the pieces of my life

Pie: Mommy, let’s talk about piggies. I’ll go first and then you go and then I’ll go and then you go…
Me: Okay. Go ahead.
Pie: I like piggies when they’re nice and they don’t bite.
Me: I like piggies when they oink and snort.
Pie: I like piggies when they make good bacon.

And that pretty much stopped the conversation.

***

At dinner tonight, apropos of nothing
Doodles: Mom?
Me: Yes?
Doodles: When will I start making sperm?
Me: Um, uh. Puberty. So, what like thirteen?
Adam: Thirteen sounds about right.
Doodles: My body is already making sperm.
Adam: It is?
Doodles: The sperm are wiggling and moving all around me and that’s why I can’t stop wiggling.

Another conversation stopper!

Me: Here, draw a picture for Father’s Day.
Doodles: I don’t want to.
Me: You’re going to.
Doodles: Why do I have to do that?
Me: Because I’m the meanest mommy ever and I live to make you suffer. Did you know that?
Doodles: Yeah. I knew that.

Here I am. Me and my computer. Well, technically me and Adam’s computer. My computer seems to be on its last legs. Or RAMs. Or whatever the hell it is computers have. Once upon a time, I was a tech savvy person. Those days are gone. I know how to operate my iPhone. I know enough to want a new iPhone. But that’s pretty much it.

Of course, now that I’m having some good quality time with a computer, all I can think is, “Peach crisp is calling my name.” Adam adds, “Nothing Pizza Hut makes is good. You should blog that.” My father just called to tell me he sat next to Peter Greene on his plane ride to Miami. I, however, hadn’t heard of Peter Greene before.

I’ve decided it’s time to get back on the Weight Watchers wagon. Of course, now that I’m doing that, I’m obsessed with food. My BMI is actually in the healthy range right now at 23.3 But I’m anxious to improve my running PRs–so far I’ve signed up for six shorter runs (well, seven, but I’ve already run one) and I plan on signing up for a few halves–and the best way I know to run faster is to haul less weight. Runner’s World has an article this month about avoiding aches and pains, and it said if you’re doing longer runs, you really need to have a BMI lower than 21 to save your knees. I’m at that point of life that my knees need to be safeguarded. But that’s not going to happen. I’d have to lose fifteen pounds to get to a BMI of under 21 and 1) really? and 2) I’d be a little bony. I’m not exactly a small-boned gal, and 3) really? So now I’m obsessing over the peach crisp in the fridge that I made for our weekend guests, but on 18 points a day, that’s not happening. So–

Oooh! iPhone commercial! Shiny! Pretty.

Wait, where was I? Eh, there’s nothing more boring than a person watching his or her weight. But it might slip in sometimes. Because there’s nothing more obsessed than a person watching his or her weight. Did I mention the peach crisp? It is an exquisite peach crisp.

Of course, my son needs to be watching his weight. But in the other direction. The girl is solidly a pound heavier than the boy. That kid is a peanut. I measured both of them today: Doodles is 41″ and 38 lbs. Pie is 38″ and 39 lbs. (Does that make her more or less a square?) I still have him in his car seat in the minvan and he’s been a real trooper about being the only kindergartner in a full car seat. In Adam’s car we have him in a booster with a back. He’s definitely a full year away from the backless booster unless he has a serious summer growth spurt (the rules for the backless are 4 years old, 40 inches, and 40 pounds). I’m ready to cave and put him in a booster with back in our car (he’s more than big enough for that one. For that you need to be 3 years old, 38 inches, and 30 pounds). The five-point harness is the safest for as long as possible, but he’s suffered long enough.

I’m cooking for the boy. I’ve been making magic out of our Boston Organics delivery (a home veggie and fruit delivery service). I’ve been putting my haus frau skills to the test. One night, we have zucchini, peppers, and yellow squash. I didn’t want to make multiple meals. I peered in the fridge and we had cheddar cheese, salsa, green onion, and in the cabinet, I found a can of beans. So I made do-it-yourself burritos. But wait, tortillas? I didn’t have any tortillas. So I made them. From scratch. In time for a family dinner. I was pretty impressed with myself. Of course, Pie refused to eat them.

Me: Look, Pie. Even Doodles is eating them!
Doodles: Yeah! They’re good!
Me: See, Pie! They’re great! They’re even better than the store-bought kind.
Doodles: Well… I don’t think I’d say they were better.

Why do I even bother? Okay, no more food talk. I’ve got to go and not think about peach crisp.

For the first time, my baby boy is spending the night away from us. Okay, there was one other time, but that was the night that both Adam and I were at Beth Israel because I was giving birth to Pie. And the next night, Adam was home for him.

But tonight, he has his first out-of-the-house sleepover. I’ve assured him if he wants to come home in the middle of the night, he can. But here it is, pretty much middle, and he appears to be sleeping (he’s at Tab’s house across the street).

He seems to be adjusting well to this “big kid” life. I just wish I could say the same about me.

Doodles: So, will I go to Daddy’s business school when I grow up?
Me: Well, it depends. You may not want to go to business school. You might want to do something else.
Doodles: Well, I need to go to business school to become a paleontologist.
Me: For paleontology, you’ll go to a school that specializes in that, not business school. You’ll need to study archeology and dinosaurs and biology and all sorts of stuff.
Doodles: So I’ll find a school for that?
Me: Yep. Did you decide you’ll be a paleontologist again?
Doodles: Yeah.
Me: So you don’t want to be a doctor anymore?
Doodles: No. Doctors might have to touch sick people, and I wouldn’t want to do that, because then I could get sick.
Me: Very wise.
Doodles: But if I’m a paleontologist, I’ll have to travel to where the bones are and that would be bad because I want to be with my family.
Me: Maybe your family could come with you.
Doodles: Maybe.

(All of this is from last Friday)

Pie had pizza, salad, and a whoopie pie last night. Oddly enough, it was apparently the salad that gave her a stomach ache.

***

I have my own name plate and name tag for Adam’s HBS 5 year reunion, in case I want to go to any academic presentations. The boy came in this morning wearing my name tag. “Monkey boy,” he said to me, “you need to get ready for school!”

“Huh?” I said.

“Look,” he said, pointing to his tag. “I’m Jenny Brown. Get ready for school!”

I laughed. “You, Mom, need to go drink your smoothie!”

He smiled sweetly and said to me, “Sorry, but you can’t direct me, honey!”

***

Adam took twenty minutes to decide what to wear to the reunion academic presentations today. “Can I wear jeans? Kevin’s dressed nicer. I should dress nicer. Should I wear khakis? I guess I’ll wear khakis. I feel so funny wearing khakis these days. Maybe I should wear nice jeans? I’ll wear the khakis.” He puts on the khakis and a blue-and-white shirt. “Maybe I’ll wear this tonight,” he says, at which point I told him I had enough and he wasn’t wearing a blue shirt and khakis to a friggin’ cocktail party if I had to wear a freakin’ cocktail dress. And then he told me to chill. And then I reminded him that all these events are optional for me and he quickly backed down.

***

Doodles announced that he wanted to go to the hardware store.

Me: What for?
Doodles: I need stuff for my invention.
Me: What do you need.
Doodles: Just plastic and wood.
Me: Nothing else?
Doodles: That’s it.
Me: Do you have a plan for what you want to build?
Doodles: It’s all in my head.
Me: What is it?
Doodles: I’m going to build something special! It’s going to be a babysitting machine! And I’m going to make robots and they’ll watch the kids. And then I’m going to make these helicopters the robots will use!
Me: Oh?
Doodles: Yeah! So can we go get my wood and plastic now?

The boy definitely had fun. Maybe too much fun. He's absolutely walking funny and it occurs to us it's been hours since he peed. Oops…