Mommy Musings

Preschool Ponderings
Every morning I have to wipe off my cheek.  It's the sticky, often sweet, remnants of my three year old's kisses goodbye.  He deposits two or three or four each morning when I drop him off at the Learning Lamp.

He has his friends, CJ is a favorite.  He has his teacher. Miss Francine is always uttered with a little smile and lots of love.  He plays until his clothes are wet with sweat.  He naps until the little cot makes a mark on his cheeks.

He does all this, without me in the room.  Sometimes there is a wave of melancholy when I realize he is indeed a big boy.  It is in those times I wipe my cheek for a different reasons.

Animal House
I live in a house full of men.  My dad, my sons, my dog (and probably my hermit crabs too) are all male.  That means a couple things.  First, there is never anything to eat in the house.  There is food, lots of it sometimes.  However, there is never anything that will fill the cavernous, gaping whole in their guts.

Second, passing gas is an art form.  My father's favorite thing to do whilst chasing boys in the yard would be to gather them in a huddle, stick out their hind parts and pretend to 'wheesh'.  I desperately attempt to instill manners.  "Wheeshes" (my nice word for farts) are not funny.  They are to be done in bathrooms.  They are to be excused.  It's a losing battle for me.  {Okay, in the interest of full disclosure, I do have a 'fart machine' loaded onto my phone as a nuclear option when stuck in something with children who desperately need entertained...and it is kinda funny.}

Finally, men are all about the pecking order.  My dad picks on the seven year old who then picks on the three year old who then picks on the dog.  Me?  I am left as referee, cheerleader or rocking in a corner sucking my thumb-depending on the day.