Archive for the ‘Abby’ Tag
June 23 2011
“Pillowcase?”, Abby requested.
“What do you want the pillowcase for?”, a fair question I thought.
“Um… on feet”, she said as she took apart the pillow herself.
“No, you’re not wearing the pillowcase. It could get dirty, and that’s what you sleep on.”, I explained.
“No?”, she questioned, clearly understanding what she wasn’t supposed to do.
“No”, I replied sternly.
A devilish smirk rose from the corner of her lips as she disappeared into her room, emerging again a few minutes later stuffed inside the purple jersey case like a potato sack. Gathering dirt from the floor exactly as I told her not to do. This is where, if I had more leverage, she would be fired for insubordination. Respect my authority!
“Ghost! Boo!”, Abby instead declared in merry victory.
Circumstances aren’t entirely important, because this discussion is repeated about a hundred times coming 3 opposing directions, wherein you have a small glimpse of my day. I tell them not to do something, the kids do it anyway. I have a saying that it’s “like talking to air”. Wasting my breath. Abby, however, is now at the age where she’s testing her boundaries, thus testing me. Same stuff, different day. It’s like she doesn’t listen on purpose. So bizarre for an almost 3 year old, I know. I should get used to it, you don’t have to tell me. But it doesn’t make it any less exhausting.
June 14 2011
There was a knock on the door.
Or there must have been, but I couldn’t hear it. Someone was crying at the top of her lungs.
About what, I don’t know. But Abby was a furious rage-filled torpedo, bounding from one room to another lost in a tantrum. I tried seeking a solution. I asked her to explain the problem, in detail and with graphs if possible. I wanted her to discuss her inner turmoil with me in a calm and reasonable tone. Of course that didn’t work. Next, I tried reassuring and consoling. I even hushed. Wine, perhaps? None of it was helping. She seemed content to see the fit through to the end. Thus I turned to the only option left; I ignored.
I once read that ignoring a tantrum is the best method. I’m unsure if this is true or not, my eardrums would lead me to believe otherwise since it makes a heck of a noise.
Settling on the screaming bloody murder method, I hid from my child in the corner of our kitchen, next to the chocolate, though her wails were still fully audible. That’s when I looked out the window, a view overlooking our front porch, and saw a nicely dressed woman dashing away in her heels. Hastily throwing her religious brochure in the handle of our door as she ran, not once looking back. And for a moment, I thought of calling out to her, “Wait, come back, I need to be saved! Save me!”. Though I don’t think that’s the salvation she had in mind.
May 18 2011
What my 2.5 year old daughter, Abby, is currently into:
Not for playing with, mind you. She carries 3 open decks of special Easter edition bunny cards with her everywhere. And they must be in a certain order, with a preferred rabbit sitting on top. It makes the 100 times a day that we play pickup all the more enjoyable.
Nutella is a recent find in our house, though I’m not sure what took so long. We all love it. Maybe a little too much. Where my oldest will at least use pretzels to administer his like dip, my daughter dives in mouth first. I’m more prone to follow her lead.
Asking “What, Mommy?” or “What you doing, Mommy?”
Except it’s more like, “What you doing, Mommy? What, Mommy? What? What? What? What? What?”, until I’m worn down enough to answer. “I’m just going to the bathroom, Abby.” It makes me almost glad that Buzz skipped this step.
Abby is still stuck in winter and refuses to come out. I actually bribed her in a spring dress the other day, but only because I let her keep her favorite corduroy pants on under. She won’t wear a short-sleeve shirt unless it’s layered. I feel I’ve won if it’s 80 degrees and I can keep her out of a hoodie.
We have the same duck couple that returns to our area of the neighborhood every spring. If we see them nearby, we’ll stand on our porch to toss a couple pieces of bread. Abby is charmed, of course. So now, every time I open the door, it’s “What, Mommy? Ducks? Duckies? Bread? What? What? What? What?”.
May 09 2011
My daughter was born with the most hair of any of my children. Which really isn’t saying a lot, considering. A ribbon could be strategically tied to her newborn locks, but only with the utmost care and nary a stray breath. Those fine baby strands soon fell out, however, and the hair that grew in its place has been, well, reluctant. In fact, almost 3 years later and Abby’s mane could really use a how-to course on how to grow from within.
I’ve longed to see my daughter running around with swinging pigtails, a right for little girls. Most her young age have already had cuts and stylings. They require hourly maintenance lest their strands get tied in painful knots. Some mothers curse the morning hair wars. I can’t relate. Abby has curls. She has curls to last for days. Beautiful curls for a beautiful girl. That should go without saying. But they don’t fall anywhere. I can’t help but wonder how much longer until it grows out.
Now, it’s even longer. Because the little hair Abby had has succumbed to scissors.
The boys received haircuts this past weekend. Never one to be left out, Abby wanted her’s done as well. After delicately trimming a section, we began to really look at the unevenness of her hair, as her father was there and doing the brunt of the work.
“Let’s just do it. It’ll be a starting point”, we agreed. Or he agreed while I winced.
That’s where we’re at, her first real haircut. Another starting point. Like when she lost her newborn locks. You can’t have pigtails with a starting point, you can barely tie it with a ribbon. I’m beginning to think it’ll never grow. Though at least she still has her curls.