Parenthood: May 2009 Archives

Big giant Penelope

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"MOOOOOOM," Liam hollered up the stairs yesterday to my treehouse lair, my office under the eaves wherein I plot extremist activities because I am an extremist. It makes me sound hard. Don't take that from me.

"WHAT!" I hollered back. "DON'T YELL!"

"THERE IS A PENELOPE DOWN HERE!"

"A WHAT?"

"A BIG GIANT PENELOPE!"

There is a big giant Penelope in our kitchen? Like, a giant girl? WTF?

"WHAT IS A PENELOPE?"

"YOU KNOW!"

"NO! ENLIGHTEN ME!"

"THE THING WITH A LOT OF LEGS!"

"OMG YOU MEAN A TRILOBITE!"

Which no, it is not a trilobite, rather a millipede/centipede/silverfish, but I call them trilobites much to Chris's annoyance because "millipedes" or "silverfish" or whatever those little minions of Satan are called look insanely prehistoric and defy their benign name. Somehow in Liam's mind "millipede" became "Penelope." By the way, the folks who got close enough to actually physically count the legs on those things? PROPS.

"KILL IT!" I hollered back.

"NO! YOU KILL IT!"

"YOU'RE THE BOY! THAT'S WHAT BOYS DO! WHY DO YOU THINK YOU WERE BORN?"

"YOU'RE THE MOM! YOU BAKE AND CUT MY SANDWICH AND KILL THE BUGS!"

"OUT OF EITHER OF YOUR PARENTS, IT IS YOUR FATHER WHO KILLS THE BUGS!"

"WELL WHATEVER JUST COME DOWN HERE AND KILL THIS PENELOPE!"

"YOU KILL IT! YOU'RE ALREADY DOWN THERE!"

'FINE! I'M USING YOUR SHOE!"

Well played. Didn't see that coming. I finally lumbered down two flights of stairs to see Mr. Smart Aleck standing there holding my Converse shoe over his head, a wicked look on his face.

"FINE. You win," I said.

"I knew I would."
The topic du jour for Momversation. Because I was such a neurotic mess with Liam the irony is that I think I've made him uptight about a few things. Think meaning know. It was so much easier the second time around because I had done it all before. For instance, I knew that I required an epidural the second time around - none of this "I'm going for a baby AND an award, too!" business. I think I had more time to enjoy Ewan's babyhood because I wasn't freaking out over the simplest of things.

Chris and I are "holding talks" (it sounds so much more official that way) about the possibility of going for a third child but I'm still on the fence, the same spot where I've been for the past three years. In the video I mention how perfectly content I am to have a proportionate ratio of children vs. arms and I mean that. Like, three kids will totally throw the balance of power; the Lilliputians children, they will outnumber us. I will have to tie them to the cart just to make it through the grocery store. OHMYWORD and what if I have twins? God apparently thought it HYSTERICAL to make twins run on both my side and Chris's side of the family and I'm positive that I'm playing Russian Roulette here and that as soon as we decide our number is up. Our families think it's sweet, the possibility of twins, and they think this because they would neither have to carry, deliver, or wake up at 5 a.m. with them.

I know that I would love a third baby, I would love him or her to absolute bits and I am enamored with the idea of a big family like the Waltons, so that's not the point; the point is whether or not I could handle a third baby at this time. I give major propers to those who can.

So how did you prepare for a second child? Also - if you have more than two children (seriously, be straight with me here) was it an easy transition like from baby #1 to baby #2? Was it easier? Harder? I've only two friends who have more than two children and whenever I ask they give me The Look.   


Sometimes I think that animals have it so lucky because their offspring shoots out of the womb with the ability to walk and, in the case of baby sharks, find their own food! I don't want to be a shark or anything, but there are times that I feel a twinge of jealousy. Liam has been easy to make a self-starter: he folds his own clothes and puts them away; he sets the table; he's still at the age where helping is cool. Ewan thinks helping is akin to ruling the world and is incredibly gung-ho about it whereas Liam is beginning to catch on to our devilish plan. The problem is that Ewan's desire to help and do things for himself has a lifespan of three seconds and bribes don't work. So the question is: how do you raise independent kids?

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