And Save us from Polar Bears

Educating the little ones about the environment is a big part of fulfilling my responsibility as a certifiable "green" mom. Certified as what I'm not sure, but as it is part of my mom duties, I've been fulfilling it with gusto, most recently at 10:30 pm when the son asks some question about polar bears that I didn't quite hear. But as a top notch mom, I didn't need to actually hear it to know what the question was. My heart fills with joy as it dawns on me that he has again made the mistake of giving me the perfect lead for my informative discussion on all things socially responsible.

So, its off to the races as I regale him with all the fine details and facts he needs to consider when formulating an accurate answer to the polar bear question. Including, but not limited to, the melting glaciers in Peru, the polar ice caps, why polar bears don't eat penguins but do like to eat, eat and eat, the Amazon rain forests and all the wild animals of the world. I show him the whole world in my hands. And on and on. I do such a fabulous job that he actually suggests I stop talking so he can go to sleep. I know that is a clear sign that he thinks I have described the facts so perfectly and so clearly, no further erudition is necessary. As I give him a good night bear hug, he mentions something like he still doesn't get why the polar bears' mom lets them drink soda whereas his mother doesn't and where in the world is the justice in that.

Next day, it's church where we do our weekly lighting of a candle for any special intentions. The son carefully considers what he has learned over the past week and what his concerns are and then asks "Dear God, please do not let the polar bears eat us this week." Pretty sure we got a "yes" on that one. Four days into the week and we are all still good.

Next time, probably shouldn't cap my earth day talk off by telling him, as I left the room, that I had just heard that Coca Cola cut those disobedient bears off when they found out they didn't have their mom's permission to drink the brew and the bears were now a tad bit hungry and cranky as a result of coming off the stuff, especially since they had been out of penguins at the north pole for a while which is why they had turned to a high fructose caffeinated beverage in the first place and were now in time out for their crankiness, each on their own ice floe, floating around.

Mom, Mia cut her leg off...

Clearly, the son got his sense of humor from his father. His mother would not even think of something so demented as anyone who knows me would certainly testify. For a small fee, but testify they would.

Turns out the son has now enlisted his sister as a willing co-conspirator in his plots. Apparently, "Hey Mia, want to see what happens when mom comes running down the hall in her socks and tries to stick the landing?" just sounded like too much fun to pass up.

After executing a 10-point banister stop which consisted of expertly positioning the hall banister in the dead center of my chest for impact and then decelerating from 60-0 in .5 seconds, I quickly assessed the situation.

Let them know that the glass was clearly half full. Although the leg had been handy and would be missed, the current configuration would make it measurably easier to find sparkly shoes, especially at Disney sales. The glass was also half empty as Mia's social worker was scheduled to come out in short order to do her 6 month post-placement visit to assess our awesome parenting abilities and watchful behavior.

For some reason, Mia found this to be funny. The social worker part. In fact, she quickly moved on from laughing to outright chortling. Meanwhile, the son looked for the glass. Said he was thirsty.

Happy Easter

So were going into Easter weekend and an Easter photo shoot is on tap. Not that a photo shoot isn’t on tap every weekend. After all, the motto in our home is “If it isn’t recorded, it didn’t happen.” The kids have gotten quite adept at knowing that all spontaneous activity and discoveries are to be instantly halted until Mom returns with the camcorder to record all of the spontaneity, albeit with their heads cut off at the top of the frame due to her amazing photographic skills. But, it’s Easter. Cute dresses, bunnies and all that.

So we are meeting at my folks and the husband is late. He finally shows up with the little one and the son. He is holding Mia and as I approach, the husband starts moving in a circle. I take a step, he matches it. Another one, ditto. I briefly consider that perhaps he is making sure Mia shows me her good side but then rule that out as she doesn’t have a good side. Both are great. So, I finally get the wheel to stop and discover that Mia has a major scrape on the side of her face which is sort of bleeding and a funny shade of white having been treated with diaper rash ointment which apparently is the treatment of choice for anything duct tape can’t fix.

I ponder the situation and am quietly thankful that it didn’t happen on my watch as I would never live it down. Unlike my spouse, I understand the restraint necessary to ensure good familial relations when it comes to these things. In fact, I didn’t even mention the time the husband locked the son in the van while locking himself out of it because the dear husband allowed the son to put the keys in the ignition and lock the van's door right before he snapped the soon to be imprisoned son in his car seat. This, of course, one week after the husband solemnly agreed with me not to do the same ever again due to the danger presented. At least the son enjoyed the fancy fire engine and police cars.

The caring son fills me in on the facial damage. Explains that Mia almost cracked her head open which, to him, is solidly up there with almost putting her eye out. Very serious. Informs me that there was an apparent disconnect between the weight of her head and the weight of her body and that she apparently was testing how fast she could run downhill while waving her arms and that the answer to the same was not apparently fast enough to counteract that toppling over thing. Makes sure I understand that her father let her. Wouldn’t want her to get in trouble for almost cracking her head open when she had the tacit approval of her father I guess.

I think about asking her what she was thinking and then decide that I might not want the answer to that given that fact that my best thinking is what normally gets me in trouble (Let’s see, I’m grounded and am not getting shocked by this shorted out thing, wonder what would happen if I touch this other piece of metaaaaaaaaaalllll.)

So we all consult and decide it is merely a flesh wound and that the answer to the problem is chocolate. For mom, of course. After all, disaster was narrowly averted. Got to have steady nerves when pointing a camera.