With Spicy Girl cemented firmly into her “threes” I’m finding that she has started to truly set the agenda for what is done and how. She likes to do things “aaaallllllll bymyself!” And no, that’s not a typographical error. She also likes to make rules as to when things can happen and why.
For instance, about a month ago, she came up with a rule, that kisses were for “wake up time” and hugs were for “sleepy time”.
“Can I have a good night kiss, Spicy Girl?” I ask.
“No, mommy, kisses are for wake up time. But I can give you a sleepy time hug.” She comes over, hugs me and gives me her patented “pat on the back” while she’s doing it.
If I give her a kiss while the hug is underway, it turns into “No, mommy, no kisses. Just hugs.” I of course don’t care, and madness and hundreds of kisses ensue … giggles included.
Another rule of daily engagement comes in the brushing of the teeth. (Read more…)
I had never been a fan of going to the GYN, but after having 2 children, I can’t think of anything worse than a stranger staring at my hoo-ha and, you know, studying it.
Nothing to see here. Carry on. Hey, what’s that? Is that a model of an IUD in a plastic uterus? Tell me more about that! Is that to scale?
You’d think that after letting everyone else and his mother watch you deliver two Sasquatches from your nether regions (mine were a tad big), having one benevolent GYN nurse practitioner give you the pelvic drill would be nothing.
Wrong.
I don’t like it. Not one bit. There are some things that should be left sacred and undisturbed. Like my post-partum war field of a body.
But, there I was, the other day, wrapped in my robe opening-to-the-front, waiting for Ms. Pappy to come back into the room for the exam. (Read more…)
Back in the 70s, there was this book called How to Eat Like a Child: And Other Lessons in Not Being a Grown Up, by Delia Ephron. My mom bought it (for me, I assumed) and would read it aloud, laughing uproariously the whole way through.
The book, if you don’t remember it (or are too young to recall), is about the ridiculous things kids do and how they do them, written manual style. With chapters like, How to Watch Television, How to Wait, and How to Torture Your Sister, each section is a droll, little gem.
Not that I thought so when I was a kid. My mom would recite a section and I’d laugh politely, or maybe even genuinely, but I didn’t really get it.
Now, though, I get it. Boy, do I get it.
And when I’m going through a rough spot with the kids, I try to think in How To Eat Like A Child terms. It makes me laugh. It helps.
For example, while Belle is weeping over a shirt she wants to wear that is dirty in the hamper, these words might buzz through my mind: (Read more…)
There are a lot of things I believe “in theory” about parenting. I believe, in theory, some day my children will pick up their rooms without being asked. I believe, in theory, some day my hair will go back to normal. And I believe, in theory, some day my children will understand enough about the laws of science and nature not to put themselves in mortal danger.
When does that happen, exactly?
I pondered this question twice this week as my children, each on separate occasions, came perilously close to setting themselves on fire. And not even in some protest over war or starving babies or anything meaningful; at least I could respect that. Just out of sheer stupidity.
The first act of pyro-palooza came earlier in the week when the Monkey came stumbling into our room, after “lights out”, with some kind of goo on his hand and his face. Turns out, he wanted to read after we told him to go to sleep, so he unclipped his desk light and brought it with him under his uber-warm synthetic blanket, which then began to melt. Boy touches melting blanket, then touches face, then tells mom. Mom reacts in a totally rational manner.
“ARE YOU KIDDING ME? WHAT IN THE WORLD WERE YOU THINKING? Because we love you so much and we would be devastated if anything ever happened to you! YOU DIDN’T REALIZE IT’S DANGEROUS TO BRING A HOT LAMP UNDER THE BLANKET WITH YOU?!. We’re just screaming because we’re scared to lose you. DO YOU WANT TO BE ON FIRE? DO YOU?!”
Flash forward to yesterday. (Read more…)
