More than just coffee. More than just a hug. There are the finer things in life that get me through each day, like stuff my kids say. Generally it's embarrassing. Most likely it is inappropriate. And it is almost ALWAYS funny. Phil and I will look at each other and begin to laugh hysterically until our sides hurt and tears roll down our cheeks. All the while we are positively reinforcing the lack of internal monologue that I know my husband often wonders where I got, (see honey, see)? Everytime I think- I have GOT to write that one down, but I rarely do. Not because I am not on the way to get pen and paper or my ipod even(it has this handy note function) but because funny comments almost ALWAYS are followed by some biological or messy crisis.
There was the other night when Bella out of the blue yells to her sister- "Sleep tiiiiight, don't let the aliens get YOU!" Don't know why they had trouble getting to sleep after that. They weren't afraid- just all wrapped up in pretending to be aliens.
Or Lily, following a particularly bad sneeze- "I can't get rid of the Bless-yous."
There are often meaningful and heartfealt conversations over dinner- usually involving some biological or messy incidence. Most involve flatulence, of which we are trying to convince Bella is inappropriate dinner theatre entertainment. So this morning, at breakfast she makes a mad dash from the table(another occurrence we have been trying to discourage) and immediately returns declaring with a tangible amount of pride-"I'm sorry I had to fart, but I did it in Phillip's room!" I wonder how Phillip felt about that, considering he was still sleeping in there at the time.
A couple of months ago- more like 6 weeks, but who's counting- let's round up- we got some beta fish. You may recall an unfortuante incident involving the droppage of less than sturdy gold fish and the subsequent upgrade to beta fish. They are hearty because if you put two together, they will fight to the death- they are also called siamese fighting fish. I spent the first week watching my son and husband like hawks around the fish, fearing the second I turned my back I would have to be scooping fish remnants from another fish's bowl. It helped that 2 of the betas were in a single tank with a clear divider- the boys seemed to be satisfied with the little buggers just charging each other and bouncing off the glass. So after a few weeks, the two became a little sluggish and their fins started looking bad. I decided to put them each in their own tank. They have not taken the separation well. Now instead of cleaning 1 bowl daily, I have 2. One fish got moved to the bathroom, to decrease clutter in the kitchen. Both Lily and Bella offered to care for the fish in their room. I just couldn't deal with waking up to finding one or another child "snuggling" with dead fish or feeding them unsupervised. The blue fish got to hang out in the bathroom, since he went better with the decor. He did not seem to agree. He took to floating on the bottom of the tank. I finally moved him back to the kitchen, to which my husband responded "what? He didn't like hanging out in the bathroom? I'm surprised he's survived this long. He probably was on the bottom to get away from the smell." Thanks for the support. "You totally love the fish." I have to disagree. Love keeps me from allowing the fish to mort, but it's not love for them. They are cool, fun to watch, but a pain. Their food smells. It's really more self preservation and preventing myself from having to perform last fish rites over the toilet as Lil Phillip declares we should really drive him to the ocean if we want to return him to the sea because then he won't have to go through all the pipes. It is preventing me from having to explain things to Lily who decided after the goldfish died that it was Ok- "when my fish dies, I am going to get a cat and when the cat dies I get a dog". Not sure that's how the whole circle of life thing works. Right now I say- you don't need a cat you have a fish and I have to take care of that.
On a base level, my kids remind me that humor can cure just about anything, even if unintentional.