to form some semblance of a cleavage that can put a big tick on fancy dress box. Outfit sorted, kids dropped at granny and daiquiri in hand to numb the rising guilt about leaving my baby for a night after he has had to endure being left at school against his will all week.
While dancing to some loud cheesy music with a strobe flashing in my eyes, surrounded by people that are just all excepting, I found the answer to the sobbing mommy in the car. I woke up on Sunday morning, a little hung over, feet blistered from squeaking some takkie, satisfied from great drunken uninhibited sex feeling like human again. So sometimes you just need to throw those granny panties on the floor put on something uncomfortable and go and be... I have titled mine Jugerbomb for the soul.

Sex Ed! What should we really be teaching our kids?

I was eavesdropping on my 5 year old playing house with his cousin, had a laugh at the role play but it does beg some questions. The girl was mommy and my son daddy, she spent the whole game complaining about how much house work she had, and without listening to a word she said my son asked her to pour him a drink. Is this what we teaching our kids what marriage is about?
We were discussing at book club (the source of all knowledge) when is the appropriate time to start teaching our kids about the birds and the bees. 3 was suggested starting age of basic anatomy getting more detailed with the years. Research I have done suggests always being prepared as they will ask at the most random times. This got me thinking what I was taught, I can remember a book with cartoon sperm, a talk and a bad PACT skit/play at school, and my mother saying that if cant do it in public you shouldn't be doing it. Did this really prepare me, I am not sure.
I read a blog written by a dad wishing his daughter has great sex in her life, not locking her behind a chastity belt. Not promoting promiscuity, but yes, sex is awesome.
We spend so much time complaining that our husbands should be more intuitive, knowing when we need a glass of champagne, when to be left alone, when to be hugged, when to put the kids in the car and disappear for an hour or two. We expect alot from them in the bedroom as well, they need to know when we want to be cuddled, when we want to be thrown on the bed for a good Rogering and when to sleep in the other room with very little definate input from us. Reading some articles in mens magazines by men commenting on why Christian got women dripping like a perculator, majority concluded that women secretly like to be dominated or that women are materialistic. I wanted to shout at these articles saying no no no. It was signing off each email differently, rubbing soothing lotion on her bruised ass, and other such acts. Treat her like the most important person in the universe and you can do whatever you want to her in the bedroom.
So... How do I teach this concept to my boys? Is it possible to teach this, or is it nature? I have started with old fashioned chivalry. What should we be teaching our daughters? How do we help them create a world that just a little better?

I'm swimming in the rain, what a glorius feeling, I'm happy again.

I have mentioned before my lack of good motherly discipline when it comes to doing fun things, today was no exception. We woke up to grey skys and leaky clouds. We were blessed with an amazing electric storm last night, lightning, thunder and a downpour. My boys love the rain, it sends an excited energy bolt through them. It started with my 2 year old, that is yet to be convinced by homosapiens choice to wear clothes regardless of the temperature, jumping on his bike with his Flounder hat going for a ride in the rain. I donned my dri-mac and off we set. Neighbours giving me the helpful medical advice that my kids will catch some rain virus and end up in a slow sneezing painful lump on the couch. I thank them for their concern and continue my race through the big puddles splashing. Back at the house the 5 year old decides swimming in the rain will rock this rainy day. I don't mind a good goof during a monkey's wedding, but on a London pisser takes a bit more. So I set my boundaries, I will swim with you but you jump in first. Off we go, 2 year old in armbands an birthday suite, 5 year old whooping at prospect. Cannon Bombs away! We are swimming in the rain, what a glorius feeling, we are happy again. Half an hour later, blue, boys wrapped in towels run back to house for hot chocolate and marshmallows, I jump into a hot shower. That sting of hot water on icy cold body after bombing, jumping, diving, and underwater scare game is invigorating. Choosing to spend the day in the pool, riding bikes, on the slip n slide, splashing in puddles, rewarded with hot treats beats sitting holed up in front of the tv anyday! I am off to bed with a big tingling smile!

Mmmmm...Good Question???

Every parenting book gives us the advice to prepare yourself for the sex questions, so that we can answer appropriately and without creating a big fuss. So far I have fielded these relatively well. What I did not prepare for were questions on race and racial issues. Being brought up in South Africa may have made us a bit more edgy about answering these. I am really irritated with myself about my hesitation and lack of preparation. My now 5 year old usually spurts these out on the trip home from school, one of the biggest reasons why I do everything to ensure I take and fetch from school. We spend many hours of our lives watching builders build, anywhere that has an active building site I get convinced to stop and watch. After watching the builders pouring concrete for the foundations of the new school aquatic centre we hopped in the car, lunch box on lap, ready for trip home which consists of blissful silence or a rundown of school events or a game of ask the awkward questions.
"Why are all the builders the same as my friend A?" "What do you mean by the same?" "They are all brown." Now instead of simple truthful answers sticking to all learned principles, mind realing with 10 different explanations, I went with the stupid and senseless which does not satisfy anyone. Lucky can distract 5 year olds easily and bank it for a better day.
The following day I was somehow coerced into having 2 boys around for a play date (when I write these it points out that my kids really do manipulate me). Due to the excessive heat slip n slides and pools were the game of choice. Sitting on the patio eating lunch in life guard mode, my domestic worker was telling me how fascinated she is by the kids swimming. I told her to grab her lunch and come sit with me and she can watch the kids. Being much older than me, therefore brought up in what we term the old South Africa, this goes against what she has done all her life. But she does it. So we sitting chatting, she asks me about the race of the boys. I explain that the bigger boy is Zulu and the smaller boys dad is coloured and I think mom is Indian. She laughs and says when she was young she would never have thought a maid would be sitting eating lunch with her madam watching a rainbow of kids play together without any thought. Thinking back to the previous day, and my reluctance to answer race questions, these kids are so fortunate and we must do everything to keep these kids in the same prejudice free mindset as they grow. I love being South African living in South Africa because we have made real change for the better.