Tag Archives: questions

Mommy Mysteries

30 Sep

How did you do it, lady? How did you manage to stay so mom-like and proper around me as I grew up? I can’t help but wonder (and, heads up, some of these are TMI) how you managed to:

  • Watch what you wanted on tv even if it had adult tones to it? I remember the CBS Soaps and Hill Street Blues in the background. I’m lucky if I get to watch Top 20 Video Countdown on Saturday mornings.
  • Deal with how grown-up I played Barbies? Or is that why you never played Barbies with me? I understand. I don’t really love playing Barbies with Bean but I don’t know how to tell her no without making her feel bad. You never made me feel bad. I bet my storylines stressed you out. I know they would me if I heard Nia throwing Ken off a balcony because he cheated on her with her sister. (Maybe those Soaps sunk into my head?)
  • Hold your gas around me? Yes, I mean toots. I don’t ever remember you letting one rip when I was a little kid. I hope my kids can forget their mommy’s noisemakers. They usually cutely yell at me, “Mommy!” What?
  • (This one is TMI you can never unread.) Change your lady products without young me barging into the bathroom mid-change? Sure, locking the door seems so simple. Even if they don’t see the act in progress, they still see the product which prompts questions.”Why do you have a diaper, mommy?” Yes, I answered it without really answering it. “It’s not a diaper. It’s not for pee, it’s for something elsethatI’lltellyouaboutlater.”

I guess I have created at least one mystery. Just on another level.

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The 5 W’s Times 100

19 Apr

Who?  What? When? Where? Why? Oh yeah, and How?

They’re asked while I’m talking on the phone.  They’re asked if I sigh or think out loud to myself. They’re asked, of course, if I say no to a prior question that’s usually about going somewhere or doing something.  They’re asked while I’m driving.  They’re asked while I’m taking a potty break.  They’re even asked while I sit in silence.

All day long.  Questions. Questions. Questions.   Sometimes, I don’t even have the answers to them.  Other times, I think I have the answer but then Andrew very sweetly smiles and shakes his head and then tells her the correct reason two positive ends of a magnet don’t stick together (or whatever).

I read somewhere that an average 4-year-old asks about 440 questions a day.  I just don’t have that many answers.
 

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