Thursday, October 22, 2009

We Will Never Go to Jimmy Johns Again


Out of the blue D2 announced that she hoped she could marry a man like her dad some day. I wanted more detail so I probed, “What is it about Dad that makes you want to marry someone like him?”

“Well,” she began, “Isn’t it obvious?”

Admittedly I was distracted at the onset of the conversation, but I glanced her direction during her pause and saw her holding her arms up in a traditional muscle man pose. I hid my smile.

“Bu-uff,” she announced, flexing her own gymnastics-enhanced guns.

And the she quickly added, “And remember that time at Jimmy Johns when that worker yelled at you and he was mean and that was not nice and Dad went back in there and yelled at him and now we will never go to Jimmy Johns again?”

Monday, April 13, 2009

I Wan Fwen Fwies



When D3 was born I insisted that I was going to raise her as a vegetarian. For the first few months no one gave me much trouble, except in theory. I suppose it is possible that the lack of conflict was due to the fact that her life was sustained by milk alone for those first few months.

However, as she grew, we naturally starting adding solids to her diet. And the pressure from my family to let her decide whether or not to be a vegetarian for herself increased. I argued that I could raise her to smoke cigarettes too and when she is older, let her decide for herself if she wanted to be a smoker or not. That logic, to me seemed perfectly sane, and yet the reasoning escaped DH and my childrens' thought processes entirely.

When D3 was 1 year-old, DH "accidentally" fed her a chicken nugget. When I found out I was furious. However, with increased pressure, I soon relented and let them feed her animal flesh. Her diet has increasingly deteriorated from there.

However, I had not realized to what degree the deterioration had occurred until I went to fill a prescription at Rite Aid via the drive through. Or at least I attempted to fill the prescription.

D3 was settled comfrotably in the back seat of the car, when we pull up in the covered drive-thru lane. I believe it was the shade for the overhead cover that first alerted her to something a little abnormal in our errand running afternoon. Then she heard me roll down the window as the outside traffic noise became more apparant.

"I wan fwen fwies!" she yelled.

"Hello?" the paharmiscist asked.

"I wan fwen fwies!" she repeated.

"Hi," I began, "I'd like-"

"I wan fwen fwies!!"

"Sorry. I'm needing to-"

"I wan fwen fwies!!!"

"I came from the doctor's office and I have a -"

"Fwen fwies!!!!" "I wan fwen fwies!!!!"

"Um..." I briefly contemplated my limited options.

"I WAN FWEN FWIES!"

"You know what? I'll come back, in a few minutes-"

"FWEN FWIES! I WAN FWEN FWIES!!!!" She continued. All the way to McDonald's.

Friday, March 20, 2009

Take this Job and Love It


D1 wants a job. Like most people, money is her motivation. The other day I took her and her friend down to the local car wash. She heard they hire 14 year-olds, so we decided to start early in the search for summer employment.

With D1 in the front seat and her friend in the back, I drove them down the street while coaching them on what to say, what not to say, and how to stand, and how to smile, and who to ask for, and all other things pertinent to this life changing occasion.

When we arrived, I sat out in the car while she and her friend ventured inside to the office. A few short minutes later they emerged with white paper forms in their hands, explaining the manager was not in so they were to fill out the paperwork and return another time.

As we drove home, D1 reviewed the two-page generic employment application. After a minute she turned around to face the back seat.

"I hope they don't put me inside and make me do the books," she told her friend, "I hate paperwork."

Her friend nodded silently, barely looking up as she reviewed her own paperwork.

"Hmmm..." D1 continued a bit concerned after scanning the application further.

"I really hope they don't ask me to manage sales. That would be so boring," she concluded.

A Picture's Worth Three Words


One of my necklaces has a photo holder charm, inside of which I have a small picture of DH. The photo was taken on vacation, and with his relaxed face framed with an uncommon-for-him and slightly sexy goatee, the picture has become one of my favorites.

Tonight when I leaned over to zip D3's pajamas, she spotted the necklace and shouted in surprise,

"Is that Dad?"

"Yes," I confirmed, "Isn't he cute?"

"No!" she exclaimed while looking at me like I had just suggested she drive the car.

"I'm cute," she emphatically corrected.

Monday, March 2, 2009

Folks, it Doesn't Get Much Worse Than This


This afternoon my cell phone rang.

"Hello, Tonia!" I answered my neighbor's call energetically, after noticing the caller id.

"Mom, it's me, "D2 clarified.

"Why are you calling?" I asked.

"D3's ears are hurting her. I think it is because you never clean them and now they are all dirty inside."

"Ok, I'll come right home," I promised, as I began to wonder what my neighbor thinks about babies with dirty ears.

"And why are you calling me from Tonia's house anyway," I mistakenly inquired before she had a chance to hang up.

"You never paid our phone bill, so all our cell phones were shut off today," she shouted, although no one ever has any trouble hearing her at her normal volume.

"All right then. Thanks, Sweetie," I mumbled as I pushed the receiver closer to my ear hoping no one around me could hear her.

"So you're coming home? And you are going to look at D3's dirty ears?"

"Yes. Love."

"And you'll pay the phone bill and get our phones turned back on?" she repeated.

"Of course, Sweetie," I replied.

Then I listened to D2 hang up. I imagined my neighbor kindly smiling as D2 handed the borrowed phone (one with a paid-up bill) back to her and then I expect she gently walked D2 and her little sister with the dirty ears to the her front door, all the while full of pity for the neglected little ones.

Thursday, February 19, 2009

Taken Out of ConTEXT?


Technology allows me to stay connected with my adorable children. Even when I don't really care to. I was about to clear my text messages on my cell and thought I'd share the following REAL, untouched examples of the tender messages my children have recently texted to me. Motherhood is so rewarding.

Hey ANSWER YOUR PHONE!

Mom i don't think i should be grounded just cause i didn't wash my hair...don't you agree...were you ever grounded cause you didn't wash your hair?

Mom my belly button hurts jessica said there could be an infection in there

I forgot to do my homework

(sent to me by D2, when she clearly meant to send it to her best friend)
do you wanna talk bout boys
Mom that was a joke
Ha lol
Mom it was a joke say something

(sent to me while I was two rooms away at bed time)
Mom (D1) has her light on and wont turn it off

(sent when a package arrived in the mail at Christmas time)
Mom my Ugg boots came Can I open them?

(sent after I failed to immediately respond to a text message)
See you dont care about my life do you well good nite person hoo does not care :(

Mom will you for once answer your phone

(sent to me after someone didn't like what I served for dinner)
Can i have 5 dollars and go get myself a chicken bowl

Of Mice and Men


We often remind our oldest, that our parenting skills are getting better and better with each child, thanks to all the mistakes we've made parenting him.

Family Councils, as we call them, are how we coordinate our family calendar. A few nights ago, we were discussing schedules for the children. When it became known that S1 was about to receive a privilege to drive himself to a special event, S2 started to grumble about the unfairness of the situation. He quickly stopped himself however, and in a sarcastic tone, unusual for him, he confessed,

"Oh, that's right. I forgot. You are the Golden Child."

S1, who is clear on a regular basis about his many hardships as the oldest child, corrected his little brother,

"You mean I'm the Lab Rat. Right?"