lost and found

Last night, my brother told me that I was "inspiring." So, obviously, I must find a way to squash, I mean LIVE UP TO HIS HIGH EXPECTATIONS. Prepare to be dazzled.


So I was reading a very funny post over at While They Play, and Kalurah told the story of the Peanut Butter and the Penis. It made me laugh. A lot. And I said a quick prayer of "Thanks for the Girls."
Ok, are you back? I told you that it was pretty funny.

Then, I remembered the crazy/gross/frightening things that have happened to our girls: They have all -each and every one of them - passed out in my arms. "What kind of horrible parent lets this happen to all 3 lovely Littles," you ask? I had very little to do - and try as I might I couldn't stop any of them from holding their breath when they cried . So each and every child - eyes rolling into their heads, going limp in my arms, quite breathing - passed out!

Noni actually bit a hole clear through her tongue when she fell off of a chair and hit her chin on the arm rest - it took multiple doctors HOURS to decide if they should stitch her sweet, pink tongue or not. In the end? Not. Turns out a tongue is quite resilient. Who knew?

But I think the story that takes the cake is this one:

My children prefer to be naked. Well, really, who doesn't?

One lovely winter's afternoon, Via was playing - naked - in her room. Her new baby sister, Noni, was taking up a lot of Mom's time, so Via found it increasingly easy to create toddler chaos. On this particular day, Via had taken the entire box of hair doodads and dumped them onto the floral rug in the girl's bedroom - spreading pink plastic hair clips and polka dotted ribboned bows from bed to dresser to closet to door. It was like a field strewn with wild flowers, except it really hurt to walk on.

I didn't think much about Via's au natural romp through the plastic hair clips until she came in and told me that she couldn't find her favorite one. I was tired. I was trying to be a supermom to Newborn Noni and Toddler Via, and I don't think I was making the grade on either account.

"Have you looked for it?"

"Yes."

"Honey, I mean have you REALLY looked for it? Everywhere?"

"Yes. It is missing."

She was looking very concerned and close to tears...

I asked in an exasperated voice, "Where did you last have it?"

"Here," she said, and pointed to her body.

"Was it on your lap," I asked.

"No."

"Then where did you have it last?"

"Here," she said, more emphatically and pointed to her body again. Now she was starting to cry.

"Via, you just said it wasn't in your lap. Where did you put it?" I am sure that was really shrill when I asked it - I was sleep deprived, after all.

She lay down on the floor, threw one leg up into the air and pointed at her crotch.

"I put it in there, but now I can't find it."

OH MY GOD! YOU CAN'T BE SERIOUS!?

Now, those of you with children will understand that the toddler years are filled with exploration of the body, with particular curiosity directed at genitalia. It usually doesn't matter who's genitals - "Daddy has a penis. Do you have a penis?" Typical questions my children have asked random men in grocery stores. Toddlers are busy labeling and investigating and exploring.

I totally freaked out! I bundled up my new baby, grabbed Via's winter gear from her bedroom - cursing every time I stepped on a purple plastic hair clip or a yellow plastic hair clip as I searched for clothing, loaded both girls into the solid gold mini-van, and sped down to urgent care. Just imagine, if you will, telling the attending doctors and nurses the reason for this visit. I was absolutely certain that the folks from Child Protective Services would show up at any moment, and I'd be sent home without either girl.

Well, after some gentle examining and lots of discussion, Via ran to her jacket pocket and produced the pink plastic hair clip for the charming doctor with the purple latex gloves. It had been THERE all along. I dissolved into a teary hormonal heap on the sticky vinyl chair while Via danced around the exam room. The doctor and nurse gently laughed, and sent us on our way. They recommended that I try to keep my children fully clothed.

My kids still run naked and now they spend a great deal of time drawing washable magic marker tatoos all over themselves and each other. I haven't had to return to urgent care because I feared that a child had lost something inside their vagina. Now, our motto is "The only thing you can put in there is your fingers." A pretty good motto, I guess. I have had "The Talk" with Via and Noni - they asked. I guess after you've got a toddler at urgent care with a Case of the a Missing Hair Clip, nothing is really that shocking again.