I have been living another person’s life for an entire week!  This is not a case of identity theft.  (I am someone’s mother for goodness sakes)!  Rather, I have been given the rare opportunity to briefly return to my pre-kid days.  Yep, that’s right.  And while I slide my feet into those once familiar slippers, my dear Hayes is doing big things like going to school, sleeping in his own bed and playing on the sunny playground in Texas.  Yep, I made a very quick but calculated decision to extend Hayes’s holiday vacation so that he could begin to establish a real bond with his grandparents, and I could return to New York and focus on working my behind off.

And so far it’s been surreal.  There have been times when I can’t understand why I didn’t fill all of my pre-kid moments just soaking in the bathtub and painting my nails all day.  Then, of course, there have been times when I those are the last things on my mind because I just can’t stop thinking about how much I miss Hayes.

But what have I learned so far?  Well, it’s only been a week.  And I’m trying to grasp my new perspective.  But you can always count on a few good stories from me.  I’ll keep you posted.

And as we also know, small children have a natural obsession with boobs.  Probably because they’re hanging out with women for the better part of the day (i.e., mom, grandma, teachers, nanny, etc.).  And since women have boobs of various sizes and shapes, and children do not have them at all…  Well, you can see where the fascination begins.

A fellow mommy-friend and I were recently discussing what happens when innocent curiosity and boob obsession collide.  After all, our children are at the age when they are noticing for the first time that people are sexual beings (i.e., grown ups kissing and “cuddling”).  And by now they know there is a difference between boys and girls.  (Girls have “ginas,” if you let Hayes tell it).  So, inevitably, some innocently inappropriate behavior is bound to happen.  And what’s to be done about it?

Well, being the modern mommas that we are, we decided that a well-written bedtime story could serve as good reinforcement.  You know, something honest and informative like this:

Well, naturally, our conversation ventured further than innocent boob talk.  And we ended it with a big question about where children get some of their ideas from.

And today as I watched this clip on TMZ, the answer was made clear:

Geez!…  Thanks, TMZ!

…Let Hayes talk me into letting him play with my cute, expensive electronics.  Because they inevitably end up smeared with food or covered with slobber (or some gross combination of both) or, even worse, broken.  And since neither one of those is a sexy outcome, all the sharing must stop.

…Believe that I cannot have it all–an enjoyable son, a fulfilling career, and a safe and happy home (just to name a few good fortunes).

…Run out of chocolate sprinkles.  They instantly make desert more fun.

…Accept unsolicited parenting advice.  (No explanation necessary because it is what it is).

…Forget that, for now, I am the center of Hayes’s world.  I should relish being important as long as he shows me that I am.

…Continue eating the same portion size as my three-year-old son.  Because after scarfing down half a buttered bagel and a glass of milk, I’m still hungry.

…Bamboozle my child into not participating in anymore national holidays.  (See previous posts).  Since Hayes is almost four years old now, the fact that he has a mom who tries to force every day to come and go in its simplest form could someday be the basis for a small psychological issue later on in his life.

…Prioritize the never-ending-to-do-list over sitting down to eat a solid meal.

…Say that I’m waiting until Hayes isn’t home so that I can really clean the house.  Because it’s just an excuse for not doing chores.

…Forget to pack tissues.  (After all, I am a mom).

Zhang Hui Beijing Wawa, 2007

Back home, on the phone with the airline, we found out that the original flight had not yet departed.  It was simply delayed–by four hours–because of the weather.  So back to the airport we went.  This time, we braved the lines and the masses together.  It was the least I could do to ease the situation for both my father and my child–who was excited again and kept correcting me when I referred to the airport as a madhouse.  “It’s not a madhouse, mommy,” he would say.  “It’s a good house.”  Alright.  Whatever, Hayes.

This time, when we got to the counter, we were told that the flight had, in fact departed…twenty minutes ago!  Again, we headed back to Brooklyn.  Needless to say, Hayes was not happy.  In fact, we are all leaving for San Antonio tomorrow and he doesn’t want any part of it.  The way he sees it, the plane never should have left without him.

What’s the phrase about the best laid plans?

This is not Hayes. But I

So the other day, Wema, his dear friend Malcolm’s mom, stopped by for a visit and Hayes wanted show her one of his tricks.  He positioned himself just right and tumbled feet over hands in one smooth motion.  And when he was done, Wema clapped and told him what a terrific cartwheel he had just done.

Hayes loved the applause but he hated what she had called it.  After all, until that moment, it had always been his trick.

Now, whenever Hayes asks anyone if they want to see his trick, he does a near-perfect cartwheel.  And then he announces that “that’s what Wema calls a cartwheel.”

But then, and only then, he gets very still and quiet and goes right to sleep.

I find it slightly disturbing that I scare my child to sleep every night.  And I think it’s even more disturbing that he apparently doesn’t mind it at all.

What?!…Really?  Is this sound advice?  I thought doctors were supposed to be smart.

Don’t get me wrong, I have also heard things about estrogen levels and soy.  But I dismissed the talk as rumor and cultural ignorance.  And I based it all on this fact; folks among us whose diets consist mainly of soy-based products are no more homosexual than those who drink cow’s milk.

Am I wrong?  I mean, I drank soy milk years before Hayes was conceived and all throughout my pregnancy.  I gave Hayes soy formula and he still drinks soy milk to this day.  And, if Hayes is anything, he is very much a boy.  Well, except for his fascination with the color pink.  And the fact that he’s always up for doing the “princess dance” with me, or anyone who requests it.

Of course, it is way too early to predict who his partner of choice will be.  But for now, I believe that if soy-derived estrogen has affected him at all, it has been for the good.  Perhaps it’s responsible for making him comfortable with his feminine side.  And everyone knows that’s a sign of a real man.

Correction; I’m screaming it now, and feel like crying about it all the time, and have basically been having a major temper tantrum over it since Monday when the new job started.

Don’t get me wrong.  I like the new job.  In fact, I like it a lot.  It’s a dream job, of sorts.  (But more on that later).

It just so happens that while I totally love what I do at work all day long, work has suddenly taken over my life.  I mean, I’m already at the point where I can’t believe there was a time when I actually had time to lie down at night and sleep with Hayes.  We used to do the dishes and cook dinner together.  And I would leisurely walk him to and from school.  I would even somehow find time to watch a few TV shows–during the week.  Talk about living in the lap of luxury!  But those are all things of the past.  And by the past, I mean before Monday when I suddenly stopped living what I realize was a pretty luxurious life.  (I’ve always known my life was leisurely.  And I also knew it would someday the luxury would come to an end.  But that doesn’t make the pill any easier to swallow).

(Sigh).

So when I arrived at home after a very long day, and my dad said that he did not realize he has to wipe Hayes’s dirty bottom when he uses the bathroom, I was surprised.  He wasn’t complaining.  It was said in earnest.  Apparently, he thought Hayes could already do it himself…!!!

And apparently ignorance–on my part–is bliss.  It got me through today without a single worry.  Although now, I have much to worry about.

But with Christmas time going strong for so long, Hayes is going crazy for absolutely every toy he sees.  I mean he’s nuts for everything from trains and airplanes to infomercial-type stuff too, like this.

My point?

Well, a while ago, I wrote about a new, brilliant response I had to the persistent, “Mom, can you buy me that?…pleeeaaase!” question that Hayes has for e-ver-y toy commercial on TV.  (See my August 28th post for a review).  Well, now that toy commercials are on heavy rotation, I have abandoned my thoughtful lesson-learning tactic, because I can no longer make it through an explanation of why I will won’t buy every toy in sight without being interrupted by the next commercial, only to start the explanation over again.  So, the answer is now an unequivocal “yes” to everything.  Which, I must say, works out just great since I get to be as curt as I want to be.  And Hayes gets to hear the only word he ever wants to hear from me.

So far, so good.