Archive for the ‘Abby’ Tag
April 19 2012
There is a fly in my house.
The weather is warm, it’s bound to happen. A strident circular buzzing past your ear, and a swatting of your arm with an urgency as it tickles at your skin. The presence of this fleeting nuisance wouldn’t appear to make a dent in my day, except my kids are seemingly, absolutely, full-on terrified of flies.
“Mommy!”, they scream, “A fly! Get it!”.
“It’s just a fly”, I reassure. “It’s not going to hurt you.”
So they go on about their way, yet still continually on patrol. Like my daughter, who was watching the new Chipmunks movie for the hundredth time already while sucking ever so comfortably on a sucker. The kid lives the life. But then, there’s the fly. Buzzing it’s wings past in her sacred space. It takes a second to computer, but it’s about now when I hear another round of frightful shrilling for help.
As I lumber in, she’s holding out her sucker, almost devoured down to the stick.
Her face turns downward, the lip pouts. “The fly ate my sucker”, she relays in her most pitiful voice. “I need a new one.”
If she can’t get rid of the fly, might as well attempt to make it useful.
April 10 2012
Hey, so. I’ve been absent for awhile, huh?
And it would be great if I had a grand story to tell when I came back, wouldn’t it?
Let’s see…
hmmm…
I’ve got nothing.
Except Abby thinks she’s a dinosaur. She was stomping back and forth through our front yard, my shy little girl. Roaring at the top of her lungs.
The boys went back to school today, after more than a week off for Spring break. Though I have to say it wasn’t much of a break. In fact, there were many times when I needed a break from the break. But they’re good.
We’re all good.
Abby has a pair of pink sparkly shoes, that she wears all day long. She’d go to bed with them if I let her. The only problem is that the sparkles flake off. Alas, there are little glimmers of unabashedly girl all over my house, in the carpet, on the couch. Etc. Even when she’s a roaring dinosaur.
Like I said, I have nothing.
But I’m still here.
March 12 2012
Dearest Daughter,
Our power struggles over clothes began when you were a wee littler barely a year old. You have always had strong opinions on what you should wear, and we’ve had arguments over suitable attire since before you could actually communicate in legitimate words.
As long as all important areas are covered, I normally just let it go. Mix and match, go crazy. Express your creativity, girl.
It’s when those areas are not covered that I have a problem.
So imagine my discomfort as you were getting dressed this weekend. And you refused to wear underwear with your shorts.
Shorts are not underwear.
This was the lecture I was forced to engage in with you, my 3 year old daughter, which is not the way I imagined my Saturday morning. I sat you down and explained how shorts were like pants, and we need underwear with both. We wear underwear, period. Always. It doesn’t matter. I’m only thinking of you, this is for your own good. Because while it might start innocuously enough, next thing you know your private bits are splashed on the cover of magazines.
There’s a woman named Britney Spears. Also, Paris Hilton. I can show you pictures when you’re older. Though I’d really prefer not to. Just trust me and put on some underwear.
Love,
Mom
February 21 2012
She wants to know.
There has to be an answer.
Punctuated in every conversation, stirred even from silence.
It’s heard constantly in my house these days.
“Why?”
It’s a good question. One that I often ask myself. Though maybe not to such extremes. I admit I am not a patient teacher, and the why’s are winding. Yet she’s such a curious kind and it’s that age where the questions rein, her mind soaking in all the intricacies that surround her. There has to be a reason why things are like they are. A valid explanation. Except there are times when there’s not. It just is. She’ll learn such a lesson as she gets older, but for now, it’s hard to explain it to a 3 year old little girl who looks to you to guide the world.
Of course there are the easy questions to answer. Wonderments over favorite cartoon characters and why can’t she have another lollipop before dinner. Those that are close to the touch and are seen. Only there are other issues too large for me to even know where to begin. Except there is magic, just as there is quiet and darkness. This world that I’m trying to guide you through, it’s a pull of extremes and secrets. So keep asking those questions, though I try to shush. They are constant and insistent, but there’s no better way to learn. Then maybe one day, you’ll be the one to find an answer for all of us.
“Why?”
Because most of the time, I don’t know.
I'm Crystal. A 30-something mom to 3 young kids living in the Midwest USA. When I'm not chasing my children, I'm a freelance writer and web designer. I like to tell stories from our days and share what we enjoy...
