Use that word in a sentence for me. Please.

It was Mother's Day at the boys' school on Wednesday this week.  In addition, it was their first Cotillion class of the season that same evening.  I was simultaneously looking forward to and dreading the day because it was logistically full and I'm single parenting this week with a head cold. 

We ultimately managed the day okay.  A neighbor watched Toddler Child while I went to the school in the morning.  I got home around noon, picked up Toddler Child, packed dinners for everyone, got the boys' Cotillion clothes ready, popped some Vicodin Advil and hit the road for our long night.  We went to bed tired and I was proud no child had my fingernail marks in their arm.  The older boys were helpful.  Toddler Child was what one would expect.

My friend Corbie blogged about her Mother's Day experience at the school.  The punchline of her post was that her second grader made a comment about his "nuts" in front of his science class and all the well-dressed, visiting mothers.  It's a cute story.

Through some email exchanges I told Corbie I doubted Oldest Boy and Middle Boy even knew what "nuts" were.  I was like Tina Fey's version of Palin regarding the Bush Doctrine.  Smiling and shaking my head I said, "They don't know what that is."

On the way home from school yesterday I decided to ask them.  "Boys, do you know what it means when someone's referring to their nuts?"  They surprised and actually pleased me when they said they did.  [Our boys are a bit sheltered which is good sometimes, but we struggle finding balance so they're not completely counterculture.]  Oldest Boy said he never says "nuts" though.  He said it was cool in the 2nd and 3rd grade to say "nuts" a lot, but it's not cool in the 5th grade.  It's no big deal.

Middle Boy said he only says it when he needs to and he thought it was more appropriate than "weiner" and "penis".  I asked him how he used it.  He said, "If I get hurt there, I say, 'Aw.  My nuts.'"

This was all very matter-of-fact.  There was no embarrassment or giggling.  They answered my questions, gave me examples, and just like that, the conversation was over.

I chatted with my Dad last night.  I told him how our week was going and about my long day on Wednesday.  Dad knows the rules of courtesy and basic etiquette, and would agree that it's important to teach kids these things, but he's not an advocate of Cotillion.  He never directly criticizes our decision to send the boys, but it's evident to me that he thinks it's overkill.

I told him about the "nuts" conversation and he laughed.  I thought he'd be happy because he's a "boys should be boys" kinda guy.  Then somehow I looped back around to a Cotillion story.

Dad says, "Now why are you having those boys go to Cotillion?"  I told him it was for lessons in common courtesy and age-appropriate etiquette.

Dad said, "Oh.  So they won't say 'nuts'."

Yeah.

It never fails.

Chris doesn't travel that much for work.  He has two, one-week-long commitments each year for his employer.  One is in June, the other in October.  He's away now.

I can count on a couple of things happening when Chris travels.

1)  I always get sick.  Not "gonna die" sick, but functioning sick.  Just enough to feel crummy and want to rest.  Chris left our home at 4:30 a.m. on Saturday.  At 1:30 a.m. - three hours before he departed - I was hit with a head cold.  I woke him up.  "Hey.  I'm sick.  Isn't that unfrickin believable?  Always happens when you leave town.  Sorry to wake you."

2)  At least one of the kids vomits in the middle of the night.  I'm not talking about a child waking you up saying their stomach hurts, and you gently guide them to the toilet, they get sick, you brush their teeth and put them back to bed. 

I'm talking about a child running into your room crying and gasping, the smell preceding them, you jump from your bed to the child, pick them up or push them hard, and get them to the bathroom so they can spit the last teaspoon of sick into a toilet.  The rest of the sick has hit every linen on their bed (including the dust ruffle), the wall (including baseboards), and marked a trail on the carpet from their room to yours.  A Hansel and Gretel technique.

The good news is, we've not had a vomit incident.  I hesitate to even type that.  Chris would shush me and call me crazy for giving this a voice.  He's not superstitious, but he would consider this too serious to tempt.

The bad news is, I'm sick.  Mother would say, "Lets focus on the positives!

• The kids aren't sick!  Well, except Toddler Child, but that's just a little congestion.


• Everyone's finally sleeping through the night!  [It's honestly been years in our house.]


• You have the WHOLE bed to yourself!


• Your hair's been looking much better lately!


• Oh, and you're not pregnant!"

Vote.

[EDIT:  I didn't realize I was the only person in the United States who hadn't seen this.  I also didn't realize one out of every five bloggers has posted about it.  Sorry for another "department of redundancy department" post.  When my friend emailed it to me, it sat unwatched in my inbox for several days.  What I get for not promptly reading, replying to, and acting on email.]

A friend of mine sent this to me a couple of weeks ago.  It's funny.  If you choose to watch it, make sure  kids, or adults who are sensitive to hearing a bad word or two, aren't within range.  It's a little under five minutes long. (Sorry.  I know.  Video posts lose me if they're longer than two minutes - sometimes 30 seconds, depending on the day.)

It entertained me, and I hope it's accomplishing it's mission and motivating some young people to do their homework and vote.

Thank you A-luscious.  (That's my friend.  The one who sent this to me.  Not her real name.)