Once Again Gracing Our Stage, I Give You Father Freakin' Time!

Leo's class had to do a timeline of their lives to date last month and it was something he took very seriously because, well, you know, he's been around forever and has done a LOT of stuff!  It meant a lot to him that each event he deemed important enough to be included in the timeline have an accompanying photograph; that was where I came in.  So all that last week, while he was taking it easy in school, I was pouring over almost eight years of Leo...and I loved every second!  The only bad was once again being slapped in the face with the reality that is my baby's gone from a chubby-faced baldy to a tall drink of water with LOTS of hair and deep thoughts.

That's the funny thing about the passage of time, I think...well, not funny "ha ha".  No, far from that kind of funny!  Funny that you don't feel it moving until you're reminded.  Like when you've been on a boat for a long afternoon and when you get off onto the secure, solid dock, you get all wobbly until you find your balance.  "Oh, that's right, I've been walking on water all afternoon!"  When Cathy was born, 15 months after Leo arrived, Leo was still my little baby whose peach fuzz-covered head I'd nuzzle while he sat in my huge lap reading books with me (at that point I was doing most of the reading).  But the second I saw him in the hospital being carried into the room in his Aunt Amy's arms, he looked huge!!  He looked like a little boy, not like the baby I'd seen the day before at home playing with his Thomas Trains and watching Baby Mozart!!  The baby was gone...poof...just like that!!  I'm sure the hormones didn't help, but I started to cry at the sight of him (don't worry, I sucked it up before I freaked him out).  That was my first real slap in the face from Father Time and it hurt...bad! 

After trying and trying and praying and praying and thermometers and chemical drugs and holistic drugs and disappointment after disappointment finally leading to surrendering defeat, I was viewed worthy enough to be his mother.  He was known as the Miracle Baby...that is until my oven started cooking another bun only five months later.  Then he became known as the Pipe Cleaner!  Whatever his aliases, to me he's the one that started it all; the one who after over 12 years of  DINKhood, turned a couple into a family, the one who made all my dreams come true.

He'll be eight years old this month; my Spring Equinox baby.  I get statements from him like, "Look, those two pillars are congruent" to "Moby Dick ate people...I learned that from a video game" alluding that if he learned it from a video game then it MUST be true, no questions asked!  If it weren't for the latter comments revealing his sweet naivety, I'd be sure the next thing out of his mouth would be "can I borrow the car so I'm not late for Physics class?"  He goes from snuggling with me and whispering "my mommy" under his breath to matter-of-fact  statements like "yes, yes, I think that's a Cumulus Nimbus cloud so we should be safe from rain today".  This is the age when I'm either begging for more time to keep him young or screaming for him to be a responsible big boy; it's no wonder the poor kid's not walking around in a confused, mother-induced stupor half the time.

Well, actually he is walking around in a stupor half the time but I'm not falling on that sword!

~Eileen Cassidy Bishop

Who Are THEY?

You know what they say, "Too many cooks spoil the broth!"
Who are they?
People.
What people?
People in the know.
In the know about broth?
Oh come on, don't be silly.

It is silly to take someone so literally when they invoke the almighty, all-knowing they.  But is it being silly when you base decisions on what they say when you don't know who they are?  Sometimes I get it; if they of the fashion world say not to wear legwarmers with my tights and leotard to the gym, I listen.  If they of the nutritional world say to drink at least 8 glasses of water a day or the they in the medical field say a glass of red wine a day will reduce your chance of a heart attack, by golly, I'll listen!  Especially the latter but that goes without saying.

I'm talking about the they of unknown origin who get credit for saying pretty much anything they want without anyone challenging them.  These are the they's we magically remember when we're trying to prove a particular point or help validate a decision.  They are the they's we can't actually name therefore they are the they's who can't be challenged.  Their strength comes from one friend telling another friend telling another friend telling another until whatever they've said, becomes gospel even if no one can remember who said it when.

"They say if you drink too much Diet Coke while in your third trimester your baby will be predisposed to weight gain.  No, no, it's totally true; I read it in a magazine...or heard it on the news....oh, I can't remember where I heard it but what difference does it make?"  Welp, I'm thinkin' it makes a big difference!  Now Sue who can't live without drinking a can of Diet Coke at least once a day will get so stressed out on Diet Coke withdrawal that she'll probably cause her unborn child to develop a tick.  They say that can happen you know!

I think the older generation relies on the they quite often; at least I notice it more when speaking with an elder as opposed to a contemporary.  I wonder if it's because they are, or at least were, a more trusting generation than the cynical, "show me" Baby Boomers and Gen-X's of today.  In fact, I'm writing on the heals of a political conversation I had recently with someone from the WWII era and when I pressed for a they identification, the conversation resembled that of the lines I opened with above.  I don't think it's a terrible thing to call upon the secret army of they.  I mean, perhaps they did read it in a reputable publication or hear it from an expert on a Nova or some other fact-based program and simply can't remember well enough to satisfy the cynic asking.  But when one can't remember who they are when asked, I think it works against their point as opposed to backing it up.  The cynic just throws his hands up saying, "Oh, okay, THEY say it so it MUST be true!" thereby ending the discussion.

I do it; we all do it I think, at least from time to time.  But I do try to be conscious when throwing around the they collective.  I always assume I'll be chatting with some cynic like myself who'll stop me mid story to ask who they are and I want to make sure I have a concrete answer; "The Blahbiddityblah medical team at Johns Hopkins just released a study and I read it in Harvard Health Publications." So there!



~Eileen Cassidy Bishop

Why Do They Call a Banana Peel a Banana Peel?

I get odd questions thrown at me daily.  Some of them I can answer (which always impresses me!) but many, like why they call a banana peel a banana peel, I am simply at a loss.  That's the question I got last night as I was leaving Leo's room after saying goodnight.  I know part of it is a stall tactic but I honestly believe, in his ever-churning mind, he's been mulling this over and truly wants to know!  I just stood there for a second, in the dark, and finally gave a little laugh and as I was closing his door behind me, told him he was a nutjob.  Wrong?  Probably.  But answer me this:  Why DO they call a banana peel a banana peel?  I mean, okay, I know "peel" is another word for "skin" and that would have worked (in all honesty I didn't think of this until I left his room) but it's so boring an answer, isn't it?  Besides, if I had thought of it and answered when he asked, it would have become a thing; Why do they call it a skin?  Protect it from what?  What kind of bugs?  Where do they grow the bananas?  Isn't Florida in the tropics?  Doesn't Nana have a banana tree?  When are we going to see Nana again?  Are we going to Disney?  Aren't we going for Cathy's birthday?  ...and the banana peel mystery would be solved and dismissed in virtually the same instant! 

  

As they age, the kids, especially Leo, can sometimes answer their own questions.  "Mom, what do we evolve from? Oh, wait, Adam and Eve...duh!"  I say, "Welllll...." and decide I've dodged that bullet and don't have the time or desire to go into the Jesus Fish with legs theory!  He's not yet 8; he can wait for that viewpoint until he's old enough not to give me that blank stare.  Or "How does Jewel make herself purr?"  Um...and off I run (covertly, of course) to Google "cat purr reflex"; and if that can't help me, I just start praying he'll forget he asked me.  Sometimes, I can simply tell him I don't know and that we'll Google it together later but because so much is running through his head we usually forget to look it up.  It definitely depends on the depth of the question as to how long it remains in the forefront of his thinking.  Example:  I can bet he won't ask about the banana peel again...at least not until eating his next banana triggers it!  But then I'll be ready!!

The other day we were watching the tail end of a Veronica's Closet rerun waiting for a kid-appropriate show to start and at the end, one of the guys blurts out, "I'm gay!" and there was gasping and crying from the cast members  (I should mention he was actually on the alter about to marry a woman...but I digress).  Cathy asked what "gay" meant and I simply said, "It's when boys like boys and girls like girls."  Gene put his head in his hands and asked me what I'd started.  But what can you do?  Yes, there were bug-eyed looks from both Leo and Cat and I had to go a bit deeper (but not too much) about how some people are made that way just like "you're made the way you're made."  They were satisfied with that answer.  I'm guessing without having grown up with the taboo of homosexuality (at least to the degree we were) it made sense.  More sense than how babies are born.  That's another one I decided I should err on the side of honesty that when asked, I told them.  Up until then babies were cut out of the mom's belly but then they heard me say that I only pushed twice with Cathy before she came out...another example of why you should do a quick look around before speaking!  "Where do they come out?" Uh-oh! "There's a hole down there (pointing to the nether regions)." ...processing... processing ..."YOU POOP THEM OUT?!" Another heavy sigh, "No.  That's not where they come out; there's another hole."  Holy crap what have I done?!?!?!?  "Oh.  But I bet it looks like you're poopin' em out!!" An explosion of laughter with "poop them out" being repeated until I finally just left the room berating myself.  This went on until I came back glaringly announcing that "that is eeeeeenough!"  I had to work very hard at not cracking a smile myself!!

So I'm thinking as long as I have Google or can BS or at least be vague enough to get satisfaction without too much depth (depending on the question, of course!  I mean, banana peels I can handle easy-peasy), and can tolerate the inappropriate giggling from time to time, I should be okay, right?  This will be practice for the really scary and hard questions that come later...

....right?!

~Eileen Cassidy Bishop