Mystery: Explained

Jack: I need to change my sheets. They're covered in hair. And boogers!

Me: It's not my fault you're gross. You shouldn't wipe your nose on your sheets.

Jack: It's just what boys do, Mom. It's not you.

Photo Update: This is exactly what it's like to have an Aries child.

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Burning Down The House

Yesterday morning I woke up and realized I'd been dreaming about Joaquin Phoenix.

I don't know how it happened, as Joaquin Phoenix is usually very far from my mind. Sure, he's attractive enough, and he may even be a talented actor (that thumbs-down in Gladiator was riveting), but usually when I see him I just think "meh."

I suspect he was on my mind because of Harry Potter, which was on TV just before I went to bed. (Stay with me, I promise this will make sense.) See, Dumbledore has a Phoenix named Fawkes. Harry visits Dumbledore in his office and sees Fawkes, looking ill on a perch. Very ill. It turns out it's a burning day--and Harry gets to see Fawkes burst into flame and then reemerge from the ashes, a shiny Phoenix hatchling. You can tell by the way Harry and Dumbledore look at the bird that it's the most adorable death and rebirth ever.

What I'm saying is that Phoenix was already on my mind. Not Joaquin, specifically. That was some kind of nocturnal, circular, cerebral twist. High five, brain! You're weird.

In my dream, I was sitting somewhere, maybe a bench, maybe a chair, maybe the low branch of a tree (details are fuzzy) and there was Joaquin. And I thought, "THERE he is!" As if I'd been looking for him for hours, for days, or possibly my entire life. I was so relieved to find him.

I looked at him, took him in, his dark hair, his scarred upper lip and his general air of savoir faire. And I thought, "Wouldn't it be weird if his first name was Phoenix, too? Phoenix Phoenix. Poof! He's on fire!"

I'm a wit even in my dreams.

So, there I was, with Joaquin Phoenix and for some reason he wanted to date me. I don't know what he said, and it probably doesn't matter anyway, because I was suddenly trying really hard to talk him out of it. Not passionately, exactly--more philosophically. It was like those debates in 7th-grade American History.

"Joaquin," I said, "You don't want to date me."

"I have three kids. You don't want three kids."

"I don't clean the bathroom often enough."

"Joaquin, I can't knit socks. Also, I do not support keeping snakes as pets."

"I don't like fennel."

"I have stretch marks."

I listed the cons, in nonsensical and self-flagellating order. I guess Joaquin was arguing the pros, but we'll never know. I woke up before he decided if he really wanted to date me.

Poof!

The Elephant In The Room

I live with three boys and one man. This means that not only is the toilet seat never left down--I would never even think to ask them to do it. I'm just happy when they manage to not pee on the floor (I would just like to point out that my husband is not the problem here, in case you were wondering).  Penises are a daily topic of conversation: their length, their stretchiness, their sudden tendency to stand at attention in the bathtub. We talk about washing it, we talk about covering it, and we talk about it when it's sore, or itchy or cold.

My husband handles all this with aplomb. He can say "penis" with a straight face. For this I am grateful, because it's a talent I do not possess. The word "penis" makes me giggle, along with all the slang terms used in its place: boner, dick, ding-dong, weiner, whang, wanker, chubby, and my new favorite (thanks Urban Dictionary), Russell the Love Muscle.

As you might imagine, NOT having a penis has led to many embarrassing conversations. Like this one:

Jack: You don't have a penis?! But how do you pee?!

Me: Uh ...

Or this one:

Me: Where are my pants?

Jack: You have hair down there?! (looking at my underwear)

Me: Maybe you should stop coming in when I'm getting dressed!

Or:

Skylar: I like your boobs, Mom!

Me: Uh ... thanks?

Or (my favorite):

Finn: You're bleeding. I saw blood on the toilet paper!

Me: Why can't I be alone?!

I know, I know, I KNOW. I'm supposed to be cool and clinical and answer these questions with all the emotion of an android. I'm supposed to explain the mysteries of the female body, including my lack of penis, the unexplained monthly bleeding and why I have to pee sitting down. But I can't. Because the elephant in the room is me. Or rather, my vagina. It's mine, I like it fine, it's been working for me all these years--but I don't want to talk about it. Really all I want is to go to the bathroom alone, where I can wipe in peace, blood or no blood.

I'm sort of dreading the "birds and the bees" lecture that is at some point forthcoming. Luckily, I have been blessed with mostly oblivious children who have at no point (so far) asked me where babies come from, despite my being visibly pregnant in front of at least two of them. I can't even comfortably watch nature shows with the kids, because ohmygod what if those lions decide to get it on? And ohmygod that squid just released a sperm sac and holy hell that cow is giving birth and look away kids! Look away! Your mother is twelve.

I really don't know why I can't just say "uterus" and "vulva" in front of the kids, but for some reason I'd rather say "fuck shit dammit piss knockers bollocks dick asshat." Yes, I'm aware I have issues. No, I'm not in therapy.

Thank god for my husband.

Exciting, Exhausting, Exceptional: Your Aries Child

Your Aries child is inquisitive. He has lots of questions. He also has lots of answers, and he doesn't care if you didn't ask. From the moment your Aries child realizes his mouth is for talking, he will never stop using it for that purpose. You will be subjected to a constant stream-of-conciousness narrative that makes William Faulkner look like a hack. At breakfast, at lunch, at dinner, at snacktime, naptime or bedtime, there will be talking. For fifty miles or fifteen, however far you're driving, your Aries child will endeavour to fill the silence with talking.

Your Aries child is energetic. He will crawl sooner, walk sooner and run sooner than any other baby his age, and he will not believe in sitting down, not even to eat or use the bathroom. In fact, he will hate sitting so much that he will somehow manage to do it in a manner that makes it look as if he's coming and going all at once.  When everyone else's baby is calmly sitting and playing wth toys at the mother's group, your Aries child will crawl out the door over and over. When he gets tired of crawling out the door, he will switch to taking toys from other babies. You will dress him in overalls as much as possible, because the shoulder straps will allow you the best chance of catching him before he gets too far.

Your Aries child is impatient. He wants everything now, right now, this very minute, and yesterday would have been better.  Every major holiday will have him acting like a Border Collie on speed, but Christmas will be the worst. He will wake up on Christmas Eve and hit the ceiling, which is where he will remain, buzzing, all day. He will finally fall asleep, late, and then he will wake early on Christmas morning. And by early, I mean just after midnight. And then at 1. And again at 2. Has Santa come now? Now? How about now? He will be up for the day at 5 am, at which time he will wake his brothers. You will have opened presents and had breakfast by 6:30 am, which will lead you to consider enlisting your Aries child in the Army.

Your Aries child is angry. He will go off like a road flare at the smallest provocation. As a toddler, this rage will manifest as the Baby Demon Goat of Doom, who will get a running start to headbutt you in the pelvis. You will get so good at predicting the headbutting that you will just throw a hand out to catch him before he makes contact. He will also bite, scream, flail, punch, throw objects, wet himself in time out, and generally go out of his way to improve his Linda-Blair-in-The-Exorcist impression. Don't bother telling him those things are not allowed, he won't care. He's MAKING A POINT and as far as he's concerned you can suck it. Especially if you're his mother. Thankfully, your Aries child will not still be acting like a possessed Catholic schoolgirl when he's eight. Instead, he will morph into a smart-ass-know-it-all tween--and you will consider it an improvement. At least talking back isn't a contact sport.

Your Aries child has zero impulse control. His hands are moving before the thought is fully formed, whether or not danger is involved. He will think of riding his bike with his eye closed as an experiment. He will put everything together without instructions, and science experiments will be done hastily with as much mess as possible. When he's a toddler, you will have to strip him naked and put him on the back porch when he paints, because there's nothing you can do to stop him from painting his body. It's best not to argue with your Aries child, unless you want to wrestle.

You will start to think of your life as one long never-ending episode of "Good Idea, Bad Idea." You will give instructions and advice: your Aries child will ignore you. He wants to learn it the hard way. And hey, the hard way works--it is how he learned that slamming one's head into ceramic tile is really painful and not a great way to show one's mother how angry you are.

Your Aries child will always have A Better Idea. He knows everything--and what he doesn't know? He already knows. Your ideas are Lame, you might as well keep them to yourself.

Your Aries child is unfailingly polite--to strangers. And at school. Everyone he meets will think he is the most charming, lovely boy who ever walked the face of the Earth. Don't hold your breath, because he will not act this way at home. At home he will stomp his feet and roll his eyes and sigh heavily because GOD YOU PEOPLE ARE SO ANNOYING. He will eat his food without chewing or using his fork, and he will make sure to wipe his face on his shirt. His three-year-old brother will have better table manners. Monkeys have better table manners.

Your Aries child is charismatic. When he gets excited about something, he will talk about it until he's blue in the face, but he will be so enthusiastic that before you know it you're listening to him. And dammit if you aren't a little excited, too. Except when he's talking about Pokemon, which he usually is.

Your Aries child is an independent, surprising fireball of a boy. You weren't expecting him, but it doesn't matter. He arrived with his own set of plans, and you can either get on board or get the hell outta the way. Your only function is to feed him, clothe him and make sure he doesn't kill himself doing something stupid before he's old enough to be considered an adult. It's a full-time job.

Another Idea For Another Time

Embarassing Conversations

Your Pisces Child: The Unicorn in Your Midst

Your Pisces child is funny, imaginative, intuitive and nearly too beautiful to be real. Like a unicorn, you suspect he's there--but he's just so damn shiny that you can't be sure. He's tall and skinny, a string bean of a little boy with ridiculously curly hair that cannot be overlooked. His jokes and expressions are perfectly timed.

His outfit is usually a little unconventional, and could be anything from a Spiderman costume to leg warmers and underwear. He is almost never "Skylar," and will insist that you call him "Venom," "Hulk" or sometimes "Baby Lemur." He is your baby, your littlest boy, your very last one: you cherish him for it. He is so beautiful, so perfect, that you worry sometimes that you will lose him somehow. How did you get so lucky?

Even though he is three-and-a-half years old (years that have raced by, so quickly, too quickly, how can you lose count so close to the beginning?), he still feels like an extension of your own body in a way that only your own babies ever have. Being last, you carry him more than you did the others, because soon there will be no one who needs carrying.  He still snuggles into the curve of your belly at storytime, and he still climbs into your bed and only settles when his hand is resting on your face. The others are too big for this.

He is wise beyond his years, and he knows you almost better than your husband. His moods shift with yours, but in a complementary way: you are two Pisces sharing the stream, and you understand each other. He is charming, precocious, and surprising.

He is also snuggly, adorable and bipolar. His moods will shift faster than a greased pig being chased by a determined 4H-er. He will arrive at the playground, fresh-faced and happy, ready to swing or slide or climb. Then the winds will change, his older brother will run off to play with somone else, or he will trip over his shoelace and land on his elbow. He will run back to you at top speed, little face crumpled and tear-stained, and he will refuse to be comforted.

"NO ONE WILL PLAY WITH ME!" he will screech, or "I THINK I BROKE MY ARM!" As far as he's concerned, his version is the truth. No amount of comforting, cajoling, wheedling, teasing or threatening will change his little mind. His brother left, his arm is broken, he is alone, he will be alone forever and ever and ever and he'd like to be alone with his pain now, thank you very much. Most Pisces are also closet Emo Kids.

Your Pisces child does not know the difference between reality and fantasy. God help you if you forget that he is pretending to be a lemur and refer to him as a panda instead. How could you possibly not know the difference, you moron? Pretending is serious business because it is not pretending. This imagination of his will be the cause of much drama over the years. He will ask to hear stories about mummies and zombies and vampires and then become hysterical at bedtime--they weren't real in the daylight, but NOW IT'S DARK and he will probably die of a vampire bite. The only sure way to survive is to sleep with you in your big bed. And by with you, he means on you. And he promises he will be so so quiet.

Your Pisces child will remind you so much of yourself that sometimes you'll swear you're looking in a mirror. You watch him play for hours by himself, needing no one to tell him which twists the story will take. He soaks up words and never forgets them, often using them appropriately and unexpectedly many months later. He tells fantastical tales of fighting off ninjas and pirates and living in the forest. He will speak of his "Army days" as if they were only yesterday, and, with a straight face, ask his grandfather about his time in the Civil War. Your Pisces child will just accept that everyone came from somewhere, most likely a previous life as someone else.

"I came from heaven," he will say. "I'm a new person."

You will suspect he's right about this.