When you are three and a few months…
You can tell a roomful of family at a birthday dinner that you are allowed to touch your penis in your room only. Not at the table. In your mind, they all needed to know this. They will all laugh.
You will ask for apple sauce, have a tantrum about not wanting apple sauce and then eat the apple sauce all while your mother looks at you still trying to decide what to say.
You think that the red car with the smiling teeth grill is a real car from Cars. You will then proceed to tell everyone you see that you saw the real life Lightening McQueen.
You will teach your baby cousin to “say his name” even though you’ve somehow forgotten that Baby G’s real name isn’t Baby G.
You will Tebow everywhere because your daddy taught you how. Everyone will think it’s funny. Even when done at the grocery store and someone nearly runs you over. You get a pass for being three and cute.
When you are seven and a half…
You will read The Tale of Despereaux and then watch the movie and want to discuss the differences at great length. Your mother will find this amazing and tell all of your grandparents.
You will get grouchy at your mother for not managing to stay awake for this boring beyond boring of all movies on any viewing. But hey, she’ll still gladly discuss the slightly less boring book at great length with you.
You will come home each day with stories of who lost teeth today. You will yet again ask if you are the only person in the world who will forever have baby teeth. The answer of course is yes and then you’ll be in the Guinness Book of World Records for only adult with all baby teeth.
You make the Harry Potter Knight Bus out of Legos and then take it apart to do it again, at least twice a week.
You claim that every food in the world is inedible. There is rumor that you live off air and jokes. The only food you want at any given meal is either one we are just now out of or possibly one that doesn’t yet exist.
You tell better original jokes than most high paid comedians.
When you are ten…
You yell at your siblings if they even look at your perfectly built Hogwarts Lego creation. You’d never consider taking it apart. It was a one time deal that you plan on enjoying looking at forever.
You take up texting. Or more technically iMessage. You will text both of your parents non-stop. (Or what feels like non-stop to them.) Even when sitting on the couch next to them. It’s cute. In a, sort of getting old, way.
You figure out how to add a signature to your texts, which neither of your parents know how to do. You change it on a day to day basis, depending on your mood. For example, yesterdays signature was: I’d like a kitten. Texts tend to look like this: Hi! I’d like a kitten. What are you doin? I’d like a kitten. Mommy can you change the chanel? I’d like a kitten. Can I watch Idol? I’d like a kitten.
You decide to learn to bake. Muffins are your current favorite.
You will sob when your favorite skier passes away from a head injury. This was the first time a hero of yours has died and it has made you incredibly sad. It’s a first that I wish I could have protected you from. Thankfully it has not made you fear skiing.
You will one day announce that it’s high time Harrison learns to read. The fact that he just turned three and still screams each time someone makes him blow his nose makes no difference. You are going to be the one to teach him. What follows is a lot of entertaining attempts at getting him to look at the letter and word cards that you have made up. He in turn makes them into weird ramps for his cars. This will be a process.
When you are thirty one…
You will want to hug every single person on the entire Internet for their kind words this past week.
You will laugh hysterically at an ill placed hanging fairy during a procedure.
You will tell the nurse when she asks you to tell her if it’s uncomfortable, how about I tell you if it hurts…because we are way past uncomfortable now. I mean see where you are and the entire army of medical instruments up my…yeah. Stopping now. Uncomfortable. She did laugh though.
You will decide to quit coffee cold turkey. Not because you don’t love coffee, because oh you adore coffee, but because in the moment you know it’s the right thing to do. Even after the headache starts you won’t give in…because some things are more important than a cup of coffee.
You buy Girl Scout cookies from the cute six year old girl at the door on general principal. You don’t even like GS cookies, but a few boxes now reside in your cupboard.
You will finally delete the six posts sitting in draft form. If they weren’t worthy then, they surely aren’t now.
You will thank everyone who still comes and reads here 600 posts later.
7 CommentsYesterday, I stumbled upon a conversation on Twitter regarding the age you’d let your child read Hunger Games. It was interesting, because Morgan and I have had this conversation many times. I have not let her read Hunger Games. She’s ten. Technically they are kid books. However, I’ve read it myself and I find it to be a bit violent. I’m a little shocked that it’s a “kid” book. Not that I won’t eventually give in and let her read the book. It just seems like it’s too much. If that makes sense.
In this moment, she has a senior in High School reading level. She just turned ten. I am often lost in how to encourage her to read to her highest potential and in the fact that she’s still little. She’s still a little girl. Maybe this is the first step in her growing up. Maybe it’s not. How am I supposed to know where to draw the line? She is a big reader. She will read anything. That doesn’t exactly mean that I want her reading anything.
In a way, she’s naive. Her life has always been safe. She’s spoiled in many ways. When she has any issue, whether a fight with a friend at school or a nightmare, her father and I are always there to talk it through with her. There is family all around her who believe her to be one of the smartest, most amazing kids in the world. (Sometimes the fact that Logan and I are the only ones with kids is awesome.) In other ways, she’s wise beyond her years. She at times acts more like a responsible 28 year old than a ten year old. Her understanding about the ways of the world shocks me at times. She knows about divorce, suicide, depression and miscarriage. She knows adult words for her emotions. She can cook to a degree, do laundry and clean.
Yet part of me wants to shield her from the realities and oddities found in other peoples words. I let her read Number the Stars by Louis Lowry last year. We discussed the Holocaust. We talked about our families story. She knows that Hitler killed people. Somehow though, I stopped before allowing her to read The Diary of Anne Frank. I couldn’t make myself tell her that so many kids were killed. I will one day, I just couldn’t make myself do it that day. I’ll likely explain it all, before she learns it in school. But at nine, I thought she was too young. I feared she’d obsess about it. I feared it would feed into her light anxiety. I suppose I feared it would make her grow up in a way. Too much knowledge at times can do that.
Hunger Games is about kids forced to kill each other. Kids who are allowed to starve. For sport. This book, that game is considered a sport. I’m not sure that I’m ready for her to read that. I don’t know why. I’ve let her read Harry Potter and Percy Jackson. Kids die in both. Kids at times turn on each other in both series. Why does this one feel so different? I don’t have the answer, I just know that it does.
I’ll let my kids watch Transformers, X-men and Spiderman. Why won’t I let her watch Grey’s Anatomy or CSI? I have no idea. I don’t, much to her disappointment. There are kids in her class who watch Grey’s with their parents. Here, I call it an adult show and leave it at that. I watch things like that on nights when the kids are at their dads, or after they are asleep.
The time is coming for me to let her grow up. It’s coming. I feel it. But it’s not here yet. I guess, maybe she’s sheltered. In a lot of ways, I know she is. I’ll tell you something though, I wish I’d been more sheltered. I was allowed to watch anything. Dirty Dancing isn’t exactly most six year old kids favorite movie. I was allowed to read anything. Hi, V.C. Andrews at 11 years old. If I could unread that shit I would. But I can’t. (My mom isn’t really a fuck up. She just was busy getting her education…and she believed in kids knowing the truth about everything, since she’d grown up knowing nothing. I mean really, my grandma handed my mother the instructions from the Tampon box when she was eleven and said tell me when you need this.) All I can do is try and not allow her to read something that she’s not emotionally ready for. Just because she can read it and comprehend it, doesn’t mean she should.
I want her to just be ten. To be a little girl still. To be innocent. Maybe in a way I’m fooling myself. But is it so wrong to want her to stay little as long as possible?
So…what say you? Is ten too young for Hunger Games? What would you do?
Please note that I stole this idea from Jodifur. Hey, at least I ask before I steal post ideas.
It’s come to my attention that the remainder of this year is going to be COMPLETELY INSANE, so I believe it’s time to post and call an end to my posting for 2011. I promise I’ll be back in January. Hopefully with some changes around here. Anyway, before I show you my favorite posts of this year, I thought I’d wish you all a wonderful holiday. Whether that is Chanukah, Christmas, Winter Solstice, Kwansa or just New Years, I hope you enjoy it. Whatever you celebrate, I wish you health and happiness for the remainder of this year.
In January, I made a goal to remember the good in this year. To count my blessings and try not to be such a pessimist. It’s a goal, I’m happy to say that I’ve managed to accomplish over time.
In February, I found out that I have PCOS. It’s changed my life in many ways and I’ll be honest, it’s not all bad. It’s nice to know that certain medical things in my past had reasons. It’s made me less hard on myself. I also love this post about enjoying the small things in my kids lives. Days go so fast and some days, I do wish for a second Sunday.
While writing this post on my step-mom was hard in March, it also led me back to therapy to deal with a few things that I thought I’d let go of. It’s nice to say now, that I have let go of a few issues. It’s helped make this a better year for me. I’ll never forget things that happened when I was a kid, however I don’t have to let it color my world any longer.
April brought my 500th post, which I chose to write for my best friend Liz. I love her even more now than I did then, so I’m glad I gave her that milestone post. April also came with big decisions about the brother I’ll probably never know. I am confident in my decision. Finally, there was the list I made to insure the kids and I had a great summer. I am thrilled to say, I managed to accomplish my goals.
In May, I head great news about Morgan’s future in fifth grade. I have to say, she’s had a phenomenal school year. Her teacher is amazing. We owe her so much. Luckily, because my kids go to a charter school, Morgan will have her next year as well! I also told you all about my lunch date with my dad.
Parenting isn’t always easy, as I realized yet again in June. Making the hard choices is something I am willing to do though. A part of June, I’d rather forget but never will is when the evil clown ate my blog. I’m still thankful to Jenna for fixing it. Also in a funnier post, I shared some text messages I get. Even now, they crack me up.
In July, I got off my anti-depressants after four years. There have been times when I wondered if I could stay off of them. But we’re halfway through December and I can honestly say, I’m doing great right now. On the 18th, my Bailey turned seven. She is one of my very favorite people in this world.
On a random day in August, I wrote about my step-dad for no real reason. Just because I love him. I also went to BH11 and my BFF trip. It was one of the greatest weeks in my year.
September was a harder month for me. I’d rather not re-visit it, except for this one tiny thing. My baby boy turned three. He’s so very three and I adore him for it. Most of the time.
In October I celebrated making it through the first year of divorce. A strange thing to celebrate, yes maybe. However, in my quest to change how I think, I had to look at the bad, to remember the good.
In November, I did quite a few things that scare me. It was a hard month emotionally, but luckily I came out okay on the other side.
December has been very busy. I’m loving ever second of it. For the first time in a long time, I’m truly happy. My baby girl turned ten and had an amazing party. I’m looking forward to everything that we have planned for the next two weeks.
My wish for all of you is a wonderful next few weeks. I’ll see you in 2012.
Love, Issa
When I called you at daddy’s this morning, I said to you the same thing I’ve said every year since you were three. First, I wished you a happy birthday and told you how much I love you. Then I reminded you that you were born at 10:43pm, so technically you are still nine years old until then. I swear to you, I heard the eye roll over the phone. Oh mommy, you said, one day you will have to move past that. Bwahahahaha. It’s something I say to you and your siblings at times and it’s hysterically funny to have it used against me. The next thing you said to me was, we’re still having ribs tonight right? Yes child, yes. Ribs is what you want and ribs you shall have.
Today, my love, you are ten. Ten years old. Double digits. I’m not sure how this happened exactly. It seems like just yesterday when you were born. My very tiny, perfect baby girl. You had angel kisses on your eyelids. I’ll never forget them, even though they went away when you were two months old. I didn’t realize then how much you’d change my world. But oh you did. It was for the better. I’ve never, not even for a moment, regretted having you when I did even though I was young. Young isn’t always a bad thing. Although I’d appreciate it, if you’d wait a bit longer than I did.
You had huge eyes that looked at my very soul. They still do actually. You have this ability to look at me and find the truth. I think it’s why I never lie to you. Not even about the small things anymore. We have a pact, you and I. I tell you the truth and you don’t ask questions unless you want the real answer. So far, it’s worked out for us. I hope this is something that never changes. I hope you’ll always remember that you can talk to me about everything.
Nine was a very good year for you. You made a new best friend, one who is very easy to get along with. The two of you are pretty inseparable. You changed dance classes, from the rec center to a real studio. You live to dance. Last winter you learned to snowboard and you can’t wait for this weekend, because it will be the first time this year to go up to the mountain with daddy. You ski black diamonds with him, which terrifies me. Yet you have no fear. He promises me, that you are actually a better skier than him and I have nothing to fear. School has been phenomenal this year, as your teacher is JUST LIKE YOU, so she fully understands how you operate. I’m so thankful that you’ll have her next year too. YAY hippy charter school!
You read books like they are going out of style, which is something I always hoped for when you were very small. Watching you sit and read gives me more joy than almost anything. Tonight you will get a Kindle, something that you’ve asked for, for months and months. I know you’ll be ecstatic, especially since you believe the Just Dance 3 game and your sleepover last weekend were your gifts. Ha. I’m sneaky like that. Truth is, I’m ecstatic too. I want MY KINDLE back.
Ten is so big baby girl. I know that this will be a big important year in your life. I remember being ten. Man how I loved being ten. I hope you love it as well. This year you get your wish. Daddy and I agreed to send you to sleep away camp next summer. You couldn’t be happier. I’ll work on getting there. I promise. What can I say? Your mama is a worrier. I will do everything in my power to make this a phenomenal year. For all of us.
You made me who I am today. You paved the way to make life easier on your siblings. I am forever thankful for you.
Happy 10th birthday Morgan. Mommy loves you to the moon and back.
I was ten the year I had my one and only big sleepover. My mom felt ten was special and deserved to be treated as such. A sleepover with as many girls as I wanted to invite. I believe I had twelve girls over. Every girl in my class. I’d even invited the new girl, who I wasn’t a fan of. She’d been a shit starter from the second she walked in our class a month earlier. But I felt bad for her, so I invited her anyway.
I went to a small private school and anyone new was immediately noticed and popular. Mostly because hi, you are new! New and shiny. This chick though? She was a nightmare. I just hadn’t realized it completely. I’d been told by a few people that they wouldn’t come if she wasn’t invited. So yeah. I invited her.
My party started off just great. Everyone showed. We did a big scavenger hunt in groups around my neighborhood. There was a lot of shrieking and running around. Pizza and cake were eaten, presents were opened. It was the greatest birthday party ever.
Then my mom went to bed.
For some reason, one which I don’t remember anymore, my best friends younger sister Sarah was at the party as well. She was eight or so. A sweet kid who I’d known my entire life.
The new girl (Nicole) decided this sweet little girl was her mark for the night. I can’t tell you what all she did to her. I probably didn’t see 99% of it. All I know is that at 6am my mom came storming into the room declaring that we were all in trouble. Sarah had waited until then to tell my mom whatever had been done to her. I was in shock, but hey I was in trouble despite it. Nicole of course, blamed it all on me. I’ll never forget how mad my mom was. I’ll never forget crying as each of my friends parents were called and asked to come get their kids.
I never heard what all happened. It wasn’t nice though. This I know.
What I also know is that for the following month, I was the most unpopular kid in school. Until Nicole managed to disrupt everyone elses lives as well. As she befriended each girl in turn and made them turn on their old friends and then she turned on them…well then each one of them was suddenly nice to me again. At the end of the year, Nicole had run out of friends and funny enough, she didn’t show up the following year.
It made me fear sleepovers. With good reason I suppose. Girls can be seriously mean. I had a few after, but no more than say 3-4 girls. I always wanted the big group sleepover as a teen, but I never did it. I swore to myself that I’d never let my kids have a big sleepover like that.
I’ve managed to stick to it. Until now. Morgan will be ten years old in exactly a week. Since she turned four, she has been asking for a big sleepover as her birthday party. Every single year. Each year, I’ve put her off. We’ve done dinners at fancy restaurants with a few friends. We’ve done bouncy places. We’ve had a swim party, a gymnastics party and a cosmic bowling party.
But she’ll be ten. I, like my mother before me, believes that ten is special. So after trying to get her to have it at the wall to wall trampoline place didn’t work, I agreed. She invited twelve girls and ten RSVP’d yes. That’s eleven girls at my house for a sleepover this coming Saturday. Bailey and Harrison will spend the night with their dad, even though it’s my weekend. I’m not taking any chances. I know a lot of these girls, but I don’t know them well.
I’m scared people. I shouldn’t be. Morgan is a million times more with it than I was at her age. She won’t ignore anything and she won’t hesitate to come to me if need be. But girls are sneaky and mean. I’m wondering what the hell I set myself up for.
I fear the sleepover.
When Apple created the iOS 5 software update for my phone, I did what I was told and updated it. Eventually I went around and updated every other device in this house. For those who are curious, that’s my iPhone, my iPad, the kids iPad’s and three iTouch’s. Yes. We are spoiled. Moving on….
One of the great things that came with the update (besides it not deleting everything, which was my fear) was that the iTouch’s now have iMessage. The great thing about this, is that my girls can now iMessage me from their iTouch, when with their dad. When with me, they can iMessage him. They can iMessage my mom as well, which she finds highly enjoyable. It’s great actually. It means I can actually tell Morgan that no she really isn’t getting a phone at least for another year. Why? Because you can always iMessage me.
For the record, nine and seven year old children are pretty decent texters. Or my girls are at least. I have a rule that if you want to keep said shiny device, you will NEVER use text speak. If you mean you, you cannot type U. I’ll confiscate your iTouch for that.
It’s led to some funny conversations though. I tend to laugh, shake my head and try to figure out what they are actually saying. Other times, I end up calling their dad to ask them. Here’s a few for your viewing pleasure:
Me: Hey M, your friends like you too much. 10 of them RSVP’d to your party.
Morgan: Whoooooa. That’s because I am very mice.
Me: Mice?
M: Yes. Mice. Like Mickey.
Me: I am very mice too. That’s why I let you invite so many mice girls to our house.
M: You are mice mom. Very mice. It will be a very mice birthday. Maybe we can have some mice cream?
***********
M: Mommy were are you?
Me: Where.
M: Yes. Were are you at?
Me: Where.
M: MOMMY I need to know were you are so I know when you will come get me.
Me: WHERE.
M: Never mind.
************
Bailey: Mommy do you my blanky?
Me: Do I have your blankie?
Bailey: 
Me: I think it may be in the bottom of my car. Do you want me to bring it to you?
Bailey: *random emoticoms of whales, unicorns and thumbs up signs*
Me: Try for some real words please.
Bailey: Unicorn = Pease bring blanky to daddy home. ***
Me: Will do silly girl.
************
M: Mom, for Christmas can you get me a new bruther?
Me: Error. This mommy doesn’t talk about Christmas until after Thanksgiving.
M: Mommy, can you get me a new bruther for my birfday?**
Me: Error. This mommy doesn’t think new BROTHER’s come from a store. Therefore no.
M: STOP talking in second person.
Me: Third person?
M: Yes!!!!!!!
Me: Morgan? I am rather fond of your brother. I believe we are keeping him.
M: Noooooooooooooooooooooooo. He keeps jumping on my back when I sit down.
Me: This is simple. Don’t sit down.
M: You are no help.
Me: Try daddy. Maybe he is feeling helpful.
M: He told me to ask you. Can you just put him back?
Me: Yeah. No.
M: Why not?
Me: I’ll explain it to you when you turn 13.
*************
**Morgan can spell both birthday and brother. We all just have a bad habit of talking like said bruther does. What can I say? Three year olds are cute.
***Bailey gets a bit of a pass on spelling, since she’s only in second grade. We’ll keep working on it. Notice that she can fully spell unicorn. Priorities.
Tomorrow I may do something else that scares me.*maybe*
Why you may wonder? Because I’m a masochist. Okay…maybe not. The lovely Undomestic Diva put out a challenge that she’s calling the Operation Eleanor. The goal I guess is to do 30 things this month that make you uncomfortable. Small things, big things…it doesn’t really matter. Something that you’d look back and regret not doing.
While there is absolutly no way I will do thirty things that scare me (Hi, I’m a wuss) I’d like to try to do a few.
Today was a big one for me. I signed Morgan up for camp next summer. Sleep away camp. Two weeks long sleep away camp. Fourteen days and nights away from me, her dad, her siblings or any other family.
I’m shaking right now. I really am. I wanted to maybe somehow miss the deadline. I wanted to throw away the pamphlet and forget about camp. I wanted to tell her I think she is too young. That ten will be too little to go away that long. That maybe she can go when she’s…I don’t know, twenty-five?
Really though? It’s my issue. I can’t and really, I flat out refuse to put my issues on my children more than I already am. So I signed her up.
Somehow between now and the end of July, 2012, I have to figure out how to trust human beings I don’t know with my daughter. I have to trust that they will protect her. That they will keep her from harm. I’m not worried about her hurting herself. Nope, I’m worried about other things. Bad things. I can’t protect her forever, this I know. But dam I wish I could.
I may need a Xanax prescription for those two weeks next year. I may need to call and check on her every dang day. But she’s going and I know she’ll love it.
At dinner last night, I brought up the subject of Halloween costumes. I tend to wait until the last moment to do this, because certain members of this household change their mind 2222 times. Here’s the current costume ideas:
Morgan: A vampire fairy. A very specific, very expensive (trust me) vampire costume that she must have found at drainmom’sbankaccount dot com. I did however agree to buy it, so just call me sucker. The costume is gorgeous and comes complete with crown (Hence the fairy piece. Don’t ask. The girl is odd.) and two pointy teeth that you somehow glue on. Also purchased by the sucker that is me, is a pair of black boots to go with it. She will look like a model in it, because she always does, even when in PJ’s. The girl just has that gift. She will insist on make-up before school and some insane hair-do and then make me re-do it again before she goes Trick or Treating. If it’s somehow not all perfect? She will make Halloween hell for everyone until the last second before I threaten to not let her go out and then she will be an angel.
Bailey: Has no clue what she wants to be, despite talking about it for six months. Maybe an Angry Bird. Maybe a corncob. Possibly a bloody surgeon. She in no way wants to make a decision until probably Halloween morning, three minutes before we leave for school. Which in all likely hood means, she will wear whatever she can scrounge together in the play room. Which works out well for her every dang year. She will not care or be sad about this at all. In fact, every time someone compliments her choice she will act like she thought of it months ago. Also? FREEEEE! She will be a joy all day. Because she ADORES holidays, no matter what they are. She will compliment every child under five on how cute they are and will tell random teens how beautiful they look while out that night.
Harrison: He debated for a bit between Buzz Lightyear and Iron Man and then at Children’s Place last weekend saw a skeleton shirt and decided that he’d be a “scawy Skewatin” for Halloween. His costume? That shirt, black pants (which we own) and a bit of face paint. Easy and cheap. He will be a sugar crazed nightmare by noon the day of. He won’t nap because of excitement and he will likely throw six fits. However, he will be the first to thank everyone he sees. He will be the most charming sweet skeleton around.
What are your kids going to be? Anyone else still debating?
It makes it so much more fun.
WARNING: This is a post full of TMI. If you are at all squeamish, please pass and come back on Monday.
This was my night last night. To say I am exhausted, is an understatement. I was already exhausted by an insane work week. But this took it to a whole new level. Has anyone invented the coffee IV drip yet?
Here we go -
8pm: Get all kids in bed. Harrison had puked oh five times throughout the day. (Starting at Daycare at 2ish.) Bailey wasn’t feeling good. Morgan felt GREAT MOM!
8:30pm: Contemplate Lysoling myself. Decide instead to just Lysol all bathrooms, all light fixtures, door handles and ALL the air.
9pm: Decide I should go to bed to, you know, hopefully get some sleep.
10pm: Get up and realize I started my period. Well that explains some things. Also? YAY my body for doing things early for once!
11:12pm – 11:42pm: wake up to a puking screeching Harrison. He apparently freaked himself out puking in bed…although puking doesn’t normally make him scream. Change boy. Change sheets. Put out more towels and bucket. Take his Temp, decide it’s not high enough to give Motrin. Go back to bed.
1:33am: Wake up to a puking Bailey. Thankfully she managed to make it into the bathroom. Sadly puking makes her weepy. Bring her into bed with me.
2:12 – 4am. The girl literally puked every 20 minutes. We at some point stopped going back to the bed. I pulled the rocking chair out of Harrison”s room and we sat in the hallway, right outside the bathroom.
4:10am – Give feverish Bailey Motrin, go to bed.
4:56am – Wake up to feverish Harrison climbing into bed with me. Give more Motrin, pray for no puke.
6:35am – Alarm goes off. Curse at alarm. Both Harrison and Bailey have fevers. No more puke.
7:25am – Morgan swears to me she is perfectly fine and MUST GO TO SCHOOL. Only eats two bites of cereal.
8:10am – Rolling my eyes the entire way, I drive to the school.
8:15am – Morgan starts sobbing about how I can’t leave her because she now doesn’t feel good. I can’t get her to stop sobbing until I try Stacey’s hand holding trick, which works wonders.
9:00am – Decide to write post about puke. Because well this is a parenting blog right?
9:08am – Jump twelve feet in the air when my cell phone rings. Realize that less than 3 hours sleep is going to make this a very, very long day. As it stands now, Morgan is whimpering on the couch. The little two are laying on the other couch. There has been no more puke…but I know it’s coming.
Today’s post brought to you by exhausted me, Despicable Me on Blu-Ray and Motrin. All of which I purchased myself.
Scene – my kitchen, 7:41am this morning:
Morgan: Mom, so I was thinking. Son of Neptune comes out tomorrow and sissy and I really want it. Like really, really, really. And I know we only have one Kindle and it’s really yours, but you know I want one and sissy wants one too right? Maybe one of those new ones that are cooler than yours. Not that Edison isn’t cool, but he’s not a touch Kindle and that’d be awesome. Anyway see I want it and sissy wants it. Like really bad and so maybe you could put it on there and we could like all read it together since this week we are mostly with you and not daddy and no one can go ahead even you. So what do you think? I mean I asked sissy and she said it sounded good to her as long as I don’t act mean to her when it’s her turn to read and she’s slower than me and I read ahead and want to turn the page and I said I’d pinky swear her that I won’t act like that. So I did mom, I pinky swear’d sissy. It’s supposed to be a good book mom and well, we need it because we just have to know what happened to Percy. It’d be even better if we could just have all the books now, because I don’t like waiting. But I will do it anyway. So can we? Can we get the book?
Me: *takes a big sip of coffee* So wait, what?
Morgan: *insert heavy sigh* Can. You. Please. Buy. Son of Neptune on the Kindle tomorrow?
Me: Sure. Can you please take your pill and put your shoes actually on your feet?
Grab My Button!
I’m a joiner
