Oh, October . . .

. . . where have you gone?
The last few weeks have been full, and not in a particularly awesome way. Landon has been working a lot. That happens. We finally decided to take away Marissa's pacifier. That was decidedly the opposite of fun. Then our computer died just in time for Christmas shopping to happen. Stupid computer.
So onto things to be grateful for.
1) I am grateful that I have been disciplined in saving money. That makes the stress of having to buy a new computer right now much smaller.
2) I am grateful that soccer practices are finished for the year. Yes, I would like those two nights a week back, thank you very much!
3) I am grateful we are through the worst of Rissa's post-pacifier weaning issues. She was extra crazy from sleep-deprivation last week, so I was spending a lot of my time putting out her little tiny fires.
4) I am grateful, in spite of missing my husband, for his job and that he is in demand at said job. Nothing like job security in our current world economic climate.
5) I am grateful for my mother-in-law, who is always happy to lend me a hand with the kiddos when Landon is working so much. Seriously, I really lucked out when I got her for my second mom. Are you jealous? You should be.
6) I am grateful for my droid. It is a really fantastic thing to have, particularly when your computer dies.
7) I am grateful for the return of fall.

And now, a letter to Autumn:

Dear Autumn,
Oh, how I have missed you, with your wonderfully crisp, cool weather, beginnings of the holiday season and the best excuse ever for my favoritest baked goods. Please never leave me ever again.
Love,
Me

To My Daughter

Dear Marissa,
Once upon a time, I was young like you. I had three older sisters and one younger sister, and at some point, I decided they were all much prettier than I. You see, I don't really remember when I decided that I was the "ugly one", but I can't remember not believing that, so I must have been quite young. There have been times throughout my life when I can recall looking in the mirror and feeling satisfied with what I saw, even a moment or two when I actually felt pretty, but mostly I've never much cared for my reflection -- my own face, my own body.
The first time I can really remember loving my body was right after I gave birth to your brother. I remember looking in the mirror at my new body, still misshapen after pregnancy, breasts full of the milk by body was making to meet your brother's specific needs, and feeling impressed and overwhelmingly grateful for my body and the miracles it had produced. I was amazed that my body had grown a tiny, perfect person and was now manufacturing the perfect food that little man needed to survive and even thrive.
Now, I am not so young. I still don't like looking at myself in the mirror, but I have mostly made peace with my appearance. I know that I have a strong body, a reliable body, and my face is pleasant enough. More importantly though, I know that my body is capable of great things. And even though I still usually feel like the ugly one when I am surrounded by my beautiful sisters, I know that my body produced two little perfect people, fed them, and cared for them with strength and tenderness.
It is my hope that you never struggle with the self-hate that I have dealt with most of my life. I look at your still very small body and just feel so grateful for how perfectly you are made. I think it weirds your dad out a bit, but I have such a great appreciation of each little part of your physical self, from your gap-tooth grin to your round booty to your stinky little feet. You are a beautiful little girl, and I hope that you always know that.
I love you.
Love,
Mom

Follow Up to the Sex Talk

Tonight, as I was cooking dinner, Mason and Marissa were playing outside, pretending to be frogs. I always enjoy listening to my kids interact with each other, but tonight was particularly entertaining. I hear Mason tell Marissa, "You wanna be a mom?"
To which, Marissa enthusiastically responds, "Uh-huh!"
"Okay, first we have to fight, then we can do the dance!" Mason explains.
"Okay!" Marissa agrees.
Then I hear them "fighting" soon followed by them repeating, "Dance! Dance! Dance!" together. Once they finish their dance, Mason tells Marissa, "Now we have to lay the eggs!"
Boy, was I laughing during this exchange. It really is the little moments that make me so grateful to be a mom!

The Most Awesome Sex Talk EVER!

Tonight, the issue of babies coming from eggs was brought up over dinner by my 5 year old. For whatever reason, it clicked in his mind that we eat eggs and that babies come from eggs. He suddenly became concerned about whether we were eating babies. I asked him if he had ever seen a baby chicken in his eggs when I cook them. He said no, so I explained that babies can't be in eggs if the daddy hasn't put his part in the egg yet. I was really hoping that would suffice, but it didn't.

"If the egg is the mommy part, what is the daddy part?" he wanted to know. So I told him that the daddy part is called sperm. It was almost painful to use that word with him because I could just picture him telling his little friends at school all about it.

"So how does the sperm get in the egg?" he asked, then almost immediately came up with an answer. "OH YAH! Is that when mammals do the special dance in the sea?"

"Um, what?" I responded.

"Do they do a special dance like sea horses?" he asked.

Relieved at being provided a good explanation that didn't require much detail, I said, "YES! They do a special dance like sea horses!"

"Did you and Dad do a special dance?"

"Uh, yeah. We did." I said hesitantly.

"Did you turn the same color?!?" Clearly, we've shown this kid too many nature documentaries . . .

"Um, no. We didn't turn the same color," I responded. "Different animals have different kinds of special dances. Sea horses have their own dance, monkeys have their own dance, and people have their own dance."

"Mom, can you teach me how to do the dance?" Crap. Crap. Crap.

"No, Mason. I can't teach you how to do the special dance."

"Why Mom?"

"Well, Mason. It's private," I try to explain, hoping that will suffice. Unfortunately, he is not familiar with the word "private" in any other context than . . .

"YOU USE YOUR PRIVATES?!" he asks incredulously. Awesome.

"Yes. Yes, you do." I respond, trying to sound very matter-of-fact.

"YOU DANCE NAKED?! GROSS!"

And that was the end of the most awesome sex talk ever.

Some Perspective

Maybe a month or two ago, I bought Charlie and the Chocolate Factory to read with Mason. It might have had something to do with the fact that one of his classmates is already reading the Harry Potter series on his own. Like devouring it. By himself. At five years old. Anyhow, since I have never actually read the book, but I love the movies, I decided it was a good place to begin Mason's foray into chapter books.
So, the movies show that Charlie Bucket and his family are poor, but it doesn't go anywhere near showing the depth of the stark, depressing poverty described in the book. There is a whole chapter, right before Charlie finds the ticket, that is all about how Charlie is slowly starving to death. It was pretty heavy for Mason to grasp, especially since he didn't even really know about the concept of poverty before we started reading this book. It was hard for me to read, and then explain the more difficult ideas, to Mason because it is just such a sad idea - er, rather, such a sad reality. Then I read this line, and it really touched me: ". . . and because we are all a great deal luckier than we realize, we usually get what we want - or near enough" (Dahl 38). [MLA, yo!]
How true is that? I mean, how many of us just fail to realize how truly lucky we are to have enough food to eat, or a home that protects us from the elements, or a jacket to wear when it's cold outside, or good books to entertain our minds? How many of us (myself especially included) only see the things we don't have, the things we'd like to get, the next thing we "need". Then when we get "it", whatever it may be, do we really take the chance to reflect on how lucky we are to have it?
I am grateful for my comfortable life, where all of my needs and nearly all of my wants are satisfied. I am grateful that I don't have to watch my child slowly grow thinner and thinner because I just can't afford to feed him enough to keep him healthy and strong. I am grateful for my husband who works hard to provide for us and take care of us. We truly are luckier than we realize.