"Does mommy walk around touching people's privates?"

No - Do I walk around touching people's privates? - No - That's right. We don't do that because we'd get in trouble. Well, that's not the only reason, but that's good enough for now... -

"Think before you touch."

I'll be the first to admit that I've said some pretty ridiculous things in my time as a mother and given some strange advice disguised as gibberish, but I also know when I slip up and say something teetering on the edge of reason and I'll tell ya folks, this is one of those times. I mean, it's genius - it's simple and clear and downright easy to remember. We've all said or heard, at some point in our lives, things like, "Think before you speak," or "Think before you act," but I never thought it would be necessary, by any means, to tell someone that they should take a moment and contemplate whether or not their decision to put their fingers on something would be a wise or a foolish one. But, alas, I had given birth to a boy who would touch absolutely anything, no matter how fragile, sticky, heavy, or disgusting it might be. The proverbial last straw came when we were in the Bahamas. Yes I know, that was only about a month ago and said child just turned 10 so the speed with which this insight came would not win me any awards. But the magnitude of its influence on his future well-being far outweighs the speed with which it arrived. Or at least that's what I choose to believe. So there we were, he and I on the last day of our vacation, taking the sheets off his bed and cleaning up, when it happened...when he touched something that stunned me for a second and left me speechless for even longer. I just stood there looking from him to the offending entity in disbelief, then managed to say something like, "Why would you touch that?!" He, of course, could give no response that would even remotely make me feel any better about what he put his beautiful, innocent, clean hand on. Soon I saw in his eyes the realization of what he had just done and so I proceeded to offer the above words I hoped he would live by for the rest of his life. Yes, it was that gross. As we lifted the bottom sheet off the bed he had been sleeping on for the past 10 days we saw a rather large reddish stain near the upper middle part of the bed, on the side he had slept on. I instantly recognized it as dried blood and immediately made that observation known by saying something like, "Ew, that's dried blood!" My son, for reasons still unknown to me, proceeds to put his hand on the bloodstain and move it around as if to actually be able to feel its presence on his fingertips. And that's what it took for me to have a heart-to-heart with this young man about the importance of thinking before placing one's hands on anything. Then I sent him straight to the bathroom to wash his hands three times. The question of why there was a huge dried blood stain on the bed didn't even occur to me until after we left...

"Well...you can blow and suck."

Ooh, you could just feel the pain in his voice as my husband said these words to our daughter the other day. And the anguished look on his face afterwards screamed out, "I didn't want to say that! I didn't! I feel dirty now." I hadn't really been paying attention to what they were doing - I was busy going through boxes in the garage looking for yard sale items. I happened across a folder full of old papers from college and was, at the moment when I heard the words no parent ever wants to hear uttered to their child, engrossed in an essay analyzing the underlying meaning behind the short story by Samuel Clemens entitled, "The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County." Riveting. Anyway, I knew my husband had just found his old harmonica - I heard its lovely melody in the background - so I knew that what he said he must have said out of pure necessity and explanation. (although, i must admit, it took me a good 2 seconds to sort out in my head why he was saying such things). So I did what any good wife should do in that type of situation, I laughed. And then I nodded my head, assuring him that he was not, indeed, a pervert, just a good dad trying to explain in easy-to-understand kid terms how to play a harmonica.

"How did lettuce get on your head?"

An innocent question, although I knew there really was no answer. Questions like that come out of my mouth all the time. Honestly, I should certainly know better. But to my defense, we were sitting here, at an airport restaurant waiting for our delayed flight to materialize, when it just slipped out. By the way, we're still here, at the airport, now waiting to see just how much longer our flight can can be detained. We're at about 2.5 hours now, which puts us arriving approximately 72 minutes after our connecting flight leaves. Hmm. Good thing we're in no hurry to get home. No work tomorrow and we've been relaxing in the Bahamas for the past 10 days and are still on 'island time.' No complaints here, believe me. I'll just sit back and wait. And hope the kids remain as laid back as they are now for the next 12 hours, or however long it takes to walk through our front door.

"Mommy, my pee pee turned black."

Wha...what?! What does that mean? I don't even know what to say to that. Did I hear you correctly? Did you just calmly say to me that your penis somehow turned black? Like a fungus? Or you got marker on it? Or you managed to bruise it (is that even possible?!)? All of the previous thoughts came streaming through my brain the instant I heard my almost 10 year old say these extrememly strange and disturbing words to me. I was brushing my hair and he was peeing in the toilet (not sure why I felt the need to specify that part). I froze for a second and just murmured something like, "Um...what did you say?" He repeated his statement and added that it looked like there were fuzzies on it too. OH!!! Now it makes sense - he had just gotten new underwear earlier in the day, black ones, and had been playing outside. Whew, I felt soooo much less freaked out. I explained what it probably was and he just shrugged and said, "Oh, okay," and walked out of the bathroom. I was glad we had gotten to the bottom of what could have been a most perplexing situation. But then I started wondering why he wasn't the least bit shocked...

"Just don't touch strangers."

Or... "Don't frisk any strangers." Or the more panicked... "You're not touching other people, are you?!" Take your pick. The three of us moms happily listened to our girls talk about their 'checkpoint' in the road, glad they were having fun at the campsite and creating beautiful chalk artwork, but were all suddenly and equally concerned when they got to the point where they patted us down. I'm not sure who said what but I know for certain that we all had a moment of great fear. Once they assured us that no actual touching was involved, that they did that only to us for effect, we took a collective deep breath and went on our way back towards the campfire. You can never be too careful, especially when camping...

Be ready to rejoice...

My last post was about Lucy, my friend's niece whose cancer had returned, whose parents were desperately trying to deal with chaos, whose life was hanging by a thread. And this post too is about Lucy, who now can see, whose parents now have renewed strength and hope, whose life now has been given back. If you haven't had a chance to read about this amazing story, here again is the link: erikandkatekrull.blogspot.com (or search "2 Kids, a Mini Van and a Mortgage". While we've been out camping, biking, playing in the water, this family has been going on a wild roller coaster ride that now seems to be slowing down a bit. They are not home free, by any means, but these last 10 days or so have been an incredible lesson in miracles, hope, and faith. Now that I've caught up on their latest adventures, I feel better about sharing our own craziness again. And after 6 days of camping with our own 3 kids, with 3 days together with 2 other families with 3 and 1 kids each, respectively, that's a lot of crazy. (my hubby's a math instructor so all those numbers are a shout out to him). So tomorrow, perhaps, I will relive some funnies from our trip. I will, that is, if I can get the laundry under control, the house back in order and the kids and myself cleansed of the lingering scents of campfires, food, and good ole b.o. Ha, who am I kidding?!