ABC Duet

July 06 2010 · comment 9 Comments
Posted in: The Kids · Tags: ,

Singing the ABC’s calms my daughter down. I learned this hard way on a long-distance drive when she was throwing a magnificent fit in the backseat without a place to pull over in sight. I began to sing the ABC’s, the only song I could think of at the time, and she instantly quieted. As long as I kept on singing, we were at peace. Of course, a song has to end at some point and all hell breaks loose.

It’s not just on drives, however. She loves her ABC’s. She’ll scoot up in my lap, stick her finger in my face, and make her demands for “one mo” before we’ve even started.

Abby will gather herself into position, looking back at me as I begin the familiar round. “A-B-C-D…”, I sing slowly so that she can keep up and repeat along. She’ll miss most of the letters, but that’s of no consequence at this stage. “…Now I know my ABC’s. Thank you, Abby, for singing with me!”, I conclude as she cheers for herself.

I remember singing the ABC’s with Jedi, so many years ago, but it skipped with Buzz. Every kid is different, I have to keep reminding myself, and it just never kept his attention when he was Abby’s age. I didn’t realize I missed the simple joy of it, though, until I was able to pick it back up with Abby.

“One mo!”, she’ll demand again. And so we sing again. And usually again. Because she won’t take no for an answer, and for once I’m glad. A perfectly out-of-tune duet, my daughter and I. Thank you, Abby, for singing with me.

Master Mosquito Killer

July 05 2010 · comment 5 Comments
Posted in: Daily · Tags: , ,

While buckling everyone into their respective seats for a trip to watch 4th of July festivities, I noticed a couple summer mosquitoes buzzing about the car. They were of the fairly large variety and I knew Jedi wouldn’t be pleased if he caught sight of them. I tried to coax these bugs out before I closed the door and thought I had succeeded. However, it would seem I missed one.

Barely minutes into our drive to see fireworks, right before it started pouring rain, Jedi succumbed to a full-on freak-out like I’ve never witnessed from him before. His hands were flailing, his voice pitched, his mouth quivered. He was petrified. All because the pesky mosquito had landed on his knuckle. I reached back to shoo it away, but it was staunchly attracted to him and didn’t want to leave him alone.

“It landed on my finger and it’s gonna suck ALL MY BLOOD!”, he trembled in fright as his hands continued to flail and flap.

The pest finally made it’s way to the front of the car, where it was promptly obliterated into a napkin. Upon hearing of the mosquito’s demise, Jedi’s brevity not only returned but multiplied.

With eyes still red and cheeks not yet dry of tears, he mocked the dead mosquito, “Oh yeah! Don’t mess with me, I’m the Master Mosquito Killer!”.

You could have fooled me.

A Thankless Job

July 02 2010 · comment 10 Comments
Posted in: Daily · Tags: ,

Parenthood has changed many things. Some blatant and in your face, others more slight and barely noticeable. For instance, I lost many items before I had kids. The remote control, chapstick, keys, important papers, socks. Where are those open-toed pumps that go with this dress? I’d spend the better part of a morning playing hide and seek with inanimate objects.

Things are still lost. In fact, I lose my mind on a daily basis. Except I’ve now got a better system for all the shoes we’ve acquired and am instead hunting decapitated doll heads. Specifically Toby, seen here atop Barbie’s body.

I spent an impractical amount of time searching for Toby’s head. Under the couch, under beds, under tables. I emptied all of their toys into a pile and madly rifled through it’s contents. I looked on the boys’ top bunk and in closets. I broke a sweat trying to find this head because Buzz wanted it. He puts Toby’s head on everything that will fit.

Toby’s head was finally found in the very last place I looked, per usual. Relaxing face up under a blanket in my bedroom. I was so pleased with the discovery when I handed it to Buzz.

30 seconds later, the head was forsaken and Buzz lumbered off to the next thing.

At least the shoes would get worn all day once found. If they’re super cute shoes, I might receive compliments. A task well worth it. Tracking down Toby’s head didn’t even award me a thank you. If I’m going to spend all that time and effort on the hunt, I’d enjoy some appreciation. A decapitated doll head can’t find itself, you know.

Raising and Smelling Boys

July 01 2010 · comment 16 Comments
Posted in: The Kids · Tags: ,

I’m living with boys. This shouldn’t be such a revelation, I know. I’ve been living with boys for awhile. I think I’ve been so focused on the only other girl in the house, how she was developing and progressing and trying to mix in some pink, that I missed an important transformation, though. It’s as if a light switch flicked on when I may not have been paying close enough attention. Because where I once had floppy-mopped kids that happened to enjoy some rough and tumble, I now have boys.

Boys.

My 6 year old has learned the fine art of bathroom humor. He burps, he farts. He has what he has dubbed pee-pee contests. Flashing one’s behind is hilarious. I’ve caught him trying to smear a booger on the wall. His fingernails are always filthy. He’s messy and loud and missing another tooth and ripping the knees out of his pants and his feet stink.

The other day, Jedi passed gas at the dinner table. I told him not to do that again, it was rude and we have manners. So when we were finished eating, he walked over to where I sat on the couch and tooted, twice. Boys are not known for subtlety.

“Did you just fart?”, I asked him.

After uproarious amusement on his end, he settled down enough to say, “No, it wasn’t me! That was Abby!”. He’s also acquired the skill of passing on blame to his younger siblings, though his laughter still gives him away.

Boys.

I Hate Shopping

June 29 2010 · comment 13 Comments
Posted in: Daily · Tags: , ,

I hate shopping. Not all of it, mind you. I like perusing shoes or finds for the kids and house. When it comes to clothes shopping for myself, however, I’d rather stab myself in the thigh with a fork.

It wasn’t always like this. I was actually in the best body shape I had ever been in before I gained 50 dogged pounds with my last pregnancy. I was wearing size 6 jeans. I’m not saying what size I am now, but I laugh in the face of my former size 6. The thing is, the majority of my extra weight is located across my middle. It’s not proportioned whatsoever. Finding pants that fit right is about impossible and aggravating. What slides past my knees won’t button around my waist. What does button is like a potato sack everywhere else.

My mom wanted to take me shopping for my birthday, though. That’s how horrendous my wardrobe had become, apparently. So I had to bite the bullet. Because what says happy birthday better than a day of wallowing depression.

I skimmed through racks. I fondled fabric. I looked at sizes. I felt defeated.

We spent 2 hours walking around a single store and I almost came away with nothing. I wanted to quit. I wanted to cry.

I finally found a few things, but I had to wander into the plus-size department to do it. Which leads me to think if my mom wants to take me shopping for clothes while I’m still carrying this extra weight (can I still blame the baby? no?), I’ll tell her to buy me a fork to stab myself with instead.