I dropped the kids off at my folks' place today and it's, like, back-to-school quiet around here. Good thing, too, seeing as I'm not even packed, yet.
[looks in fridge]
"BREAKFAST...it's what's for dinner!"
So, tonight, I'm sitting here, at the kitchen table...ALL...BY...MYSELF...and listening to absolutely nothing...except, for the sounds of my husband Garth (not his real name) making dinner.
"Stir fry sound good, for you?"
Sure, I'm a little hesitant about leaving the kids (with my parents, I mean) still, they are getting older and basically take care of themselves (my kids, I mean) especially, if there's cable and a microwave nearby (oh, I kid, sort of) and my oldest girls are really GREAT at holding down the fort, in an emergency.
"Do you mind if I head over to Kohls?"
This week, I spent 90 minutes at Dress Barn on Monday and all I got was a stinkin' scarf (cute, but it still sorta stinks that I couldn't find anything else) to show for it.
"Okay, but I have to tell you something."
Which is really code for, "This way, I don't have to look at you," in teen text.
"But, I don't want to tell you over the phone."
Long story, short (you're welcome) here's the gyst of what happened...in bullet points:
- Hope (she's 9) has been asking me, every other day, to tell her about where babies came from
- At that very moment, on each of those days, I've had exactly 5 minutes, to spare
- Hope got tired of waiting
- Hope asked her brother, Glen (he's 11) where babies came from
- Aaaaand, he told her.
Because, I already had "the talk" with Glen -- thanks a lot, Garth (not your real name!) -- and, well, the boy was doing me a favor.
The girls punished him, anyway.
"What he say?"
- The husband lays on top of the wife
- He shoots this fish-like thing inside her
- It buries itself into one of the wife's eggs
- The egg grows inside the wife and turns into a baby
Aaaaand, he was right...mostly.
"Put him on the phone."
So, I un-punished Glen, scolded Holly and Heather (seriously, who's the mommy?) and promised to have "the talk" with Hope...aaaaaafter, I get back.
Morale of the Story: Kohls RAWKS, cell phones are NOT the devil and my husband's stir fry tastes even better...cold...pregnant...or, SO NOT!!!
In the meantime, look for me at BlogHer -- I'll be the tall, dork-ish one texting her kids -- trying to convince my youngest two that Headless Mom, you know, really does have a head and my oldest two that her blog name has absolutely NOTHING to do with sex!
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