Mutterings, Musings, and Mink Momes

Have you ever had one of those days where you decide you are going to give up blogging for a day (Blog-fast), and really knuckle down in you house work? Then realize about 15 minutes later that your toddler has other plans for the day? Brace yourself, it's a doozey of a post so have yourself a bathroom break, grab a drink and settle in.

Yesterday, my day started off pretty good. Anna's school was delayed 2 hours for snow and ice, and for once we were able to have a relaxed morning. Well, except for the fact that she insisted on letting me know every few minutes that a) she should be in school right then ; b)she really wished she was in school right then ; c)she hoped it wasn't too much longer before she could go to school.


I actually managed to get some laundry in yesterday morning, which is highly irregular. It is sad to say that I actually wanted to put some laundry in, and felt a great deal of satisfaction as I set aside 2 baskets of folded miniature socks and shirts for the ankle biters.

Emma and Anna even helped, and I spared Emma future embarrassment as I struggled to decide what was more important- snapping that picture of her with Anna's underwear on her head and having an illustrated short story with tremendous entertainment value, and even possibly a bribe/first date fodder for her teen years- or being able to sleep at night. Seen as I often have trouble sleeping anyway, that was a tough one. I decided that Emma would present to us many more situations that could provide entertainment for the future, so I graciously let this one go.

After John took Anna to school, the day went on a steady downward spiral. Emma- possibly disappointed that her plans for screeching and sparring with her sister had been delayed- became upset and clingy. My Blog-fast was all for naught, and I spent most of the day sitting on the couch with an alternately grumpy and clingy ankle biter.

I was determined to watch something we both could enjoy, but again she had other plans. I popped Dreamer into the DVD player, and next 1 1/2 hour went a little like this.

"Booze Coos day a-day, momma?"



"No, Blue's Clues isn't on right now. Look at the Horsey, honey... isn't she pretty?"

"Ummhmm, Booze Coos?"

Omitting the fact that we have several Blue's Clues tapes and DVDs, and reveling in the fact that she wont be able to reach the DVD player for another 5 years, I said, "No Blue's Clues, babes. Horsey."

A whole 2.5 minutes later..."Booze Coos a-day? I wan Booze Coos." If nothing else, I have taught my children persistence, and I am hoping that later in life each of them with be CEO's on the Fortune 500 , and the very least lawyers.

This is pretty much how it went the length of the movie, but we took a small intermission to argue over lunch.

After the movie finished, and she had her first nap, I rewarded Emma's persistence and state of quasi contentment with... you guessed it- Booze Coos.

Fast forward... laundry, laundry, Emma's up, snack, laundry... dishes...Anna comes home from school... Emma has her second nap... Mommy succumbs to a nap on the couch while Anna plays and watches the Disney Channel... start making chicken enchiladas, Daddy's home... eat, burp relax... watch John tense and twitch, trying not to kill his children because both of them are behaving like perfect beasts... all while I watch from the safety of the dining room while talking to my bro in Maryland... remembering as a kid how I hated it when my mother shared my childhood blunders with who ever she was on the phone with- but continued to laugh with my brother about how exasperating kids can be when they tell you you are ugly...

Ahhhh, finally, it's bed time for the yard apes. It's my turn to put Emma to bed. By the way, did I forget to mention that Emma new favorite word is HUH?

To shorten this already painfully long post, please insert Emma's new favorite word at the end of every one of my sentences. Every 3rd HUH, tack on an "Oday, momma" (OK, momma) and/or "I wan hug" . Start.... Now.

Lay down. Lay down. LAY DOWN. OK, one book then it's night-night time. One BOOK. ONE BOOK! No picking nose. No pick. NO PICK. OK, night-night, I love you. I LOVE you. I LOVE YOU, now LAY DOWN!

Next Emma started with the "whats dat's". I answered about 4, and then pretended to fall in to a sudden and deep sleep. She didn't fall for it though, and continued the "whats dat's" while poking various parts of my face. I figured she would eventually become tired of poking me in the eye, then laughing maniacally in my ear after I flinched... but I realize now that the flinching was her big pay-off.

Next Emma reminisced by chanting the Blue's Clues theme, "Booze Coos day, adayyyyyy. Anon Booze Coos day! Booze Coos day, adayyyyyy..." until I noted the time (10 pm) and said that was enough, it's time to go to sleep. HUH's ensue.

I roll over and pass out from exhaustion despite my earlier nap... and wake because my sweet, dear daughter is making sport of tormenting her momma once more with one of her favorite bed time games since the tender age of a year, "tickle momma's lips with a single forefinger, and watch her bat the tickle away." She has become so good at this game that she no longer needs to watch for proper finger placement, or watch to enjoy it. She has had 10 months of practice, she's a pro.

I tell her to knock it off.

"I wan mink mome, momma."

"Your pink comb is downstairs, you can get it tomorrow."

"Whu mink mome, momma?"

"Downstairs."

"Huh?"

"Down-"

"Whu mink mome, mink mome, mink mome. I wan mink mome." Pause...

"It's-"

"Mink mome, mink mome, mink mome, mink mome, mink mome, mink mome..." Pause...

"Emma, you can get-"

"Mink mome, mink mome, mink mome, mink mome, mink mome, Iiiiiiiii wan mink mooooooooommmmmmme..." She turns to face me, an inch separating our noses.

"Mink mome."

Lying stiff as a board, eyes clenched shut, I let out a loud exasperated sigh.

"Oday, momma." She rolls over and falls asleep, at precisely 10:52 pm. I am regretting the second nap, (and the fact that I decided against the "underwear on the head picture", because she earned it. By earned it, I mean future humiliation for her, giggles and elbow nudges for me and John.) and make a mental note to never- ever let her have a nap at 4 pm again, no matter how badly she needs one. Especially not on my day to put her to bed.

On the bright side, now I have a new favorite word. Actually two.

Thirsday Thirteen #15

Thirteen Famous Quotes About Age I thought since everyone seemed to like the famous last words I did last time, I would post these. My MIL just had her 60th Birthday last September, and these are just a few of the quotes I had posted at her surprise party. 1.Age does not diminish the extreme disappointment of having a scoop of ice cream fall from the cone. ~Jim Fiebig 2.Wrinkles should merely indicate where smiles have been. ~Mark Twain 3.Old age isn't so bad when you consider the alternative. ~Maurice Chevalier, 4.Middle age is when your age starts to show around your middle. ~Bob Hope 5.Old age is fifteen years older than I am. ~Oliver Wendell Holmes 6.Life is a moderately good play with a badly written third act. ~Truman Capote 7.Old age ain't no place for sissies. ~Bette Davis 8.I don't know how you feel about old age... but in my case I didn't even see it coming. It hit me from the rear. ~Phyllis Diller 9.True terror is to wake up one morning and discover that your high school class is running the country. ~Kurt Vonnegut 10.You know you're getting old when you stoop to tie your shoelaces and wonder what else you could do while you're down there.~George Burns 11.You've heard of the three ages of man - youth, age, and "you are looking wonderful." ~ Francis Cardinal Spellman 12.At my age flowers scare me.~George Burns 13.Age is an issue of mind over matter. If you don't mind, it doesn't matter. ~Mark Twain




What do you get for the girl that has almost everything...

Except tact? Though John and I aren't the perfect parents we'd hoped we'd be, we pride ourselves on having a very well rounded, generally good hearted, and polite (mostly to people she is trying to impress, such as teachers) 5 yr old daughter. We have also taught her that there is nothing more important than honesty, except for chocolate.

Last year at her preschool graduation, Anna was awarded Most Polite, and I couldn't have been more proud.

Being precocious, and also being the daughter of Sarcasm Girl, not much of what comes out of her mouth surprises me. She is a product of her environment.

Last night, we went out to our favorite Italian Restaurant. I dressed appropriately (meaning: clean, not completely wrinkled, and able to withstand bombing- from what misses my mouth- in the boob zone), and donned an adequate amount of make up. Anna is always appreciative of my efforts in the "attempted at primping" department, and likes to tell me how beautiful I am once my war paint is on.

On the return home, Anna piped up from the comfort (and safety) of the back seat.

“Mommy, you look pretty with make up on… but you look ugly without it. I wasn’t going to tell you because I didn’t want to hurt your feelings...”

Taking a few moments to hold my breath while laughing so hard it was without sound, naturally after snapping my head back in shock, I finally let out a strangled gasp. This was a sign for my poor husband (who I could tell was trying so hard to contain himself that he sat so rigid and still) to release the ocean of laughter. John told Anna that there is a way to -and not to- say things to people. He gave her an example: Mom, you look really pretty with your make up on. OR I really like how pretty you look with make up.

Later, when we were getting the girls ready for bed, I said to Anna, "So... you think I'm ugly, huh?"

And she said, "Well, you're not as ugly when you have make up on." Then she gave an uncertain smile , as if to say, "I did better, right?"

* I'll take "It sounded like a good idea at the time" for 200.00, Alex*

I quickly changed the subject.

I am thinking she may have missed the point.

So as her 6th birthday looms before me, and I am once again daunted by the thought of entertaining the somewhat appreciative (free pizza or enchiladas), certainly bored and slightly humiliated masses... I wonder to myself what party theme to go with, how many people to invite, how to distract her from wanting a party for her whole kindergarten class, where to have it and what food to serve. You folks that don't have ankle biters are so lucky in this department, you don't even know.

I am also thinking that resolving not to make a resolution was not the best idea. I think I need to take better care of myself. There was a time when I wouldn't dream of leaving the house in sweats and without make up. I remember the days when "getting ready" meant spending almost an hour on hair and make up, and clothing prep. I think back on those days with mixed feelings of remorse and relief. All kidding aside, my daughters comments are a wake up call. Maybe if I spent half as much time blogging and did something more with myself...

*sigh* Well, at least I will have an excuse to put make up on and fix my hair. I will be finding a job as soon as my right leg wounds close up. But for now, putting make up on every day just seems silly. I guess I have mixed mixed feelings about my current state, too.

Never mind that for now. Anna's birthday is the end of February. I need to focus on all the birthday stuff, including finding the perfect gift. Do they sell Strawberry Scented Tact in a Bag? I am going to do an Amazon.com search for a book on the art of subtlety. Maybe I can buy an Easy Button from Staples to find her Edit Button.

"Hooked on Diplomacy worked for me!" :O)

This year, as every year, I resolve...

To not make any resolutions. There , I said it. I mean really- why set myself up for failure? You are probably wondering why I have such a pessimistic point of view. I prefer to think of it as being realistic. I know, I know... isn't changing my thoughts, behaviors and beliefs the point of this blog?

I would rather set goals for myself (in the privacy of my own brain), than lay it all out there and probably embarrass myself when my grand schemes disintegrate, possibly even explode in my face- just as the bell tolls for the next New Year. I might even write it down on paper, setting a goal date, and at the very most share my ambitions with the Male Income Support Unit, but that's a stretch.

Now that we have that out of the way, New Year's day was nothing out of the ordinary for my family. We had 2 sick, cranky and just plain mean kids on our hands, making us sarcastic and unusually jaded about parenthood.

That being said, I about to admit something potentially humiliating. Please don't take *anything you are about to read out of context. As I said, my children were in particularly vicious moods yesterday, causing the sarcasm in us to bubble forth- mostly for sanity's sake.

Case in point: Emma and Anna had already started off the day with shouting, tug of wars, scratching, hissing and screeching- which continued through lunch (which were followed by parental shouting, threats, and jaw clenching):

Anna: Give me my dirty tissue back! NOW!

Emma: NO! Miiiiiiine! *as she runs away*

Anna: Now, Emma!

Emma: No! I need dat!

Now, replace dirty tissue with: barf bowl, bracelet, toy kitty, pillow, blanket, spot on couch, drink, sanity... You get the picture. In between scratching and hissing, there came periodic pleas/demands from the other side of the safety gate, while John worked on his computer and I worked on Anna's "Princess Chores" Chart (which later I realized is ironic because princesses don't have chores, but I will keep that tidbit to myself).

1.Anna:
a.Owwwwww-ow-ow, my nose hurts.
b.I can't stop coughing. (shortly after refusing cough medicine)
c.I'm cold. Can you turn up the heat? (but refuses to go put sweats or robe on)
d.I will only eat lunch if you let me wrap a blanket around myself while I sit at the table. (followed by our refusals, and threats to eat her lunch)
e.*sitting at the table, sans sweats, robe and blanket* I will only eat if you let me use a blanket!

2.Emma:
a.I wan mulk (milk), now.
b.I wan hnack (snack), now.
c.I wan momma, now. I wan dada, now.


Now I will give you our responses *read as sarcastic mutterings under our breath, causing each other to giggle like 6 year olds*

1.
a. Maybe if you wold actually blow it instead of dabbing at it every 2 seconds, it wouldn't hurt.
b. Too bad for you.
c. Put some clothes on! *mutter* ya freak.
d. Mmm, these chicken nuggets taste good.
e. Not gonna happen

As a bonus, here is Emma's response to e:
Eat!*pointing at Anna's plate*
While John chides Emma, he tells her, "Emma, no, no. That's my job, and mommy's job."
To which Emma says, "An ME!"
Meanwhile mommy makes no effort to disguise that fact that she is laughing so hard she is about to fall off the chair.

2.
a.Say please.*mutter* ya freak.
b.smack?
c.*John mumbles as he makes his way to the kitchen* I want you to kiss my butt.

Emma's response to 2c (which by the way is surprising since John said it so low, I barely heard it):
No butt *kissing noise*. No butt diss.

Again, my response was to collapse into a shuddering, gasping heap on the floor.

I think John and I are both perfect candidates for Christian Parent's of the Year.

All in all, a promising glimpse of what the new year will bring. :O)


*No children were harmed in the making of this post, and no permanent or long term emotional scarring is evident at this time.