m.o.M - mother of Michael

Out of the Mouths of Babes

Shortly before Michael's second birthday Lizzy, Michael (the elder) and I went to Germany for a couple of weeks. We left Michael (the younger) in the care of a wonderful niece, Jessica. In preparation for our trip Michael made a manual for Jessica, complete with photographs on how to prepare Michael's food, how to work the remote for the television and several delivery-restaurant menus. He also included a section on how to translate Michael-speak.

Somewhere along the line, Michael had started saying "Birtday, Birtday" every time he wanted something to eat. He also couldn't say the word "straw" and would put his finger in his mouth and pretend to suck on it while holding his cup in his other hand whenever he wanted one for his drink. So, we determined that Jessica would need a series of translations so they could communicate.

Eventually, Michael stopped saying "Birtday, Birtday" and miming sucking on a straw, but other Michaelisms appeared.

"Michael, turn the TV off!" would be countered with "Just five more mittens?"

Any injuries that resulted in blood would be met with, "Mommy! I'm leaking!"

Tall towers of blocks would be celebrated with yells of " And La La! I did it!"

I thought these were so cute, I hated to correct him. After all, doesn't 'leaking' make ever so much more sense than bleeding? And really, how many five-year-olds are there who run about yelling "voila!" 'La La!' is much more youthful. Mittens? Well, come on, 'mittens' was just adorable.

Sadly those days have passed and these days bring the repetitive dullness of verb conjugation correction and crises of selective hearing. Case in point:

The other night, Lizzy, Michael (the younger) and I were playing a game on the Wii.

Michael, after getting a high score: "That was freaking awesome!"

Me (aghast): "What did you say?"

Michael: "Freaking. Is that not right? How do YOU say it? Is it frigging? Fricking?"

Me: "It's none of those. How about we all just say, 'La la!"

A Blast From the Past

I just can't let Columbus Day go by without sharing my favorite Columbus Day joke.

For those of you who dread the annual retelling, I apologize, but it just makes me giggle every time I  tell it!

Well, Shucks!

Either it really paid off not losing it over last week's explosion or he doesn't know what admire means. No matter...I can only hope he gets what he wishes for because I know he'll be the one who will choose my nursing home!

When All is Quiet...Worry!

I know better. I know I know better. Every mother in the world knows better.

When your kids are home and they are quiet, you're supposed to worry. It's in the handbook that you don't get when they are born.

"When I grow up, I want to be the guy who does this!" was what Michael would say before he knew the word "Scientist". He would mime pouring a substance from one beaker (or testing tube as he now says) to another.

"A chemist?" I ask.

"No! A mad scientist!" is now his standard response.

Knowing better, I bought him a science kit last weekend that contained beakers, an eye-dropper, 'testing' tubes and directions for a wide variety of experiments. It taught how to make play-dough, bubbles and a mini-volcano using vinegar and baking soda. -I know. Those of you who are smarter than I can already see where this is going.-

Fast forward to two nights ago.

I was on the computer caught up in that time-suck that is called FaceBook. All was fairly quiet. I could hear some rattling around in the kitchen, but not enough to really get my attention. Looking at the time, I realized that I had to get the lasagna in the oven.

As I rounded the corner to the kitchen, I heard a POP! Followed by a GASP! I'm still not sure whether the gasp was Michael's or mine.

There it was. Mad Scientist Experiment. All. Over. My. Kitchen.

Not only were the wrong proportions of vinegar to baking soda probably used, but I think the concoction was put into a beaker, capped and shaken. As if that wasn't enough, green food coloring was added to the mix.

There we stood. At dinner time. Everything dripping green fizzys. I took a deep breath. Michael started apologizing. I took another deep breath.

"I'm sure that we'll laugh about this someday. For now let's just get it cleaned up."

Soon, we had it all cleaned up. Cleaned up, that is, until I took the tray that Michael had carefully be conducting his experiment on (per my instructions of "Always work over the tray and that way messes will be much easier to clean up!") and turned to the sink to clean it up. At the same moment, Michael turned from the sink back toward me and we collided. The tray flew into the air and again, the kitchen was covered in fizzy green-ness.

The day of laughter was postponed.

As soon as I thought it was safe I sent Michael off to the shower to scrub the green off of himself!

When Michael came out of the shower, he said, "Mommy? Does food coloring stain?"

"I don't know, son. I would think it could."

"Well, I was thinking when I was in the shower. Isn't it lucky then that I was wearing a green shirt?"

Sigh.

Is it safe to laugh yet?