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It seems I’ve hit pay dirt with Rowan’s kindergarten teacher.  She must be exceptional because after only four months of attending school Rowan now knows everything.  In order to get along with her these days I have to remember this little fact, as well as the other part of the equation which is that I know nothing.  Rowan is quick to remind me of both points whenever they slip my mind.  The teen years should be a hopping good time. 

Recently she has informed me that blue whales live in the Delaware river because she learned it at school and she’s seen them from the bridge.  She’s also taught me that Chinese people come from the continent of New York, that perfume keeps germs away, and that microwave popcorn does not come from corn cobs because it comes from the store and that everybody knows this but me.  My stupidity knows no bounds.

I find myself looking back fondly to when she was full of questions and I had the answers. 

Thankfully her cuteness cannot be misunderestimated: 

While shopping in the lingerie department of Kohl’s:

 I held up a fleecy-soft pair of jammies and  Rowan said loudly, “OH, Mommy!  Daddy will want to sleep with you all night long in those!”  (I bought two pair.)

During Christmas mass:

After the congregation said The body of Christ, Rowan looked up at me in disgusted shock and bellowed, “The body of Christ?  What are they going to do with the body of Christ?” ( If only she knew!) 

While talking to an elderly woman at the library:

Rowan interrupted our friendly conversation to ask, “Mommy, why doesn’t she pluck?”  (Okay, the thought had crossed my mind too!)

Again, I have such fond memories of a time when Rowan spoke a language only I understood.  Although frustrating at times, it was far less embarrassing!

ROWAN: Mommy, I told Thomas our secret.

MOMMY: What’s our secret?

ROWAN: That daddy has a big gun.

MOMMY: WHAT? Daddy doesn’t have a gun! Why would you say that?

ROWAN: But he does. The one he hunts with.

MOMMY: Hunts? He’s a vegetarian, Rowan! He doesn’t hunt and he doesn’t have a gun!

ROWAN: Oh. Well, maybe I dreamed it.

MOMMY: Oh. Well, maybe you’d better straighten that out with Thomas.

ROWAN: Don’t worry, Mommy. We’re really good friends and he pinky-sweared he wouldn’t tell anybody.

NOTE TO SELF: Arrange to have Thomas over for a play date. Yeah, right!

I love misinformation.  Yesterday Madigan had a fit because Finn sat on her jammies naked.  She started screaming her head off at Finn like he’d puked radioactive waste on them or something.  I asked her what in hell was the big deal?  She said his penis touched them. 

So, what does a good mother do here - scream, “GROSS!  Those things can give you diseases!” and hope it carries me through the teen years?  And is it worth sacrificing Finn’s body image this way?  Probably yes.  He’s already waving hello and goodbye to the thing at diaper changes!

This reminds me of my good friend who told her fourteen year old son that touching a girl’s boobs in the parking lot of Wawa could get her pregnant.  Do what you have to do, right?

Once I overheard Madigan say to Keira, “Mommy has her period,” - big news when you’re seven - and Keira answered, “Good.  That means they didn’t have sex this month.”  Clearly she’s been dozing off during the birds and bees lessons.  It’s the ‘good’ part of the comment that interests me.  Apparently a month without sex is a positive thing to Keira.  I’d like to ride that out for a few years. 

Or is the thought of her parents doing it what really disgusts her? 

Of course it is.

Sometimes the misinformation is worth nothing but a good laugh, like the time Rowan found a condom wrapper on Nathan’s night table as she was helping me make my bed.  She held it up to me with a disgusted look on her face and mocked my voice perfectly:

“Mommy, is this where we leave our candy wrappers?”
 

Round 1

Keira: I hate falling asleep on Friday.

NM:    Why?

Keira:  Because when I wake up I have to clean.

Round 2

NM:     Madigan, is your room clean?

Mad:    If I’m looking at it, yes.  If you’re looking at it, no.

Round 3

Keira:  Can we go to the pool today?

NM:      When the work is done.

Keira:   Actually I think the air’s still a little too cold.

Round 4  

Mad:   If cleanliness is next to Godliness, doesn’t that mean dead?

Round 5

NM:    Rowan, you need to go upstairs and clean your room.

(Rowan, halfway up the stairs:)

NM:    …and don’t shove everything under the bed because I’m going to check.

(Three steps down:)

Row:    Are you going to check in the closet?

Round 6

Madigan:  I don’t understand why we have to clean everything when it just gets dirty again.

Welcome to my world, Kid.

Recently Rowan, my neediest child, told me, “Mommy, when you take care of other people, I feel jealous because you don’t take very good care of me.”

This is the child who screams for me in the middle of the night to fluff her pillow because she feels lumps.

This is the child who flips out if I walk in front of her on the stairs instead of next to her (watching my feet for every step).

This is the child who requires a study session and a mnemonic device before putting her to bed.

I decided to suck all this up and replied, “Okay, Rowan.  I promise I’ll try to do better.”

This reaction made her uncommonly happy, and she’s been working it ever since.

Yesterday after administering to her miniscule paper cut for three hours — kissing, sucking in my mouth, soaking in warm water, magic spray, band-aid — I slipped into that evil place:

“Rowan, pull it together.  Shake it off.  Life is tough, Chump.  You’re breaking my heart.  Buck up, Soldier.  Get over it, Kid.  I REALLY DON’T CARE ABOUT THAT PAPER CUT!

For the fiftieth time this week, “Mommyyyyy, you promiseddddd!”

“Okay, Row.  What can I do to make it better?”

“You could sing it a lullaby.”

Parenting this child is one long exercise in humiliation. 

Madigan just informed me that an amoeba is a single cell orgasm.  And I thought I didn’t like science!