You know, being a Mom in a large family has a lot of good things about it. I love and adore my Minions. But every now and then, they demand things of me before coffee that no human being should ever be expected to do.
Today is one of those mornings.
First, there’s math. I’ve given in on this. The Middle Minions insist on doing their math as early in the morning as possible, and no matter how much I beg for them to leave me be and not expect my brain to work before I’ve had at least one cup of coffee, they persist. I’ve checked their math and had no clue if it was right. Thankfully, they’re still in elementary math, so I can usually clear the cobwebs out well enough to manage to figure out if an answer is wrong. I may not know if it’s exactly *right*, but I can tell if it’s wrong. Don’t ask me how that works, I haven’t had enough coffee yet. Wolf’s even warned the children, repeatedly, to, “Leave the Momma Bear alone until she’s had coffee. She’ll EAT YOU if you bug her before coffee.” Either the children don’t take him seriously, or they realize I’m simply incapable of that much movement before caffeine, because they don’t listen to that warning. At. All. Meanie poo poo heads. I’m pretty sure that insisting that I think and function before being properly caffeinated falls under ‘cruel and unusual punishment’ and possible war crimes according to the Geneva Convention.
Tazzie, God bless him, makes me coffee in the morning. I love that kid.
However…there are somethings more challenging than math that I’m expected to deal with.
Today, Tazzie announced that women pee their pants. Because, why else would they need maxi pads?
Oh, holy old mouldy cheezits…do I really need to have THIS discussion before I’m even half done my first cup of coffee?
Apparently, given the grave offense that Diva’s taking to being bladder incontinent. Me, I’d just nod and say, “Yep, I pee my pants, thanks.” until I at least had TWO cups of coffee under my belt. Plus, I’ve birthed six babies. The reality is, wetting my pants probably isn’t the worst thing that will ever happen, and chances are, it’s really just a matter of time.
But, the Diva was gravely offended. “Moooooom!” she howled, “You’d better explain some things to this boy, or I’m going to smack him!”
Oh, goody. I briefly weighed the merits. Talk about menstruation before I’d even been awake an hour, or let her beat him.
Decisions, decisions. Gah, why do they do this to me?
Of course, I caved. Diva playing Smack The Boy before coffee just seemed like more hassle than explaining about ovulation, fertilization (and lack thereof) and uterine lining shedding. At least, I figured, there’d be less howling involved.
So, I did. I explained to both Tazzie and Princess about menstruation. And, showed them diagrams of ovaries, fallopian tubes, and uterus. Then a brief foray into talking about twins, which led to octuplets, and googling pictures of what a woman looks like when pregnant with eight babies at a time. Diva thought her belly would drag on the ground, and she’d need an appliance dolly to wheel it around for her. I don’t know if she was disappointed or relieved to discover that wasn’t the case.
I’m just grateful to get to my second cup of coffee before being asked anything else.
From behind me, I just heard this exchange:
Diva: “Tazzie, what are you doing?!”
Tazzie: “I’m smelling myself!”
I’m not even going to turn around. I didn’t hear that. I don’t want to know.