Thursday, April 19, 2012

My house needs an enema

Lately I've been working on trying to get my house to not look like 17 children live in it. So I'm investing in cute storage bins and trying to be more organized, which somehow turns into me being just as disorganized while now wondering what the hell to do with a green woven basket. I look longingly at the kids rooms in magazines, which always manage to look cute and organized but not like someone with OCD lives there. I want my kids room to look like this. Desperately. But here's the thing. We seem to have accumulated an overabundance of crap. Not toys or stuffed animals or art supplies or legos. Crap. Like the plastic thingamajigs that they get sent home from the dentist with. Or the lovely pinata items from the last 12 birthday parties. Or the cheap made in China stuff that the easter bunny broke down and bought them at CVS the night before Easter. Just 100% crap. And sadly, my kids seem to love this stuff more than anything else they own. SO WHAT DO YOU DO WITH CRAP? I actually have a (cute, green) basket on my daughter's dresser that is filled with this crap, but the crap is endless. Do I create more crap baskets? Do I cull the crap? (Every time I try to do this my daughter senses some kind of tremor in the force and manages to find the crap I've thrown away and resuscitate it back to her room/crap basket.) Is it just us that this is happening to? Are we crap magnets? Crap hoarders? They say admitting it is the first step to getting help. So here we go. My name is JJ, and I am a crapaholic. Now someone come help me.

Thursday, April 5, 2012

Let's be extremely clear about something.

Lately I've overheard a few conversations between my kids that go along the lines of this:

3YO: I don't have a vagina. I have a penis.

5YO: I know. Vaginas are for girls, penises are for boys.

(p.s. Here is where I stopped myself from jumping in to say that many people would argue it's the other way around.)

(p.p.s. But not everyone, and that's just fine with me.)

3YO: I have a penis. You have a vagina.

p.p.p.s. (He's repetitive. Or maybe just making sure.)

5YO: Yes and it's mine and you can't touch it.

4ps. (You go girl.)

What gets me isn't the fact that these conversations are taking place, I think they are perfectly normal and natural and hey, I'd love to have more conversations where I was this sure about what I was talking about. It's the utter earnestness of the conversation that amazes me. It reminds me of Tim and I on the rare occasions when we discuss our finances. Everything is very no-nonsense, because if something gets fucked up it can have grave consequences. Their little heads are together, their faces are serious, their voices are low and strong. They are solving the problems of the world, one wiener and koo-koo at a time. And all I can do is stand aside and quietly slow clap.