"A long time ago when I was three..."

I'm having a hard week. A really hard week. The kind of week where you start to doubt that humanity really deserves to survive on this planet, and you start rooting for the cockroaches to take over the earth. The kind of week where you wonder why you try so hard to make a difference, when it doesn't feel like anybody's noticing or appreciating your efforts. The kind of week where you marvel over how often people who are lazy or incompetent or who just don't give a rip still get ahead, because they're so good at kissing the right butts. The kind of week that causes you to have thoughts like: "Why do good, loving people get cancer or get swept away by flood waters while rapists and child molesters get out of jail early for good behavior? Why are so many people being murdered, persecuted, or displaced in the name of religion or politics? Why are there so many unscrupulous millionaires out there, and hardworking people like us can barely pay our bills? Why aren't people who want to have children first required to take parenting classes and apply for a license so they won't ever think it's OK to push their child into a closet and beat her with a wire hanger?" Deep questions. Disturbing questions. Questions with no good answers. So, basically, it's been the kind of week that makes you want to put on your softest, comfiest pajamas, and crawl back into bed until it's over, y'know? (And, it's only Wednesday. SIGH.)

Well, since retreating to my bed is not really a realistic option for me, I have decided to find something to focus on that will help me to appreciate the lighter, happier, more loving side of life again. Where do I go for this sort of inspiration? I don't even need to leave my house! My little boys provide me with enough material to crack the darkest depression (as long as I'm looking for it and appreciating it), and if they're not providing the laughs, my dear hubby usually says or does something giggle-worthy on a daily basis. So, to cheer myself up, and perhaps to spread it around a little, I offer a few tidbits from the last few days:

Foster: "Mommy, remember a long time ago when I was three?" I didn't hear anything after the "long time ago" part, because I was cracking up. He's only been four for two months. The briefest blink in time for me -- a lifetime for him.

Spencer suddenly discovering that he can cross his eyes and then walking around crashing into things. Seriously. He has a big goose egg on his forehead from walking into a wall while cross-eyed. He thinks it's the coolest thing ever.

Hubby being told by one of his elderly female bus passengers that he really should send a photo of his legs into Playgirl magazine. (He does have great legs, by the way. But, he was shocked to hear it from a flirty 80-year old woman. What do you say to a comment like that? "Um, thanks ma'am?")

Spencer and Foster making 16 batches of "poison" and lining them up in our yard, in case any bad guys come around. (I'm not kidding about the 16 batches. There are 16 different containers lined up in the yard, varying in size from a medium-sized wheelbarrow to a teeny little tupperware container, each containing a bit of my boys' concoction.) What's in this poisonous brew they're making? Water, grass, sticks, mud, small rocks, and hand soap. They "brew" it, they stir it, they check on it every day, they add to it, and they ask me at least twice a day to come and look at it. What can I say? Some kids make mud pies. My boys make "poison to get the bad guys." At least they work together and get along while they're doing it.

Foster (overheard while they were playing around in our neighbor's giant evergreen bush): "You know, Spence, Mom still calls us her babies sometimes, but we're not babies anymore. Do you think we should tell her that we're big boys now?" Bittersweet, that one...

Spencer: "Mommy! MOMMY! I can stretch my penis a long, long way. Do you want to see?"
(Oh, motherhood is a constant surprise, isn't it? Every day I hear things that I never, ever thought I'd hear...)

Hubby (while watching a little bit of Dancing With The Stars last night during our channel-surfing marathon): "You should get a pair of pants like that!" My reply: "You do realize that putting on a pair of pants like that isn't going to make my body look like hers, don't you?" His reply: "Yeah. Yours will look better." And then we turned the TV off...Use your imagination.

Foster (last night, when I was tucking him in): "Mommy, after you sing me songs, do you think we could snuggle and talk for a little bit?" And, we did...

Spencer: "I love you more than you love me, Mommy. And don't say it's not possible, 'cuz it's totally possible! I know it."

OK, I feel better. Cheers!