The Name Game

For months , before the arrival of my first son, my husband and I spent hours on end trying to contrive the perfect name for our first born. We wanted something meaningful and special. My husband turned down my suggestion of Jameson, saying that it sounded like I picked it off the shelf of a liquor store. And I quickly vetoed his suggestion of John Deere Putnam. "Are you kidding?" I replied, "I can hear the kids on the playground, "Hey John Deere want to come mow my lawn?"

After much deliberation and great thought we decided on Scott Michael Putnam Jr., after my husband of course. We thought our eldest son would be proud to share his Daddy's name. Yet, he insists that everyone call him Peter.

Everywhere we go he proudly boasts his name is "Peter the Knight!" Last week I dropped my son off for his first swimming lesson at the local YMCA. When I returned to pick him up, the instructor walked my son over to me with a perplexed look on her face and asked, "is this your son?"

"Oh, boy. What did he do now?," was my first thought. "Yes," I replied.

"What is his name?"

"Scott," I said.

"And his last name?" she asked.

"Putnam," I knew where this was heading.

The swimming coach continues, patting my son on the head, "He told us his name was Peter the Knight. So I thought he meant Peter Knight. But I didn't have a Peter Knight on my roster. I thought we had the wrong kid in the class."

With an embarrassed giggle, I said I was sorry and explained that my son has decided to call himself "Peter the Knight" after a character in the movie Narnia.

I'm sure that there are a lot of little boys that prefer to be called by names that they think are way cooler than their own. Like Spiderman, Superman, or Batman, but at least if they tell someone that their name is Superman, one can infer that is not his real name. Although if my husband was ready to name our son after a tractor than I am sure that there are some boys out there with some Super names.

Bringing Sexy Back

I too like Justin Timberlake want to bring sexy back. Some time, after baby number three, I lost the whole concept of sexy. Maybe out of fear that it would bring baby number four!

After watching an inspirational OPRAH, , I decided it was time to conquer my fear.

I set out determined to bring my sexy back. My decision easily lead me to these beautiful black patten leather peep-toe heels called Ginger. Even the named screamed sexy. I put them on. Excitement started to bubble inside me! Yes, these could definitely do the trick. I checked out the price. They were on sale, $18, marked down from $70. Sold!

I called my husband and told him that I bought a sexy little number that I would gladly exhibit for him when I got home.

When I walked through the door my husband was eagerly awaiting my big reveal. I told him to close his eyes while I slipped into my new something. A second later I told him to open his eyes.

The look on his face wasn't exactly what I was going for. I was hoping for a "Wow, strut on over here" look. But my husband looked wildly confused.

"Don't you like them?" I asked with disappointment.

"So where's the sexy little number you're going to surprise me with?" he responded with equal disappointment.

"These are my sexy little number!" I replied. "Aren't they beautiful?"

My husband still looked confused. So I explained my new plan about how I wanted to feel sexy and feminine.

Although my dear hubby tried to understand, he just didn't get it. "You're home with the kids all day, where are you ever going to wear those things?"

Visions of Ginger and I vacuuming the house and heading out to the grocery store suddenly popped into my head. Hmmm. I guess I could see his point.

Determined not to part with my new heels, I reasoned all the events coming up that I could wear Ginger to, weddings, showers, even a bachlorette party, which would be my first outing with Ginger.

It was a Saturday night and I was feeling pretty good about the way I looked. I slipped Ginger on and off I went, strutting down the stairs ready to prove to my husband that I would get some use out of my new purchase. Except, I wasn't really strutting, it was more of a slow wobble. I looked like a seven year old girl trying to look cool, walking around in her mother's heels. Definitely not sexy.

What can I say, if at first I don't succeed then I will try, try and try again!

Mom's Cutbacks

My husband and I have recently found ourselves on the brink of a crisis. It seems that lately when it comes to spending money that I have as much control as a teenage girl during prom season. In recent months, we've had weddings, showers, birthdays and three growing boys to feed, and I see no end in sight. We have more weddings to attend, it's always someones birthday and my boys seem to get hungrier with each passing day.

So in order to avoid a financial predicament, my husband asked me to moderate my spending. Easy enough. I thought, "I can be conservative. I'm sure there are lots of things that we don't need that I can cut back on."

A few days later, my loving hubby was helping me empty the dish washer. He pulled out a few straws and asked "why are you washing straws?"

"You said that I should try and be more conservative," I replied sheepishly.

I could hear the restraint in his voice, he was trying not to laugh, "Straws are probably a penny a piece. When I said that you need to cut back your spending, I meant that you should stop buying new dresses or new shoes not stop buying straws."

Hmmm. Clearly not the reaction I hoped for. I guess I shouldn't tell him about the Ziplock bags that I washed out and packed his lunch in.

Hungry, Hungry Hobbits

It starts first thing in the morning. My boys hop into bed with me, “Mom, I’m hungry. Mom, I’m thirsty.” I hear this at least 23 times a day. Kids are like stray cats, feed them once and they keep coming back for more. And mine never seem to go away.

My children are more like stray Hobbits. Which if you are not familiar with, are small human like beings that enjoy at least seven meals a day, not including snacks. They indulge in first breakfast, second breakfast, elevenses, luncheon, tea, dinner, and supper. The feasting and drinking never seem to end.

After I wipe the slime from my eyes, that my son slathered over my face while trying to wake me, I ask my little Hobbits “What do you want for breakfast?”

My eldest says, “Peanut butter and jelly french toast sticks, bacon and milk.”

My second in command chirps, “Me want waffles.”

Maybe I should change my title from MOM, to Short Order Cook. “How about Lucky Charms and milk,” I suggest.

I shuffle my hungry guys down the stairs. Open the fridge. Crap there’s no milk. How can that be? I bought a gallon and a half yesterday. I turn to my children and look into their doe eyes, “Sorry, we're out of milk. How about PB &J and water?”

After my kids eat their first breakfast, I strap them into their car seats and we head to the local Dairy Mart for the fourth time this week. I buy another gallon of milk and the guy behind the counter smirks and says, “It’d be cheaper to buy a cow.”

We leave and head home. No sooner do we enter the house, when I hear, “Mom, I’m hungry.”

I head straight to the bread drawer to prepare second breakfast. I think to myself, they're only toddlers, what am I going to do when they’re teenagers. I’m going to need a full time job just to buy bread and milk.

The Poop Factor

Ok, little boys and poop are like men and sex. If their not doing it, they’re thinking about it. And if they’re not thinking about it, they’re laughing with their buddies at the thought of doing it very soon. And they always stake claim to doing it even if they didn’t.

I’ve literally got the shittiest kids in town. And they are quite proud of their status. I walked into the living room this morning and almost passed out from the stench. Gagging I said, “who tooted?”

My General stands up and proudly says, “I did!” Just as he starts to relish in his foul behavior, the Tank stands up and declares, “No. Me tooted!”

First comes love then comes, no, not marriage, but the bridal shower.

Having been a bride myself, I have to admit that a wedding shower for a new bride is like Christmas morning or a birthday party to a 5 year old. First we make a list, and then we check it twice, or five or six times. Next we tell everyone what we asked for, in hopes that if we’re good enough we’ll get everything we desire. Lastly, our family invites more family and friends for a gathering to eat cake and watch us open gifts.

Sounds like fun. Of course it’s fun if you’re the lucky lady opening gift after gift, receiving everything you ever wanted and more. But, what about the family and friends? Sure it’s exciting to watch someone open a blender, and an iron, and of course new sheets. But, sometime after opening the third set of dishes the excitement wears off and boredom tends to set in. Much like a bunch 5 year olds at their best friend’s birthday party, women are easily lead a strayed by one another. I guess this is why bridal shower games were invented.

Having attended 7 bridal showers in the last year, I’ve played my fair share of bridal bingo, bride trivia, and honeymoon ramblings. But one of the activities I find most entertaining is the advice that guests are asked to bestow to the bride to be. Here are my top five

5. Never let you husband use these four letter words: Dust, cook, and work.

4. Never go to bed angry. Stay up and plot revenge.

3. Don’t withhold sex. You’re only punishing yourself.

2. Don’t have three kids in two years
(Why didn’t anyone share this with me at my shower?)

(And my personal favorite from a mother of a bride)
1. Just remember when the going gets though that it was your father that gave you away,
I wanted to keep you.

Such words of wisdom. Offered by women who’ve been there and done that. And who better to offer such valuable advice, like number 4, than those seasoned brides, who have been there more than once! Like I said, put 50 women in a room together, and some of us are bound to revert to our inner child.

The Four Letter Word No Mother Wants To Hear...

Uh-Oh!

Like many parents, just hearing the word “Uh-oh” sends alarm bells ringing in my head and makes every muscle in my body cringe. Especially, if it comes out of one of my boys’ mouths, you know the ones, The General and The Tank.

Reminiscent are the days that my two cohorts flooded my downstairs bath after continually flushing the potty while depositing an entire roll of toilet paper, or the day when my little General lathered himself with a full tube of Destin, because he needed lotion for his dry skin, or the day when the Tank decided to stoke the fire with his legos. All incidents preceded the word “Uh-oh.”

With three toddlers under one roof, not many days pass without some kind of catastrophe, which leads to “uh-oh.” So, why would today be any different? I was in the kitchen washing dishes when I heard one of my mischievous off-spring utter, “Uh-oh!” from the bathroom. I just bowed my head and said a quick prayer, not for me, but for him. Then I’d headed to the bathroom to see what the damage was.

When I opened the door, the boy before me didn’t look like my usual grinning son. He looked like a deer caught in the headlights, waiting to be plowed over with punishment. Looking at him I noticed that the Tank’s arms were soaked up to his elbow and the toilet next to him no longer had a seat on it.

In the sternest voice I could muster up, I asked, “What happened?”

Instantly my son started crying and whimpered, “the toilet bit me!”

I dried the tears from my son’s face then proceeded to the floor, when the phone rang. It was my Dad. So naturally I shared the mishap, in hopes to get some parental guidance and support. Instead, I got an earful of laughter and a brief sentiment from my father, “Ah, payback for all the rotten things that you kids did to your mother and me when you were little!”

Yes, “Uh-oh” indeed.