95% of the time, Scorch is a really good natured kid. He operates on a pretty even-keel and it takes a lot to make him upset, but when he’s upset he tends to go full scale Drama Queen.  Case in point, this afternoon.

I didn’t pick the kids up from school until 5ish, which is late for us. We had to stop for gas on the way home, then stop at the Verizon wireless store because the replacement phone they sent me for my broken phone is also broken. I’m prepared with snacks and bribes and ready to conquer my errands.

At the gas station, Scorch starts complaining that he’s thirsty and could we please go inside to get water. I’m mentally debating which would be a bigger PITA- getting the kids in and out of the car to get water or dealing with Scorch’s whining- when I open up the side door of the car and find not one, not two, but three unopened bottles of water. Perfect. Issues solved.

But of course it’s not.

This water was “boiling” hot and he wanted cold water. (Which- he’s a liar. The water was cool- he just wanted to go inside and try to get more snacks/candy/juice out of me). So I called his bluff and our exchange went like this:

Me: Dude- just drink the water. There are starving kids in Africa that would love to have this water. (why yes, I am turning into my mother by pulling out the “starving children” guilt trip on my kids).

Scorch: They have water- they don’t need this water! I want cold water.

Me: What water are you talking about? It’s a desert in places in Africa.

Scorch: Duh- mom, the whole continent is surrounded by water!

Me: Scorch, that’s salt water. You can’t drink that. If you drink it, you’ll die.

Scorch: Well, if they are dead, they won’t be thirsty any more like I am!

And that is why I went into the Verizon Wireless store with mascara smudged on my cheeks from laughing so hard. Scorch didn’t mean to be funny and didn’t mean to make light of starving kids- which made us laugh all the harder when I explained to him how very awful/twisted his comment was.

As my kids get older, I try really hard not to cross that line. I don’t want to embarrass them, nor do I ever want the words I share here to haunt them as they grow.

But some stories are just too good not to share. (warning: slightly crude language ahead).

I was putting things away in the bathroom while Scorch was taking his shower. Once Scorch knew I was in the room, he started talking. Or, more specifically, asking questions. I kid you not- not a word of this is made up or embellished.

Mom- what happens if your balls pop?

You mean your testicles?

Yeah- those. What happens if they pop?

Well, why in the word would they pop?

Let’s say I was playing with them and they just popped- what would happen?

We’d have to go to the hospital I would imagine.

Do they have pee in them? I guess they have pee in them and the pee would go all through my body.

Maybe, buddy- I don’t know. (We have still not had The Talk so if he wants to think they have pee in them, they have pee in them.)

I bet it would hurt, wouldn’t it?

I think so! The question is, why are you playing with them so hard you’re afraid they’ll pop?

I don’t play with them that hard- and I don’t want them to pop. They’re awesome- like always having a toy attached to me.

And then I walked out of the room because I couldn’t talk through my laughing.

Dear Kiddos-

For some reason my Facebook feed has been full of posts this week trying to make me feel guilty.

Guilty for not hanging on your every word and every thought and every moment. Guilty for yelling at you. Guilty for not staying home with you full time.

And you know how it makes me feel? Really freaking annoyed.

Let me tell you a secret, my darlings.

I’m doing the best I can.

I adore you both to the moon and back and think you two are *the* most amazing creatures on earth. But sometimes after pushing you for 15 minutes straight at the park on the swings, I’m bored. So yes, I’m checking my phone. Maybe it’s to text your dad about dinner or maybe it’s to check the news or maybe it’s to do something completely frivolous. So what? You’re not neglected, you’re not ignored and you are more then capable of entertaining yourself for 5 minutes.

And, yes, sometimes I yell. Loudly. Repeatedly. And usually after 1) I’ve asked you to do something five times nicely already or 2) you’ve done something dumb that you know is not allowed like smacked your sibling. I don’t yell for long and when I’m done, I don’t hold a grudge or try to shame you. I don’t try to intimidate you and make you fear me, but you know what? Sometimes a little fear is a good, good thing. There were more then a few times when I didn’t do something I shouldn’t have simply because I was scared of how Nana and Papa would react.

I’m far from a perfect parent, but our house is filled with love. Yup, this new job means for a least a few nights a week our life is crazy but we never go to bed without playing some game and we rarely ever don’t eat as a family. We have breakfast together in the morning and the last words you hear me say when I drop you off at school is “I love you, have a good day!” (admittedly at bedtime you hear “I love you and don’t want to see you until morning.” but still).

We love you madly and you know it- so I’m saying to hell with the guilt.

Love,

Mom