Friday, September 10, 2010

At least they're honest - or at worst they're honest, I'm still deciding.

There's nothing quite like the brutal, unvarnished honesty of kids. Especially my kids.

My boys have very strong opinions, and neither one of them has the slightest hesitation about sharing them. I couldn't even count the number of times over the past 21+ years that Johns belief in his right to share his point of view with anyone in hearing range caused me to blush, cringe, deny he was the fruit of my womb or (more often than not) laugh out loud.

John told my first husband he looked icky in his underwear, Yeah, just picture me trying to smooth that one over. He's also told his father that he was a hypocrite for stating he was a devout catholic after having an affair and leaving his wife of 13 years (he was right). One of Johns classmates in high school said he wanted to be a CNA and John told him "Why would you want to do that? My Moms a nurse, the CNA's are her bitches. You want to be a Nurses bitch?" I made the mistake of asking him what he thought of a new (and I thought, adorable) dress and he told me "You look like Willow from Buffy. Before she turned into a hot lesbian witch" . It took me a couple of minutes to realize that wasn't a compliment. His most recent cringe inducing utterance was the proclaimation that the common denominator in all of my failed marriages was me.

Little shit.

The fact that he's accurate, and taller than me doesn't negate his little shitlyness.

Despite the fact that there's 11 years between them, Wyatt and John are more alike than they are different, especially when it comes to the  - let's be so brutally honest that we make Mommy turn multiple shades of red and want to crawl through the floor  - aspect of their personalities.

Wyatt has been known to say - in full voice, with as many people around as possible - "Mommy, why is there a hair sticking out of your nose?" Or - "Mommy your hair is turning white, you must be REALLY OLD!". He's also asked me if I'm growing a moustache.

The only thing that's saved his little ass is the fact that 1) He's insanely adorable, and 2) He's completely innocent when he does it. The fact that he's autistic is, I'm sure, a huge part of that. Most kids his age understand that saying things like that will embarrass or hurt, so when they choose to do so there's intent behind it. With Wy there isn't. He's still learning the basics of social interaction, and most of how he interacts is on the level of a 4-5 year old. There's no meanness, no malice or cruelty in what he says, it's just brute, full on honesty.

I was putting my little truth meter to bed the other night, and he reached over and patted my belly and asked me if there was a baby in there. I told him no, and he said "Wow, you're getting really fat!"

Like his older brother, he's right. (and maybe a little bit of a shit too)

I fully acknowledge that my once trim figure has...shall we say blossomed...over the last few years. With being in school all week, and working 12 hour days every weekend for the last 6 1/2 years, it was kind of unavoidable. I've developed a substantial case of Nurses Ass.

I just never thought that my little peanut, who is all about adoring the Mommy, had noticed.

Now, I had every intention of doing something about my Buddha Belly well before Wy said anything, but thanks to the bucket of freezing cold truth he threw in my face, I have some real motivation now. So I'm being more careful about what I eat, I'm weaning myself off cigarettes, and I've started exercising again.

Am I doing this because I want to be healthy? Because I've made a full critical analysis of the health risks of smoking and obesity vs the benefits of a healthy, active lifestyle? Because I know it's the right thing to do for me and my body?

No - it's because I don't want my kid to call me fat again.

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