Mom 'stache

Typically, kids are brutally honest little creatures. Some kids a little moreso than others. My kids definitely fall under that umbrella. While I admire their uninhibited honesty, sometimes it makes me uncomfortable and puts us as parents in some, well, difficult and awkward situations. You know the ones I'm talking about - the one where your youngest child sits in the cart at the SuperStore and starts to gag and retch - because the B.O. from the guy in front of us is so overwhelming, and instead of just 'letting it go', she needs to tell me over and over again, LOUDLY, that the man in front of us stinks so bad, and just to ensure that he knows FOR SURE that she's talking about him, she leans forward dramatically and SNIFFS towards the man, which causes her to retch uncontrollably again; or the boy that points out and laughs hysterically at the large dark wet mark on the back of a woman's pants as she's frantically rushing through the park, and calling after her telling her (repeatedly) that she's "leaving a mess" as he eyes up her "trail", when it's obviously crystal clear that she's just sharted herself; or the young girl pointing, giggling uncontrollably and commenting LOUDLY that she can see someone's nipples poking through her crocheted sweater (I admit, I give that one to her - that lady really did deserve that. I don't know what the hell she was thinking - I mean really? A big boobed lady with GINORMOUS nipples wearing a crocheted sweater with no bra on a COLD day? It doesn't take rocket science to figure out the progression of those events. Did that just leave a VIVID picture in your head?! HA!!); or the girl in the restroom stall that asks me repeatedly (while I pretend to not know this kid) if that's me making all those "poopy" noises and smell as the lady in the stall BETWEEN is clearly having a colon blow; and then to add insult to injury, she pokes her head UNDER the stall of the colon-cleansed woman and TELLS her that she smells "REALLY bad" and should flush. Yeah, those moments of brutal honesty. The ones where they run off totally unaware of the mass awkwardness they've created, leaving us to dwell in the aftermath.

In the past couple of years, age is starting to catch up with me. Gravity is NOT my friend, I'm definitely "fluffy" and not able to easily remove weight. I also lose substantial amounts of hair from my head - oddly enough, it's NEVER the greys (you should see the strainer in the shower after I've been in there - barf!), but seemed to have gained it in other places - like my chin and more obviously, my upper lip.

Fricken hormomes. Really?! Is it not enough that I carried and birthed THREE babies *THIS BIG* out an opening *thissmall* and all the 'after-affects' of all that? Can't the damn hormones leave me alone after that?!

Apparently not. I guess I've done my job as a female, and now I'm on the road to becoming one of "them" (man-like).

And that does NOT go unnoticed by my children, particularly Banshee. She often brings up and discusses the fact that I have a moustache - like I'm not TOTALLY aware and self-concious of it in the first place. It's reached a point in recent times, where I think my 'moustache' is how she identifies me. Really?! Sheesh . . . I've got dark hair, VERY dark hair, and that means that all the other hair on my body is dark as well (too bad that all the greys sprouting in my head can't pop up on my upper lip instead, huh? Funny how hormones toss yet another 'screw you' thing at us). I can't even really revel in the fact that she'll probably be in the same boat when she's older, because she's blonde, and chances are, her hair will all be light and mostly un-noticeable. Anyway . . .she often suggests that maybe I need to borrow Daddy's razor and take care of business. Even though her Dad is a moustache and goatee kinda guy, and has probably only shaved his face ONCE in her lifetime, she TOTALLY knows how it works. Anyway, I'm not really sure that I want to start waxing it, because I'm afraid it'll come back even thicker and coarser than it already is. SO . . . I bleach it. A process that cracks my children up as I walk around with a white, foamy bleachy upper lip for 10mins every now and again. And that makes them talk. A LOT. Like when we have people over for dinner; or when we're standing in the line-up at an amusement park - you know, when she notices ANOTHER woman with a moustache and she loudly says "Mommy - that lady (as she points!!!) has a bigger moustache than you!!"; or in class when I volunteer at the school. Banshee will see me across the room and think NOTHING of telling me that I need to 'paint' my 'stache again. Nice. While it hasn't happened yet, I FULLY expect to read an entry in her writing book at school about my moustache.

Last night we cooked a turkey breast for dinner. Like the little vultures they are, the kids milled in and out of the kitchen to inspect what we were feeding them. Imp asked "what is that?!" as he points at the turkey. I told him it was turkey breast, to which Banshee says "turkey BREAST?" Being the big brother (and BOY) that he is, Imp smirked and educated her, saying "turkey BOOBIE". Can't argue with that, right?! Besides, how the hell can you bring THAT conversation back in withougt making it worse? I suddenly become aware of the fact that Banshee's little eyes are burning holes through me (I swear to God she REALLY does have laser beam eyes). She is looking at my chest, then back to the turkey breast, then back to my chest. I finally look at her, and she says "That's about the same size as YOUR boobie, Mommy, but not as droopy".

Thanks kid.

It's nothing for these kids to 'pick on me'. They will ask, out loud, out of the blue, usually in public venues where there are others TOTALLY hearing it, about why my legs are prickly sometimes; or why I have hair under my arms; or why I use "bum bandaids or too-pons"; or why I have a hair on my chin; or why my bras are so big (Imp and Banshee have walked around the house with their HEADS shoved into my bras on several occassions); or asking if I'm taking a break from my diet when I take a bite of something at a restaurant; or pointing out a fat roll and asking if I have EXTRA boobies . . . it goes on and on. Really?! What the hell did I ever do to them to deserve this - you know, except to sacrifice my body to create and birth them, my love, affection and everything to raise them. Good grief!!

It's a damn good thing that I have a pretty thick skin (and lots of it - thanks to all my fluff and stuff stretching it all out).

And that I've got a warped sense of humour that can totally find the humour in all this. Even though some of their comments appall me (at the time - because truly, there have been times where I just wanted to die on the spot with statements they've made), the reality is, they ARE just telling the truth and saying it as it is, and honestly, well, it IS funny. That said, I guess we really should work on filters, huh?