Boys Will Be Boys
Nana camp is an invitation only event. My mother-in-law takes all of her grandchildren for a week of crafts, activities and general grandparent indulgence. This year while Max and Lucy traveled to Nana camp Harper and I took our first plane ride up to Michigan to visit my parents. My parents have yet to see Harper and so we took this opportunity to introduce them to their seventh grandchild. This left David home by himself. FOR A WHOLE WEEK.
During his unexpected bachelor time he decided to do some home improvement projects. While I was envisioning the hanging of shelves or the painting of walls, he envisioned maybe hanging a picture and going fishing. Now, he did hang the pictures in the kitchen and I am incredibly grateful for that. However, this is what I found sitting on my kitchen counter when I returned:
This is a phenomenon. Most women I talk to speak of the same occurrence in their household. A home improvement is FINALLY completed only to be left with a table/counter full of tools. I’ve actually waited to see how long it would take David to put the tools away and the longest I’ve been able to hold out was four months. His argument? He is planning on still using those tools to do another project. Where? When? What? Nobody knows, but someday he will need those tools again and it would be so much more convenient to use them if they just sat on the kitchen counter until then.
Even though Max was the only boy at Nana camp with a plethora of female cousins he managed to have a great time swimming, fishing and playing in the air conditioning (he wasn’t so keen on playing outside and being hot). He also left me a little surprise on the kitchen counter:
Max gleefully explained to me that he made a “brown snowman”. So very thoughtful of him to bring me back such a sweet homemade gift from camp.
Ahhh boys, you gotta love ‘em.
Lucy Talks Boys & Marriage
While driving home from church Lucy and I talk marriage:
Lucy: Mommy, will I ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever find a boy to marry me?
Me: Of course you will.
Lucy: But there are so, so, so many boys that are ALREADY married
Me: Well, God has somebody special picked out for you to marry
Lucy: What is his name?
Me: Well, Lucy I don’t know his name
Lucy: When will I meet him?
Me: I have no idea. God will introduce you when it is time.
Lucy: Mommy, let’s promise to not tell anybody that I asked that.
Me: I promise.
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A week later on the way home from school Lucy and I talk about the allure of the “bad boy”
Lucy: Matthew was very bad in school today
Me: Really?
Lucy: Yeah, he got a note sent home to his mommy
Me: What did he do?
Lucy: He is soooo mean. I say nice things to him alllll the time and he never says nice things and today while we were standing in line he tried to bite Karen and then he lied about how many stars he got and then he didn’t stop talking
Me: Wow, sounds like he doesn’t have very good behavior
Lucy: No, but he does have a nice haircut.
Hot Dogs Kill
As a rule I’m a “live and let live” kind of person. I don’t feel compelled to preach my way of living or expect others to follow suit or to even think that my way is the best way. Since having children this is an especially difficult road to travel since EVERYBODY has an opinion regarding how you should or should not be raising your child. I’ve done a rather good job navigating these waters and have pretty much avoided most conflict. Until now.
After herniating a disc in my back from carrying Max around as an infant I swore I wouldn’t make that same mistake with Harper. I started researching baby slings and carriers. I wanted a sling that fit me well and that I felt comfortable using. I’m a rather “endowed” woman and so finding a proper fitting sling became a challenge for me. I went to an actual sling store and spoke with experts who fitted me. I settled on a Hot Sling – which I LOVE. (Dear Hot Sling, feel free to send me some more since I only own one). My only regret is that I didn’t use a sling with my other children. Harper loves being so close to me and I love feeling her snug against me. I can grocery shop with the other two kids in the cart and still have room for food. I can walk to the park, wash dishes, play board games, etc. It is one of my favorite baby items at the moment.
And then the article came out. SLINGS KILL BABIES! Suddenly strangers are stopping me in the grocery store warning me that I’m killing my child. My friends, family, doctors are suddenly concerned with the safety of my child. I read the warning and I consulted the Hot Sling website and I’m still comfortable using my sling. You know why? Because only 14 children have died over 20 years. That is less than one death a year. 1.6 children a year die from eating hot dogs. That means that hot dogs are more dangerous than baby slings. I don’t see anybody accosting people in the cold cuts aisle because they are feeding their child hot dogs. I recognize the problems that some women have had with slings and I am very careful that Harper is facing up, that she is not curled up on herself and I check her often. I do this because I am a responsible parent who cares for her child. 14 deaths in 20 years is more of a comment on the idiots who are parents than the poorly designed product.
If you see me in the store and Harper is snug in her sling don’t even THINK about telling me about the death trap I have created or I will punch you in the throat.
