The More Things Change...

Tonight was the Homecoming dance. Oldest and his girlfriend are such ubercool seniors that they opted out, of course, but Middle Child was ALL OVER IT. She was on the planning committee. She was at the school at 10am today to decorate the gym. She cleaned her room.

She had three separate invitations from boys, and it was a bit of a dilemma for her, because while she liked all three boys, she didn't LIKE-like any of them, so whomever the pick might have been, they'd have been going "just as friends". This sort of arrangement, it is comforting to know, has not changed in the years since I was 14. Her two good friends, though, did not get invited, and were considering not going. In the end, the boy who was the front runner was grounded, and thus MC made up her mind that it would be WAY more fun to go as a group of girls, because if you're going to go as friends, you might as well go with your girlfriends, because that's who you'd be ditching your date to hang out with anyway. Wise choice, in my humble opinion.

It was decided that they would meet at one girl's house to get ready, and another girl's mom would drive every0ne home, so off we went, after I spent quite a while curling MC's hair.

The hair:
I have an odd situation going on with the parents of my children's peers. I'm typically about 10 years younger than the parents of my two older children's friends, and about 10 years older than the parents of the Small One's classmates. I guess my timing's always been off.

In any event, my "young mom" status got me ushered into the inner sanctum of MC's friend's room. It was funny to me. The music playing was Indigo Girls and Madonna, the girls were helping each other get ready, chatting and giggling and dancing, touching up make-up, trying out hairstyles and attitudes...

They were beautiful and young, insecure and giddy, gossipy and excited, protective and complimentary of one another. It could have been me in 9th grade, with April and Alisa, or a few years later with Dawn and Andrea, or a few years later still, with Abbi and Courtney. The music was the same, the conversation was eerily similar, there were fingerless gloves involved, for crying out loud! It was all somewhat comforting, actually, to see how little has changed since I was their age.

(Except the dresses! Wowie wow. How'd my little girl get so OLD all of a sudden?)

You Can't Stop the Music

So, no, the day didn't start out particularly different than any other day... I asked the Man to convey to our Middle Child that I did not wish for her to stay after school, and when I asked him about it later, he said she'd told him she HAD to, she had a student council meeting. This seemed odd to me, given that she'd stayed after for a student council meeting yesterday, so I called the school.

Two guesses. You're right! There was, indeed, no student council meeting. Hmm... so I called the OTHER part of the school, and asked them to send my daughter a note that read "No student council meeting, take school bus home". I mentioned to them that the word "school" was very important, because MC is big on semantics, and could easily interpret "bus" to mean "public transit" and then wander in God knows when, feigning innocence, and I just didn't want to have to hassle with it.

And then I was off...slightly delayed by all this dealing with the high school...to a meeting about a job. My dear friend Kim, (of "4 Chambers of My Heart" fame), had graciously agreed to watch my Small One, so I basically threw the child at her as I dashed back out the door, and she invited me to stay longer on the return trip, and have lunch. This is where the day took a few rather odd turns.

For one thing, I got a call from the high school. They'd tried to deliver the message, you see, but failed, because my child wasn't in class. What?!? The lady was pretty blase about it, considering it was basically their turn to watch the girl, and they weren't doing such a hot job. She assured me that she'd look into it further and call me back. I took a deep breath (or several), went to the meeting, returned to Kim's house to pick up Small One and have lunch.

Over lunch, Kim made reference to the fact that I seemed pretty unconcerned for a mom whose daughter was MIA, and I explained that I was going to wait for the school to call me, and then go to the school if she'd not been found. But as I was explaining this, my phone began to ring, and at the same time I noticed that TWO HOURS had passed since MC had not been in class, with no word from the school. I snatched up the phone and ran out the front door, to better hear the other party without 5 children in the same space.

It wasn't the school, it was my Oldest, and as I was wrapping up my conversation with him, I noticed a car pulling up to the curb. A bald African American man, probably in his late 50s, got out and approached me, just as I was dialing the school, and told me he was from Comcast, and I directed him inside, explaining that I didn't live there. Here's where it gets weird.

He said to me "Well, is the baby still crying?" and I conceded that it was possible a baby could still be crying, as there were two in the house. To which he replied "Well, I'm about to go in there and calm EVERYONE down", in a rather lilting tone, with an somewhat expansive hand gesture. Think "conversational jazz hands". (This should have clued me in that this was no ordinary Comcast cable guy.)

Kim came to the door, with a dvr and her Littlest in tow. "Hello, Little Man!" the Comcast guy called out, and her Littlest looked at him with suspicion. Small One, on the other hand, came right out onto the front porch and looked up at him, and he said...

"Hello! HellllO! Hello, Baby! Hello, it's me... I've thought about us for a long long time... Seeing you, or seeing anyone as much as I do you, I take for granted that you're always there..."

Yes, folks, YES, he sang his entire rendition of the old Todd Rundgren song "Hello It's Me." Did I say sang? Oh yes, sang! And in fact, right about the time he said "Hello Baby" he went into a little dance, complete with step-hip action and some side to side jazz hands. The other three children came to the door. Small One was fascinated.

All the children, in fact, were fascinated. I can really only describe it as "stupefied fascination", but Kim put it a little more aptly when she said "They were looking at him like he was Willy Wonka. Like they thought he MIGHT be nice, or he MIGHT be a little crazy, and they just needed to figure it out." Yep, that's exactly right.

Small One extended her arms, and he picked her up and finished the song, dancing with her. During this performance, I was on hold with the high school, waiting for them to locate MC, but when Small started looking a little nervous, I took her from him, smiling at him as if to say "No, no, I think you're nice crazy, not dangerous crazy, it's all good!"

When he finished his song, he turned his attention to Kim's Littlest. He said "What about you Little Man? Would you? Would yooooooou... WOULD you like to swing on a star?" And he was off again. All the children stared. Kim and I attempted not to look at each other, for fear we would burst into hysterical laughter. I walked a little way away to better hear the school administrator. (MC was found, she'd only missed part of one class, and was being duly written up for that infraction.)

By the time I was hanging up the phone, the man had moved on to a song about Jack coming back down the hill because he needed love he couldn't get from Jill. Not too sure I liked where that one was going, but it was broken up anyway, by the small children losing interest and fleeing the front stoop, and the not quite as small children retrieving them, against their will, to a chorus of howling nos.

Kim and I began to herd everyone back inside, saying our goodbyes to Theatrical Comcast Man, when he said to the children, "Wait, little girls! I've got something for you in my car!" We all froze in our tracks. Kim and I looked at each other. (She later told me my eyebrows went up almost to my hairline.) The man amended his statement. "I mean, if it's ok with your Mommies, I've got some candles I'd like to bring to you from my car, if you'll just wait here." Then he turned to us and said "I used to own a Dollar Store." (presumably as an explanation)

Then he was back, with a big bag full of candles. The bigger girls each picked a candle, as Kim and I wrangled the little ones away from the bag, and the man handed each of us a candle, despite our insistance that we didn't really need one.

I got a faux Heineken, Kim got a faux Budweiser.

As we walked in the door, and Comcast Man was headed down the front walk, I turned and looked at Kim. "DON'T!" she stage whispered, "THE WINDOWS ARE OPEN!"

I stage whispered back. "You KNOW I'm blogging about this!"

In about 20 years, we'll stage this picture again, with real beverages, and put both shots together in a double frame.

And you know, we have to keep those candles forever.

Wordless Wednesday- The Mommy's Little Helper Edition

Kumbaya, my Lord, Kumbaya

Actual thing that happened in my house tonight:

Middle Child came into my room crying. "Oldest hit me because I said he's a good singer! He hates me for no reason! He hit me with a PIPE!"

(mind you, she'd been WILDLY unpleasant to the whole family all evening, so I wasn't too keen on taking her side)

Still, I went to Oldest's room and asked if he'd hit his sister. He said "Why? Does she have a mark?"

(Where is the raised eyebrow emoticon when I need it?)

I said "I don't know, did you hit her with a pipe?"

He said "She came to my door, I was singing while I was getting ready to work out, and she said 'Nice singing, Asshole'. So I poked her in the stomach with the piece of weather stripping I was holding."

(Don't ask why about the weather stripping, just back slowly away with me, back to the relative safety of my master bedroom)

Middle Child interjects "I was TRYING to give you a COMPLIMENT!" and then slams her door.

I say "Don't call your brother names, don't touch your sister. In fact, no more speaking tonight."

But I should have given Middle Child this helpful hint: when giving a compliment, remember it will be better received if you don't tack the word "asshole" on the end of it.

example: "I like those earrings" sounds a little better than "I like those earrings, Asshole!"

and "Nice place you've got here!" is almost certainly going to be taken with more grace than "Nice place you've got here, Asshole!"


(See, it's the teachable moments that make parenting so darned special!)

Birthdaypalooza Continues

So, because her Daddy is a photographer, my Small One is quite possibly the most photographed little girl in creation. Last year around this time, we dressed her in her party dress and took her out to a local garden for her official 1 year photo shoot... this year we dressed her in the same dress, and took her out to the same garden for the official 2 year old portraits. Amazing how much difference a year makes in a little person.


Last year:
This year:

Last year:






This year:

Sign of the Times

There's a church across the street from where I teach, and there is a sign in front of the church that reads "No Torture!"

I think that's a very sane policy for a church to adopt. Are they including sermons that run really long and old ladies that sit in front of you with too much perfume in that policy? How about children who talk during services and kick the back of your seat? These are the details I'd like to know.

Dream a little Dream

Woke this morning from a dream in which my cousin/boss left me the following message:

"I heard through the grapevine that Lehman Brother's Realty has been waiting on a call from me, because they need me to do tours at a location undisclosed to all but my assistant. While this may not be as exciting as all the hormonally charged goings on at your house, they are still our biggest client, providing us with $90,000 a year, so in the future, I'd appreciate it if you'd pass along their messages."

Ha ha ha! So what we've learned is, I have such a guilty conscience over missing some messages that I am apparently now subconsciously blaming myself for the economic state of the NATION? Really?

I also dreamed that I was being held hostage on a bridge, by someone who clearly wanted to kill me, and I was trying to talk him out of it, but I had a terrible rash all over my arms, and I was CERTAIN that if he saw the rash, he'd go ahead and kill me. So I kept tugging my sleeves down past my fingertips and trying to be charming, so I could stay alive.

Analysis, anyone?

Wordless Wednesday- the Happy Birthday Baby Edition

Time Passages

Over the weekend, my darling little brother, heart of my heart, got engaged.
This brother, the one in my arms in this picture:



Granted, that picture is about 29 years old, but still, I feel the same way about the boy in it. And to be honest, it doesn't feel like it's been that long.

I won't tell the proposal story here, it's their story and not mine, but suffice it to say, there were roses, and candles, and a ladder was procured, there was a serenade, and a grand sweeping gesture...ahh, enough to make any old married lady swoon, much less a hopeful young girl. I'm utterly delighted for both of them, and couldn't be happier if it were my own romantic engagement. Both my adorable brothers are now engaged to lovely girls I'm excited to call my sisters.

When I told my Oldest, he said "Ah, that's cool. How do you think I should propose to S?"

How? Or did you mean, in how many decades? La la la la, I can't hear you talking about making that adult of a decision...

In other news, my Small One turns two tomorrow. At three thirty in the morning, two years ago tonight, I woke up after twenty minutes of restless sleep, and my water broke, and just over twelve hours later we welcomed this little girl, who has kept us hopping ever since.


I can't believe it's been that long, it seems like mere minutes, and I want to make it go slower, this precious time where she delights me almost every minute of the day. Every day there's a new concept, something else she's ecstatic to have learned. Yesterday, it was the concept of big and little.

She likes to point out large and small pairs of things and say "Aww, Mommy___ and Baby ___" Sometimes this is Mommy Bunny, Baby Bunny, other times it's Mommy Kitty, Baby Piggy- species does not figure into her reasoning. But yesterday, she brought me two dolls, one large, one small, and said, "Look! Mommy Baby and Baby Baby?"

This did not make sense, even to her, and her confusion was evident. I said "I think what you mean is 'Big Baby, Little Baby'." and her face brightened as she repeated it. "BIG Baby! LITTLE Baby!"

Later we were outside, and she was rolling a truck, when she stopped, and I could see the wheels turning. She said "Car!" and then looked at me like I was supposed to say something significant, and when I didn't she looked impatient and ran to her Ride-on Car and smacked it. "BIG CAR!", she yelled. Then she ran back to the other vehicle and looked at me. I said "Little car." and she grinned and said "LITTLE CAR!"

Aha! Yes, the mystery was solved. Thank you, Mom, for providing me with the correct terminology!

I'm sure it will seem to me to be tomorrow that she's asking me how she should proceed with her engagement.

Doctor Doctor, Give me the News

Actual speech given to me and my 14 year old by her pediatrician:

Ok, she started off rational enough:

"She doesn't really need the hpv vaccine yet, since she's not sexually active."

(I nodded and smiled, 14yo confirmed that she is indeed not sexually active, I said I have issues with unnecessarily giving such a new vaccine, and she continued...)

"Oh, and they don't know how long the antibodies last, either. The protection may just wear off after a certain number of years, and then there she'll be, and maybe she'll have a husband who goes all WOO HOO on her, and brings her home something! Because that's what these men DO! They reach a certain age, and who KNOWS what even goes on in their minds? It's like they have a brain fart or something and they go out there all WOOWOOWOO and then God only knows what they're bringing home."

(Yes, the large and bold indicates high pitch and high volume)

As you can imagine, I had no response to that. Unless you count stunned silence as a response.

In the car, my child said to me, "Did my dr just say that when I grow up, my husband is going to have a brain fart that will cause him to cheat on me and give me an std?"

Yes, my darling, I believe she did.