I used to have a few of those Guinness records books when I was a kid. My brother and I thought it was the coolest thing ever. We marveled over the strongest man and the woman with the most children ever. We wondered if tree mans mom had done it with an oak tree somehow and we talked about how weird it would be to be short enough to walk under peoples chairs. The lady with the longest hair always made me cringe. Can you imagine having to brush that?
Hours were spent pouring over this book. Medical marvels. Greatest feats. Scientifically odd. Facts.
I always did like facts.
After a time, I stopped looking in that book. I knew all of it. I never really thought about it again. Until last weekend, when Morgan saw it and wanted it at Barnes & Noble. Of course it’s the newest version. The 2011 version with “thousands” of new facts. Not some weird 1989 copy that I’d had for years. I wasn’t going to buy it for her. It seemed like a waste of money. But then…I remembered sitting with my brother for hours in the backseat of a car, giggling over the weirdness. Who am I to not give that to my children?
Last night as they laughed at the woman with the longest nails and discussed the largest star, I thought, hey this is kinda cool. I am passing on something good. Something besides a love for cooking and design shows. They are learning something and having a good time. What could possibly be wrong with that?
Then Bailey got mad at Harrison and smacked him with the book. But hey, things happen right?
Am I the only one who loved this crazy stuff? I can’t be, right? Not with the amount of shows on TLC and Discovery channel.
ps. I wrote a post over HERE, if you are interested.
Bailey: MOMMY you WILL drive me to Pixie’s house for the sleepover RIGHT NOW or I will walk there my own self! MAKE A CHOICE MOMMY!
Me: Oh my choice? Funny that you should ask. My choice is you give me your iTouch right now, since it’s now mine until Saturday and you go sit on your bed. That’s my choice. NOW! Until you can act like a calm human.
Bailey: You are the worstest mommy EVER! *slams door*
Me: *opens door* For that door slam, your iTouch is mine till Sunday. Would you like to try for longer?
Bailey: *glares* I didn’t say HATE! BUT I COULD!
Me: You are seriously pushing it.
Let’s just say it wasn’t the best evening. She wanted to go somewhere, a last second un-planned sleepover. Yesterday was the last day of school, but it didn’t matter, I didn’t want her to go. Anyone with a child can understand the rest. She sat on her bed randomly screaming things at me for a bit, before she calmed down. She normally does, the easily calming down. She’s actually my easiest child. So far at least. Her iTouch is mine for a few days and she did apologize to me for her behavior. All ended on an okay note.
The hard part came later. The hard questions at bedtime. Mommy, I know I was rude and I’m sorry but why can’t you ever say yes to me going to Pixie’s house? You never do, you know? Every time you say, maybe next time. When does next time come?
Sigh. I’ll tell you what, I will think about that one, if you will think about how you can act differently next time, when I say that no means no. Deal?
Deal.
For tonight? We’re going to go with, it wasn’t a good night for it.
I left her room knowing that I sucked at parenting in the moment. I know that I made that entire thing worse by not being able to explain my real reasons to her. I know that I tell her maybe next time every freaking time she asks. I let her go other places. I let her sleepover with other friends. If it had been any other friend, she’d of probably been there last night. The girl has playdates. She goes to birthday parties. But not there. Not with this friend.
How do you explain a gut feeling to a six year old? How do you say, her dad creeps me out and you will never ever be allowed to play over there?
Because that’s the truth. That girl is welcome here. I think she’s a bit odd, but she’s nice enough. Her dad gives me that feeling though and I will never allow my child to be at their house. Not for a birthday party, not for a playdate and certainly not to spend the night.
Chris Rock once made a joke about his only goal in life was to keep his daughters off the pole. Funny, yes. Accurate, not quite.
My goal as a mother is to raise happy, intelligent, self-confident, responsible, caring, loving individuals. To send them out into the world one day and know that they will make good adults. That’s one of my main goals as a parent.
The other? Is to keep them safe. I can’t foresee so many things. I am not a higher power, nor do I have one on speed dial. But dammit it’s my number one goal to not let anyone touch my babies. Not a single person harming my children. Never. I know first hand the damage that causes. I will never knowingly put my kids in that situation. The only way I can even try to make that happen is by being super vigilant. I’m over the top neurotic on who my kids are left with. Trust me when I say, that I know this may not be enough. But the only way I do this each day, the only way I let them leave my house each day not in a protective bubble with a electrocuted barrier around it, is to be like this. To never falter in my job. My job of saying no. My job of never letting them go with the people who give me the creeps. Not even for a minute.
It makes me a bit unpopular at times. I’m okay with that. I’m lucky that my ex-husband is 100% behind this. Before he lets the kids go anywhere with new friends, he always asks me first.
But to explain that to my almost seven year old? I don’t know how I’m supposed to do that. Not to her. Not to her big sister. Not to their baby brother. I do not know how to do it. How do you tell your children, I need to protect you the way I wish I was protected…without ever burdening them in that way? I have no clue.
Last night I chose to say, no means no. Last night I chose having my daughter mad at me all evening. Last night? I chose the easy door.
I write these down, because I want to remember. I want to remember a peaceful, easy weekend away with my kids.
*************
Harrison sitting in the backseat of the car on the way into the mountains. He had a half hour, non-stop animated conversion with the Cinnamon Teddy Grahams he was eating. “No eat me. I eat you. You yummy. No pwease, no eat me. Okay you safe. I keep you safe. Hahaha. Now I eat you. No, no, I no bad guy. Yummy ears. Nom nom nom.”
(If he’s a cannibal later, at least I’ll know when it started.)
**************
Bailey: Mommy, you know what my favorite-ist part of this weekend was?
Me: No love, what was it?
Bailey: Getting to eat all the gummies. (I have an I don’t care attitude about candy/snacks on holidays and road trips.)
Me: Out of the whole weekend, out of everything we did, your favorite part was eating gummy candies the whole car ride up there?
Bailey: Yes.
Me: Well good to know. Next time I want to go on vacation, I’ll just buy you some gummies and call it good.
Bailey: Wait no mommy. I have one more favorite.
Me: Okay then, lemme hear it.
Bailey: Renaming stars with you in the hot tub.
Me: Much better babe. Much better.
Bailey: But the gummies tie.
Me: I’m so glad to know I so rank high next to sour gummy worms. It makes my heart feel all special.
Bailey: It should. They are so good mommy. Can I have more?
Me: No.
**************
Morgan: Mom what is this road called?
Me: I don’t know. It’s a number. I’m sure I should know, but I don’t.
Morgan: I am gonna rename this road.
Me: Oh yeah?
Morgan: Yeps. It’s now called mommy almost hit three deers road.
Me: Dude. I almost hit one deer. Not three.
Morgan: Those other two were in the road too.
Me: Like three football fields away. Doesn’t count. They ran off.
Morgan: Mom? I stand by my decision. You almost hit three innocent deer.
Me: They aren’t innocent. Did you see how they almost hit my poor sweet car?
Morgan: Mom, you are so wrong. The deer are the innocent ones. Your car was driving way too fast, like over the speed limit by 8 whole miles and if it hit one, they’d be toast.
Me: Well technically, they’d be more like deer kabobs.
Morgan: MOTHER!
Me: It’s true. They are a menace to society anyway. Freaking partying in the middle of the road deer.
Morgan: *eye roll* Whatever mom. This road has a new improved, very true name.
Me: I’ll be sure to let highway patrol know that.
Morgan: Okay good. It’s settled.
******************
We flew kites. Or well we attempted to fly kites. Ever try kite flying in 30mph winds? Yeah, I’m not sure I recommend it. They look like they are having a seizure up there.
The girls and I sat in a hot tub and renamed stars late on Saturday night. There is nothing better than sitting in a hot tub on a deck at night, in a mountain neighborhood without street lights. You can see everything.
We ate ice cream on a bench in the sunshine. Harrison ate his on a cone for the first time ever.
We sang all the way home in the car.
On Mother’s day, we went out to breakfast. Best breakfast spot in all of Colorado. Too bad it’s four hour drive from my house.
This weekend, the fighting was pretty much non-existent. This weekend, there was next to no whining. This weekend, there was no housework, no dog barking and no errands to run. It was a good weekend. No, it was a great weekend. One I hope to remember.
It’s 3am. I should be sleeping. Instead I am watching Bailey breath. In, out, in and out. I play with her hair. I kiss her last bits of remaining chipmunk cheeks. My baby isn’t a baby anymore. She’s tall and lanky and full of spunk. Yet here she is in my bed, curled around her tattered orange airplane blanket.The one leftover from the airplane room, when we thought she was going to be a boy.
I pulled her into bed with me at 1am, after an asthma attack and the subsequent nebulizer treatment. At that point, I have to watch her, even though I know she’s okay. I have to, because when I close my eyes, I see her as an 18 month old chubby cheeked baby in a hospital bed with double pneumonia. That was the year of pneumonia. Four times in one year. Two of which were spent in a hospital because her pulse ox was “not what I’m comfortable with“. When I close my eyes I see her at that age, as well as the x-rays her doctor showed us after round four. See these? These are scars. Most likely permanent scarring on her lungs. You need to keep these x-rays and remember it in the future.
Don’t worry doc, I remember. Even though it’s been years since I looked at those, I remember where all three marks are. Those are things a mother doesn’t forget.
Luck. We got lucky after that. While she’s had pneumonia many times since then, it has tapered off. She’s never again been hospitalized for it.
Today, I know she is fine. I know why she had trouble last night. There was/is a fire way too close to us. The pollen count was already way too high. It all makes for trouble breathing. I know why, but it doesn’t make it any easier.
A day spent at home, with periodic treatments and she will be fine. I know I am lucky.
*********************
My dad has been coughing since before Thanksgiving. A bad, deep cough. The type of cough that doesn’t seem to be nothing. Yet, they couldn’t figure out what it was. He ignored it most of the time. It’s messed up his voice, it keeps him up at night, yet he decided to ignore it. He’s not a fan of doctors. When he finally went in, they decided to do a chest x-ray.
It showed spots, which his doctor didn’t believe was there before. It could be nothing, or it could be something. He scheduled him for a CAT scan. I didn’t sleep for days last week, contemplating the world case scenario.
Again. Luck. The CAT scan showed that it’s just scarring. Probably from the nearly six month cough. His blood work came back normal. They are changing his asthma meds around, in hopes that it stops the cough.
**************
Lungs can be scary. You need them to work. Scars on our lungs: my dad, my daughter and I all have a few. Hey, now we mach.
Today I am thankful. Thankful. Just plain thankful.
This is pretty much word for word. My kid? She’s funny. I finally got a home phone last week. Mostly out of sheer desperation to shut up Comcast.
Bailey: What’s this? *holds up phone sitting on the desk*
Me: A phone.
B: I SEE THAT MOM! But where did it come from?
Me: Target. I think.
B: No I mean does it work? Like you can call people?
Me: Well yes I suppose that is why one has a phone in their house.
B: When did it get here?
Me: Well see it just appeared outta nowhere…
B: MOM!
Me: Eh I got tired of telling Comcast no.
B: So I can call people?
Me: Well yes, I suppose that is what one does with a phone. Who do you want to call? You got a hot date with a boyfriend I don’t know about?
B: NO MOMMY! No one really. Just wondered.
Me: Well yes. I guess so.
B: Can they call me?
Me: Who?
B: My people mommy.
Me: Oh your people huh? You have people? Figures you would have people when I don’t.
B: *Eye roll*
Me: I guess so. If we gave “them” the number.
B: Do we have the number?
Me: Oh um no. I don’t think so. Well maybe. Nah. I have no clue what it is.
B: Well okay that isn’t helpful then.
Me: Never said having a real phone was helpful babe.
B: It could be helpful in an emergency.
Me: What type of emergency are you planning on having?
B: Um when zombies attack. Zombies hear cell calls you know. So you the real phone to call zombie killers.
Me: Ahhhh okay then. Babe? This is our zombie phone.
B: Well good. We needed one. You never know when a zombie attack will happen.
Me: Yes. I guess that is true.
B: You should thank Comcast for our zombie phone mom.
Me: I will babe. I will. Every month when I pay them.
Mommy, I have a joke for you. You will laugh so hard.
Okay Noodle, give it your best shot.
How do you wake up Lady Gaga?
I have no idea babe.
Poke her face.
I laugh for a good five minutes. My girl, such a little comedian. I love six. Six is a great age.
Last night, she got up three times and each time turned the hall light on. Each time, I’d wait a bit and shut it back off. I wanted to be grouchy. I really did. Yet, she’s six. When she gets up and leaves her room for any reason, she gets scared and needs tons of light. Nightlights in her room and the hall aren’t enough. She won’t be this small forever. She won’t be afraid of the hallway at night forever. She won’t come in at 6am and crawl into bed with me for long. Someday she won’t want to hold my hand in public at all times, lacing her fingers in mine. A day will come when I will embarrass her. Probably a day soon.
Not yet. Today she is six. Six is lovely.
********************
Bubbie you have to slow down. Say that again. Mama can’t understand. He sighs at me. My two year old sighs at me. Something he learned from his big sisters. I am exasperating him.
He is so animated. He talks with his whole body. He speaks in complete sentences and his entire self moves. At times though, he speaks too fast. When you are missing key letters in your vocabulary, you need to slow it down a bit. Ha. He has a very large personality. We have intense conversations about everything. Cars. Toy Story. His blue cup. The moon. Why dogs can’t be ridden. Why my iPhone isn’t his, because he’s pretty sure it is. Why he “no use big boy potty yet. My big mama, but not dat big.” Why his bed at daddies house isn’t acceptable for sleeping in. “My Twain bed make me cry mama. Wah. Wah. I cry wike dat.”
He looks older and speaks as well as most three year olds, so people assume he is three. He tantrums like a not yet two and a half year old though.
I like this stage. He’s so tiring, yet so very fun. Two is entertaining.
*******************
Morgan it does. It has red in it. I remember the red.
Mother? You need new eyes. You need to go to the doctor and say, my eyes are defective, I need new ones. Please and thank you very much kind doctor. There has never been red in that couch. Promise.
I laugh and laugh. We are at Kohls attempting to use my Kohls cash before I forget I have it and find it three minutes after it expires. We came for pillows for the futon couch in the basement. I am convinced it has red in it and well, she’s convinced I’m a lunatic.
We go back and forth on it for twenty minutes in the store. She tries to convince me to buy black or light tan pillows. It has both of these colors mom. Just those. NO RED. I want the red. I’m convinced it has red. In the end, we don’t buy any because she convinces me I will be grouchy if I come home and they are wrong.
I am wrong. There is no red. Red pillows would look weird on that futon. She only gloats for a minute.
Nine years old and full of opinions. I take her shopping with me for clothes, because she always tells me the truth. She is my memory at the grocery store, remembering that we needed Lysol wipes and Kleenex, where I’d surely have forgotten.
She is funny and opinionated and makes sure her thoughts are always known. I’ve noticed lately how she is nicer though. She has started thinking before she speaks. She listens to everything I am trying to say, before working on her rebuttal. She has started taking a few deep breaths or asking to be excused to her room for a minute before she blows up at nothing. My baby is getting big.
I like nine. Nine is a great age.
*****************
A Sunday full of normal. A movie in bed in the morning. Blueberry pancakes. Errands. Lunch out. Video games. Laundry. Reading more chapters in books. Dinner at home. Nothing out of the ordinary.
It’s my favorite type of day. I’d really love another one. Today, I wish for a second Sunday.
1. Last night, I went into the kids bathroom to turn off the light that my six year old always gets up and turns on, once my nine year old is asleep. (Side story: One needs complete darkness to sleep, but falls asleep in seconds. One wants light and takes a bit to fall asleep. It’s taken till now to find a compromise.) When I walk in the room though, I realize the toilet wasn’t flushed. Again. I flushed it and it started to fill up. Because yes, what I want to do is unclog a toilet at 10pm. I thank the bathroom gods that it doesn’t over flow and go locate the plunger and unclog the toilet. Then I curse my children in my head…and in email to my bff’s, for not bothering to say, hey mom, the toilet is clogged.
This morning, when questioned why it’s so hard to just tell me, they both swear to god that it wasn’t them. One blamed the boy. Which in future years will likely be true. However at the present time? He wears DIAPERS! He does all his bid-ness in diapers. The other child? Swore it was me and I just forgot. Yeah. It was me. I forgot clogging the toilet. I forgot to flush the toilet. Because I knew the toilet fairy would take care of it for me. Sheesh. Really? Come on now, someone fess up.
2. Same children who woke me up by 6:45am every single morning that that they were home and with me over Christmas break? Have been late to school the last two mornings. Because they won’t wake up. (The first morning, was my fault. I set my alarm wrong. But still, when I woke up an entire hour late? They were all still asleep.) This morning, they were dragging. They had to basically be dragged out of bed. I just don’t understand. Is it a kid thing? Parent germ warfare? Sleep in during the week, be wide awake and talking and needing nourishment and crap at the butt crack of dawn on Sunday?
3. I can’t find my TV remote. I can turn my TV on without it, because I have the cable remote. I also have the DVD player remote. But not the actual TV remote. I’ve looked for it for the last hour. The boy, he hides it. He finds things hiding places. Of course today is his dad’s night too. Which sucks. Because I won’t be able to find the dam thing. He will, when I ask him tomorrow. But me? Not a chance. I have spend way to much of his very short two years and three months of life, trying to find the things that he hides.
I think this is a first. Generally if ‘m going to do a, ask the Internet for help, it’s for me. This time though? It’s for my girls. Although they don’t know, because well…they don’t know about this blog. Anyway, that’s a whole other story. Moving on.
My girls are readers. Big readers. I am frankly running out of ideas of books for them to read. That is where you, my lovely and amazing readers come in. One of the things we do at night, (after dinner, baths and once Harrison is in bed) is read three chapters before bed. Out loud. Morgan reads one, Bailey reads one and then I read one to them. We read from three different books. Which would confuse and annoy some people, but it works okay for us.
Problem is, I’m running out of books.
Morgan can read and comprehend, at a 9th grade level. However, at just turned nine years old, she can’t really handle the 9th grade reading level content.
Bailey is six and can mostly read level 3 on the I Can Read books, but none of those really interest her any more. They are and I quote “so baby boring mom.” She for some reason can’t stand Junie B. Jones books, although a few years ago, Morgan loved them.
We have read all of the Percy Jackson series. Twice. We have just started book 7 of Harry Potter. We’ve read most, if not all of the Ronald Dahl books. We’ve read the Bunnicula series. For some reason, we all like series. I think it’s because we like hearing about the characters. Not that we haven’t read some great stand alone books. But series tend to win out. We have read The Secret Garden, The Little Princess and finished the Narnia series in the past month and a half.
I just downloaded the Boxcar books to my Kindle, in hopes that they like them. But after that? I’m not sure where to go. My mom gave me the complete works of Hans Christian Anderson, which I’m going to start reading to them tonight.
I have no problem buying older books. I’m just frankly drawing a bit fat blank when it comes to ideas. I look at Amazon and I get overwhelmed. We look in bookstores and wind up leaving with nothing, because the shelves and shelves of books overwhelms Morgan and I, while Bailey just wants to buy toys.
We need help.
What are your kids favorites? What were your favorite books at my girls ages? What say you, Internet?
Because sometimes, one needs two titles.
This morning, I told my kids that we would go to see zoo lights tonight, which I will regret because it’s cold as feck. But whatever. We’re going and we will have fun dammit! This is part of my attempt at doing fun things, even though, I have to work 8 of the 10 weekdays my girls have off of school. Also? My ex and his parents will have the kids all of next week and they will ski and have a blast. I get tired of them only doing fun things with him, so yeah…I’m making new traditions.
Anyway.
For your enjoyment and because well hi, it’s my blog, I thought I’d share the supreme difference in my girls with you tonight.
Bailey, who has spent all effing day with me (because her play date got canceled on account of vomit…thankfully not vomit here) and who had already made me want to sell her on eBay. I could have not told her until we pulled up to the zoo that we were going and she’d of been fine. She’d of said, oh the zoo, cool. But she’s known all day. And now? She has now spent the last hour saying the following non-stop: mom are we going now? What about now? Why though? Oh yeah, it’s not dark. Okay when will it be dark. We go after dinner? When’s dinner? Why are we having that? When can it be dinner? You know, dinner sounds lovely right now. I am very starving. Are you sure I had a snack? I don’t feel like I had a snack? I hear you saying, it’s not dinner yet. But when will it be? Yes mommy, I have my listening ears in. They just don’t like what they hear. Can we go now? Look outside, it’s almost dark. Mommy, did you know there are zebras at the zoo? Will we see them? Wouldn’t it be cool if one talked like on Madagascar? Are we going now? Will we ever go?
Morgan is the reason I said anything this morning. I’d of been better off telling her last night. She needs 24 hours notice at least to plan her life. If I’d told her when she got home, she’d be in her room screaming at me about her socks not matching or that the wind blew the wrong direction a week ago or something. Because yeah, change does that to her. I had to tell her this morning, there was no other choice. So this is her, since she got home half an hour ago from an all day play date: Mom, you know it’s cold right? Will we be warm enough? It’s only going to get colder. What if it snows? You shouldn’t have bought those snow boots. That’s why it hasn’t snowed. Yes mother, I will watch my attitude now. I do hear you. You know bubs (we call Harrison, bubs) is a very small boy. What if we loose him? What if he gets too cold? What if they won’t let us take the stroller in? What happens if I drop a glove over the lion gate? But then my one hand would freeze and fall off and I’d go through life with only one hand mother. FINE, I won’t lean over any gates. What if our hot chocolate thermos gets cold? Or runs out? Are you sure there are heat lamps through the zoo? Do you have a map of the zoo? Maybe we can get a map on Google? Well can’t you look to make sure? They should have it. You know, lions here. Snakes there. Well someone should add it. Can you email Google and tell them? Have you driven to the zoo before? But have you driven there at night? Mom? Did you realize how cold it would be tonight when you decided this? What time does it open? What time does it close? What will we do if they close and we are still in there? Are you sure we will be warm enough?
Someone shoot me.
Yesterday was brutal. I am so thankful that it’s over. YAY TUESDAY!!!!! Ahem.
-We have one tooth!!!!! Only what, three more molars to go? Whatever, he slept and I in turn, slept too.
-The sleeping thing was really good. I tend to get a bit too spazzy and emotional and down right dumb with my thinking when I don’t sleep for days at a time. See above: yesterdays brutal comment.
-I am completely unimpressed by new television shows this season. Hopefully No Ordinary Family will be good tonight. The girls and I are really hoping. Luckily, the returning shows seem to be good.
-Did you guys see The Amazing Race? The watermelon catapult part? We were watching that on Sunday and Bailey says, look mama, it’s like they are playing Angry Birds in real life. I am still laughing at that. She’s a funny girl.
-We may have a serious Angry Bird addiction in my house.
-Every time I type the word are, on my iPhone, I first type ate. Then I have to go back and fix it. I don’t know if I just have fat fingers, or what the freaking problem is. But it annoys me. Mostly because it happens every single freaking time. In other news, I use the word are, a bit too often.
-My middle child, the oh so lovely Bailey, can’t seem to decide what she wants to be for Halloween. Every day she has a new idea. Some of them are completely off the wall. I am not capable of making her into an iPhone. Or a candy corn. Sorry baby girl, but mama only does store bought costumes. The rate she’s going though, she’ll get whatever is left at Target on October 30th.
-When I asked you all last week about cell phones, it was because I’ve been thinking about when to get Morgan one. Most of you said 13 or 14, which wasn’t really surprising. I used to say 12. Yet life has changed and we’ve had a few things happen, where I wished she had one now. That being said, I’ve decided to wait another year. Will I wait until she’s 10? Unlikely. Her dad and I are on a family plan. When his contract is up next summer, she will get his number and a phone. But for her 9th birthday, she’s probably getting the skateboard she wants.
-I was in line at Starbucks this morning, when a guy heard the barista say, you want the usual? After I told her yes please, he says man that must be embarrassing that they know your drink. My response was, no it’s nice and helpful actually. It makes me wonder about people though. I find it odd that he would think that somehow that is embarrassing. That they know my drink. Yet he seemingly finds nothing wrong with his 55 year old self, flirting with a 19 year old cashier. I’m the one who should be embarrassed? Yeah, I don’t think so. I’ve gone to the same Starbucks for years. They know my drink. They also know my kids names and their favorite drinks. That? Is just called good service.
-So? How’s your Tuesday going?
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