...cheap towels and flying horses...

Speaking in code...we all do it. Whether it be 'code' as to how you feel. Whether it be talking in 'code' to your kids to make your life easier. Or lastly, understanding when 'code' is no longer necessary, worthy, or going to cut it anymore...that's where I've been residing.

For me, the codes have become more blatant. I no longer ask, "have you brushed your teeth" It's like asking someone if what you're wearing is flattering. The answer is always and at times a little too rushed, "YES". Now, the same question is "...did you brush your teeth TODAY", as someone will always point out that they did, yesterday. If only the codes of life were so easy to figure out. No one really wants to "know how you are feeling?" They want the light, airy response that will leave them feeling good about themselves for asking...this is true if you are feeling good or bad. So, you throw them some code and continue turning clothes right side out while throwing them in the wash.

Then there are the codes which all parents speak, when being asked on a semi regular basis about babies. Where do they come from? How do they get there? How do they come out? This is when code goes into HYPER DRIVE. There are reasons I do not wish to tell my kids about the proper names for body parts. That knowledge, that power, is spilled onto complete strangers with a vengeance from my overly verbal children. So, let's spare them the anatomy lesson, and me my sanity. I am like a cheap towel when it comes to the above mentioned questions...I push off some other topic, tell them to ask a licensed physician, or point out a rainbow that is not actually there. For Nora, it usually works, though I'm not looking forward to her next doctor's appointment. I know my  code has sufficed when the next thing out of her mouth is "...you know, I think riding a flying horse would probably be a lot of fun..." We're good...for now.

Code for the Talls? As long as I somehow throw in a fart joke, mention a fictional character, or a flesh eating bacteria, their question is thwarted. It's not that I want to lie to them, or with hold information...it's more about the fact that once they know they like to spread the word...even if a disclaimer was given. This is a small town. I've already been called by the school letting me know that one of the Talls was heard explaining a word I have never even used...and it wasn't altruistic. Boys will be boys as the old saying goes. That code conversation ended with if you don't know what you are talking about, you probably shouldn't be talking. I find it interesting to see how they throw code at some of the things Nora asks..I feel like a sensei.

For me personally, the codes are changing. There will always be days when life just isn't how it was envisioned when I was 25. But, looking back I had no idea what I wanted out of life at that age. In addition, I had no idea who I really was...what the hell did I know? About the time when you think you might have it all figured out, you either get taken out at the knees or you are reminded how great you actually have it and want to pay it forward. So you end the day reminded of sage lessons you have already been given, saying: Brush your teeth before you go into your bedroom tonight. Put on your pull up after you take your clothes off. About the time when you think you are going to seriously loose your shit if you hear the phrase "chicken nuggets/fries" uttered from a two year old AGAIN...you close his door to lay him in his crib and he looks at you and whispers "...I wuv you..." And with that, you're ready to tackle all the code tomorrow gives you...

Santa, Tooth Fairy...sleep with one eye open...

It was one of those days...even though there were two runny noses, not including my own, it was a good day. There were no arguments. No meltdowns. No mental desire to run to my room and lock the door at 7:30 in the morning and think, "Screw it, we are starting over!". I lie in wait...figuring the afternoon would somehow rival that of the Waco, Texas Branch Davidian Standoff. Cue the obligatory standoff music about 3:34...nothing.

The Talls came in the back door. Greeted me with their homework in their hands, and immediately sat down and did it. No arguing. No raised voices. No begging to play an iPad. Straight to task, no issues. Okay, I fixed a drink...clearly, I some how tripped into the Twilight Zone, and Atticus was some zombie man-child preparing to eat my brain...

Everyone got cleaned up, ate dinner, and helped with the dishes. I wiped a couple of noses and we started an old kids Halloween movie from the 90's...something we had already seen years ago, no biggie. Then suddenly, it hit me...I quickly figured out how my day was so picture perfect, it was the calm before the storm. They kept repeating a word in this movie...I was praying, I was the only one that was catching it. The Smalls peaced about 40 minutes in, put them to bed and came back to finish the movie with the Talls. I went to turn off the movie, and it happened...."Mom, what's a virgin? They said it like 12 times in the movie...".

Quick thinker, not really. Terrified thinker, most definitely. I covered my face for a moment, it felt like 10 minutes, pondering the answer to this question. How this really wasn't a one answer question...this would then spawn multiple questions. Not only did I not have a strong enough cocktail for this, but then the validity of all major players would then come into question- Santa, Easter Bunny, Tooth Fairy, Elf on the Shelf...these are the innocent players in this game. The startling notion that if I answered this wrong, I could somehow end up having to explain sex to my 9 and 7 year old BOYS...these little people, albeit I try to shelter a lot...but, I wasn't ready for THIS.

I...went with my cowardly gut. Thinking to myself, in this instance, knowledge is NOT power. I told them a vastly different definition than that of most of the Western world. The longer it took me to answer, I knew I would look suspect. I didn't REALLY lie, because I figured they'd have to look up some of the words IN the definition of a virgin to even know what it was...yeah, I chumped out. "...um, well, um fellas...um, a virgin is...someone who isn't married...Time for bed."

So...not going to win a parenting contest with this evening. I knew the whole day was beyond bizzaro...the lessons learned here are as follows: Have chilled glasses ready...Try not to scar your children for life, when they could learn the info from someone with at least the same parts...It wasn't the Branch Davidian Standoff, but I'm not going to be ready to answer those sorts of questions this close to Christmas, ever.

...the 8:15 tour is completely different from the 10:15...

I take full responsibility. There's no one else to take the fall. I talk... a lot. Daily narration. I do it, and I don't even know I'm doing it. I started doing it when the kids were younger, I'm sure it was to just talk to someone. Now that notion is almost laughable. So, it shouldn't surprise me I am rearing a house full of jabber boxes. It seems to be amplified in the female version of my offspring. That being said, Nora and I are still out numbered, so things are balanced out between far flung drama and fart jokes. However, what has become more surprising is the lack of filter...

Nora, could get a job tomorrow narrating for the blind...They would have to become accustomed to her lack of wanting to say the letters 'th'. It's all den (then), dat (that) du (the). However, what she lacks in phonics, she makes up for in her descriptive ability to properly intertwine the words magical and enchanting into a sentence about her socks. I pray she never loses the ability to talk, it might kill her. She looks at everything not only at a height of 3 foot something, but also like an old soul. I don't have to wonder how she's feeling. She'll not only prepare a brief recited essay about it, but also compose a song and dance to go along with it. The phrase that I wish she would some how erase from her vernacular is, "...at least can I (have some candy, get some ice, glue something to the wall)..." Four years old, and so burdened...

Atticus, says some words that are understood. At home with the female quotient of jabbers, it's not surprising he's picking up on our habits. Lately, however, it's as if he's giving tours to an imaginary group, wandering around the house pointing  at this and that, babbling all the way. Then for some reason, it's as if he's counting off something, and at the point of 3, it's exciting!- or at least it is in his head. He walked by Nora and I today, clearly giving his 8:15 tour, and Nora looked at me and said (and I am to blame for this), "...he's lost his little MIND!"

Now, when it comes to the 'Talls' and their filter, it gets fascinating to me. Abe has always been chatting, mainly about things he has no notion of, Oscar about things he's interested in. Don't get me wrong, we have our fair share of burp and fart challenges, Taylor Swift songs turned into songs about pooping- vast amounts of wasted brain function. However, they are rather open, and I mean will tell anyone that asks them, about their love lives. Wait, love lives? At times I wonder when they speak to each other if they forget that I am there. Abe, due to his retainers in his mouth, I am on about a 10 second delay as to what he says, still. He's fast. Oscar, out of no where will start talking, as if he's reciting a line from an after school special. The other day, I heard them talking about the 'honeys' in their school. I almost choked on what I was drinking when I heard Oscar say, "...you know so-in-so? Yeah, I could really fall for her...". Fall? What the devil does that mean in a 9 year old brain?...never mind, I'm not sure I want to know just yet. I'm flush with knowledge now of their daily goings-on, and I stop myself at times and enjoy it. I know I might have a couple of years before I am told nothing, and that will be the time I start to worry.

These things, they don't seem like a lot. They are however, a break in the monotony of my daily life...laundry, working a budget, making meals, cleaning, finding bats in toilets, changing diapers and more laundry. The fact that I can catch a glimpse of what these little people might end up being when they are my age, mind boggling. Oscar and I were talking last night, and he said something to me, that I will remind myself of, possibly for the next calendar year. We were talking about how sometimes life isn't fair, and it's hard to understand why things happen as they do. He said to me, "...I feel like our lives ended up the way they did, because someone knew we would be okay having just you, like you're strong enough to do all this for us..." At that moment, I was never so grateful for my overly verbal, non-filtered, phonetically challenged, babbling blessings...