@#$*(!&* fish

After reading a couple of books with my seven year old son at bedtime, he turned to me and said, "Mom, I can't BELIEVE they let us watch inappropriate videos at school"!

 "Really"?

He continued, "We were watching one of those 'Berenstain Bears' videos about pollution and recycling and there was a fish that totally said an inappropriate word".

"What did he say"?

"He said, 'How am I supposed to swim with all this goddamned trash in my way!' "

Bowling night

Wii time is usually monopolized by my seven year old.  He is all about getting to a certain world on Mario, ascending a certain level on Batman, or beating his record score on Scooby Doo.  We were excited to finally take advantage of the rainy weather to play a family Wii game, and we decided on bowling.  

To be fair, we decided to forgo (btw I cannot use this word without thinking of ‘The Bachelor’) individual play for teams.  My husband and I are about the same skill level, and we knew we could carry-or at least even out-the kids scores.  We remind them about good sportsmanship, and tell them that it’s ok if they don’t get a great score every time, that there will be 10 frames, and that each one is like getting a do-over.  We explain that not everyone can be a winner, but the important thing is to have fun.  The kids each give us their token nods of acknowledgement, and we get ready to begin. 

My 4 year old immediately starts crying once she realizes she is my partner, throwing herself to the ground, saying, “Oh NO!  Not MOM! Now I’ll never win”!  I eventually convince her that I am a bowling champion and she’s back on her feet, doing a pre-victory dance: “Oh yeah, Oh yeah, uh-huh, uh-huh-- we are gonna wi-i-i-i-n”.  

My son isn’t buying it:  “Mom stinks.  Dad is the best”.  

The game is on, and it’s my turn first.  My son runs interference, chanting, “BOOOO, mom!  Lose mom! Don’t get a strike mom, don’t get a strike, don’t get a strike...”  I concentrate and go into strategy mode.  I use all the virtual tools at my disposal.  I zoom in to check position.  I click the turn mode to optimal direction. I narrow my eyes and focus on the virtual arrows, aiming just between the center arrow and the arrow to the right of it- and I end up hitting a few pins right down the middle, leaving pins on both sides.  I turn around to see my daughter crossing her arms and smirking at me. 

I hand her the controller and encourage her to get the spare (even though it’s next to impossible).  I cheer, “C’mon , you can do it”!  She tells us all confidently, “Watch....and learn, my friends”.  

She turns toward the game, starts a bizarre sideways approach with her hip jutted out to the side.  With a crooked, drunken stance and an even more crooked elbow, she takes a few steps and whips the controller all crazy-like, with no apparent regard for a specific destination, managing to hit both the couch and the table before her release-- and ends up getting the split, and the spare.  She gives me the ‘that’s how it’s done’ look and proudly reclaims her spot on the couch. 

Now it’s my husband’s turn- my son screams, “Yeah dad!  GO Dad”!!

My daughter joins in, “Go DAD!!! Get a STRIKE, DAD”!!  

I remind my daughter that she is on my team, and she lowers her voice and explains with a concerned tone, “Mom.... I do love you, but I can’t just love you all the time.  I love dad, too.  Dad is fun.  Sometimes you are boring. But some days you are fun.  Some days I love you the best-but today-I just have to love dad better”.

My husband takes his turn, and, like me, tries to use the advantage of technology to optimize his chances.  His ball ends up spinning sharply to the right and he hits 2 pins.  My daughter quickly changes her tune. Clinching her fist and thrusting her elbow toward the floor, she yells,  “YESSSS!  Mom is THE BEST”!  My son takes his turn and effortlessly gets the spare. 

The rest of the game continues like this, with the kids having to clean up the pins after their parents’ pathetic first attempts.  At one point my son says, “Dad, you are terrible.  Just give me the remote and I’ll get us the strikes”.  My daughter gets bored and eventually takes her turn by half-heartedly giving the remote a little push while simultaneously working on a princess drawing (and clears almost all of the pins).

My son eventually checks out of the game as well.  He starts to build a tunnel using a gymnastics mat and pillows, and decides he can just take his turn from there.  From across the room, he haphazardly sticks his hand holding the controller up out of the pillows, gives it a random flip, and ends up with a strike.  “BOO-yah!  In your FACE”, he yells, at no one in particular--from underneath the tunnel.

On my final turn, I decide to change up my game, putting the kids’ proven “technique” into practice.  Without glancing at the screen, I quickly and randomly give the controller a quick flip--and end up with a gutter ball.  

My son yells out from his newly built Lego town in the hallway, “MOM! Come ON!  Are you even taking this seriously” ?!

Sometimes it’s not what you say, but...

As I was getting my daughter ready for Easter service, she was marveling over everything: “mom, look-- the Easter Bunny brought us this-- and this-- and this”!  She started floating around the room in her dress, pretending she was a princess, when she caught sight of her brother coming down the stairs, dressed in his Easter Sunday best.  She gazed up at him admiringly and exclaimed, “Oh, wow.  You look....so....disgusting”!

Crustaceans and such

My 4 year old has had a stuffed up nose for a few days.
 
Rubbing her nose and examining it in the mirror, she says, "Mom, I'm serious.  I think there's something in there".  Her eyes widen and she continues, "Like, maybe a crab-- or a squirrel".

The Omnipotent one

My 6 year old was not too happy about the cold weather this morning.  On the way to the bus stop, he was sharing his disappointment with my daughter.

J: "It's FREEZING!  God can be such a JERK sometimes!  He's ruining all the plants"!
L: "uh-oh, you better not say that.  Santa might hear you"!
J: "I wasn't talking about Santa".
L: "Well, Santa cares about everyone--even God".

“Conversation” with a 4 year old

(a.k.a.  Inspiration for Dr. Seuss, a.k.a.  A little glimpse into hell) 

At snack time, I ask my 4 year old,  “Would you like some carrots”?

She answers:  “Mom, I like my carrots with hummus.  Did you hear me mom, all I like is carrots and hummus.  I don’t like plain carrots.  Like, if people ask me, ‘what do you like?’, I will say, ‘I like carrots and hummus’.  That’s why I don’t just like carrots.  I like them with hummus.  If people say, ‘do you want some carrots’?  I’ll say, ‘no. I want carrots and hummus’.  I will never, ever, ever have plain carrots.  I like them with hummus.  I do not like to eat carrots by themselves, just carrots with hummus on them.  My friend likes to eat carrots with ranch dressing on them.  But I like them with hummus.  If I ever had to eat carrots by themselves, I might try it.  But I really don’t like it when I have it regular like that.  I like it with hummus.  If we were out of hummus, that would be really bad, because I like hummus.  We would have to go to the store to buy some more hummus, because that’s why I could not eat my carrots plain.  If you were not here, I would have to ask dad to get me some hummus.  I really like hummus.  With carrots.  Mmmmm.  These are good........  Mom, did you know I really like carrots and hummus?................Mom?"

Deep breath in, aaaand deep breath out.  The beach. The sand.  The ocean waves.  Singing of birds. Wind blowing softly through the trees.  Chocolate.  Wine.  Massage.  A great read.  Candles.  Rose petals.  Javier Bardem.  Champagne.  Strawberries.  Picnic.  Carrots and hummus.

"Yes, sweetie. Mommy knows."

Send the baby

My daughter loves to invent new games.  One that she loves to play is called ‘Send the baby’.  Although the way she pronounces it is “Spin the Baby”, which for me conjures up images of preschool kids sitting around a circle, taking turns spinning a baby doll.....but thankfully, she clarified, and it’s definitely ‘Send the Baby’.  Here’s how to play: 

My daughter will ring the pretend doorbell from the hallway. She’ll shout, “DING-DONG”!  I’ll come to the pretend door and pretend to open it.  There’s no one there.  I’ll look to the right- nothing.  I’ll look to the left- nothing.  I’ll shrug my shoulders and pretend slam the door.  My daughter will ring the doorbell a second time.  

“Well what now...”?  I’ll say, as I approach the pretend doorway.  She’ll run off and hide, giggling as I look again to see no one is there.  I’ll shake my fist and say something like, “Those darn TEENAGERS”!  and she’ll laugh harder.   Then I’ll pretend slam the door again.  

“DING-DONG”....she’ll yell again, and this time when I open the door I’ll look down at the ground where she has left her doll.  I’ll feign surprise and say, “Oh MY!  Somebody left me a BABY!  What is this baby doing on my doorstep?  Poor baby!  Is there no one here to take care of the baby”?   My daughter will sit in her hiding spot, covering her mouth to stifle her giggles.  

I’ll cuddle the baby and bring it “inside”, wrap a blanket around her, and tell her that everything will be okay. This is usually my daughter’s cue to ring the pretend doorbell again.  I’ll answer the pretend door and she'll explain that she is the one who left the baby, because she found the baby all alone, and that the baby didn’t have parents to care for it (I'll spare you the psychoanalysis on this one).  I’ll invite my daughter “in” for a snack, and once she’s comfortable that she’s given her baby-friend a good home,  she’ll say goodbye to us and go back to “her house”.  

Once while playing the game, I brought the baby in as usual.  I was giving the baby cuddles, and telling the baby how much I would love her as I was wrapping her in a blanket.  My daughter hadn’t rung the doorbell yet, so I kept talking to the baby, saying how much fun we would have together.  I told the baby about all the fun things we would do, the places we would go-- to the park, to grandma and grandpa’s house, to the fair; and I mentioned that maybe we could go to Disney World sometime.  As I talked to the baby about the Disney princesses, the Dumbo ride, and the breakfasts with Minnie Mouse and Mickey Mouse, I could hear my daughter upstairs.  I thought maybe she forgot about the game, so I left the baby on the couch, and started to straighten up in the living room.  I was putting the books back on the shelf when I heard the “DING-DONG”!  

My daughter was back.  I opened the pretend door to find her sitting on the floor, suitcase in hand.

She looks up at me and says, “Hi.  My parents are both dead.  Can you take care of me”?

Fashion

Lia:  "Mom, those flip-flops do NOT look good".

Me:  "Well,  I am wearing them because they are comfortable".

Lia:  "Well..... I guess I will just look away when you walk by".

Imaginary Friends

My little girl (4) has had a number of imaginary friends over the past couple of years.  Annie, Seiki, Minneo, Chuckie, Dang, and some others that I wish I wrote down earlier but forgot.   She used to bring up her friends on a daily basis, but now they have started to be mentioned less and less, so I thought I would dedicate a page or so to them before they are completely gone. 

Annie and Seiki have hung around for awhile now and my daughter brings them up often.  While at gymnastics, she fell off the balance beam and quickly turned around and screamed a barrage of insults at Annie, who had obviously pushed her.   

Another time I found her in her dad’s office crying, holding her hand, and screaming at Annie again.  I asked what happened, and she explained that Annie had convinced her to touch the lightbulb, making her burn her hand.  She still isn’t over that one.  

The other day my daughter started setting the table with her princess dishes and pretend cupcakes, getting ready for a birthday party.  She was slamming each plastic dish on the table with an exasperated sigh.   Scowling, she told me,  “I’m coming to Annie’s birthday party today, but she is definitely NOT my friend”.

I asked her some questions about her friends (and tried to type as fast as she was talking):

Annie is 6.   Her sister is Seiki (who Lia said “Seeks up on people”, but I have taken some liberties with her name spelling).  They have a brother named Charlie.   Their family lives in Oak Park,  but sometimes they live with us.  Annie has freckles, blond hair and red lips.  She likes to wear a shirt with Hawaii on it and pants with flowers and bunnies.  Annie is nice now, but she used to be mean.   Seiki looks like Lia, but with grey eyes and super duper red lips, she likes to wear a shirt with the flag of Palestine (thank you Montessori) on it,  and jeans with flowers and kitty-cats on them.  Charlie has short blonde hair, blue eyes, and he loves to wear dinosaur shirts with dinosaur-polkadot blue jeans.

Chuckie and Dang are friends, they are not nice,  they are mean.  They are 8 years old.  They are like teenagers.  Dang dangs people on the head.   Chuckie punches people and kicks them in the face, and pokes their eyes and “waps them around”.   I’m very familiar with the torture methods of Chuckie and Dang,  I remember her telling me a year ago:  “They waps you awound with a wope--and then I tell them, wou get out of here wou wittle cweeps”!!

I had started to notice a pattern with a few of her friends.  Seiki “seeks up on people”.  Dang “Dangs people on the head”.  So when I asked her about her new friend, ‘Minneo’, I said,  “What does Minneo do”?  She rolled her eyes as if to say “DUH” and then--
“She plays soccer”.

-End of Interview-

Tiramisu for breakfast

Ok, just a rant about all the buzz about fat after 40.  It’s either:  too many carbs, too little carbs, gluten allergies, thyroid disorders, metabolism issues...... and believe me, I have entertained every one of these possibilities when considering my own battles with weight gain.

Not to minimize anyone else’s legitimate issues or struggles, but personally I am aware that the reason I need to wear Spanx just to get my pants buttoned--is because I ate with complete abandon between Halloween and New Years (ok Valentine’s Day).

In a desperate attempt to reverse the disastrous effects of my eating, I, like many others jumping on the ‘New Year, New You’ train, decided to start my plan with a jolt to the system- the 7 day cabbage soup diet.  Here’s what it looked like for me:

Day one: Fruit and cabbage soup. 

Day two: Veggies and cabbage soup. 

Day three:  Fruit, veggies and cabbage soup. 

Day four:  Bananas and cabbage soup. 

Day five:  Entire loaf of banana bread, with half of a container of butter......followed by consumption of two (half) containers of frosting.  No cabbage soup.  and you don’t even want to know about days 6 and 7.

I lost 5 pounds! 

But no more cleanse or fad diets for me...... I did buy several boxes of Kashi cereal and dusted off my treadmill.  I am watching the carbs, since I am convinced that is an issue for me.  Maybe I should get my thyroid checked?

3.....2......1

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