After a weekend away, J came home last night to a quiet evening of the History Channel and BLT Sandwiches. As we’re curled up on the couch, he suddenly spurts out, “It occurred to me this weekend that we’re going to have to explain sex to this kid someday.”

Yes, he tends to think ahead. Far, far ahead. This morning we were talking about the war with China after 2008. But that’s a topic for another blog.

Funny thing was, I had just had a conversation with my parents this weekend on how they and other parents had explained the birds and the bees. As far as we could remember, though my mom used delicately chosen vocabulary, there were no creative analogies or metaphors. It was pretty straight forward talk to both my brother and myself. And she noted that we each only ever asked once.

It was fun in middle and high school to compare notes with friends though on how they learned about THE TOPIC EVERY PARENT FEARS. I had one friend whose parents used keys and doorknobs. Another set of parents used plugs and electrical outlets.

And of course there’s always the “Bank of Love” where the man goes to make a deposit in the woman’s account. Next week’s lesson is what it means when the woman has the “Next Teller Please” sign up.

This blog doesn’t usually get a lot of comments, but if you’re passing through, feel free to leave a note about how you learned about where babies come from.

And in other news, the maternity clothing industry has hit a new LOW:

The “Got Milk” Nursing Tank. Eghad.

The following post is written solely for the benefit of my dog. And yes, for all you skeptics out there, he DOES understand the English language and is probably at home surfing the internet at this very moment. Unless he’s sitting patiently to the side while my cat renames all the desktop icons. Again.

But I digress.

Dearest Hastings,

I appreciate your enthusiasm for life, truly, but I believe there is an area we need to discuss. Namely, the middle-of-the-night bursts of energy that seem to have taken over your sanity and my ability to sleep well over the past two nights.
I understand that because you insist on drinking a half gallon of water just before bed, there will be the occasional - OCCASIONAL - time when you will need to rise in the middle of the night to relieve yourself. I can live with that. But aside from those occasional times, the following is a list of life facts that I hope you will take into consideration in the future - if for nothing else, to save yourself some time and me some sleep.

1. If you have gone to the bathroom at approximately 4:00am, I will not believe you when you try to convince me you need to go again at 4:30am.
2. The fact that the cat has just regurgitated an entire day’s worth of food outside the bedroom door is not - and I repeat NOT - a good enough reason for us to get out of bed and open the bedroom door. Trust me, it will still be there in the morning and if we can help it, you won’t get to eat it anyway, even though it is recycled bits of your own food. Learn to be a little more territorial about your food and maybe the cat will stick to his own “sensitive stomach” food.
3. Licking the door doesn’t open it.
4. Whining at the door doesn’t open it.
5. Throwing yourself into the door doesn’t open it.
6. Jumping up on the door and scratching your claws all the way down like fingernails on a chalkboard doesn’t open the door.
7. Licking my hand, my elbow, and/or my nose doesn’t open the door.
8. Standing on my hip does not instill me with the urge to play with your rope toy.
9. Pulling clothes out of the laundry basket may get me out of bed. It may also get you a squirt in the mouth with the bitter spray. BUT IT DOES NOT OPEN THE DOOR.
10. PULL ALL THE COVERS OFF THE BED ONE MORE TIME AND SO HELP ME GOD…

Just so you know, there is a puppy-sized jail cell at Petco with your name on it. And it will go in the far recesses of the house in which no one but the cats will hear your cries for deliverance…

(Insert maniacal laugh here)

 

Take the passifier out of your mouth before entering my office to make a sales pitch. Seriously.

So if the title of “Best Job Ever” wasn’t already taken (by moi), it would have to go to my dear husband J, who works for a production company… in an office building that looks like a cross between the Vegas Strip Hotel and Disney World.
As he’s strolling into the office the other day, he notices a multitude of Men in Black standing around with those Matrix ear pieces…oh yeah, and AK-47s in their hands.
It’s the Secret Service for the Czech Republic and the President is at his production studio filming for the day.

Just another day in the life of a production company employee.

On a side note, evidently political correctness isn’t required when working for the Czech Republic. All the employees in the building filed into work that morning and the Secret Service stood there and watched. But when the one hispanic guy that works for the company walked through the doors, they stopped him and asked if he had a delivery or something.

Ouch.