Correction

I didn't intentionally misquote my son in this mornings post about his social snafu.

Today, however, I was so proudly reminded of what he actually said to last night's guest, because HE SAID IT AGAIN TO SOMEONE ELSE! (A stranger, thank goodness, as we walked into a store).

"Mommy, she's not having a baby. She has an extra tummy."

To my son, the world is made up of camel's.

Gag Order

To all parents who have listened with horror and embarrassment as your child made a comment, boldly and directly to a guest, about their body type, and handled the situation with grace and dignity . . .

I salute you.

I'm quite sure that my response to Zane's comment last evening would NOT be described as graceful, as I'd describe it more as bumbling and stumbling around an awkward silence, and yet I do have to give myself some points for at least maintaining my physical composure, even if my verbal response was a bit clunky.

In 7 years of parenting I have never had to respond to a child's truthfulness gone tabloid.

"Mommy! She's having a baby!"

Silence. Some type of waving gesture with with my hands to communicate,"he's nuts", in lieu of actually attempting to speak, and then a carefully placed, "No, no Zane" and a quick shift onto another topic.

Harper sat there drinking warm milk with her big, blue eyes bulging out of her head.

She knew we were in dangerous territory and thus remained completely quiet.

As my guest was heading to leave, having not given any response to Zane, and seeming just fine, HE DID IT AGAIN . . . this time whispering in my ear at a volume of an overacted stage whisper which could be heard by an entire house of audience members, "MOMMY! SHE'S NOT HAVING A BABY?"

My guest bent down and was very gracious while she shared that she had already had her babies and that she wasn't having anymore.

We said our goodbyes and I set out to attempt to explain to Zane that we don't ask people about the babies in their tummies. I'm pretty sure he didn't quite get the point. But, I had to try. His only response?

"Oh. Some people have double tummies?"

Harper's head dropped to the counter. Thunk.

Yeah, sure. However, let's not talk about the double tummies that we see either.

I realize that discretion is not necessarily a trait of 3 year olds, and that one can overlook this social hiccup, seeing as it wasn't made by a 7 year old . . . or a 39 year old . . . but rather a boy of 3, but it's still uncomfortable.

Harper never entered this territory when younger.

This one, however? I'll have to watch. More new parenting worlds to forge!

Gee, Thanks Barnes & Noble!

I used to buy all my books.

When the stunning new chains of bookstores opened years back while George was in Seminary, we spent many a Friday night date combing either Barnes and Noble or Border's (which was conveniently located across the street) for deals on the sales tables. It was a luxury to buy a new book, although in all honesty, I've always preferred used books over new.

For awhile I read a ton about book collecting and even have a few 1st editions of books I treasure. Every Saturday that George worked at the coffee shop, would find me exploring used bookstores for rare titles and finds that I wanted to claim as my own. I couldn't then (and still can't now) afford a 1st of "To Kill a Mockingbird", but I do have a First Edition Truman Capote and a full set of Chaim Potok's books, my favorite author after Harper Lee.

I like books.

Although, now, I am more apt to borrow from a friend or from the library rather than plop down coin for a book. There is the rare purchase at Amazon.com, but gone are the Friday night browsing sessions where time didn't really matter - other than closing time.

So, it was kind of a big deal when I walked into Barnes & Noble the other day to find a book on PR. Something light . . . like, Public Relations for Dummies. Which is just what I chose. Proudly, I purchased my book and left. I was pretty high. Having just gotten hired to write, I felt good about purchasing a "text" for this new phase of my life. A purchase that can now be considered a write off as well. It may not have been the best book on the subject (I also purchased a used PR text off of Half.com on the recommendation of a friend who actually teaches PR) but it certainly met my goals of finding a simple course.

I then come to find out that my gem of a sister also had Dummies on the mind . . . um, thanks? No, seriously, she too purchased a book for me, Public Relations Kit for Dummies, which upon researching it had a much better rating in terms of helpfulness to those starting out in the business.

Not being able to find my receipt, I went back to B&N, knowing that in the past they have just scanned a book to prove it was from their store and then given credit. My plan was to just treat myself to something else.

Well, apparently they've changed their policy.

I was told that without a receipt there would be no return and no credit. Zilch. I am now left with a book I don't need. What's up with that?

Wouldn't scanning it show the SKU number for their store? 'Cause, well, it sure did used to!

What happens now when I receive gifts without a gift receipt? Regift?

Is there seriously no way of returning an item without any sort of receipt? Are they losing money on returns? Is that the reason for the policy change?

I do understand that store's get taken with fake returns, but I really did buy it there and a simple scan would have revealed that truth.

But, nope.

I now have a book that I don't need. I'm annoyed.

So, gee, thanks, Barnes & Noble!

If I do happened to find that receipt, I'll be back.

But not to purchase books.

Pool Boy

Get your mind out of the gutter.

Today I spent 25 glorious minutes lounging on a deck chaise at the pool while holding my son, my no longer a baby-baby boy, who was wrapped head to toe in monkey towel.

He almost fell asleep with his head nustled against my chest.

I was hoping he would fall into a slumber while I held him.

It's a feeling I miss.

Sorry if this wasn't the spicy post that you were hoping for.

Zane's not that type of pool boy.

Right Field

From "Right Field" by Peter Paul and Mary
(Italicized comments are mine. All mine.)



Off in the distance, the game's dragging on,
Because in this league, the pitcher just keeps on going until the batter manages to hit the ball.

There's strikes on the batter, some runners are on,
No strikes allowed in this league, but yes, runner's have managed to get on base.

I don't know the inning, I've forgotten the score.
Third inning. There are only three. No score-keeping. But . . . we are crushing them.

The whole team is yelling and I don't know what for,
Harper is too busy playing "Opposite Day" with Lucy and telling her that she smells, which isn't true, but rather the opposite of the truth, as it is Opposite Day. Get it? So she can't even hear the yelling from the stands.

Suddenly everyone's looking at me,
Yep.

My mind has been wandering, what could it be?
Well, considering that Harper's focus med's wore off about 2 hours ago, it's no wonder that she's out there dancing and groovin' in right field.

They point to the sky and I look up above,
In this case, we point to the ground, and she squats down.

And the baseball falls into my glove!
Harper shuffles a bit to land the ball in her glove!

And there you have it. The one, true, error-free play of the Orange Tiger's season. Made by Harper.

And while it wasn't a pop fly to Right Field, it did indeed make a course straight for Harper, and she responded by fielding it with ease. Crouched low, she caught the grounder, and then hurled it to First. Batter was out at First.

The crowd went wild.

Basically, because up until yesterday, we'd yet to see a "play" of any kind.

This was quite a different game than Harper's last when upon missing a few catches at Third Base she stormed off the field refusing to return.

After a long talk about sportsmanship, teamwork, and not abandoning one's teammates, we told Harper that she was not allowed to just pick and choose which portions of the game she would play, and thus, if she abandoned her team again in a fit of frustration, she would sit out the batting order.

Or, she could play the entire game and we would celebrate with Steak and Shake.

Guess which choice won.

And may I also add, that upon getting out a First, (deja vu from two games ago when Harper was tagged out 3 times in a row due to batting line drives directly to First Base . . . and consequently losing it after each one), Harper left the field without incident, glancing over at us to make sure we were watching her cool as a cucumber reaction as she returned the dugout.

Awesome game.

Awesome growth.

Awesome girl.

Grow Up!

I was sharing the news about my new gig at Smarthinking PR with a good friend of mine the other day. She is a writer as well, and thus, I knew she would understand my utter euphoria about being handed this opportunity. I also knew that she would be able to grasp the intense fear I have about Mucking it up . . .

Her words were few. Simple. And yet profound.

"Joline, you are an adult. So you're scared. So what. Just learn how to do the job. And then do it."

Oh.

Well, that makes sense.

I'm an adult.

My children rely on me help them solve their problems.

They are young. They need direction.

And while I also need direction in the world of PR, it is really up to me, THE ADULT, to learn the trade. No one is going to spoon feed me or make me a chart to check off and track when I've completed my PR homework. There are no jelly bean's or stars being handed out for studying everyday. I have everything I need to research, educate, and implement these new skills. I already know in what direction to head. I can either sit and worry and fret and whine and doubt, or

I can pick up a book and learn something new.

I'm an adult. I have all the abilities I need to learn new things.

Even a new trade.

I'm an adult and I'm thankful for my level headed adult friends. Good word, Joan!

Comforting Thoughts

Zane's Date with Mommy: Conversation 1

Zane and I like to frequent Blind Faith Cafe on Friday mornings for hot chocolate and coffee. It's our date. He loves dating.

As he sipped his hot chocolate today, he began to rub his tummy and sigh,

"Oh, this is comfortably good."

What a sentiment to hot chocolate, right?

And then,

"Mommy, I want to go into an air balloon with you. I'd like to go in the basket with you. We'd be very safe. Not like in the Wizard of Oz." From this point on, a new conversation was launched, which you, the reader, can check out in the post below.

But for now . . .

My son is such an old soul at times. Frankly, some of his phrases and responses to questions sound as if he's decades older than he is.

"Zane, how did you nap?" is met with "Very well, thank you."

"Zane! You pooped! Yeah!" is met with "Please mommy. Lower voices please."

"Daddy, they are playing Tigerlily music." In response to a piece played by the Grant Park Orchestra Wednesday evening.

So when he exclaimed that the hot chocolate was "comfortably good" I sat back and really stared into those baby blue's of his. There is so very much going on in his beautiful head. His beautiful, can't kiss him enough, head.

I'm sorry that you've been having nightmares about polar bear monsters chasing little boys.

Think of those "air balloons", Zane. The "very safe" one's.

I'd be glad to join you in the basket.