Archive for the ‘girls’ Tag
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 06 2012
“Where’d they go?”, Abby asks, her face saddened. She had been watching two little girls, sisters, running around next door in their flowered dresses with great intent. Following their every move from window to window.
My daughter lives in a bit of a friend bubble with her brothers since she has yet to attend school. I’ve often wondered if I should schedule more playdates, or any at all. Whenever we go to a playground or park, she’s always been more of a watcher than a participator. She likes to sit on the sidelines and sheepishly grin at the ruckus the other kids cause. I’ve wondered if I was scarring her social growth.
Abby has just recently taken a keen interest in her older cousin, the only other little girl in our family, 4 years separating their age. Slowly coming out of her shell, where once she’d be too timid to join in, they now sit enthralled, if slightly perplexed, by one another. Digging through a collection of small bottles of nail polish and lipglosses and everything pink. An older cousin who understands because she has 2 older brothers herself. Except she doesn’t get to see her often enough, then of course doesn’t want to leave once there. And when Abby comes home, it’s back to fighting bad guys and Incredible Hulk.
She’s a girl who can do it all, except move away from the window.
“There she is!”, Abby exclaims gleefully. My daughter sits perched, patiently watching, until the pair notice. “She sees me!”, she declares, beaming. Soon enough, they’re gesturing and making funny faces at each other through the closed window. Until it’s time for them to leave, my daughter’s new friends she’s never met, where they wave their goodbyes until next time. Maybe, then, in person.
August 11 2011
I had to run an errand a few days ago and left my mom in charge of my kids. Or maybe that’s the other way around. I do keep expecting to come back one of these days and find my mother strapped to a chair, fire engulfing the living room.
Not that I’m so great, either. That’s how I feel about my own parenting abilities on most days, too.
As I walked in on this day, gone just over an hour, there was a slight aroma of honey in the air. It wasn’t a terrible scent, it could have been worse definitely, so I didn’t dwell on it. But then, I noticed my daughter. Who, granted, normally sparkles, but not like this.
She was shiny.
I meandered over to where Abby stood and ran my thumb over her greasy cheek, then through the gummy front of her hair.
“You’ve been in the chapstick, haven’t you?”, I questioned.
“Yeah”, Abby answered, proud of her application.
When my mom quickly spoke up, “I turned around for just a minute and she was smearing it all over herself. I didn’t even have time to stop her.”
I wanted to give my mother a hard time about it. I tried, in fact. But I couldn’t bring myself to scold her too harshly. There’s a reason why I knew what happened before she said a word. Abby did the same thing with me just the day prior, only that time with strawberry-scented that left her face tinted pink. They’re quick, curious little things, and it only takes less than a minute for trouble to brew. Although now that I think about it, that’s how fires start, too.
March 15 2011
My daughter likes to dress herself, and has ever since she could walk. I’ve even documented our disputes over her choice of wardrobe. She seems to have moved on from dressing like her brothers these days, finally preferring her own clothes. Except now, she wants to wear the same outfit every day of the week and has to have it just so. Including socks.
Abby’s socks must taste very good because the sock monster likes to eat them up. I’ve purchased countless styles and packs and I think we have about 5 matching pairs left. Though this is might be a good thing, considering my daughter is a fickled sort who can’t make up her mind.
As was the case the other day when she got herself dressed. Pants, shirt, another shirt (yes, she layers, sometimes multiple upon multiple), but lo! she was without socks. “Socks, mommy, socks!”, she demanded. Not wanting to deprive my daughter of warm feet, I dug through her unsightly mess of a drawer and came up with 2 pairs. One had blue stripes, the other red.
“We have blue stripes and we have red”, I said, dangling each pair in front of her. “Blue”, holding it with arm-outstretched. “Red”, pulling the blue pair back and doing the same. This continued on until I knew she understood.
“Blue?”, Abby asked pointing to the pair striped blue. “Red?”, doing the same with the red.
“Yes. Now, which one do you want to wear today?”
“Ummm….”, she mulled over her decision long and hard. “Yellow!”
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...
