Daddy get your gun
It’s long been an understanding between my husband and his heterosexual life partner, Jake, that whenever the first one’s first daughter started dating, the other would show up at the house with whatever intimidating weapon was handy and “talk some sense” into the young suitor. Nevermind that we live 3 1/2 hours apart. Nevermind that our daughters are 4 1/2 and 2 1/2. These guys are prepared, is what I’m saying. And to be honest, the sight of tall, bearded, angry Brian standing in soldarity with tall, angry, bearded Jake would be enough to make most teenage boys think twice about asking a girl out.
Well, it looks like Jake’s gonna need to grab his weapon of choice and come on down here sooner than anticipated because Abby announced at dinner last night that she has a boyfriend.
His name is Josh and he’s in her class. Further interrogation parental questioning reveals that he is “brown. Light brown like me.” He is 3 years old. No, he’s 4. Maybe 4 1/2. He knows he is Abby’s boyfriend and she is his girlfriend. This has been established by the fact that he tried to give her a flower, begged her to take it, and she responded with “What is this? We are NOT in a ceremony!” My daughter’s beloved is shorter than she is (and if I’m picturing the right kid, he’s truly only about half her height.)
Asked about what they do together, Abby reported that she sits next to him at lunch. At this point in the narrative, I had to grab a piece of paper so I didn’t miss any details. Abby continued to tell me more and more about her intended, including the fact they’re getting married today, was I planning to attend? I pointed out that I didn’t have a dress and Brian noted that Abby doesn’t have one either. After they get married, they’re going to have babies. Write that down, Mommy.
After that, I didn’t write much else down because I was laughing too hard at poor Brian who had begun drinking heavily enough to make it all just go away. Somehow, he wasn’t expecting to have to deal with puppy love in preschool. Luckily, 3 glasses of Riesling later, he was feeling much more mellow about the whole thing. Still, Jake better just come move in until Abby goes to college. It would be much safer for the local boy population. Not to mention his best friend, who could use the distraction for the next 14 years or so.
How very Victorian
Last night, my child went to bed without supper. Doesn’t that sound like something out of a Victorian play? “Agatha, you have misbehaved most egregiously. Go to bed without supper!”
It wasn’t really like that. I didn’t have a British accent, for one thing. And we did feed the kid (crackers and a banana – in bed) so she wouldn’t starve. Also so she wouldn’t wake us up at 4:00 in the morning because she was hungry. But it wasn’t exactly a planned-out event either.
Abby has a bad habit of punishing herself when she gets mad. Can’t watch that one particular show she wants to see? “Fine, I am NOT watching ANY MORE TV today. AT ALL!!” Mommy won’t slice your apple the way you want? “I’m not going to eat ANYTHING!!”
She does it all the time, and there’s no reasoning or argument that we’ve found to dissuade her from doing it. I’m very careful to make sure that punishments (when they’re deserved) are immediate and reasonable. I don’t like to give out “never” punishments – you’re never going to get ice cream again! – because they’re not realistic. And Abby punishes herself more harshly than I do in general. She does it when she’s mad, when we’re mad, when she thinks we’re mad, or when she thinks we think she’s mad. In other words, all the damn time. And last night I’d had enough.
In the car, we were discussing that Abby needed to practice piano before dinner, not after dinner. She didn’t want to practice piano before dinner and she only wanted to practice 2 songs. When it was explained that she needed to practice before dinner so she’d have time after dinner to play and relax, she threw a fit. “I JUST WANNA GO TO BED!!!”
“OK, Abby. If you feel that way, you’ll go right to bed when we get home. No dinner. No TV. No piano.”
So we marched into the house and up the stairs. She brushed her teeth and got into her pajamas. She picked out books to read and clothes for the morning. And then she went to bed at 6:30 p.m.
“Mommy, I feel like I’m in trouble.”
I explained that she wasn’t in trouble; I wasn’t mad (anymore.) But that she needed to live with the consequences of her words. She said she wanted to go to bed, so I put her to bed. Hopefully, she would dislike the experience enough to start thinking about her words and their consequences.
Around 7:00, Brian brought up the aforementioned plate of crackers, cheese and bananas. By 7:20, she was passed out.
I know we’re dealing with several issues here at once. New school, new routines, less sleep (she tells us she doesn’t nap at school). And I forget sometimes that Abby is only 4 1/2 years old. Obviously, she needed that sleep last night, because she was a whole new kid this morning. And tonight we’re going to try going back to the old train station (and maybe even stop at Starbucks) to see if bringing back a little of her old routine helps.
And if it doesn’t? If these screaming, horrifying, dear-God-who-is-murdering-that-child??? fits don’t stop? I’ll be the one taking to my bed with a box of bon bons. How Victorian of me.
Hello, my name is Chad… **UPDATED**
I think that dropping my daughter off on the campus where I went to high school is causing a ginormous case of the nostalgias. Compound that with a birthday coming up next week, a request from my class correspondent to share a favorite college memory, and a family Cosby-Show-a-Thon, and yeah. I’m pretty much livin’ in the past these days.
Last week there was this funny Facebook thing where you ask people to comment on your status in only 4 words what they would say if you both woke up and there was only enough coffee in the house for one person. I got a lot of responses, but my dear friend Meg answered with “Hello, my name is Chad…” This confused many people, but it made me fall off my chair in delight, confusion and horror. I’ll try to explain why.
Once upon a time, waaaaay back in college, Meg and I were completely sober. This is an important detail, and not just because my mother-in-law reads this blog (Hi, Judy!). We had ingested nothing at all which would alter our perceptions of reality. We were just up very, very late. I honestly can’t recall whether we were studying, writing papers or just shooting the shit, but it was 4:00 in the morning and we, along with a few other friends, were still very much awake in the 4th floor lounge of Holmes Hall.
It being 4:00 in the morning, we made the decision that the very smartest thing to do would be to go across town and wander through Walmart for a while. Like you do. I can’t remember how we got to Walmart, but we may have walked. According to Google Maps my clear memory, this walk takes about an hour. Each way.
We got to Walmart and wandered around the grocery section for a while, picking up some frozen burritos (one of which may or may not still be in my freezer to this day), some sodas, and a variety of other junky college foods. And then, we were called, by some otherworldly presence, over to the toy section. We got yelled at for playing with the hula hoops and trying to shoot Nerf guns which were still in their packages.
And then we saw it. The display of dolls so horrifying that we were compelled to spend money we didn’t even have to purchase one, just so that some unsuspecting and legally blind grandmother didn’t buy one of these dolls and give it to a poor innocent child, thereby scarring them for life. Truly, these dolls were terrifying and in our act of charity, we decided to buy the scariest looking one, just to make sure that it was taken out of circulation.
The dolls were called Gloobee Dolls and they were touted as bearing “Real Life Expressions!” I’ll let you judge for yourself what real-life expressions. Behold this picture I found on the internet:
Now I ask you, what real-life expressions are those dolls trying to convey? Other than “My diaper is full!!” or “Holy shit, there’s a TRUCK COMING FOR ME!!!”
Obviously, we had to buy a doll. For the children. We bought one that looks like this, only with blond hair washing him out and making him even scarier.
We decided that his name was Chad and he lived in our dorm room for the rest of college. [UPDATE: No, we didn't. We decided his name was Salvador. Salvador Dolly. Yes, it's a terrible pun. Have you MET me?? Chad was actually a coffee mug. It's a long story, actually. Scroll down to see a picture of both the real, live Salvador and Chad, the faithful coffee mug.]
In fact, he still lives with Meg. (Thank GOD he doesn’t live with me. Dude is SCARY!) We’re pretty sure that Chad was made of PVC and pure evil. He was very good at scaring us when we would come in late from… studying, yeah, that’s it “studying.” Chad made such a psychic impression on me that I call Walmart trucks “Gloobee-mobiles” to this day.
So yes, if it came right down to it, if it were Meg, me and Chad alone in a house and there was only enough coffee for one cup? Chad gets it. Creepy little PVC-hands down.
[FURTHER UPDATE: want to see a picture of Salvador, (counting on fingers) 13 years or so later? BEHOLD!! (He's leaning on Chad, the ever-helpful and friendly coffee mug.)
Brian also reminded me that when we got Salvador we used to display him by hanging him from the cords that held our blinds. We also used to use his little overalls to suspend him from a nail in the loft bed in our room, so he hovered menacingly over Meg's bed. I'm also pretty sure that Meg has Salvador in her custody because it was in my marriage vows that Brian would never need to live with it again.]
New normal
Today is Abby’s second full day of Pre-K. It’s funny how much more “school-y” her new school is. That’s probably because it’s a full-on Catholic elementary school, huh?
We’re settling into a whole new routine here. At dinner, Abby gets to pick from the homemade “menu” of lunch choices for the next day so I can get her lunch bag pulled together. Her classroom is peanut-free due to some severe allergies among her classmates, so I’ve become a demon label-reader. I just don’t want my kid’s lunch to kill another kid, ya know?
In the mornings, we have less time than we used to before it’s time to leave for school, so we wolf down our breakfasts. Both mornings this week, Abby has finished her food, stood up and said “I’m ready to go now!!” I think it’s safe to say that she is still a little bit excited about her new school. Before we leave the house, Abby checks her tote bag to make sure that her folder is safely tucked inside (after I surreptitiously check that it is actually emptied of the previous day’s papers) and grabs her lunch bag, raring to go.
Our commute to school is much shorter, and our goodbyes are briefer as well. I drop Abby off in the Gym get a quick hug and kiss and am summarily dismissed by my 4-and-a-half year old as she joins her friends in line. I’m back at my desk by 8:30.
Last night, we had to get Daddy from the train, so I picked Abby up at school and we headed straight for the bigger train station. This proved to be a major disappointment for Abby, because the bigger train station does not have a Starbucks. But we made the most of it, hanging out together and talking about the day for a few minutes until Daddy’s train pulled in and then found ourselves at home by 6:05, a full 10-15 minutes earlier than the “old normal.”
We’ll see how pickup goes today, but I anticipate that we’ll all settle into this new normal quite nicely.
On laundry
If you’ve read this blog for any length of time (or know me personally), you know that I live in one of those fun, multi-generational houses, like all the cool kids are doing these days. There are many people living here all of whom work or go to school full-time (some of us both – I’m looking at you, Jonathan). It requires a very high level of organization to keep food in the fridge and to keep us from devolving into our own filth.
Enter our saintly housekeeper, Carmen. True, she speaks almost no English. And she is very short, so everything gets stored at or below eye level. And her sense of “these things go together” is a little…different than ours. But we absolutely love her.
And thus we come to the crux of today’s dilemma. Today is my laundry day, but I have no Carmen because she’s out sick. And so this morning, in between Pre-K drop offs and pickups, and actually working I had to do the 18 or so loads of laundry my husband I seem to have produced this week. I know, first world problems.
The thing is, I really like doing laundry. For about 3.5 seconds. (To which Brian replied “That long?”) I enjoy squirting the soap, sorting the clothes and smelling them clean and fresh and warm from the dryer. I do not enjoy folding the clothes. And God help me, but is there a more tedious task in the whole world than sorting socks? No, really, I want to know. It’s enough to make me want to ban socks in my house.
And then there’s the inherent humor in a 5’4″ woman trying to fold a king size sheet all by herself. There’s something in the physics of that which just doesn’t work right. And I don’t care how you tuck the corners into each other, there is no way to fold a fitted sheet so that it looks right without witchcraft.
I understand that I perfectly capable of doing laundry. I know that I beyond blessed to have access to electricity, clean water and a beautiful, high-efficiency washing machine and dryer. It doesn’t mean that I need to enjoy breaking into my day eighty bajillion times to tend to this menial task – aw crap, the dryer just buzzed.
Vacation wrap-up
First off, thanks to all of you who expressed doubt in my estimate of when Abby will have her preschool classroom completely under her control. I tend to agree with you, three weeks was a rather conservative estimate. Especially since her teacher told me at pickup yesterday, “You have a very bright young lady there.” Gee, thanks. We’ve noticed.
But hey, let’s pretend for just a minute that it’s not September and that we don’t have Back to School night tonight and that I just, you know, got back from our annual family vacation. Sound like a plan? Good. Because today’s post is a wrap-up of our wonderful week-long vacation at Linekin Bay Resort in Maine, also known as The Most Relaxing Place on Earth. Because it’s my blog, that’s why.
We’re gonna do this mostly as a picture essay because it’s easy. Please to enjoy.
The view from our room
Emily, being... Emily
Naptime is pretty sacred.
Best. Lunch. Ever.
The menfolk rigging the sails...
...and sailing away!
A beautiful day for a race.
Our little fish.
Hangin' at the train museum.
Riding the old fashioned train.
I want to go back, is all I’m saying.
Holy Mother of a Pre-Kindergartener!!
Alternate title: Oh Shit!!
Yes, indeed. After The Summer That Flew By At Rocket Speed, Abby officially started Pre-K today. She did just fine. This first day of school thing is kind of passe for her, really. After all, she had a first day of school in the green room AND the purple room, Mommy.
And even though this feels so different to me – new school, actual “grade,” Catholic School rules – to her it’s just kind of been there, done that. In fact, when I told her we needed to take pictures this morning, she told me we couldn’t because, “We don’t have a sign, Mommy.” Little did she know that I’d already printed one out. HA! Take THAT, 4 1/2 year-old!
Outfit by Aunt Kit. Hairdo by Neila. Funky face by Abby.
We arrived at school in plenty of time (despite Daddy running late for the train and sending me into a tailspin of panic), and Abby settled in right quick. She found her hook with her name on it, hung up her raincoat and changed out of her rainboots all by herself.
Then Ms. Nita gave her a coloring sheet to fill out and a nametag to wear. Abby settled right in and wrote her name at the top of the page. Then she circled the words “school bus” and started jumping from number to number on the fishy rug behind her.
I expect the official takeover of the classroom in approximately 3 weeks.
Before and After
Before.
Please note the dirty plate and glass teetering precariously on top of the 3-drawer unit. There are also at least 2 calculators in this picture.
After.
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
Songwriting
So it’s 12 hours until I leave on a week’s vacation, I have nothing at all packed and I’ve spent the last 20 minutes illustrating a song that Abby wrote last weekend. She’s into songwriting these days. Usually they have just about one verse, maybe a chorus and they often have slightly ridiculous lyrics. The following song has made us all laugh so often this week, it just needed to be immortalized in a post of its own.
(Picture a 4 year old earnestly singing as her uncle strums along on his guitar, changing chords just about once a line.)
(What? It got a little hard to understand her!)
(Big finish now…)
Bet you didn’t see that one coming, now did you??? I asked Abby to repeat her last 2 lines, and she sang out, pure and true “You are my God/You are my pie!”
I’ll see if I can get a video of her singing it while we’re on vacation and also if Jonathan can give me the guitar chords so you can sing along with this masterpiece at home.
What’s better than a Laurie Berkner Band concert?
Not much. The stage is decked out in super-fun party decorations, the better to fit the “Party Day” theme, naturally.
And maybe you get a juice box and some M&M’s as long as you promise not to spill on your party dress. (Which is actually your Easter dress and which almost doesn’t zip up anymore, even though Easter was like, a week ago but you keep on growing and growing and your Mommy maybe starts to cry a little at the thought of just how big you’re getting.)
And then Laurie Berkner! comes onstage and starts singing songs you know like “Victor Vito” and that one about a bumblebee and that other one about a bumblebee. And she’s really, really onstage and there’s Susie and Adam and some new guy named Bob. And you know all the words and you sing and dance along the whole time and it’s pretty awesome.
And maybe something that’s even better than seeing the LAURIE FREAKING BERKNER BAND live! and onstage!! is seeing your friend Shelby from school and discussing how you both got copies of the new Party Day DVD and holy cow you can’t wait to go home and watch them!
But you know what? One thing that’s guaranteed to better than just SEEING the Laurie Berkner Band live! and singing!! onstage!!! would be… Well it would be…
MEETING the Laurie Berkner Band after the show and having them sign your DVD and give you a picture of the band and signing that and sitting on LAURIE FREAKING BERKNER’S lap and all of them telling you how pretty your hair looks and how glad they are that YOU came to see THEIR show! And then you maybe don’t stop smiling for a couple days. That’s probably better than just seeing the show.
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