Thursday, May 1, 2008

Pockets

At a certain age children discover pockets. Cora has just reached this age. I know because while watching her play in the garden with her earth worm collection du jour, I witnessed their storage.

That evening, I pulled what I think was the remains of 3 earth worms, at least one other unidentifiable bug, and a couple of mashed dandelion heads out of the pocket of her skirt. I've found all sorts of fascinating stuff since then, including a half eaten marshmallow (soak in water to remove). Its only a question of time and opportunity before I find something truly disgusting.

As she gets older, she also hones her more embarrassing skills. She is an excellent pick pocket. She usually goes after her Dads pocket contents. After a short chase, I've retrieved chap stick, wallet and keys. He's divested the thief of his pocket knife and cell phone as well. At home the game is mostly harmless, and builds all sorts of motor skills and problem solving skills. In public (and other peoples pockets) there are slight problems.

Yesterday we took her for a peaceful trip to the play ground and along the river front. Dad got the priveledge of catching his key chain as it slipped out of the small theifs fingers. Missing would have meant trying to find his keys in 8 feet debths of the polluted Kalamazoo river.

As I said, this game builds motor skills and problem solving skills, especially when you miss.

Wednesday, April 30, 2008

What Obscenity and Labor and Delivery have in common.

Anyone who has been pregnant can tell you that braxton hicks (false) contractions, and real contractions are very different. They will also tell you that at the time they are happening, telling which is which is hard to do. Braxton Hicks Contractions can be just as uncomfortable, sometimes rhythmic, sometimes just wierd.

I'm having braxton hicks contractions. At least thats what i think is happening. I don't KNOW, even though this is my second child. I don't remember what "contractions" felt like with Cora before they gave me pitosin. I don't even remember what they felt like afterwards. The bliss of motherhood is that you DON'T remember. Either that or its the method by which the Divine manages to repopulate the earth.

This is where Obscenity first enters our otherwise calm conversation. A very famous Supreme Court Judge stated that the one and only way to tell what material was considered Obscene was to look at it, or in the case of video, experience it. "I'll know it when I see it." or some other glib quote has produce a slew of court cases where in Judges get to sit in their private chambers and watch the bowels of our society.

True labor is much like that, minus of course the privacy part, but plus a large quantity of physical and mental discomfort. When it happens you WILL know its true labor. Of course, I'm voting for it happening as late as possible now, as to the discomfort that the false labor has already given me.

Actually there is alot of material that is not obscene about labor and delivery. Graphic though it is, there are definate scientific and health benefits associated with its dissemination. Of course this does not include comments made by the deliverer (woman in pain) to the excited father. Those usually should not be remembered or shared. I wonder if they have a class on that in Obstetric or obstetric nursing?

Lots of words.

Cora talks so much more than she used to. She uses complete sentences. Most of the time I can understand her. Its nice to be able to ask her, as we are still in the midst of potty training, "are you stinky".

Usually we ask this as she breezes past on the way to crayon on the French doors, or put toilet water in her watercolor paints. Last night she quite distinctly said, "Nope, Mom, I not th-tinky."

Pete and I gazed at eachother. "Did you hear that?" I said, "That was a full cognizant Cora invented sentence." I wrinkled my nose. "She's lying through her little teeth from the smell of it, but it was a well formed sentence."

"Yes." pete agreed wrinkling his nose. "Are you catching and changing her or am I?"

It was Petes turn. I got the joy of scrubbing Mahogany crayon off of the french doors. Some days you get the stinky stuff, somedays you don't. He he he.