A Recipe for Disaster

We were driving.  Houses blurring together outside of the window.  I was listening to a podcast about shaming people into doing what's right.  Freakonomics podcast.  I highly recommend it.  That's when it happened. 

"Mom, what's sex?"

My 7 year-old's voice sounds from the backseat.  Ah here we go.  I've been prepping for this day since she was born.  Determined to give her the information she needs without being embarrassed or ashamed of the topic.  Play it cool, Denise.  Play it cool. 

"Well, what do you think it is?" I ask.

"Hot." 

"What?" I ask.

"I think sex means hot." 

"I think you're thinking of the word sexy," I correct.

"Yeah it means a cute boy."

I wanted to leave it at that but Ava continues, "But what does sex mean?"

I guess we're doing this.  "Well, uh you know how boys and girls are different?"

"Yeah."

"Well what ways are we different?"

A long pause..."Boys have short hair."

"Yes, that's true.  Most do.  But what makes a boy different from a girl?"

"Boys don't have boobs."

"No they don't.  And they have different looking bums," I say resisting the urge to distract her with a trip to Baskin Robins and never speaking of this again. 

"Uh-huh," Ava agrees. 

I decide to change course.  "Well it's like...it's like a recipe."  Ava laughs.

"A recipe?" she asks incredulously. 

"Yeah.  Girls have an ingredient like flour.  And Boys have an ingredient like sugar.  And when you put them together it makes a baby."

I study Ava's confused face in the rear view mirror.  Clearly I'm making little sense.  Inside her mind she's seeing Brig and I in aprons in the kitchen baking up a batch of baby. 

"Girls have eggs.  We're all born with them and they won't come out until you start having your period."

"I have scrambled eggs inside me?!" Ava yells looking terrified. 

"No, no, no.  They aren't scrambled eggs.  You can't even see them they're so tiny.  Anyway, we have eggs and boys have something else and when you put them together a baby grows in your tummy," I say, sweat beads forming along my hairline. 

"I still don't get it.  Is that sex?"

"No.  I guess not.  It's like when you really love someone and you want to show them how much you love them.  You hug and kiss.  You only do it with your husband and it's a private thing.  You'll hear things on tv about it but that's not how it really is,"  I say lamely. 

"Like the one time I walked into your room and you and dad were kissing naked?" she asks, adding, "That was weird." 

I stare at her in the rear view mirror.  It's like a game of chicken.  Of course we've talked about this incident before but I've never named what it was she saw, only that it's what mommy and daddy do when they love each other. 

"Well, yes.  But it's nothing to be embarrassed about," I say trying to convince myself as well. 

"Oh."

I sit there hoping the conversation is done.

"Mom?"

"Yes?"

"Can we go get a shake at Arctic Circle?"

I exhale.  "Sure, sweetie."  

Bad Attitude

 

 My baby fell asleep while waiting for me to finish reading to Ava. 

This is how I feel lately.  Get me outta here, mom!  We were at a local bounce house place and they had a hurricane simulator.  Ava likes it.  I wasn't really paying attention to Bree.  I was chuckling as I snapped picture after picture of Ava and then looked down to see this face.  It was crowded that day too, so I'm sure there were parents watching this thinking what a great mother I was laughing my head off while my two year old is clearly distressed.  I let her out eventually. 

 Ava enjoyed it anyway. 

Look at that dirty little face.  She's started pulling this face and I just love it so much.  I'm surprised she did it for me.  She's camera shy sometimes. 

I need more fun in my life.  So I thought, you know they say blondes have more fun.  I tried it out on a phone app.  A friend informed me that my hair wouldn't actually go blonde.  It would probably end up orange.  Well poo.  I've never heard the saying that orange heads have more fun so I guess this little experiment is never getting off the ground. 

 He loves miso.  Also me so.  This is us on a date.  Brig wanted to try out a place called Takashi. 

It was a Monday night and it was super busy.  We waited a half hour for a table.  The atmosphere was nice.  Here's the thing though.  I'm not a big fish fan.  I do like sushi.  Just don't tell me what's in it.  I especially like it if it's fried, tempura style.  When we walked into Takashi it wreaked of fish.  I've never experienced this at any other sushi place.  It was foreboding. 

Brig posted this on instagram that night.  After sampling a couple of sushi rolls I threw in the towel and ordered some teriyaki chicken.  The still photo doesn't convey this but the chicken kabobs were dancing with joy, doing a regular Irish jig.  Next time I'm requesting our usual sushi place. 

Well Spring is here.  Whoop-de-do.  I've got a bad attitude.  Don't mind me.  Everyone else is excited about Spring and that's fine.  Bree is saluting a bunny decoration stuck in the ground. 

Brielle often hides from the camera.  Maybe she was a film star in a past life. 

 

Ava turns 8 this year.  Which means we are thinking about her baptism even though it is six months away.  I was into Costco and saw these dresses.  I snapped a few pics to show Ava who was at school.

 Not to be left out, little sister wanted to display her favorite dress. 

 

It wasn't enough to hold it up for me.  She wanted me to do the exact thing I had done with Ava's dresses.  Sibling rivalry is alive and well.  

I showed the dresses to Ava who said they were just okay.  We got online and surprise, surprise, the above dress is more of what she had in mind, veil and all.  Oh gosh.  She has a major princess complex.  I don't think we'll be getting this one.  The search continues.

One more story of note.  At Brig's work they offered health screening to their employees and spouses.  This involved coming in and having your blood drawn to see about your cholesterol and what not.  It wasn't required but they would give you a break on your monthly premiums if you'd have it done.  So off we went.  I wasn't thrilled.  Having my blood drawn is always a trial.  I have tiny deep veins and I've never had anyone just stick a needle in my arm and get blood on the first try.  This time was no exception.  After three tries, one in both arm and one in the hand the lady sent me to Wanda.

Wanda had short white hair cut in the pixie style.  She wore thick glasses that gave her a bit of a bookworm appearance.  She cheerfully got me situated and proceeded to stick a needle in my arm and dig around for a vein for about 90 seconds.  None of this was too remarkable except that while she is doing this she says, "Do you watch The Vampire Diaries?"  

I saw the irony in this immediately, grinned and told her I had watched the first soapy season with my husband but haven't watch the subsequent seasons.  She proceeded to fill me in on what I'd missed, revealing that one of the main characters is now a vampire when before she was not.  Eventually she struck gold and filled two vials with my hard won blood.  As I stood she said, "You better not tell your husband if he's still watching it.  I don't want to spoil it for him."  I assured her I wouldn't and walked out of there suppressing a chuckle.  I mean come on, a phlebotomist with a Vampire Diaries obsession?  It's good, right? 

I should be cleaning the kitchen but instead...

I'm watching this over and over and giggling every time.  I hate goats.