New Year's Resolutions. I'm the queen of making them- usually the queen of breaking them within a week. Those were the resolutions that are BORING: lose weight, get healthier, exercise, be more patient. Ick. Resolutions used to be about following rules.
Last year I made a different kind of resolution: play. This was a good resolution for me. I needed more fun in my life- I was bored, dissatisfied, unhappy. I was quite successful with this resolution. I had a great year. I made new friends, tried new things, played Rock Band on the Wii, took a girl time weekend, went to parties, played games with my kids, reconnected with the spouse, got happy. And being happy and playful spilled over into everything else. I smiled more and laughed often. I began enjoying again the things I used to love. I made scenes with my family (usually in the living room, but not always). I even had a good time working.
I started writing. I took two classes (still contemplating grad school) both of which required writing- even that was fun for me. I started this blog just because I knew you wanted to know my everything little thought. I found other writing outlets. I've wanted to write children's books for most of my adult life and just never took that plunge. I still haven't, but I still might. In any case, I've discovered this is not the only option for me. You never know, I may actually write a book someday. As readers of my blog (suckers), you are entitled to signed first editions.
I rediscovered my family as a source of amusement. They are funny. Hardly a day goes by when something doesn't come up that is wildly hilarious. And I laugh. I don't hide it. I guarantee you that the ability to laugh at one's (self and) family makes the rough times much more bearable. Often, in fact, a rough spot can be patched nicely with a little laughter. This is especially true with my volatile pre-preteen. With a little strategically placed giggle, I can turn her colossal fit of temper into a colossal fit of laughter. You know, of course, that the older spawn and I can guffaw uncontrollably together. They think I'm a bit wacky and perhaps "inappropriate"- Rebecca's word. Wacky is good.
With the rapid approach of 2011, I got to thinking about what I wanted from this new year. I do have some things that need to be improved upon that probably require a little seriousness. But I don't want to ditch my "have fun" state of mind. It's good for us. I need to be a better parent, get spawn #1 on the school bus occasionally, work on the colossal temper of #2, maybe dig through the disaster that is my home. I've decided that play is still top priority, but that maybe playing with my kids more would be the solution. They are always looking for more attention and perhaps getting more of the play variety attention (instead of the nagging that we all hate) will lead to improvements in the serious stuff. Of course, playing with my people is fun!
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Blatant ploy to humiliate spawn
Rebecca made up some interesting words in your youth. She rode a "bitocycle" and played the "pleando". Then there's the common phrase in her young life, "a long time ago yesterday". With a younger sister, she's had many opportunities to teach (sometimes even appropriate stuff). Katie said "handenooger". Rebecca wanted her to say it correctly, so carefully constructed a lesson plan. Say "ham". Say "burger". Say "hamburger." The response? "ham", "burger", "handenooger". She still obsesses about this.
Home improvements in my house will never be televised on network tv. John was working on some project in our house in Maryland, using the colorful language that is required for home improvement work. Little Miss Becky was a quick study. She dropped something while sitting in her car seat and said loudly "Tom Gammit" with the proper tone and heat. This still makes me laugh (mostly because you'd have to know the story to really know what she meant.) When we moved to this house, I spent a lot of summers painting the outside (it used to be rust and green-gag!). One day I'm on the ladder and Becky came storming outside to ask, "Mommy, can I listen to you?" I nearly fell off the ladder laughing. I'd been wondering that for years.
Then there was the day she came home from Kindergarten testing to say she didn't want to be "Becky" anymore, she wanted to be called "Rebecca". Turns out she'd rather write 7 letters than learn to write a "k". Yes, do note that our last name starts with a "K". She never has been one for confronting a challenge. Once we went to Penns Cave (see it by boat) and she couldn't walk down to the cave entrance because she was "afraid from the lion".
It also seems likely that this one is my clone. I used to call my mother complaining about some irritating thing Rebecca had said or done, and my mom would just laugh. I fully anticipate returning the favor when Rebecca has her family. In her young days, we were guaranteed to make an epic scene. There were many times when we were banned or glared out of playgroups and activities. So all the embarrassment I cause her now is total payback.
I could write a book about her sleeping habits. When she was baby, nighttime was not the right time for sleeping. She did not approve. One night I discovered that she found stenciling entertaining. So in the middle of the night, I'd be standing on a ladder in her room painting those cute little balloons around her room. Naptime? Not so much. We would have world war III getting a nap in (for me- I had stuff to do). There were many days when I'd lay down with her at 1pm or so and the rugrat wouldn't actually stop moving long enough to go to sleep until 4pm. No, I didn't decide to give up, but I was certainly wound up by the time she got to sleep. I can't tell you how many times I drove around to put her to sleep. And she liked riding the top of the dryer too. I was one tense first-time mother. She didn't help. She was kind enough to finally sleep through the night when she turned 4- when her sister was born. Thanks. She's still not fond of sleeping- especially on the weekends.
She has had some wacko ideas too. My little drama queen made special friends easily. Whenever we'd have to leave the playground, she would wail "I'll never see her again! She's my best friend!" I'd ask, "What's her name?". She'd yodel back, "I have no idea!" Then there was the preschool love triangle. She was going to marry Lucas K and be a farmer's wife. Never mind that Lucas has terrible allergies, and Rebecca has bad relationships with farm animals. Never mind that Lucas also liked another girl. I'm sure she doesn't remember the weekend that she cried because he liked Rachel better. Somehow their relationship has not passed the test of time. In second grade, I got a phone call from a first grade boy's mother begging me to stop Rebecca from hugging her son. He was getting picked on at the playground. I couldn't look her in the eye when I saw this mom again. I think they left the school. (I may be making that up.) For years, she was going to adopt eighteen Chinese children, and I was going to help take care of them. Now she gives me a look when I remind her of this. Have I mentioned that she used to lick the car tires?
The girl can giggle too. In fact, her dad often quips, "The hyenas called- they want their laugh back." When she and I get rolling, there is no stopping us. Apparently, I'm never going to grow up, and she shows no sign of it either.
Home improvements in my house will never be televised on network tv. John was working on some project in our house in Maryland, using the colorful language that is required for home improvement work. Little Miss Becky was a quick study. She dropped something while sitting in her car seat and said loudly "Tom Gammit" with the proper tone and heat. This still makes me laugh (mostly because you'd have to know the story to really know what she meant.) When we moved to this house, I spent a lot of summers painting the outside (it used to be rust and green-gag!). One day I'm on the ladder and Becky came storming outside to ask, "Mommy, can I listen to you?" I nearly fell off the ladder laughing. I'd been wondering that for years.
Then there was the day she came home from Kindergarten testing to say she didn't want to be "Becky" anymore, she wanted to be called "Rebecca". Turns out she'd rather write 7 letters than learn to write a "k". Yes, do note that our last name starts with a "K". She never has been one for confronting a challenge. Once we went to Penns Cave (see it by boat) and she couldn't walk down to the cave entrance because she was "afraid from the lion".
It also seems likely that this one is my clone. I used to call my mother complaining about some irritating thing Rebecca had said or done, and my mom would just laugh. I fully anticipate returning the favor when Rebecca has her family. In her young days, we were guaranteed to make an epic scene. There were many times when we were banned or glared out of playgroups and activities. So all the embarrassment I cause her now is total payback.
I could write a book about her sleeping habits. When she was baby, nighttime was not the right time for sleeping. She did not approve. One night I discovered that she found stenciling entertaining. So in the middle of the night, I'd be standing on a ladder in her room painting those cute little balloons around her room. Naptime? Not so much. We would have world war III getting a nap in (for me- I had stuff to do). There were many days when I'd lay down with her at 1pm or so and the rugrat wouldn't actually stop moving long enough to go to sleep until 4pm. No, I didn't decide to give up, but I was certainly wound up by the time she got to sleep. I can't tell you how many times I drove around to put her to sleep. And she liked riding the top of the dryer too. I was one tense first-time mother. She didn't help. She was kind enough to finally sleep through the night when she turned 4- when her sister was born. Thanks. She's still not fond of sleeping- especially on the weekends.
She has had some wacko ideas too. My little drama queen made special friends easily. Whenever we'd have to leave the playground, she would wail "I'll never see her again! She's my best friend!" I'd ask, "What's her name?". She'd yodel back, "I have no idea!" Then there was the preschool love triangle. She was going to marry Lucas K and be a farmer's wife. Never mind that Lucas has terrible allergies, and Rebecca has bad relationships with farm animals. Never mind that Lucas also liked another girl. I'm sure she doesn't remember the weekend that she cried because he liked Rachel better. Somehow their relationship has not passed the test of time. In second grade, I got a phone call from a first grade boy's mother begging me to stop Rebecca from hugging her son. He was getting picked on at the playground. I couldn't look her in the eye when I saw this mom again. I think they left the school. (I may be making that up.) For years, she was going to adopt eighteen Chinese children, and I was going to help take care of them. Now she gives me a look when I remind her of this. Have I mentioned that she used to lick the car tires?
The girl can giggle too. In fact, her dad often quips, "The hyenas called- they want their laugh back." When she and I get rolling, there is no stopping us. Apparently, I'm never going to grow up, and she shows no sign of it either.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Katie Alert
Today is the tenth birthday of my number 2 spawn. This child has made my life more interesting since the day she was born. She makes me either laugh or want to rip my hair out every minute that she is awake.
Katie's mispronunciations have always amused me. For dinner tonight, we had her favorite food, which she used to call "bazanya". She used to call breakfast, "brecksticks" and I swear it still has a tinge of this old word when she says it now. She counted "Zeeps" on road trips. Endlessly amusing to me is her habit of calling John's mom and dad, grandpa and grandpa.
As a baby, Katie was either entertained by the big sister or crying. We had a little song we sang, "oh, oh, Katie's crying" (sung to Janie's Crying). Katie was also very fond of piano. When Daddy was doing the ordeal of putting Rebecca to bed (and may I interject here that Rebecca didn't sleep through the night until her sister was born?), I would play the piano. It never put Katie to sleep and probably kept Rebecca awake longer, but it was more entertaining for me that listening to Katie cry.
When Katie was a toddler, we had an early alarm system. Rebecca would say "Katie alert" when Katie was headed for trouble (probably following the older sister.) One day, Katie was headed up the stairs to the deck and announced her own "Katie alert". This was probably seconds before the older sister tied her up in a chain. Yikes! At every one of her well-child visits for the first couple years, the pediatrician warned that the biggest threat to Katie's safety was her sister. No joke.
For her 3rd Christmas, Katie required a hat. She was dancing around the living room- encouraged by her older sister- and crashed headfirst into the coffee table. Emergency room trip number one resulting in stitches in her forehead and a little striped bear that she still cherishes and dresses up. Then for kicks, she cut off her bangs down to her forehead. I wondered at the time how her 7 year old sister didn't notice that 1) there were scissors in the playroom and 2) that Katie had them and was chopping hair. But fine, the hat that matched her dress was cute, the stitches healed, the hair grew.
To say that Katie is rough, would be an understatement. She puts the "tough" in "tough love". A favorite pastime of days gone by is "Climb every Mommy" (reference to Sound of Music). A hug that doesn't involve glasses knocked askew or an elbow to the head, is just sub-standard. A common phrase heard in my house? "And a blow to the head." The child has more elbows than normal and a couple extra knees as well. She has yet to figure out that my feet are ALWAYS found at the end of my legs- either that or she enjoys toes squishing. And those AREN'T handles!! And why hug someone when you can tackle them?
Katie is moodier than a teenager. God help me when she actually is a teenager. I'll be leaving home. One minute I am the best mother on the planet. The next I am lower than dirt. One day, I'm out of my mind for suggesting she could stay up late to watch a movie. The next day (today, in fact), this suggestion is perfectly acceptable. And holy cow, if I don't do the thing she thinks I said I would do- wowza! One day a few weeks ago, she thought I promised to pick her up from school with her drum. I did not. Well, the next day, every person I saw at school had to tell me about the saga of this poor, unfortunate child waiting for me- and the beautiful fit she had.
Katie brings out the grown-up in her mother. Church is probably not her best thing. (Katie is not an asset to the abbey.) So when I'm brave (read stupid) enough to take her, it requires a little distraction. We write notes or exchange pictures. Her dad is not so patient with her, so I usually have to separate them. :) And I almost always sit in the balcony so fewer people can witness. Well, a few weeks ago, Rebecca was singing in choir and I let John pick the spot- so we were at the front of the church. Unfortunately, I was not an asset to the abbey that day and proceeded to write silly stuff to Katie and giggle more than she did. (Rebecca was mortified- all to the good, in my opinion.)
Best thing on earth? A hug from my Katie girl. I may not survive it, but what a way to go.
Katie's mispronunciations have always amused me. For dinner tonight, we had her favorite food, which she used to call "bazanya". She used to call breakfast, "brecksticks" and I swear it still has a tinge of this old word when she says it now. She counted "Zeeps" on road trips. Endlessly amusing to me is her habit of calling John's mom and dad, grandpa and grandpa.
As a baby, Katie was either entertained by the big sister or crying. We had a little song we sang, "oh, oh, Katie's crying" (sung to Janie's Crying). Katie was also very fond of piano. When Daddy was doing the ordeal of putting Rebecca to bed (and may I interject here that Rebecca didn't sleep through the night until her sister was born?), I would play the piano. It never put Katie to sleep and probably kept Rebecca awake longer, but it was more entertaining for me that listening to Katie cry.
When Katie was a toddler, we had an early alarm system. Rebecca would say "Katie alert" when Katie was headed for trouble (probably following the older sister.) One day, Katie was headed up the stairs to the deck and announced her own "Katie alert". This was probably seconds before the older sister tied her up in a chain. Yikes! At every one of her well-child visits for the first couple years, the pediatrician warned that the biggest threat to Katie's safety was her sister. No joke.
For her 3rd Christmas, Katie required a hat. She was dancing around the living room- encouraged by her older sister- and crashed headfirst into the coffee table. Emergency room trip number one resulting in stitches in her forehead and a little striped bear that she still cherishes and dresses up. Then for kicks, she cut off her bangs down to her forehead. I wondered at the time how her 7 year old sister didn't notice that 1) there were scissors in the playroom and 2) that Katie had them and was chopping hair. But fine, the hat that matched her dress was cute, the stitches healed, the hair grew.
To say that Katie is rough, would be an understatement. She puts the "tough" in "tough love". A favorite pastime of days gone by is "Climb every Mommy" (reference to Sound of Music). A hug that doesn't involve glasses knocked askew or an elbow to the head, is just sub-standard. A common phrase heard in my house? "And a blow to the head." The child has more elbows than normal and a couple extra knees as well. She has yet to figure out that my feet are ALWAYS found at the end of my legs- either that or she enjoys toes squishing. And those AREN'T handles!! And why hug someone when you can tackle them?
Katie is moodier than a teenager. God help me when she actually is a teenager. I'll be leaving home. One minute I am the best mother on the planet. The next I am lower than dirt. One day, I'm out of my mind for suggesting she could stay up late to watch a movie. The next day (today, in fact), this suggestion is perfectly acceptable. And holy cow, if I don't do the thing she thinks I said I would do- wowza! One day a few weeks ago, she thought I promised to pick her up from school with her drum. I did not. Well, the next day, every person I saw at school had to tell me about the saga of this poor, unfortunate child waiting for me- and the beautiful fit she had.
Katie brings out the grown-up in her mother. Church is probably not her best thing. (Katie is not an asset to the abbey.) So when I'm brave (read stupid) enough to take her, it requires a little distraction. We write notes or exchange pictures. Her dad is not so patient with her, so I usually have to separate them. :) And I almost always sit in the balcony so fewer people can witness. Well, a few weeks ago, Rebecca was singing in choir and I let John pick the spot- so we were at the front of the church. Unfortunately, I was not an asset to the abbey that day and proceeded to write silly stuff to Katie and giggle more than she did. (Rebecca was mortified- all to the good, in my opinion.)
Best thing on earth? A hug from my Katie girl. I may not survive it, but what a way to go.
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