Lego, Commercials, and Housekeepers Who Swim

This will seem like a plug, but really, it’s not. With my pittance (I value all five each and every one of you) of a readership, it’s definitely not a plug. If you have kids and they’re of computer age (that’s anything over 6 months, right? Right? ), and you haven’t discovered www.Lego.com, you must!  Must! It’s all free, it’s tonnes of free babysitting educational entertainment, and it’s even fun for the adults. Well, dads, anyway… Little Man looks forward to his “Lego dot com” time and you know what, he even got a free magazine subscription out of it. The only complaint I have is that along with the magazines comes a catalogue, full of expensive things for kiddies to covet, like a $16 Lego Dude popsicle maker.

 

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Today’s funny? Someone found my blog as a result of a search for: “mom climax with my tongue.” So if that was you, fess up!

 

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Overheard at Chez Good Enough this weekend:

Little Man: “Mommy, what happened to Scooby-Doo?”

Kia: “It’s just a commercial break, bud. Scoob will be back on in a minute.”

Little Man: “But I. DON’T. WANT. COMMERCIALS!!!”

Kia: “Hold on a second, demonic spawn  buddy. I’ve got the cable company on speed dial. I’ll let them know that you don’t want commercials on during Scooby-Doo.”

 

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SPD News:

Is (half naked) child labor still illegal, or have the authorities finally come to their senses?

My kid loves  cleaning toilets. He’d do it every day if I let him. Sometimes I swear he misfires with his PISStol so that he’ll have something to clean up.

This reminds me: Little Man still prefers to be in his birthday suit when we’re at home. I have to force him to keep his clothes on most days. Everything’s “too itchy, too tight, too loose, too cottony (no, I’m not kidding; I only wish I were), too blue, too green, too hard, too soft… We used to think it was cute when he was a baby or a mere toddler. Now that he’s 4 and a half, I think it’s verging on creepy, just a little, isn’t it? I mean, if we have any company or we’re expecting any, we’ll insist that he wear clothes of some sort. I just don’t want to be that weird family whose kid runs around the house in the buff all the time. Ah well.

We, a long time ago now, actually named Little Man’s bare-backed persona: N*ked Dude. N*ked Dude even has super powers: he can leap into books of his choosing and he can change the outcome of the plot. Believe it or not, Little Man came up with that on his own. Cool, no?

In other news, Little Man started a new series of swimming lessons with a new instructor today. Of course, he was really anxious about going. He had his usual belly ache and sore back that we now know are signs of his anxiety, he gave me a million and one reasons why swimming lessons would be a bad idea today (and I think, if I remember correctly, that one of those reasons had something to do with the weather on Mars), and he even tried to bargain with me. He worried that the water would be too warm or too cool or too just-right (ok, slight exaggeration here). He wondered whether this new (to him) teacher would have the proper knowledge to even teach him to swim. He said he was too thirsty to swim.

La la  la la, we got to the house of the instructor, he saw how pretty and friendly she was, and he was (practically) in like Flynn. (Who the feck is Flynn, anyway? Did I even spell it right?) The water, as predicted, was a little cooler than perfect, but it would apparently suffice.

I had a moment (or 10) today when I debated (again) about how much interference and how much pressure is the right amount. When I saw the instructor come close to pressuring Little Man to submerse his face in the water, I nearly jumped out of my chair with a little,

“Oh, no. Don’t go there. Please. Don’t. Go. There.”

But I felt my other  personality coaxing me out of my stupor.

“Wait just a second or two… See where this goes… Sit your ass back on the chair, woman! “

And you know what? He was ok. He wasn’t thrilled. He wasn’t even really ok with it, but he survived  it. And sometimes, in real life, all we can hope for is to survive.  Don’t get me wrong. I’m totally aware that my kid has limits and I need to sometimes make accommodations for him or insist that they be made by others, but sometimes I do  have to just sit back and see what happens. It doesn’t feel great. But I need to do it.

There’s been a lot of talk in the Mommy Blogiverse this month about anxiety and medications for anxiety and depression and the effects that these have on mothering. I’m the first one to admit that my short body houses a lot of both anxiety and  depression, but I’m getting better at seeing where the Anxiety rears its ugly head and perhaps standing up to it a little. For today, anyway. Today I did well. Tomorrow is a whole new day.

With a whole new swimming lesson.

Will he go back without (much) complaint?