From the mouths of the babes…

Somehow I’ve known all along that kids don’t stay kids for long (I know I’m a genius), but I didn’t expect to get ‘educated’ about various sexual subjects by a twelve-year-old boy.  More importantly… my twelve-year-old boy.  When this school year started, so did the questions, comments and many many talks about girls.  And recently he started to offer his version of what sex is, how and why it’s done.

Don’t get me wrong, I am very happy that he is talking about it at all and especially with me, however he seems to be not only extremely opinionated but also very confident in his understanding of sexual activities…  Today he announced that he understands why boys are always supposed to do nice things for girls, but you never see girls doing anything nice for the boys.  When I asked why that is he whispered: “Girls do nice things for the boys in the bedroom, Mom!”

Not only did I throw up in my mouth a little upon hearing this, I also decided that as much as I wanted to know where, how and who told him that, I probably should end the conversation instead…  Unfortunately for me, my son was not about to let it go as he continued to inform me that he is about to be a man (with his impending Bar Mitzvah coming up), and therefore has the right to talk about sex!  God help me.  So, I went ahead against my better judgement and asked where he heard that, to which he immediately replied: “My friend Michael!  He knows everything Mom”.

Oh well, when you got a friend like Michael… who needs proper sex education?

Hooters, children and me being the greatest parent that ever lived…

Yesterday was the last day of my children’s freedom, and incidentally the last day of my imprisonment.  As I counted down the dwindling hours of winter break, I was also counting down the hours till my head was going to stop throbbing and my voice would sound human again (oppose to a hissing, barking, and squealing-female version of a prison guard type of a voice).

So, I decided to reward my boys with a lunch at Red Robin (mainly because I had a coupon) to celebrate their last day of vacation!  Even though they didn’t seem to appreciate my goodwill and sarcasm about the whole thing, they still agreed to go.  What a tough life!  Poor little children being taken out to lunch after having endured two weeks of fancy shmancy activities, trips, restaurants and who could forget not one but eight nights of Hanukkah.  Next year, I already told them that they will be taking a little trip to Skid Row for the holidays; and later I will re-wrap their already played and forgotten toys for Hanukkah.

After being seated along with the many other Moms who had the same exact idea, I tried making conversation in between Atari’s Breakout and NimbleBit’s Tiny Tower; yes they are over Angry Birds and Plants vs. Zombies or whatever the hell their names are.  Let me tell you, it requires some serious mad skills to be able to carry on a conversation with your Mother while building a whole condominium at the same time, and don’t get me started on those pesty little people walking around needing something every ten minutes, the alarm on Tiny Tower is the most annoying thing I’ve ever heard in my life, right next to a child crying and whining at the table next to me while I’m trying to enjoy an ‘Adults Only’ dinner.  Why is it that its perfectly alright for the child to throw a fit in a public place, but it is NOT alright for me to come over to it and smack it on the head?  My theory is if the child’s parent isn’t going to do anything about it, that clearly means they want other adults to do something about their annoying child’s behavior.  You with me on this?  Good, moving on.  Oh wait, one more thing before moving on…  As my Father likes to say quite often, “When I was a little boy in Lithuania (FYI, we lived in Latvia, but that’s not the point) if a child ever talked or cried in public, any adult was allowed to come up and shut that bastard up!  End of story.”  Alright, so I added the last part from myself but you get the point here.

Somehow I managed to get my kids’ little eyes away from their iPods long enough to have a five-minute dialogue about our adventures in Florida back in the day.  Specifically, my oldest wanted to know why I took him to a ‘HOOTERS’ restaurant in Orlando one day.  His words: “Mom, I just don’t understand.  I was only like 7 or 8 at the time!  Why would you think it was appropriate for me to see girls in very short shorts and boobs everywhere serving me food?  If I wanted to see that, I’d stay at home and look at you.”  First of all let’s get something straight, I’ve never in my whole life worn short shorts or shorts of any kind.  My idea of shorts are pants that come up to my calf, I believe they are called ‘Mom shorts’ a.k.a. Capris.  Second of all, I have never until that day been to a Hooters restaurant, nor have I heard much about it.  Sure I’ve heard the name, but didn’t know what it was about.  Believe me, as soon as we walked in I realized it was not your typical place to eat.  Maybe we stayed because I was curious, and maybe it was because we were both starving and the other closest restaurant was not close by.  After explaining such to my twelve-year-old, he seemed pretty satisfied with the answer and immediately after went back to destroying aliens, or building a house for them, not quite sure which one.  After a minute, he looked up and added this interesting fact: “It’s OK Mom, I am not mad at you.  Turns out most of my friends have been to Hooters with their Dads anyway, so it wasn’t just me that was put through that torture.  And to tell the truth, I like girls now so its OK.  Let me know if you’d like to go there again.”  Oh thanks son, make me feel like the worst parent ever, then reward me with that little announcement…

My six-year-old caught wind of ‘boob talk’ and decided to chime in, specifically wanting to know where there’s such a place with girls in short shorts and boobs everywhere, and more importantly why I’ve never taken HIM there?  Oye, how can one brother be so different from the other?  One is all about the rules and structure, and the other only wants to have a good time.  Boy I sure hope the older one doesn’t find out about my new tattoos, there is a lecture I’d like to avoid.  Last time it only lasted a week, who knows how long this one will take…  I plan on keeping a shirt on whenever taking him to the pool, beach and anywhere else that requires a swimsuit.  Stay tuned for that conversation, I am planning on recording it…


Overcoming my homesickness…

This morning was a bit of a somber morning for me…  Our six-grader headed out to a four-day overnight Science camp today!  I have to emphasize the OVERNIGHT part since it was the only thing I heard when first learning about this little adventure, which might as well had said a six-month-overnight-camp.  It all sounds the same to me, because all I hear is: my child will be without his Mommy!  It doesn’t matter that he hasn’t called me that in years, I still think of him as a three-year-old.  Surely, I am not the only Mother (or the last one) to worry about her child going away for days at a time, however I suspect I might be in the minority when it comes to everything else I did prior to his departure…

That would include:

– packing eight pairs of underwear and socks instead of the recommended four, as specifically stated in the camp flyer

– packing four pairs of pants instead of the recommended two, again as specifically stated in the camp flyer

– packing enough toothpaste to last him til next year instead of the recommended one-trial-sized-tube

– packing shampoo and conditioner to last at least two weeks because it was listed under the “optional items” section

– packing four pairs of pants instead of the recommended two

– packing eight shirts instead of the recommended four

– and of course packing enough snacks for the long 30-minute ride to the camp completely ignoring the section marked “what NOT to pack”, because like a good Jewish Mother I never let my kids leave the house with a little something to nosh on “just in case”.

The last few days leading up to today I kept thinking how much my son will be homesick, and me not being there to comfort him.  The more I thought about that, the more I started to notice that it doesn’t seem to phase him one bit that he will be gone for a whole four days!  All he cared about was getting his friends into the same cabin, and whether or not he can try sneaking in his iPod…  Every night I snuggled next to him telling him not to worry, that he will have a great time and to call me for any reason, no matter how small it may be.  And every night AFTER that I would overhear him telling his brother to be good and “distract Mom as much as possible because she will be a total mess!”  Nice.

When we finally dropped him off at school this morning, I quietly told my son that I love him and that I might cry a little bit when he goes.  He turned to me and with a straight face replied: “I know you love me Mom.  It’s OK, you can cry.  Just go do it over there somewhere, not too close OK?”

Not much more I can say after that, except for: looks like I’m the one with the homesickness problem, not my child.


Youth Football and the big dilemma

At a flag football game for my 1st grader, I couldn’t help but enjoy my son’s aggressiveness.  I know how wrong that sounds, however after trying soccer, baseball, basketball and tennis I’m happy to see that he finally at the old age of six, found his sport! Besides, its only flag football and tackling is not allowed.  Although that doesn’t seem to stop my child from jumping on other players.  He sleeps, eats and lives for football, and was very angry that he isn’t allowed to play tackle or as he calls it “regular” football.

My fake phone calls to the officials at “regular” football league insisting that they allow this six-year-old to play went unanswered, which was not good enough for my kid.  He begged that I physically go to their offices and demand that they let him play, since he is READY!
Having no problem with lying, I went ahead and told him that after much consideration the football officials decided he needs to wait a couple years before getting slammed and pummeled onto.  My son’s response?  “Nobody will slam me down, I’m too quick and awesome for that to happen!”

Seeing that this issue won’t be going away any time soon, I’m secretly hoping that he will pick another sport in the near future.  Before I ever had kids I always said that I’d never let mine play a savage game like football, but now I don’t see much of a choice.  This brings me to another issue.  How do Mothers allow, and seem to be fine with their young children being shoved, and slammed into while playing football or lacrosse or any other violent sport?  Am I the only parent that thinks its completely wrong to allow your ten-year-old to be physically hurt?

Where are the rules and guidelines about starting boys too young in violent sports?  Shouldn’t there be some kind of a mandatory law that says you can’t play before the age of fifteen, or at least til your child has facial and body hair?

America is the only country in the world that has the most boys between the ages of 10 and 18 with head traumas and concussions!  I truly hope my son changes his mind about playing football, I’d hate to be the only Mother in Orange County to ban my kid from playing tackle football…