I had a friend at work remind me that Friday is the opening ceremony for the Summer Olympic Games in London. The last time the Olympic torch was lit, I got knocked up.

Greyson and I have joked that we got pregnant the night of the Opening Ceremony of the winter games in Vancouver back in 2010. The Parade of Nations gets boring! What can we say?! We were smooching on the couch by the time the delegation from Azerbaijan entered the arena.

The last day of the games we watched the gold medal hockey game with our friends. I went home to take a test and passed with the flying colors of the five rings. Well, a pink line anyway. (I understand that biologically the timing of this may be off. It’s just a funny prediction.)

Greyson looked at me yesterday with a cocked eyebrow (that’s his most seductive look) and said, “Hey Hot Stuff, you think we’ll make it through this Olympics without making another baby?” I assured him under no circumstance would we be making another little Team USA fan this year.

However, if David Beckham makes an appearance in the opening ceremonies, I may start feeling a little randy. It is the XXX Olympic Games.

 

How nice was it to have a holiday in the middle of the week?!  Our little firecracker made it memorable.  We decorated her wagon and headed to downtown Apex, NC for their little kid-friendly festival and parade.

Two of Charlotte’s BFF’s, Cadence and Josh, joined her for the parade.  I use the term loosely as it’s really a stroll down the block among hundreds of other kids with their faces painted.  It’s cute, really.  It’s tailor-made for toddlers and preschoolers as it’s held between 9am-noon.

Among the hundreds of star-spangled tots were their equally patriotic parents.  I was amused at the crowd and the similarities in our parental paraphanalia.

Almost every parent had some or all of the following:

• A decorated Radio Flyer Wagon-  Many had the identical streamers and star stickers I found at Target.  I did not upgrade to the glitter star door-hanger from the store’s 4th display, but the more enthusiastic parents had several of them.
• A yuppie jogging stroller- This seemed acceptable to have in lieu of the Radio Flyer.  Particularly if your older child was riding their tricycle in the parade while one parent waited with the infant in the stroller.
• Diaper bag or backpack- Stocked with Goldfish or some organic snack that wouldn’t melt in the sun.
• Sippy cup-  Each had the child’s name on it in the form of a silicone band or dishwasher-safe sticker.
• Expensive DSLR camera- The parent in no way had mastered all its features.
• iPhone-  To take pictures with instead of the DSLR.  Some pictures had to be uploaded to Facebook/Instagram/Twitter/Tumbler/Foursquare etc.  I mean, are our children really doing something if we don’t put it on the Internet?
• Overpriced sunscreen- No doubt from Target.

Poor Miss Charlotte only made it halfway down the block when she saw Daddy and started crying and reaching for him.  She was smiling and waving up until then.

I was so happy strolling in all that silliness.  I mean, we are in a country where we have the freedom to raise our children however we choose.  There are women in other parts of the world who can’t relay the ups and downs of parenthood or spout their opinions on the Internet everyday.  I do.

Today I happily celebrated my freedom by participating in social media.   Happy 4th of July, everyone!

Let me say for the record that selling your house blows.  Seriously.  Who has time to unload and load the dishwasher before going to work?!  It is my right as a homeowner to leave my sticky cereal bowl in the sink until I get home, dammit!  But not on a day we have a showing.  Oh no!  It’s all clean-up-your-slobbish-ways-or live-there-forever!

By the way.  If you’re in the market for a lovely townhome with a one-car garage in North Raleigh, please take a look!  You’ll have to act fast since we may be the luckiest SOB’s on the planet to have someone say they want to make an offer a half-hour after we put it on the market!

Some feedback from other showings so far have been “not enough hardwood floors”.

Really?

::sigh::  You can’t please ’em all.  Fingers crossed this offer will go through and we’ll have a new house with a new stainless steel sink in which to leave the remains of our breakfast.

These days we’re hit or miss with potty training in our house.  I’m not really sweating it, nor am I going super hard-core with it because she’s only 19-months-old.  Regardless, potty training has brought up interesting “conversations” with our toddler.

Sometimes they are anatomy lessons.

She knows where her bottom is.  “Ba-ba” as she calls it, as she pats her rear end.  She sits on the potty and we talk.  I explain that poo-poo comes out of her bottom and pee-pee comes out the front.  I tell her these are her “private parts” Pretty soon I’ll use the proper words anus and urethra.  I have also explained that part of her private parts are her vagina.  She just looks at me and tugs on my earring and giggles, or points at my nose and says “Mama nose!”  I laugh.  The point is, we have started the conversation.

I do not believe in using cutesy terms for private parts.  Ever.

Tracie is a sexual abuse survivor and a really inspiring woman.  She explains why cutesy terms are a bad idea better than I ever could.  Read this!!!!  I think my favorite line is “You wouldn’t tell your daughter that her nose is called a Hoo-Ha and then send her out in the world.  Then why is it okay to say that about her vagina?”

Funny thing is, I know Charlotte is listening.  Even at 1 1/2 she understands.  For example, after one of these conversations I was standing in the bathroom and felt a little hand patting my backside.  “Mama ba-ba!”

I died laughing as I picked her up thinking of all the other anatomy lessons she’ll eventually understand.

This morning Charlotte and I gave Greyson his silly Father’s Day cards that play music.  Charlotte thought these were so fantastic that we had to keep her from tearing them.

They went to the pool for a Daddy/Daughter swim.  The two of them love nothing more than splashing and blowing bubbles in the water.  I thought their giggles were so fantastic it was all I could do not to tear them both out of the water and smother them with kisses.

Last night Greyson cooked steaks for my Dad.  I let him have Grandaddy time by putting his granddaughter to bed.  It was so fantastic he came downstairs with teary eyes.

I called my Grandfathers and each told me how fantastic it was to get Father’s Day cards from their Great-Granddaughter.  They each asked when we would tear ourselves away from our busy lives to come and visit.

We called my Father-in-Law and he gave us the fantastic news that they would be coming out some time this summer to visit.  I had to tear the phone away from Greyson’s ear so I could hear his voice too.

We laughed so hard we wiped away tears as my Step-Dad opened his card wishing him a “Happy Farter’s Day”.  Rest assured some truly fantastic fart jokes ensued.

I realized how blessed we are this weekend each June.  We get to tear ourselves in many directions to celebrate with so many fathers and it is fantastic.