Devoted

For a long time I've been meaning to write a blog totally devoted to Jackson. I think it all began when we were sitting in the waiting room of my Dr's office last month for a normal pregnancy check-up. Out of the clear blue sky Jackson says to me, "I hope your baby's not black skinned, Mom." Trying to hide my laughter, and hoping the other prego's nearby hadn't heard, I of course explained that our baby cannot have black skin because myself and Dad don't have black skin. Putting two and two together Jackson says, quite happily, "And I don't have black skin!"

And there you have it. I hesitated to record this for all to see because I don't want my son to appear racist. But I think it's pretty cool that Jackson assumed babies come out whatever color they happen to be. I know he made the comment because he just wants his sister to look like him.

I am also devoting this to Jackson because very soon he will be able to read this blog on his own and the days of telling funny stories about your kids that might be embarrassing to them but since they're to little to understand you can get away with it are soon going to be over for us around here.

So here's another one. After a long and exhausting evening I declared "everyone to the tub!" because I'm sure it had been a while and I figured containment was priceless, even if it did mean me leaning over my belly to wash people. I discovered Cash was dirty so I had to haul him back out of the bathroom (which he hates of course because he thinks he's not going to get to bathe) and then back into the bath, holding his (heavy) naked body at arms length so as not to get any dirty booty germs on myself. Whew. Which was exactly how I was feeling. Tired, frustrated and hoping for some peace and quiet bath playing. I then am forced to try and answer another question from Jackson: "Mom, why doesn't the water go into my body through the hole at the end of my penis?" If anyone wants to try and explain this to a five and a half year old who doesn't really listen to the answers anyway, please feel free. I wish now that I had said, "I don't have a penis, let's ask Dad" but instead I tried to give some sort of "that's not how those muscles work" explanation. Looking back, now I really hope he wasn't listening and never remembers the conversation.

We have been painting still and have finally finished. Jackson coined a new phrase in my opinion, when he walked into where I was rolling and said, "Wow, Mom! SO much wow!" It was quite encouraging.

Jackson is good like that. He knows me. He knows me really well, actually. For someone who seems to not pay much attention. Tonight I sat down on the couch and took off my glasses and began to rub my eyes, sighing heavily. Jackson said, "I know what's wrong Mom. You're frustrated because you're tired and Dad's not coming home until late and you have all these kids crawling all over you." Well said, Jackson. Today I drug a protesting Cash out of the bathroom by one arm and loudly told Libby to get out of there so I could close the door. She began to cry as well and Jackson says, "Mom, that's what happens when you don't take care of your kids." I hope to be able to use that one on him some day.