Parrrrty Day!

I have blogged about my excess, that purely neurotic goal I have set for myself to out do myself.

I have teased my loyal readers with a little list of my insanity. 

And, most recently I have shared the turmoil that ensued that morning, which earned me sympathies and applause alike.

What I have yet to disclose, is the actual party itself.

That is, until now.

From the people who brought you A Sunshiny Music Party and A Somewhere Over the Rainbow Celebration, in cooperation with Ashley Pierce Photography, Bryan's tolerance level, Pinterest, and the blog, Not Wifezilla, I proudly present:

Moira's Fourth Pirate Parrrrty

Setting the stage for the event, patches, streamers, and bunting took over the rooms. Meanwhile, shirts and jeans were traded in for, jackets, hats, eye patches, and even a wig! 

Our Entry Way

Black, Red, & White streamers & bunting

Rowdy our stuffed Pirate Dog

Happy Birthday Moira Banner

 My Girls in their Pirate Costumes

Even Grammy with the bracelets found her Pirate costume!

Uncle Joe-Joe, Popsie & the Birthday Girl

Activities

As the guests received their Pirate Hats, and spy glass, they sat down to create their own Pirate Treasure Map. Next, it was time for Pin the Patch on the Pirate. 

Spy glasses & Make your own Treasure Map

Maeve's turn to Pin the Patch on the Pirate


After a lunch of hamburgers, hot dogs, and various chips and fruit, our Pirates headed outside for

Game Time

Off they ran

 Gold in the Sand

Each child dug through the sand looking for 10 coins, 1 ring, and 1 bouncy ball. 

Go Fish!

Our Pirates took turns using their poles to catch some fish. 

Even I took a turn fishing!

Walk the Plank

Those brave souls tested their balance as they walked across the plank

Jump if You Dare

What's a kid party without a moon bounce? 

Dessert Time

Before long, it was time for Happy Birthday!

Cannonballs (malt balls) 

Devil's Food with Buttercream

Chocolate coated marshmallows, some with graham crackers, others with M&M's

Oreo Cupcakes with Oreo Cream Cheese Icing
At the request of the Birthday Girl

Daddy helping out the birthday girl 

 Final Treasure Hunt

As one last activity, my brother AKA the ultimate Pirate, led all the other pirates on a scavenger hunt, collecting clues they headed from the powder room sink, to the bathroom tub, then the mailbox, sliding board, and as a finale, they discovered their final bounty back on the front porch. 

Cap'n Joe-Joe and his first clue
He made a fabulous host for this final event. and
I do believe he is available for hire in the greater Philadelphia area

Reading the clue to his audience

Mo holding clue #3, sending the group to the SLIDE!

And they're back to the front porch where they find the treasure!

Eagerly they discover their booty,
Goodie bags for each pirate.
Inside two ring pops, two candy necklaces, three gold strands of beads, three Pirate tattoos, and a pack of fruit snacks.
Hopefully it was just enough candy to keep the parents on my good side.
I searched online for pirate names, and in turn each gift bag featured their new name.
They included: Horrible Harper Hughes, Red Legged Raegan, and First Mate Shiny Maeve

 What a fabulous parrrty! 

After all the hullabaloo and craziness these past few weeks, (okay months), I feel it is only appropriate I link up with Yeah Write. I do believe this may be the first party submission!
Perhaps I'll start a trend? 

As always, click over and read these fabulous bloggers, and please vote for your favorites on Thursday. 

Also Linking up with 5 Minutes for Mom's Ultimate Blog Party 2012

On the road again

This week in the Land of Listicles, the big cheese Stasha chose our inspiration:

anything related to the ROAD!

While I could have turned this all dark and scary, gone all Cormac McCarthy's The Road on my dedicated readers, but I'm not that type of gal.

Just recently Bry and I had had a conversation about travel, something we really have not done too much of thus far as a family.

Growing up, my own family did a lot of travel. As I have mentioned before, my parents each come from large families. As one of eight and one of six respectively, my father and mother did not travel, EVER, as children. Thus with our little family of five, they made a point for us to travel and see the world.

Okay, maybe we didn't see too much of the world. Instead, we were more of a road trip family. Leaving from our house just outside Philadelphia, with the station wagon and then later, the minivan, my dad at the wheel, my mom as the navigator and the three of us in the back seat off we went, all over the greater east coast.

As inspiration, my list took me back to the time I was in the backseat. The time when I was a child and our family would take on the open road.

The 9 greatest road trips from my childhood

1. Wildwood NJ

Really, a trip that lasts only two hours should not classify as a road trip, but when you're under five those two hours are killer. The week after Labor Day, mid week, we would pile into our grey Chevy Cavalier Station Wagon first thing in the morning, stop by Dunkin Donuts for a dozen mixed donuts, and head down the shore. After about 30 minutes, the chorus of "Are we there yet?" would escape our lips as my dad would gently remind us how long by the number of songs from the radio. 

"Only five more songs left!"

For the record, if Inna Gadda Di Vida comes on that totally counts as three songs. 

2. Provincetown MA

My mom had this great idea that we should see whales. Of course, the place to do that is Cape Cod MA. In her course of research she came across a great deal at a hotel in Provincetown MA. 

This was the time before the Internet. The time before a quick click would have led her to the information that Provincetown is primarily a getaway for gay and lesbian couples.

I like to think this vacation not only gave us an education on humpback whales, but also on tolerance and acceptance, as we met some lovely same sex couples.

3. Aurora OH

Once upon a time, Sea World had four locations: 

San Diego CA, Orlando FL, San Antonio TX, and Aurora OH. 

Yes, OHIO had Sea World and we were there. 

My sister and I had gone to a week long swim camp at Grove City College, located just between Pittsburgh and Erie. My parents drove us, the six hours on Sunday, turned around to drive the six hours back home. On Saturday they drove another six hours to pick us back up and then another hour and a half we found our final destination: Sea World. We touched sting rays, saw dolphin and killer whales up close, and had a fantastic trip at this less crowded Sea World.  

Sea World Ohio closed in 2001

4. The Outer Banks, NC

We lived in the suburbs of Philadelphia. The Jersey shore was less than two hours away, but that wasn't enough. Somehow in the late 1980's, there was a mass migration by Philadelphia suburbanites in the summer  to this magical strand of beaches nearly eight hours away. 

The place: The Outer Banks of North Carolina.

Exactly the opposite of the chaos and overcrowded feel of the Jersey shore, the Outer Banks were serene, quiet, and laid back. 

After packing the car the night before, we'd rise early around 4 a.m. and pile into the car. While the rest of us slept, my father would head south. Coffee in hand, druggie music* on the radio he would drive. We'd awake somewhere in Maryland or Virginia. Continuing the rest of the trip complaining about the music, fighting over seat arrangements, yelling at my sister because she needed to pee again, and repeatedly asking, "Are we there yet?"
*druggie music is a term my siblings and I created to define my father's brand of '60's & '70's rock




5. Evacuation from the Outer Banks NC

My family tested our luck yearly as we often planned our vacation to the Outer Banks during the midst of hurricane season. It took five years until our luck ran out. I wrote about it here.  Arriving on Saturday, the forecast seemed bleak. The red flags prohibiting swimming in the ocean were out by Sunday, and by Monday, evacuation seemed imminent. On Tuesday, our luck ran out and we were forced to leave the island. With all other non residents, we packed up our belongings, piled into the car, and headed North. Bumper to bumper, hour after hour our car crawled along inching away from our vacation point. In the midst of the madness, my mother was able to find a hotel, in Williamsburg, Virginia, and our vacation was salvaged as we spent three days at Busch Gardens and Water Country USA.

6. Baltimore MD

Again, not a true road trip, as the distance from our house to Baltimore is less than three hours, however when a child, or tween in my case, that time in a car with one's family seemed like an infinity. The most memorable moment from this trip was our first (and only) ride in a helicopter over the Inner Harbor.

7. Myrtle Beach, SC

Apparently North Carolina was not far enough for a beach vacation. After hearing raves from friends about Myrtle Beach, my mother planned the trip to South Carolina. Succumbing to the marketing genius that is South of the Border, we paid 50 cents to use the bathroom. A few hours later, we arrived in Myrtle Beach. One summer vacation at the resort in Myrtle Beach was all we did, later returning back to the tranquility of the Outer Banks.


8. Disneyworld

This may have been the mother of all road trips for our family.
My parents had instituted a policy that we could not do Disney until my brother was old enough to remember. I was in sixth grade that year, and felt as if I was the only kid on earth who had never been. Renting an Astro minivan we were ready. We included my parents, brother and sister, as well as my grandfather and grandmother. Seven in all. Each seat taken for the twenty something ride. Stopping along the way in South Carolina, then St. Augustine Florida, we made it with minimal long term damage.

9. Ireland

Our only family vacation that involved air travel.
 I had already started my first teaching position, my brother was in high school, and my sister was spending the spring of her junior year in college in Limerick, Ireland. This trip became our last family vacation.
Meeting up after arriving two days later, we piled into a tiny five seater car and played the perfect round of American tourist. Snapping pictures of the Cliffs of Mohr, kissing the blarney stone, touring the Guinness factory, and spending time sleeping in B&B's throughout the country.
This last vacation as a family of five, our most memorable.

Funny how that one word, "Road" can bring back all those memories of my youth.

Where does your "road" take you?
Link up this week with Stasha over at the Good Life and her Monday Listicles.

Lunch & a Swim

Sitting down on the bench, I didn't want to look lonely, I didn't want to come across desperate, too eager for company, so nonchalantly I stumbled through the contents of my purse. Finding my NON smart phone, I cleared my text bank, contemplating what to do next. I decided to send a text to a friend inquiring about their recent concert experience to see Fresh Beat Band.

Looking up just as she walked in. Professionally attired; black jacket, purple blouse, with a professional pin on her lapel holding the folder in her arm. Adjusting my Lands End rain coat, on the sunny day, our smiles meet. It has been sometime since I last saw Amanda, but since the inception of Facebook our friendship has been rekindled.

Working for the wonderful world of Non-Profit Public Relations, a recent fundraising campaign included swimming has been her most recent project. To my surprise, an email had been sent asking me to meet to pick my brain for ideas.

I will admit, I was hesitant at first mainly because it has been just under four years since I last used my brain.

Okay, that's not completely true.

Sure, I use my brain daily.  In the realm of parenthood, decisions need to made over which toy would be less annoying for the Easter baskets or how long is it appropriate to let a child cry it out in their crib when they obviously are exhausted but continue to cry.

Other times, I flex this muscle (it's a muscle right?) as I search for the perfect words to formulate my posts here, be it relaying a particularly funny antidote or completing a weekly writing prompt. Writing and editing has exercised portions of the brain.

But outside these two realms, I fear that those portions of my brain that I used in the working world might have turned into grey mush and died.

What different worlds Amanda and I now live.

She the professional, running from office to event. Teaching undergraduate courses, and networking with important people.

Me the full time mom. Pulling up in the minivan littered with stuffed animals and lollipop wrappers. Running from swim lessons to doctors appointments, and talking it out at the playground.

I would be lying if I didn't admit I was worried that this lunch would be a huge failure.

That since my tenure as competitive swimmer had long since ended, I would not be able to help.

That we would sit there, staring at each other after the initial "How are you?" talk was over, waiting for the food.

That my time as a mom had negatively impacted my ability to adequately converse with someone over a topic outside of motherhood.

I feared I no longer resembled the person I was when I graduated college nearly twelve years ago.

Alas, we sat.
We talked.
We shared.
We laughed for nearly two hours.

All those reservations I had worrying that I had lost the person I used to be slowly dissolved over the course of our lunch.

That person who would leave the house at seven in the morning and not return until eight at night after commuting, teaching, graduate school and the commute home is long since gone. In her place stands me of now. The woman who plans ridiculous birthday parties, takes day trips to the beach, and spends close to every waking hour with her children. And apparently, unless Amanda was just feeding me bullshit, helped her out with this fundraiser.

It seems that my brain isn't completely mush after all.

Looking for something to do for the greater good this summer?

What about Swim For MS

Sponsored by the Multiple Sclerosis Association of America

Ridiculously Out of Control

"I'm just not looking forward to today", he says between deep sighs. Bry is leaning against the sink in the kitchen, while I sit looking through the doorway, at the expansive dining room table, various pirate related material at my fingertips.

It is nine o'clock, the morning of Moira's fourth birthday. Between running around making last minute goodie bag additions, I am navigating my to-do list to the best of my ability. His words and the disgusted look on his face stop me dead in my tracks.

"What are you talking about?" I mutter, lifting my eyes from the gluing to the living room where the girls sit, their own eyes glued to the television. Gesturing to our daughter, I continue, "It's Mo's fourth birthday! How can you be anything but excited? She's thrilled!"

On cue, she focuses her attention to us and chimes in, "I'm so excited for my Pirate party today!".

"Me too, baby!" I squeal. "Me too!"

Putting the glue stick down, I shuffle hesitantly into the kitchen.

"You just don't get it" he starts, "You do all this shit. Plan this party for what, months? You're the freaking ring master here, while I get to be the labor. Seriously, what do I do this whole party? Run around like a madman. Cooking shit on the grille, setting up all these ridiculous games outside, then cleaning them all up. I never get to enjoy these parties, while everyone tells you how wonderful they are. I've been dreading this since the moment I woke up."

Stunned, his words hit me like a swift blow to the gut.

"Are you fucking serious?" I ask. "You decide to tell me this the morning of the freaking party, not over the past few weeks while I was planning."

He looks up, as our eyes meet.

Those green eyes tell me everything, a result of sixteen years together. I know he is down.  He doesn't need to say another word, but instead he goes on.

"You seriously just don't get it. You are so fucking selfish. Look at the pictures from the past parties, Jac. Where am I? I think Maeve's party this year was the first one where I'm actually in photos, and that was just luck."

I am flabbergasted, confused, and mad

What can I say?

In three hours my house will be filled with friends and family.
In three hours I will be the happy hostess as we celebrate my Mo's fourth birthday.
In three hours my backyard will house a moon bounce.
In three hours Bry will be manning the grill.
In three hours we need to get our shit together.

What should I say?
What is the right thing to say in a moment like this?

I choose to say nothing.

"I've got to go add sand to the sandbox, and then set up the Walk the Plank. I just want you to realize how out of control this shit gets. I mean, really? Do you think anyone else does this crap? She's four not fourteen. She doesn't need half this shit. Seriously, it would be nice to not have to do anything." he finishes, leaving me in the kitchen with my thoughts.

The rest of the morning flies by in a blink as we respectively finish our to-do list just as our guests arrive at noon. The party goes on without a hitch, as our Pirates craft, eat, run, jump, fish, balance, and dig their little hearts out.

It is a success, but those words resonant through my brain even as the compliments start rolling in via texts, emails, and facebook status updates.

Am I selfish? 

Am I out of control? 

Am I ridiculous? 

Yes. I am. 

The problem with Bryan's argument however is that he thinks I should be upset by this, and over the course of the party, I realized that I am not. 

I cannot be upset, because this crazy, out of control, ridiculous person I am with my children is genetic. 

Don't believe me?

Consider the following evidence:

This is Mo, my brother, and my father at Moira's party. 

Yes, my brother in eye liner and a wig, while my father is in the eye patch and my mom's white blouse. 

This is who I am. 

I am the daughter of the man who would stand in line for an hour at Busch Gardens so we could ride Alpine Geist. 

I am the daughter of the woman who when I asked for a swimming cake for my birthday, figured out that using my trophies as swimmers, and lifesaver candies as lane lines would make a fairly good representation of a competition pool. 

I am the sister to the man who dressed up as Buzz Lightyear for Halloween last year because he thought his third graders would enjoy it. 

I am the sister to the woman who forgoes sleep to bake brownies for the nurse's birthday at the office where she is a pediatrician. 

I am the woman who plans ridiculous, time consuming, over the top parties, because this is the only way I know how to do things. 

It's in every fiber of me to get giddy over celebrations, to search for the perfect favors, to bake cupcakes and dip marshmallows in melted chocolate, to plan parties like this one. 

This is who I am.

And I can't be sorry for that. 

I can, however, realize that my out of control planning does affect the people around me, primarily Bry. He is right to extent, that I don't need to do all the activities I think. 

Editing has never been my strong suit. 

However, I did make sure this year that when it was time to sing Happy Birthday, Bryan was immediately at my side behind the birthday girl as she blew out her candles. 

Our girl is four, her party was a success, and this year I realized that I don't have to do it all.  

Hopefully I remember that in January when Maeve's third birthday comes around. 

Linking up with Shell of Things I Can't Say

And because it's Wednesday, linking up with the best little Blog Link up around, Yeah Write #51

In conclusion, this post won me, from the Yeah Write Duchess herself, Erica M.

Almost time to Parrrrrty!

Did someone ask for a Pirate Party?

The only evidence thus far is as follows:  

1. A woman is running around the house maniacally decorating 

2. The same woman is covered in flour as she attempts to do her all of own baking

3. Two children are scurrying around aimlessly, almost unsupervised, including one incident with the bathroom sink. 

 4. Amazon left an abnormally large box on the front steps yesterday after same crazy woman discovered it would be more economical to purchase a bounce house than rent one

5. Upon arrival home each night, the man continues to shake his head in disbelief of what said woman has thus far accomplished. 

6. This is what happens when the woman dedicates an entire Pinterest board for Pirate Party Planning:

Shiver me timbers, T-Minus two days until our Pirate Parrrrrty! 

Pride

Alison of Mama Wants This and Ado of the Momalog are celebrating their first anniversary of their blogs. In the celebratory mood, they are imploring us, their lovely readers to contribute our own very best or most favorite post to their Blog Bash Link Up.

As I scoured the four hundred and seventy three posts I have written thus far over the past four years, I would be lying if I didn't say I was proud of myself. My writing has evolved, as has this blog itself. At first it was place just for snapshots and quick paragraphs describing my child(ren). A virtual baby book of sorts, one might say.

As time as gone by, I realize that this blog has become my refuge. My place to vent, to remember, to pour out my heart, make a list or two, share a fear, and ocassionally tell a good story.

The piece I have chosen was in response to a RememberRed post from the group Write on Edge way back in the summer of 2011.

The inspirations was as follows:
  For this week's RemembeRED prompt, we're borrowing a prompt from Writing the Memoir by Judith Barrington. In her chapter "The Truth: What, Why, and How," she asks her readers to: "Tell the story (without any trivialization or modesty) of something in your life that you are proud of."

This post is my story, and without further adieu,
Pride


I have a love hate relationship with my body.

This is a feeling which I believe many women share. Often, I find myself criticizing the size of my thighs, or the current state of my breasts, as I look in the mirror. My clothes become camouflage for the pouch of a belly that lies underneath. In my thirty two years of life, my body has remained solid and strong. I truly love me, but think I could love me a little more if there was a little less of me! It is almost comical to think that my battle scarred belly can be a place where I hold tremendous pride. However, underneath the stretch marks lies my story.

I was a newlywed, living my happily ever after when I became sick. Luckily a doctor fresh out of residency saw me on that fateful day I walked into the clinic. A more seasoned doctor likely would have taken my list of symptoms and simply diagnosed it a muscle spasm and sent me home with painkillers.

In this scenario, I most likely would have died from misdiagnosis.

Instead, this new doctor sent me to the emergency room as a precaution, and some six hours later, I was admitted and hooked up to an IV receiving blood thinners to prevent the clot that had formed in my lungs from passing into my heart.

She saved my life that day.

After a week in the hospital, vials upon vials of blood, and visits from countless specialists, I was released home, on blood thinners, with the instructions to take it easy. Later visits to hematologists, cardiologists, and primary care doctors, agreed that it was a pulmonary embolism caused most likely from birth control medication. It was unknown what my future would hold, and how this could potentially affect pregnancy in the future.

I was terrified and cursed my body.

I was young, healthy, and newly married. I believed that I should not have had to deal with this.

Over time, my body got stronger, the pain dissipated, and went back to my everyday routine. Almost 10 months after that fateful day, Bryan and I met with a maternal fetal medicine specialist to discuss pregnancy, more importantly pregnancy for me. We met for twenty minutes, explaining my history and left the office with the green light to stop medication and try to have a baby.

I trusted that my body was strong and could handle it.

And it was that easy, as I became pregnant almost immediately.

From the moment I heard the heartbeat at seven weeks, I had a responsibility to keep this life inside of me safe and to keep my body healthy.

Fear slowly crept into my head.
Would I miscarry?
Would I have another clot?
Would something worse happen?

I was back on blood thinners, this time intravenous ones. Every night, I would take the needle out of the package and into my belly I would push. For thirty-two weeks, I did this as my belly became larger and the bruises became more pronounced.

With each week of my pregnancy, I began to trust my body.

It was strong.
It would keep my baby healthy.
It would keep me healthy.

I found pride in each shot, as it was another day I got to be pregnant, another day I was alive.

Moira was born, perfect. Weeks later, I looked at my deflated belly, stretched and sagging in the mirror. While it wasn't classically beautiful, I looked past the checkerboard and saw a place of power. My body had survived a blood clot and then sustained a life for nearly 39 weeks.

How can I not be proud of all that it accomplished in a short amount of time?

Now when I look in the mirror, I push those negative thoughts aways as I remind myself of how miraculous and amazing my body is, stretchmarks and all.

 

Too Late

"So Aunt Lyns, when Patrick gonna get cut out of you?"

We froze mid step, processing the comment.

When my nearly four year old uttered this phrase to our expectant friend about a week ago, I guess this should have been that teachable moment.

You know, the one where I give her the truth about reproduction and childbirth.

Not.

Instead, I looked to my friend Lynsay wide eyed in a state of fear and confusion. She returned my glance with her own blank stare.

"Um, we'll see Mo" she uttered, her eyes fixed on me, looking for direction.

"Yeah Mo," I started, "It's still only March. Patrick won't be here until after your birthday. Sometime in April, he'll be born."

"So that's when they'll cut you, right?" she asked.

"Yeah" nodding along, "yeah, that's right. Um...who wants lunch?" I pleaded, changing the subject.

There was no way I was talking reproduction with my nearly four year old in the breezeway in our local downtown.

Later I rehashed the conversation with Bry. Between dramatic eye rolls and excessive head shaking, he stuttered, "Should we prepare ourselves, you know, in case she asks more?" Visibly shaken and in a state of disbelief, as he continued, "I mean, seriously? How many kids her age ask about stuff like this?"

"No way." I said. "I am NOT having the birds and the bees conversation with her. She's too young. I don't need to be THAT mom. Plus, she saw my c-section scar this morning when I was getting dressed, that might have been on her mind. That's it. She won't ask."

"You sure?" he asked, "You're the teacher". His deference apparent in his voice.

"No way would she ask" I countered."No way, I sincerely doubt she will ask anything more."

Damn you kid!

Descending the stairs Saturday night, the hurried cadence of his footsteps let me know something was wrong.

"We've got a huge problem, " Bry started, "you might want to turn off the TV for this one. It's all your fault." His brow furrowed, as he melted into the couch. "You said we'd be okay."

In those few seconds, my mind wandered frantically, fear over what it could be.

"What is it?" I asked, switching off the television. Turning towards him, I noticed the look of disgust on his face.

"You said we'd have time. Just a few days ago, you said not too worry." his voice a little louder than a whisper, as he shook his head side to side.

"Well what is it? Is it Mo? Maeve? Is everything okay?" I pleaded, attempting to suppress the panic in my voice.

"No. She asked" as he gulped air, "where babies come from?"

"Excuse me?" I said, "She asked what?"

"She wanted to know how PJ got in Aunt Lynsay's belly."

"So what did you say?" my own eyes widening in anticipate of his response. "What did you say?"

"Well, I had no clue. I mean, you told me, 'Don't worry Bry. She won't ask' " he said, using his best fake Jackie voice, " 'There's no way she'd ask'. Well, guess what Jac, She DID! And I was stuck, like a bumbling idiot, just stuck!"

"What did you say?" I asked, my stomach sinking.

"I told her mommies have eggs and daddies have seeds."

"Seeds?" I questioned, suppressing my laughter, "Seriously, you went with seeds?"

"I was not prepared for this Jac," his eyes focused and serious, "I thought it was better than SPERM!"

"True," I conceded, "so what else did you say."

"I told her daddies and mommies kiss. Then the daddies give the mommies their seed for their eggs. But then she got all confused, and I got flustered. I shouldn't have mentioned kissing. Seriously Jac, we should have talked about this. You should have been the one talking."

"Why didn't you ask her what she thinks?" I said. "Remember, we said that before, ask them what they think first! Always ask them what they think!"

"I was shocked, I mean, seriously, you told me not to worry about this" he strained, the stress of the event written across his face. "I stopped with the kissing, because she seemed confused, and then I figured, she'd be thinking a baby would end up in her belly if she kissed Maeve or me. God knows we don't need to stress her out anymore."

"True, so go on."

"So I went back and explained that kissing does not bring a baby. I told her the daddy gives the mommy his seed and then baby grows. Then she said something ridiculous."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"She asked where mommies and daddies do this. I was honest and told her in the house. She then asked if she could watch."

I couldn't hold it in anymore, as the laughter filled the living room.

"Laugh" he smirked, "you weren't the one dealing with this."

"So what did you say? I mean she asked to watch her parents have sex!" I laughed.

"I told her it was private, and then she asked where she would be when it happens. I told her in her room. She then asked if it could happen when she had a sleepover with Grammie and Popsie, and I said sure, it could. She then asked if it could happen when she's with Grammie with the Bracelets. Again, I said sure. Then she asked where she could sleep at my mom's and I realized the conversation had shifted. I told her we'd let her sleep in Casey's room, with Maeve in the pack and play. She then said that was a good idea. I asked if she had any other questions, praying she was done, when she said no, kissed me on the cheek and told me she was ready to go to sleep. I don't believe it Jac. I can't believe this." he finished.

"So, in a nutshell our kid now thinks Dads have seeds, Mommies have eggs, and she can't watch daddy put the seed in mommy, but she'll be most likely in the house when it happens, right?" I asked. "Did I miss anything?"

"No, Jac. That's about it." he said, shaking his head in disbelief. "I do have one thing to add here. I will not be putting the girls to bed the next few nights. I can't handle anything more."

"What more could she ask, babe?" I asked. "I think you covered it all".

"Just in case," he said, "you've got bedtime the next three nights. I need a beer."

And that my friends, is how Mo learned about reproduction a week before her fourth birthday.

Linking up with the wonderful, the phenomenal, the fantastic Yeah Write community. These bloggers seriously write some of the best stuff on the blogosphere, leaving me in their dust. Show them some love, leave some comments, and on Thursday vote for the best. Feel free to take pity on me, and throw me some love too.