Enough is Enough

I fear I'm heading in the direction of a blogger flunkie based on the number of blogs I manage to spit out into the www. I'm writing constantly in my head where thoughts and stories whirl around each other like square dancers on speed. Maybe I should cut down on the java. Anyhow, Sam and I had an interesting discussion this morning on the way to preschool. It was about jail. Fascinating.

Sam asked me if I remembered to lock the front door. He wanted to be sure no one would enter our house because it's OUR house. I think he's been watching too much CSI after we all go to bed at night. I assured him that I had to which he replied in his usual round about fashion, " It's a good thing, mama, 'cause 'cause they'd not be- our house inside - it's OUR house - and if they got in - that'd be very naughty and they'd have to go to a BIG time out."

"Yes, they would." I responded.
"Where would time out be?" he asked.
"Well, Sam, there's a special place where grownups go for time out when they do things like go into houses that don't belong to them. It's called...well, it's called jail."

That led to a discussion on laws and how they differed from rules and that children don't ever go to jail, just grown ups. I decided to pass on letting him in on juvenille detention centers for now. That can wait until he's at least 5. He then wanted to know who would take care of a little boy or girl if their grown up went to live in jail. I assured him that his daddy and I would never go to jail because we don't break the laws. He was visibly relieved, but then joyfully said, " Just Grandma Rose and Papa Bob." These are Bob's parents. Hmmm....I would love to have known what was going on in Sam's mind to cast his grandparents as criminals. "No, honey. Grandma Rose and Papa Bob don't break the laws. So they won't go to jail either." "Oh," he answered nonchalantly and changed the subject. I gave his teacher a head's up about the jail thing in case the school thought someone in our family had been arrested by the end of the day. The look on the teacher's face told me that talking about jail with a 4 year old was probably inappropriate.

So, I then went on to Target with Lucas and Skyler to buy a cartload of organic baby food and formula because it was on sale and I had some coupons. Later that day while everyone was napping I looked up, in my earthy crunchy baby book, when I should start feeding them more than thin watery fruits and vegetables. I came away seeing the look on the author's face if she could see my shelves stocked with jars, boxes and cans. And I reply weakly, "But it's organic! Well, some of it is!" And the author shakes her head and reminds me how easy and quick it is to make my own homemade cereals and freeze my pureed vegetables in enormous batches of ice cubes for convenience. And why would anyone in their right mind buy a jar of bananas when you can mash your own organic banana in the comfort of your own home. And I say, but what if it's not ripe or it's too ripe and I'm were too busy scraping the poop off of the cloth diapers I insist on using and hanging out to dry on the line for natural bleaching and to reduce your carbon footprint and it's sort of nice to bathe the children once in a while and it would be a good idea to actually empty the dishwasher instead of taking out the clean dishes as we need them because the dirty ones are piling up precariously and I like to eat and sleep and I'm working too and the kitchen floor looks like a science experiment gone bad so mash your own damn banana lady! I bought mine on clearance at Target in a JAR!!! And I slam the book shut before I read the bit about if you must use jars make sure to clean them before you open them to avoid....damn - I couldn't help myself - I read it. But then I did shut it and put it back on the shelf.

So when is enough enough? Sam and I had a year of bonding as I nursed him and he fell asleep peacefully in my arms. These babies are lucky when I stick bottles in their mouths and keep them in by propping them up on towels. Whichever one I'm not holding is usually looking pissed off or crying. Sam is constantly scaring them until they cry. And now they've been relegated to sleep in the basement because they cry too much at night and we're trying to space out their feedings so we shut the door and set an alarm for the next feeding. In the interim, what goes on downstairs stays downstairs. I don't need to know about it.

So I don't wear them, nurse them or cook for them. Will they be okay? Sam lives mostly in time out, still only eats about 4 different foods and we have discussions about jail. Will HE be okay? Since the babies were born, we've stopped composting, started using occasional paper plates, eat more frozen food, consume more coffee and the Board of Health would shut down our house if they visited unannounced. Will WE be okay? What IS okay? And what is enough?