My pee pee is big

It started about three months ago. While I was trying o sing him to sleep my son would get up and look kind of panicked and pace on the bed and clutch his crotch and grunt. And I'd be thinking, for the love of crispies, just settle down Rover and let me sing you to sleep.  I would ask him what's wrong and he would just whine, I don't know! This went on for several days until finally he cried out, Mommy my pee pee is big!

I had a peek and indeed it was bigger than usual. In fact it was erect. So I told him to kneel down and wiggle his butt in the air. I don't know. It was the only thing that came to me. Like child's pose but with a little wiggle. Then I told him to go pee. That helped. 

Several months before then I remembered that when I would wake him up at around midnight to zombie-walk over to the toilet and pee (so he wouldn't pee in his bed) he would have an erection. The first time I didn't notice and he peed straight ahead and hit the toilet seat cover and it splattered everywhere. When it happened the next time I was prepared and pointed it down toward the bowl. It used to totally freak him out. I can see why. I mean, suddenly a part of you grows twice it's normal size? I mean what if your left arm was suddenly down to your ankle? That would for sure be super freaky (it's my blog, I can split infinitives). 

I mentioned it to my husband and he was like, yah, that happens. I'm trying to be as nonchalant about it with my son so he doesn't get some weird hang up about his penis. I think it's working. Tonight he just stood up and unzipped his pajamas and said, my pee pee is getting big again. I better look at it. Yup, it's big. Then  he got into child's pose and did the wiggle. Worked like a charm.

This is apparently all very normal according to the world wide web. I googled "toddler erection" and a wealth of information emerged. If anyone would have told me five years ago that I'd be googling "toddler erection" I'd have scoffed. Anyway, for those of you who are googling "toddler erection" and seeing this post, your kid is normal. Go back to checking your email.

Woofing and Hoofing

Is it weird that the only word my 15 month old daughter says consistently is woof-woof? She was born the ear of the Dog... You hear about these kids who don't talk until they're like three and then one day they come out with, "mom, can you please pass me the ketchup." Right? But I don't know. I feel like she can't hear and that's messing up her speech. I mean she claps when we sing and she turns around maybe 70% of the time when we call her name. Although I usually call her name in such a high pitch (where does that come from? I'm so not a high pitch kind of mom) that she's probably just responding to the ringing. Along with the rest of the dogs in the neighborhood. Woof-woof.

Come to think of it, she's still on all fours. Maybe she really IS a dog. I mean she likes to be "walked" (read: hold onto to Aba's hands and walk around the house) and she's even started bending her knees a little. But come on Frankenstein, pick up the pace, eh? Although if she did walk she'd be just about the shortest bipedal on the planet, bless her heart.

Leggo my Ego

My husband's auditing a course at the university where I work so he asked me to pop over to the book store and buy his course reader since I get a piddly staff discount. SO I went downstairs to where all of the course books are and I asked the guy at the counter to help me find this reader. And he said, "oh are you the instructor?"

Huh?

And then it occurred to me that he thought I couldn't possibly be young enough to take the class. That's a fair assessment I guess. I'm mature enough to know that I don't look 22 anymore. And then I remembered that this was a graduate level course. What? I don't look 26? 30? I mean I could be getting my PhD in the Biomechanics of Hearing, you pinhead! Don't put your shit on me you misguided punk!

And that is when I had to turn on my filter and just respond pleasantly, "no, I'm buying this for my boyfriend."

I'm going to assume this flighty young man just thought I looked especially astute such that clearly I was teaching the course. A prodigy, if you will. A 24 year old professor of biomechanics. Yes, exactly.

I left the store, ego and imagination in tact.

Housekeeping

So my husband and I just finished our Tuesday night ritual of cleaning the house in preparation for our housekeeper Maria to come tomorrow and clean the house. And I love my husband for indulging me in this behavior. He thinks its RIDICULOUS but he does it anyway because he loves me and he knows that when Maria tries to put away our stuff we can't find it for a month. Last week she put our son's kitty that he sleeps with somewhere and it took us two days to find it. Put it on the bed Maria! It's a stuffed animal! Belongs on the bed! And if clothes are on the floor she'll just wash them willy nilly. Wool sweaters, linen blouses. Doesn't matter what. So every Tuesday night we put away the once-folded clothes from last week sitting on the futon in the back room that are now rifled through and wrinkled. We put all toys in appropriate bins (yes, I categorize toys. For instance, I have a transportation bin and a "makes noise" bin and if Maria puts a tractor in with musical instruments I sort of need a cleansing breath), we put in a load of laundry, I hang up whatever's on the floor in my room and then the house is ready for Maria to clean it.

But to my credit, and Maria's credit, she really does clean the place. Bathroom, kitchen, floors...and she folds a mountain of laundry. Between my son who likes to try on outfits and my daughter who likes to roll around in dirt, we have an endless mess of laundry. Plus the floors, by the end of the week, have serious "texture". My daughter likes to test gravity with her food. Future physicist.

So we do this every Tuesday. And Wednesday I come home from work to the fresh scent of Method ecofriendly cleaning products invigorated by the shine of our floors and the sparkle of the toilet bowl, ready to take on life's next challenge - like figuring out where Maria hid the kitty this week.

Airport Absurdity

A few weeks ago my husband and I took a short trip to Vancouver because I was attending a conference so we figured we'd maximize on the free hotel room and take a much needed vacation from our darling children. My mom and aunt came to watch the kids for five days while we loafed around one of the coolest cities I've been to in a long while.

But it feels weird to write about sitting in cafes, reading books, walking around, seeing movies, listening to Celtic street music (it was St. Patrick's Day) and generally enjoying each other's company. I mean, what do you care right? Who wants to hear about boring happy times, except our mothers. So I'll spare you.

I will however take a moment to comment on airport security. How is it that nearly seven years have passed since 9/11 and we STILL suck at airport security? It's shocking to me every time. My husband's Israeli and I spent a few years living there myself and I am telling you the Israelis know how to do airport security. And yes, it's a relatively tiny airport with relatively little traffic when compared to SFO or JFK or whatever. And yes, the Israelis use racial and ethnic profiling. Bad Bad Bad. Shame on them. But it is the most secure airport in the world and you can still bring a bottle of water on the plane. And you don't have to take off your jacket, your belt, your shoes, disassemble your stroller, and drink your own expressed breast milk to prove you're not a hijacker. Last time we were there we pushed our double stroller right through a side gate. No need to wake up sleeping babies or rip them from their precious kitties or softies or wubbies to send through an x-ray machine. That's part of why this trip to Canada was so enjoyable. I mean just being in an airport without kids feels completely decadent. Throw in a latte and we're talking near nirvana.

But even without the kids I was still annoyed (which may just mean that I need to practice meditation). Maybe in fact BECAUSE I had less to worry about without babies to shuttle and more time to critique what amounts to, at least in my unimportant opinion, a total security circus.

After we finally got through possibly the slowest line I have ever stood in, my husband and I sat in some chairs on the side to put our clothes back on and just watch the other people file through. I swear I felt like we were on one of the candid camera shows (that are actually filmed in Denmark but then set to music for syndication in the US. Like Menthos commercials). They pulled a guy to the side and told him to take off his belt. Then hold his belt over his head. What? That's when we started to giggle. What was the TSA dude telling this guy?

Sir, could you please remove your belt?

Could you please put your belt over your head?

Can you please remove your shoes?

Can you please put your shoes over your head?

Sir, could you stand on your belt please?

Can you please stand on one foot and hold your left shoe and belt over your head?

I once went through security with my daughter and they actually asked me to take off her little Robeez shoes. Good grief. If they were looking for explosives, they should have checked her diaper.