Is the honeymoon over?

Q: When did foreplay become: "The boys are asleep and I don't feel like throwing up. How much homework do you have tonight?"?

Rhetorical questions

At my last book group meeting we were talking about questions you ask your kids even though you know they can't answer. Usually along the lines of "What were you thinking?"

I know he doesn't even know how to answer these questions, but sometimes, I can't help myself.

Like the other night, I sent JJ in to go to the bathroom before putting on his PJ's. A few seconds later he calls for help. I walk into the bathroom to find him standing on the cupboard in a puddle of his own making. "Mommy, can you get me down?"

"What are you doing? Why are you on the cupboard? WHY did you pee on the counter!?"

He just stared at me.

Oh, well.

Nerd Farm

(Because that is what we grow around here.)

It was Ian's turn to pick a movie.

"Mom, can I watch Star Wars?"

"No, Star Wars is not a kid movie."

"But I can watch some of it it." John edits so they can watch space ships flying and light saber battles.

"Yes. When Daddy is home."

"Is this a kid show?" He holds up our DVD of a Nova special on string theory (No, I can't explain it, and yes, I have seen the DVD. Its complicated)

"If that is what you want."

"Yea! String theory! STRING THEORY! STRING THEORY! STRING THEORY" And he jumps up and down, accompanied by his little brother.

So my preschoolers watched a Nova special explaining math and physics that I can't even understand and were very excited.

I blame their father.

But this, is all my fault

Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery right?

shampoo

Since I got married, I've changed hair care products. Limited budget combined with the fact that I now share with my husband means that I now buy mid-priced, non-girlie shampoo and conditioner. Not that he would complain, but I don't think John would appreciate having to smell like "Sunrise in June" or "Rose kiss with a hint of lavender" or whatever.

BUT,

this past week we went for a long weekend without our children (fantastic, by the way). And I didn't want to pack the giant family sized bottles. So I was wandering around the drugstore our first morning there, and decided to step outside my box (or large-sized, on-sale, non-scented bottle, as the case may be). I bought the yummy smelling, matching shampoo and conditioner in sassy, contoured red bottles, brought them back to the hotel and settled myself in for a long, hot shower.

NOW,

I get that sex sells. I mean, I don't really understand it, but I don't live in a hole - so I know how advertising is. I'm only mildly surprised when the margarine commercials are suggestive, or they imply that I would buy rice based on my need for intimacy. It is weird, but not surprising. But I wasn't really prepared for what I read on the back of my new shampoo. Admittedly, it has been a while since I bought this kind of "pamper yourself" women's product, but it led to this really awkward moment in the shower where I'm thinking:

"Is my shampoo hitting on me? Or does it just want to be left alone with the conditioner?"

Very weird.

Ouch

So we have a new system for dinners at our house. My dear husband made up a month's worth of menus of things we really like to eat. It is great because I like to cook, but can never decide what to make. Plus, if I already have a plan the afore mentioned Grocery Shopping Horror is diminished somewhat.
This coupled with decreased morning sickness means that I've been cooking real meals on a regular basis for several weeks now.
This just happens to coincide with my four-year-old's new stage - "Never interrupt me when I'm playing-no matter what!" Dinnertime has become more nutritious and very entertaining for those of us who eat; For Ian, it has become slow torture. Here are just a few of his tries to get out of eating. I'm trying not to take it personally.

"I'll eat two bites now, but from now on, I'm never eating potatoes again."

"Mommy, is there something you can do to the food after it is cooked to make it delicious?"

"I already tried it, Mommy. It is NOT delicious."

After staring at his plate for several long seconds. . . "Mommy, I feel like fasting."

And when I served clam chowder, words failed him. I wish I had a picture of him with the first bite sitting on his tongue, tears running down his cheeks. That one I let him spit out and excused him from the table. Going to bed hungry was apparently preferable.