Homeless Man In My Bed

First and foremost, I apologize for my blog laziness. I have had mono and have become a huge bump on a log. I’m starting to think the fabric of my couch is starting to stain my skin a delightful olive green color as a result of laying on it so much.  Although, who would have thought that having mono is the best way to get back down to your ideal weight?  Mono is doing wonders for my self-esteem. 

Any who...

This week I have learned something about my child; he is very passionate and loves to share.  Well not share his things of course, but my only offspring is certainly quick to offer up my belongings. 

The other day Chase and I were driving down the road to the grocery store.  There is a stoplight in our town that is on the way to the grocery store.  I usually try to avoid at all costs.  Not because I dislike stoplights, but because I dislike being stopped for a grueling 4 minutes in front of a man holding a sign that reads, “Homeless, anything helps.”  

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t dislike people who are experiencing homelessness, I have worked at a homeless shelter for 7 years now, but I would rather the sign say, “Homeless, Can I get someone loan me $2 for a bus ticket to go to the local homeless shelter where I can get connected with a social worker there to help me find a job, save money and secure stable housing?”  But I guess this gentleman’s sign was too small for that.  

So, of course, as I pull up to the stoplight it turns red.  Not just regular red but a red that screams, “ha-ha” (of course in the voice of Nelson from the Simpsons) as I put on my brakes to come to a complete stop. 

All was going well until Chase locked eyes with the man holding the sign.  Of course this peaked his curiosities, which lead to him asking, “Mom, what does hims sign say?”  So I read the sign (or the interpretation that I thought Chase would understand), “I don’t have anywhere to live.  Can someone help me?”  Chase was quiet for a minute as if deciding where he stands on this matter. 

Chase then asked, “Can he live with his family?”  I thought this was a completely logical question and answered, “The sign doesn't talk about his family, but I would guess probably not.  Maybe his family lives far, far away.”  Chase paused for a few seconds then said, “He’s a boy.  He can sleep in your bed.  Boys can always sleep in your bed.”  (Um, come again?  It’s not like my bedroom has a revolving door, but apparently my child thinks that.)  Now this time, I paused for a second to process what he just said and try to piece together my dignity before I answered.  So I replied, “Chase, honey, only you and daddy can sleep in my bed.  We don’t let strangers sleep in our bed.  Please remember that when you are away at college.”  (Okay, so I totally could have left out the college part, but as a parent it’s my duty to throw my parenting plugs in whenever possible.  I saw an opportunity and took it). 

At this point Chase started to become upset and said (quite loudly while flailing his arms in the air), “We have to share our stuff.  We have lots to share.”  (Well, the kid had a point and I have been trying to stress sharing for the last few weeks and I didn't want to be a hypocrite, so the homeless gentleman got in our car and we headed home so I could share my bed.  Haha just kidding.  Do you think I’m that crazy?). 

Trying to get Chase off of the topic of mom and bed sharing, I asked him if we should buy the homeless gentleman some food.  Chase asked, “Where is he going to eat?  We have another chair at our table in the kitchen by Daddy’s spot.” (This is the one time I’m regretting not having a second child to fill that empty seat in the kitchen).  I replied (trying everything I could to distract my child from the fact that he so desperately wants this homeless man to come to our house), “What food should we buy the man at the grocery story?”  Chase replies, in typical three year old fashion, “Well, not the cookies with sprinkles I want.”  (And there it is ,back to reality).

As we passed the corner on our way home from the grocery store, where the homeless man was previously standing, he was no longer there.  I wonder if another 3 year old convinced his mother to bring the gentleman home.

Anatomy 101

Well, the time has come.  I have been dreading this for years, but in no way did I expect it to come this quickly and without warning… 

Last week while Chase and I were in the bathtub, Chased asked where my “pee-pee” was.  (I was simply blind-sided. I always knew the conversation would come up eventually but I thought I would at least have had 2 more years to prepare my speech or find an appropriate YouTube video to have him watch that would alleviate any responsibility that I have regarding this topic.) In a panicked state I blurted out the first thing that came to mind (which actually was correct), “Mommy doesn’t have a penis like you.”  And of course Chase had another question, “Then what do you have?”  So, I told him the anatomically correct parts that allow society (and medical experts) to decipher between a male and female.  (I have never been one to hide things from my child and I am very honest with him, but I do have to say, I cringed after saying, “Vagina” out loud to my three year old child.  Although it wasn’t intended to sound dirty, it did send a chill down my spine.)

A few seconds after Chase and I finished our conversation (right when I was patting myself on the back for thinking quickly on my feet), I heard Cory pipe in from outside the bathroom door (apparently he was listening to the entire anatomy lesson), “I'm glad I wasn't part of that conversation.” 

So, Chase let this conversation settle in his brain for a few days.  Until...

Last Friday, my Mom was over and her and Chase were having an afternoon snack at the table.  Chase looked at her and said, “Boys have a penis and girls have a gina.”  My mom, a little taken back by the blunt statement said, “You are right.”  My mom looked at me with big eyes, hoping I would interject into the conversation, but I did what any parent would do; I shrugged my shoulders to indicate she was on her own.  After all, I was on my own with round one of our conversation. 

But of course my chatty Chasey couldn’t just leave the conversation at that (like me, he always has follow-up questions- I must have passed down my journalistic gene).  He looked, ever so somberly at his Grandmother and asked, “Can you take off your clothes so I can see your gina?”  This is when I exited the room so I could laugh out loud.

Chase totally had a legitimate question but he shouldn’t get into the habit of asking others to see their “private areas.”

(Side note: My mother didn’t agree to Chase's request.)  J