The Bearded Iris

A Recalcitrant Wife and Mother Tells All

Tag: family time

“Mommy, how did I get out of your tummy?”

I’ve told you before that our dinner conversations tend to be pretty, uh…colorful, much to my sweet husband’s dismay.

Well, we had another doozy this week.

This was one of those moments when you wish you had a video camera rolling. But since I didn’t (do we ever when we really need them?), I’ll have to attempt to reenact the dialogue from the way I saw it unfold.

It went a little something like this…

Mini-Me (10 y.o. girl): Mom, have you ever missed the bus and had to chase it to get on?

Me: I don’t think so. I had to walk to school when I was your age. But I did have to run my hardest through an airport once to catch a flight. You were with me, do you remember that?

Nature-Boy (13 y.o.): I remember that. You were crying and we were all running.

Mini-Me: You were crying? In an airport? RUNNING? With us? I don’t remember that!

Me: Well I was about 6 months pregnant with Bucket Head and we were going to Arizona to visit your Bubbie and Zaydie, and we were super late, and my e-ticket wouldn’t work, and it was a mess. But yes, we had to run, HARD. I was crying because I was stressed out and afraid. We made the flight though. Nobody wants to get in the way of a sprinting pregnant lady.

Bucket Head (5 y.o. boy): You mean, I was in your tummy and you were running in an airport? That’s so silly, Mom.

Me: Yep. You were in my tummy…and you were HUGE.

Bucket Head: But Mom? How did I get OUT of your tummy?

(Mini-Me and Nature Boy’s eyes widened with excitement and/or fright.)

Mini-Me: (stage whisper) Should I tell him, Mom?

Me: NO. Don’t tell him yet. Not now. We’re eating. Daddy doesn’t like when we talk about stuff like that at the table. And I should tell him, not you. But thanks for the offer.

Bucket Head: Does the doctor cut the baby out?

Me: Sometimes. Pass the sour cream, honey.

Bucket Head: Well one time? The news was on? And Mommy was up in her room texting? And I saw a Mommy having a baby on TV. She was going like this [he grabbed the table with both hands, tightly shut his eyes, and made a sustained difficult pushing sound] and then she pooped out her baby…right out of her BUTT! I don’t think I was supposed to be watching that show.

The rest of us: ::giggle::

The Gatekeeper: You have to tell him now. You can’t let him think that babies get pooped out.

Me: It’s not totally inaccurate. Remember the sausage and peppers?

The Gatekeeper: Dude. We’re eating.

Me: (To GK) You said to tell him! (To BH) Right, you probably shouldn’t have been watching that show, buddy. But no, that mom didn’t poop out her baby.

Bucket Head: Really? Because it looked like it was coming out of her butthole. And it was all gross like poop.

Me: Most babies come out of their Mommy’s vagina.

Bucket Head: WHAT? (Deadpan face.)

Me: Vagina. Babies get pushed out of vaginas. And it’s hard work, so Mommies have to push and grunt and it’s messy. But it’s awesome.

Mini-Me: (Very concerned) But mom? A baby’s head is like this big, and a vagina is only that big. Do vaginas stretch out THAT much? (Holding her hands out like the size of her dinner plate.)

Me: Yep.

Mini-Me: How long do they stay stretched out like that?

Me: Oh…pretty much forever. Why do you think I wear such big pants?

The Gatekeeper: (Slowly shakes head in defeat.)

Mini-Me: I’m never having sex, ever.

Bucket Head: I AM. I want to poop out a baby! 

I don’t really remember what happened next, because I was laughing too hard.

And end scene. 

hide and seek bucket head

 

This craft fair didn’t suck.

Last weekend while running a few errands, Mini-Me and I serendipitously happened upon the most delightful outdoor craft fair!

It was a spectacular autumn day here and Mini-Me had $8.00 burning a hole in her little pocketbook, so I opened my window as we slowly cruised by Market 334. Live music and the smell of barbecue simultaneously hit me smack in the kisser. Cue the illegal u-turn.

“We’ll just check it out. If it sucks, we’ll go to Target.”

Sure, it sounds jaded, but in my experience, local craft fairs in North Georgia can be hit or miss. We went to one a couple years ago that had hand-crocheted toilet paper coozies as far as the eye could see. My dead Aunt Doris would have loved it. But me? Not so much.

Well imagine my surprise… this craft fair was 100% awesome. There was not a single corn cob back-scratcher in sight. Sorry Target, we’ll come by another day.

Every booth was more fabulous than the last. Luckily for me, I didn’t have a lot of money in my wallet, or I could have easily dropped the kids’ college funds there. But we did make a few purchases you have to see.

First up: something unique, sparkly, practical, and FUN!

While ooh-ing and aah-ing over all the shiny things in the Two Bead Broads booth, I was immediately drawn to a sign for “Hillblingy Goblets.” I misread it and thought it said “Hillbilly.” Either way — she had me at GOBLET.

You know I loves me my wine.

Y’all, feast your eyes on my newest acquisition.

Gold Hillblingy Goblet by Kris Straukas of Two Bead Broads

Is that just fun on a stick, or WHAT?! I will be drinking my afternoon Momtini from this on a daily basis. And best of all, I can just screw the lid on so the flies don’t steal sips of my hooch while I’m not lookin’!

The fabulous artist who makes these doesn’t have an Etsy store (yet), but if you’d like to buy one (or twelve), it’s no big thang for her to ship them to you. She makes them in all kinds of color combos, but I decided to “go for the the gold” because it makes me feel all classy, an’ ‘at. Contact Kris Straukas for more info at twobeadbroads@comcast.net.

The next booth we couldn’t resist was stocked full of the cutest handmade stuffed fleece creatures we’d ever seen. Check these out; they’re called Musers. They remind me a little of those ubiquitous “Ugly Dolls,” but way cuter and in much groovier fleece patterns.

Mini-Me and I were mesmerized by these funky little guys. And the artist, Kathryn Muse, was so sweet to us. She took the time to tell us all about her creative process and how she comes up with her ideas (lots of input from her kids). She even offered to coach me on how to sew one of my own someday if I ever unearth my sewing machine.

Mini-Me and local artist Kathryn Muse, creator of Musers(TM).

Kathryn’s little Musers would make darling gifts. She has an Etsy shop and a blog where she introduces new creatures and shares about her journey as a new Etsy seller. She also does custom orders. Love that!

And now, please meet the newest member of my Halloween decorating committee:

This fun little dude is made out of tube socks! I am seriously in love! My kids and I have made sock-monkeys before, but I never would have dreamed about making a skeleton. Look at this face!

He’s got a sparkly tie, a plastic spider sewn to his shoulder, and I love that his eyes are two different sizes. ADORABLE. The artist is Stacia Roble. She has an Etsy shop, but I’m not sure if she has anything in stock right now. Contact her at yesroble@gmail.com for more information.

Finally, one last artist to highlight. Meet “Sweet Sammy,” a mother-daughter team who make beautiful handcrafted wooden pendants and necklaces. Mini-Me thought she would simply die if she didn’t get one of these. Luckily for me, the artist had a soft spot for little girls with great taste, so she was willing to work with Mini-Me’s very limited budget. Then she gift wrapped her selection in a beautiful bag and made us both feel very special. I truly appreciate anyone who goes above and beyond like that. Thank you Martina!

The time we spent at Market 334 was my idea of the perfect Fall day with one of my three favorite kids. I hope your weekend was equally wonderful!

Supporting local artists, spending quality time with my baby, and finding a classy way to get my drink on at the same time; life is good!

-Iris

PS – If you’re new here, please help others find me by “liking” the The Bearded Iris at Babble.com’s list of the Top 50 Mom Blogs (I’m currently #12). That’s liking, not licking. Unless you’re Gerard Butler, my husband, or my dog, please don’t lick me. Thanks.

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