Worst blogger ever

After one too many creeptastic search terms that generated views to my blog, I took a hiatus. I continued to post the daily exploits of Stumps and Beans, but on the much less threatening facebook, where I know all 500ish people who have access to read about my children in real life.  I will backward blog the highlights into the archives to fill in the past three months soon. In the meantime, nothing motivates me to de-lurk out of blog sabbatical more enthusiastically than a ridiculously age-inappropriate Biblical-themed picture colored by one of my tiny daughters at their church preschool.

Don’t worry sweetie. Very few of our nightmares actually come true. And in truth, I hear that being violently impaled by a spear is actually a surprisingly peaceful way to die.

stumpsgiant

 

Advertisements

Unfortunately I can’t unremember any of this

One of my children has been throwing up all afternoon and the other has a 102 degree fever. Pretty certain the one who has thus far not started vomiting just has not started yet.

Alarmingly, cleaning up multiple episodes of The Pukes off of all of our belongings is only the second most disturbing reality of my Monday evening.

Having one of my children ask to have her “bottom temperature” taken (repeatedly) this evening unquestionably topped the list.

What. The. Hell. Kid.

The last time I will ever ask my four-year-old about her day

Every afternoon at pick-up, I ask my girls about their day. I very much look forward to hearing their responses.

Okay. In the interest of full transparency and disclosure, I very much look forward to Stumps’ responses. When I say “Beanie, what did you do at school today?” her response is always “No!”

Yay two.

Anyway. Mine and Stumps’ little routine is always the same. I ask who her friends were that day. Sometimes she lists nearly every kid in the class. Other times, crushing my mommy heart, she lists only her teacher.

We progress to the day’s excitement, and Stumps tells me that she played in “home living”, “sensory”, “manipulatives” (Yes.), or “block area”. I then ask what she made, or what she built ,or what she sensed, or what whom she manipulated and she tells me all about it.

Today when I (as I have unfailingly for the past two years) unwittingly inquired “Stumps, what did you do at school today?” she responded with

My friend Blank threw up in the bathroom and not in the toilet or in the trashcan but on the floor and some splashed on the counter and some made it in the trashcan and it was really wet and brown.

So anyway, I am now in the market for some new post-pick-up conversational topics if anyone has any suggestions.

“…Intimacy! That’s the you in me…”

I can neither confirm nor deny that tonight’s Top 10 List items are true stories of romance from the House of Stumps and Beans.

*********************************************************************

You know you’ve been married awhile when…

…a nightly dutch oven is as much a part of your bedtime routine as saying goodnight to your spouse.

…offering to take care of the kids’ bedtime rituals is the most successful type of foreplay if you want to ensure that you will score.

…”scoring” means getting a really long, deep, thorough, and attentive footrub.

…you beckon your spouse into the bathroom, point to the inside of the toilet bowl, and say “Baby come look at this. Should I call a doctor?”

…you beckon your spouse into the bathroom, point to the inside of the toilet bowl, and say “Baby come look at this. Grab the camera. Call Ripley’s.”

…the ultimate betrayal is not infidelity; it is discarding your spouse’s most cherished pair of exceptionally and unacceptably holey underwear.

…your beloved occasionally checks the garbage to make sure you haven’t committed the ultimate betrayal by discarding said cherished underwear. And while you aren’t 100% certain, you suspect that there was one time you caught him cradling that particularly frightful pair while whispering “My precious”.

…Your level of disgust with, and outraged overreaction to his farts pretty directly correlates with his general level of happiness in your marriage.

…You reserve your sexiest most risque lingerie – you know, those pink plaid pajama pants with the sassy word on the butt and the matching pink sweatshirt- for very special occasions like your anniversary or weekends when your parents are sleeping over in the next room and have promised they will get up with the kids the next morning.

and finally…

…you have ever yelled across the house “Hey! Bring me a new roll of toilet paper! Imma ’bout to tear it up in here!”

What on earth are we teaching our little girls?

Somewhat surprisingly and entirely sweetly, Stumps’ favorite book is currently the Bible. Specifically a version she received as a gift called The Children’s Discovery Bible. She asks us to read stories from her Bible every night, and we are happy to do so.

I have blogged about this before, but for a little bit of background, I was raised by a Methodist-turned-atheist and a nonpracticing-Jew. When I fill out standardized forms, I am always slightly disappointed that there is no Religious Denomination checkbox for “Confused & Skeptical, but Optimistic.” I pray all the time; I believe in a benevolent Creator that loves all of us entirely flawed individuals like His or Her children… but beyond that I really have no clue. And I am okay with that.

Husband was raised Southern Baptist. Incidentally he is completely obsessed with the show “Ancient Aliens”, and says that he is pretty certain Jesus was one of our (apparently in Husband’s opinion, many) visitors from other galaxies. I am not entirely certain that he is kidding, either.

Anyway, all of that to say, we do whatever we can to support and indulge Stumps’ budding faith, in hopes that she will grow up to become at least slightly less jaded and cynical than we both apparently are.

Tonight, one of the Bible stories she chose was called “Esther Saves Her People”. The story, which I was mostly unfamiliar with before storytime this evening, tells the tale of a kind and beautiful young woman, Esther, who is pursued by and eventually married to an older King. Fair enough.

A murderer is on the loose in the kingdom and is intent on killing all of the nearby Jews. Genocide for a four year old? I am skeptical of what Stumps’ takeaways may be, but continue the story. Esther is tasked with informing the King, her husband, that the people are in danger. From this point, here is an excerpt of how the story progresses:

“Esther was afraid. She knew that even the queen couldn’t see the king whenever she wanted to. It was against the law for anyone to see the king without being invited. If he was unhappy that Esther came, the king could have her put to death.”

Wait a minute. What?

“Esther fixed her hair and put on her best dress. Then she headed off to see her husband, the king. King Xerxes was surprised to see his wife. ‘Esther looks lovely’, the king said to himself. ‘But why would she risk her life by coming to see me without being called?'”

Now I realize that I don’t know Aramaic. And I realize that this is is a story that has been translated countless times throughout the past two or three millenia, and then reworded for a children’s book. But what messages are we sending our little girls?!? That if you speak to your spouse out of turn, even if you fix your hair and makeup and ensure that you look attractive, pretty, and presentable as is a {insert very blatant eyeroll here} woman’s duty, he will have to use every ounce of his self-control not to kill you??

I just don’t think I can keep reading Stumps stories like this in clear conscience. My inner-feminist died a bit inside tonight while I finished the chapter. Tomorrow at bedtime we will read Maya Angelou poems, watch Oprah reruns, and learn about Hillary Clinton instead.