Bongo Boy

Usually, when I say "Bongo Boy" I'm referring to Matthew McConaghey and his bongo naked incident. This time, I mean Isaiah.

This morning I was toweling him off after his shower, and I was wearing a fitted black tshirt and cotton pajama pants. He was standing on a little step stool, his face just about chest height to me. (You see where this is going, don’t you?) After I dried his feet and stood up in front of him, he pointed right at The Rack and said, "Those look like bongos."

I explained that those are breasts, and a woman's breasts are private parts, just like he has private parts. He said, "Okay. Your 'rests look like bongos."

Hot Time In the City

Dear God In Heaven, Not Again

Okay, so I don't believe in god, but that's quite beside the point right now. Even atheists and existentialists will say cliched phrases like, "God bless you" or, "Dear god in heaven, not again." Because sometimes, you've got to bring out the big guns so people know you're serious.

My long time blog readers (yes, all 3 of you) will probably remember my horrible time two years back when my eyes went berserk.

Three weeks ago my vision started changing. I went straight to my retinal specialists, who declared my eyes healthy. So today I went to my optometrist, who said, "Something is very wrong here. Vision doesn't just change like this for no reason, we need to find out what's caused this and fix it." She told me to wear only one contact lens, she told me to only update one of the lenses in my glasses. Said we'd run some blood tests. Deja fuckin vu. Dear god in heaven, not again. The same symptoms, the same suggestions.

Last time, it was a month or two from the time my vision changed to the time I started going blind. It wasn't until I started losing vision that a retinal specialist was called in and saw major problems. What if those problems just weren't visible during the first stages anyway? What if it's happening right NOW, and they're looking at everything else because they think they've already ruled this out?

Backstage, Underage...

When I was coming back to work from lunch, Bel Biv Devoe's "Do Me" was the last song I heard before leaving my car. It's always amazing to me how a single song can transport you to another time, make you remember a person or place that you haven't thought of in years. In 1990, I was in 7th grade. *sigh* Wait... what the HELL was I doing singing a song like that?!
Anyway....
Had a great time on Saturday jamming to old music with my friends. It's not often I find people who have the same odd tastes in music as yours truly. The only thing no one seems to dig (or at least admit to) is Elvis. I'm an Elvis girl. But Rob Zombie, Aaliyah, Adina Howard, My Chemical Romance, Shai, Linkin Park, Pink... those were just some of the music that rocked out a suburban kitchen this weekend, and we happily sang along like the old, lame parents that we are.
Blackstreet - that CD was too scratched to play :( I remember seeing them live, how the bass vibrated my ribcage and changed the rhythm of my heart to match the bass line.
I must now go and find their song, Don't Leave.

Put your lighters up (or your lighter apps, iphone users!) and go listen to some of your favorite music today :)

Underwear Nation

Here we go again. Got a call from the school's day camp leader who said that Isaiah pulled up a little girl's skirt today. But here's what I don't understand - The teacher's attitude has flipped 180 degrees from last week. NOW she says it's no big deal, all the kids think it's funny, she just wants me to know. Last week they acted as if he was torturing small animals and well on his way to being a murdering, antisocial psychopath. But NOW it's no big deal. What the …?

Pants Off Dance Off!!

Parental mortification.

It comes when your child does something that you’re so embarrassed about, you debate moving to another state. Okay, he didn’t kill anyone, but ….

Yesterday Isaiah pulled down a little girl’s pants at day camp. I was horrified. All I could think of was this little girl being scared, embarrassed, crying. My husband and I talked to him both together and separately. He wrote a note to the girl that says, “Isaiah M. is sorry. To Emma” It’s a little backwards, but gets the point across. Oh, and did I mention that Emma is not a tom boy – she’s a shy, adorable, tiny little girl. You’d think he could at least pick on someone his own size!?

This morning I march him into day camp and go to the head instructor, and Isaiah apologizes to her. Then I ask for Emma and her parents, and her mom is CONVENIENTLY sitting there in the hallway. I’m ready to defend my little guy and explain that he’s not a malicious perv in training. Her mom was accepting of Isaiah’s apology, Isaiah gave Emma his note, and Emma’s mom had her give Isaiah a hug. We chatted for a bit, and I tried to explain that we obviously don’t condone such behavior. Then she tells me that their biggest problem with it was that Emma thought it was funny. She said that she has a 2 year old boy and for all she knows, it’ll be him doing it next week.

Sometimes I forget how understanding most parents are. Raising kids is kind of a universal experience, we’ve all seen and tackled the same issues. No one wants to be too rigid, only to be the one apologizing next time.

I’m just glad he didn’t end up on the pre-k offender registry.

Wordless Wednesday

Indiana Jones style!