Friday, March 6, 2009

When Google Fails

The one thing that I have learned over the last several years about raising kids is that I have alot to learn about raising kids. Not that this has deterred my efforts. I am no computer genius, as my husband can tell you, but I have acquired some fairly wicked Google-fu skills over the years. I have Googled everything from how to cook pork chops to how to recognize chicken pox. I even researched how to prevent urinary tract infections in cats. (Supposedly cranberry supplements help.) There are certain things, however, where, as extensive as it is, even Google cannot help.

When my two-year-old was up all night, with a fever, crying that she wanted "makin' ayah," for example. I could not figure out if this was a drink...a snack...or she wanted to make something. Everything I suggested made her more upset. I came to find out, at a much later time, that "makin' ayah" is "American Idol." Go figure.

Or the time she lifted her shirt to tell me she had bug bites. She points to her chest.

"No, those aren't bug bites. That's...your...chest." I was proud of myself for coming up with a brilliant explanation without getting too detailed.

"No, Mom...ON my chest...bug bites...right here and here."

I finally cave.

"No...everybody has those. They're...nipples."

"Ooohhhh....NIPPLES. Daddy has nipples?"

"Yes, Daddy has them, too."

"You have nipples?" She points to my chest.


"My nipples littler than your's."

It doesn't end with toddlers, though. There is never a time in a child's life where something doesn't come up that leaves you shocked, speechless...or most of all...clueless.

For example, I went down to my teenage son's room. I use the word "teenage" loosely, as he is only barely a my eyes, still a little boy. I lifted his pillow on his bed to discover what looked like a page to a weekly newspaper ad folded up. I pick up the shiny page and unfolded it. It was a page of the Kohl's ad, ripped neatly along the edge. The page was covered with young, scantily clad models showing us the weekly deals on sexy bras and underwear. I felt my jaw drop. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. I was a newspaper ad, not Playboy...but still...when did my son start noticing girls?? I tell my husband....his response:

" least it was women, and not men."


I have found that Google is not much help with dealing with husbands, either.

If only I could learn how to properly meditate...perhaps the answers would just come to me. Oh! I'll bet I could Google "meditation..."

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