Tips from the Trenches: A Guide to Practical Parenting

One morning this week, it was too stormy to go to the beach (yes, we're on vacation) and so we opted to drive to a nearby state park (Myakka River State Park) to take a boat ride/tour on an alligator infested lake. It was hot, muggy, and storming (off and on) and we had to wait a while for the boat to get moving. After the first 10 or 15 alligators, the kids were also getting hot and antsy.

I was under the impression that no food or drinks we allowed on the boat and, to ensure that I didn't promptly become a target for a hungry alligator, I was a good girl and left the goodies behind in the car. About 25 minutes in to a 1 hour tour, my son starting complaining that he was hungry. (Turns out the mommy in the row behind us wasn't such a law abiding citizen and had brought a Ziploc bag full of candy. Of course, Jack eyed this bag and mysteriously became ravenously hungry.)

Fortunately, the mommy behind us was also a generous (if horrifyingly lawless) mommy because she offered to share the lollipops she brought with the kids. I gratefully accepted and everyone was happily sucking away until the sugar kicked in.

My son realized that the boy behind us was only a few months younger that he is and they started goofing around in the way that 6-year old boys do. It was fine for a while because the play consisted only of targeting innocent wildlife with invisible weaponry. Not too bad. Then, they started whispering and giggling and I knew trouble was brewing.

As the boat captain turned off the engine (read: white noise), my son yells at the top of his voice "It's a bagina!"

As bad as it was, we all could have just ignored it and moved on, but no. The other boys grandmother gasps "Oh, no! That's a potty mouth. Time out!" No of us knew what to do. Not only was she shocked, but she also took it upon herself to discipline my child in my presence. So I hung my head. Grabbed my unusually speechless son by the hand and got off the boat faster than you can say, "But it's VAGINA! Not Bagina."

I know that no one wants to here talk about baginas especially on an alligator scenic tour, but come on! I can think of many worse things that he could have said (and probably knows how to). Not only that, but at least it was anatomically correct. At least he didn't say, "It's a bajayjay."

Will return when the Fat Lady sings. Probably some time in the next few days.

Vacation. So quick. Non-vacation. So sloooooowwwwwwwwwwww.....

I have to confess that I always though people who chose to "co-sleep" with their kids were doing it because it was the easiest thing to do. Saved all the hassle of trying to keep the kids quiet in their cribs. Parenting can be done while lying down all cozy in the parent's own bed. I was shocked at the lack of aforesight about what they would do when they didn't want the kids in their bed anymore.

After sharing a bed with my nearly 6-year old son for 4 nights now, I'm rethinking my position. It is torture. First, there is no actual sleeping going on. Second, the acrobatics is enough to drive me insane. Four nights of kicking, thrashing, snuggling, breathing....all while I'm trying to get one peaceful night's sleep. Third, parenting while cozy in bed is unrealistic as there is more than just you kicking the covers off each night.

Now I know, all those co-sleeping parents aren't actually sleeping. They are parenting. They are tired warriors trying to do the best they can for their kids and they are largely sacrificing their own sleep and peace in the process. Hail to the patient! Co-sleeping is NOT for sissies.

I remember long, painful minutes of torture that began once the lifeguard blew his whistle and hopped down from his all-seeing perch above the pool. Slowly I would get out of the pool and sit on the side with the other kids discussing how much longer it was going to be and trying to talk one of the innocent younger kids into going to ask the lifeguard how much longer it would be. A completely unfair way to treat the pool's main occupants, we thought.

Today, though, I finally got the other side of the picture. We are staying at a "family resort" where the children abound. The pool is madness and swimming really just consists of keeping out of the way of the kids leaping through the air and swimming between your legs. So when the blessed whistle blew today, I actually felt relief. Pure joy. Peace. And, finally, yes, relaxation.

I didn't even mind flaunting my new found space in front of the jealous eyes of 40 7-year olds. I swam and floated and rolled around like a seal released into the ocean. It was sublime. I dunked myself under the water every time one of the kids opened their mouths to speak. I swam with a joy long-forgotten. I even talked about how nice the water felt with the other Adult Swimmers.

But, as with all good things, the whistle blew and we were engulfed in a tidal wave of 40 kids simultaneously plunging into the water. Within 10 seconds, the Adult Swimmers were out of the pool and the noise was earth shattering once again.

The only question I had was for the lifeguard..."how long until the next adult swim?"

Conversation with my nearly 6-year old son...

ME: You can't put the end of the snorkel tube under the water. Water will get in and you could choke on it.
HIM: Austin knows all about this and he said you can.
ME: Who do you think knows more...me or Austin?
HIM: (Pause for thinking) I don't know.

And he's not even a teenager yet!