Twinkle Foes

Lala and Loopsy have begun the long and sure process of growing up, up and away from me.

And I feel more protective of them than ever.

The second week of school, Lala comes home and tells me she hates her new school shoes (a cute, wardrobe-staple-worthy, pair of dark brown mary janes).

I asked her why and she said that she saw a girl on the playground with those really sparkly shoes with the fun shoelaces (I knew right away she meant those god-forsaken Sketchers Twinkle Toes.  I hate them.)  

Lala told the girl she liked her sparkly shoes and the girl looked at my daughter’s mary janes and said, “Yeah, well, your shoes are like, um…”  And then walked away.

?????   I mean.  ????

5 year olds.  These are 5 year olds.  

My first instinct was to tell Lala what I really think of Twinkle Toes and all that gaudy sparkly nonsense that adorns all little girl clothes these days.  Then I wanted to tell her that the little girl was just mean and petty and she should be glad to know what kind of character she is now before she gets closer and gets more hurt.  Then, well, then I just wanted to go out and buy ever style of those goddamned shoes in size 11 and a half that exist so that my kid wouldn’t feel left out.

(I didn’t do any of those things though, I just helped Lala understand that it’s okay to let someone know that they hurt her feelings and that they can move on and still play together.  Everyone has different shoes.)

*sigh*

Who knew that I’d still be succumbing to peer pressure at the age of 38?  All because of Kindergarten footwear.

This is exhausting already.

 

Out of the mouths of babes

I know I’m one of those obnoxious Moms that posts every totes adorbs thing their offspring says or does.  I don’t care.  I waited my whole life for these little monkeys and I intend to brag.  They are turning out pretty good.

Today we went to Pizza Hut for lunch.  As always, Lala and Loopsy started a discussion with the people in the booth behind ours.  This time, our fellow diners were incredibly inviting of the intrusion to their meal.  They were two sisters, born on the same day a year apart- Whitney and Liz.  And Whitney carried on a conversation with my babes for several minutes.  She was lovely. 

I’m a terribly shy and buttoned up person.  I don’t make friends easily or start conversations with strangers.  I kept stopping myself from telling the girls to turn around, to leave these people alone.  I kept feeling odd, and unsure, and uncomfortable.  But…  my daughters did not.

Today, on Thankful Thursday, I am grateful that my little ones didn’t inherit that gene.

They were so sweet and asked good questions and were polite and endearing.  When Whitney and Liz left, they asked if they’d come back to Pizza Hut another day because they want to be friends.  !!!!

My kids are making plans, making friends, with EASE!

I couldn’t be prouder or more grateful.  I need to take some notes.

Little Angelfaces

Holy snikeys, Peeps, I know I complain about my littles on here a lot.  Or repeat their silliness ad nauseum.  But this post is in complete gratitude of my daughters.

I have had a terrible headache for 4 straight days.  So bad that Friday and Saturday I spent mostly in bed, in the dark.  I’ve been nauseated and dizzy too.  It’s been pretty hellish in Scroogyland.  (Never fear, faithful Peeps, I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow.  The hubs even took off work for it.)

But my girls have been amazing.  So patient and sweet, so quiet and caring.  Quiet has been the greatest blessing as my brain pulses against my skull.  I am in awe of their understanding.

Today I had to brave the big bad world to go to the pharmacy and to the grocery store.  We were out of everything.  And my little monkeys helped in every way.  They even helped load and unload the trunk.  I mean…  Wow.

So, Thank you my Lala.  Thank you my Loopsy.

You are treasured.

Adventures in Mommyhood

  • Lala was complaining about a teeny tiny bruise on her leg and I may have told her it had to be amputated and replaced with a wooden leg and that we’d change her name to Peg.
  • I taught my daughters to refer to each other as “Homie” and instructed them how to offer a knuckle sandwich (shaking their fists) and how to ask for money (calling it “cizzash” and rubbing their first two fingers against their thumbs).  I am raising baby badasses.
  • They accidentally walked in on Daddy in the bathroom- only seeing him from behind- and wanted to know why Daddy stands up to pee.  And after I explained that males have penises and that penises work differently than vulvas, I may have also told them that it against the law for females to look at penises.  I had to think of something because they kept asking to see Daddy’s penis.
  • I came home from running errands to find that Loopsy had dumped a considerable portion of her piggy bank contents on the living room floor.  I asked her how that happened and she glanced at it, sighed, and said, “Um… it’s a long story.”  And then she went about her business.  Alrighty then.
  • Hubs and the kids made me cupcakes for my birthday.  Loopsy ran upstairs as they were baking to tell me, “Mommy, we made cupcakes.  But they are not for you.  They are just a teeny-weeny treat for Daddy for being so nice to you today.”  🙂  Then as they were cooling and waiting to be frosted, she told me, “Guess what, Mommy!  I tricked you!  The cupcakes ARE for your birfday!”
  • We’d made plans for a movie date, but had to change plans last-minute due to babysitting issues.  So, instead, we decided to go out to eat.  Hubs was a bit grouchy when we were getting ready to leave and Lala asked him, “Daddy, did you get enough sleep?”  And Loopsy followed up with, “Yeah, you seem pretty cranky today.”  D’oh.

Christmas Shopping Shenanigans

I finished my Christmas shopping yesterday (sorta).  The twins and I went out during the day for a few things, then after hubby came home, I went out on a Santa mission. I finished not just the kids, but everyone else we are giving to by Christmas.  Whew!  Let me tell ya, there are many crazy folks like me, and folks nuttier than I am out on Dec 19…

  • At Michael’s (a craft store, btw), a large lady with no bra and torpedo boobs that faced due southwest and southeast, argued with the cashier about having to provide proper identification in order to return two spools of wide gold ribbon for cash.  I couldn’t stop looking at her breasts.  It was embarrassing, and it reminded me to never skip wearing a bra.  Even to go get the mail.
  • Meanwhile, my daughters were touching everything in sight.  Craft stores are like nirvana for my little creative monkeys.  They wanted EVERYTHING.  If I wasn’t so fixated on Torpedo Boobs and her argument with the cashier, maybe I would’ve noted specifically what they wanted so that I could go back later.  Oh well.
  • In the Lalaloopsy aisle of Toys R Us, a frantic daddy phoned his child and said, “Well, honey, what if Santa can’t find the doll with the furry stuff that you wanted?  What other one would you want…”  Um.  I…  Um…  *sigh*
  • Speaking of dads in Toys R Us…  I don’t know if I’m just being a judgy-judgerson or jumping to conclusions, but it seems to me that Divorced Dads are really easy to spot.  They are usually wandering aimlessly in their leather bomber jackets and dark washed denim, picking up toys at random, with no list or idea what their kids have been asking for, and price checking.  One dad picked up a Butterscotch Pony (which my kids asked for, but there’s no way, Peeps).  I knew they were pretty pricey, and so I watched as Allegedly Divorced Dad scanned the price checker and made a “Oh hell to the no” face.  I couldn’t help but smirk. They are about $120.  I’d have to get two, so… yeah.  No.  But, see I’m a mom, and I researched this shit.
  • The shelf stocking staff at Walmart either a.) can’t keep up with crazy Walmart consumers, b.) quit yesterday, or c.) are seriously slackers.  Nothing was in a “section”.  I walked in, and walked right back out.  I don’t have time for this.  Although, I could’ve people watched there for hours if it wasn’t Christmas Crunch Time.
  • For some reason, all toy stores or toy departments I ventured into contained various and sundry dolls and furniture and other large bulky accessories, but no m-er effin’ CLOTHES for dolls!  I could’ve sworn there were tons of selections available a few mere weeks ago.  See, this is what my procrastination gets me.  Would it be okay if Santa gave my daughters gift cards to buy party dresses and pajamas for their Cabbage Patch Dolls?  Gah.
  • “You can have wine when you get home, you can have wine when you get home, you can have wine when you get home…”  My mantra as my back ached, my feet hurt, my hands cramped from carrying 4 shopping bags through White Marsh Mall at 9:45 pm.

Ah, the holidays…  Comfort and joy, my ass.

No words

No words, Peeps, can describe how I’ve been feeling since Friday’s news.

I feel so many emotions, my mind races through so many thoughts, but no words are coming together.  But I have to try.

I’m fed up with the non-stop media blitz of these kinds of tragedy.  They fumble and bumble information in an effort to be the first.  It leaves us confused and dazed and even more unsure, more unable to wrap our minds around what happened.  Then they interviewed the children who escaped.  How parasitic, opportunistic, selfish?  This media sensation was a life-altering event.  For a first grader.  Give them and their families peace.  Shielding my own children from this horror wasn’t the only reason I avoided TV coverage.

The anger I felt on Friday just swirled and whirled all around my brain, and pushed aside the grief and sadness for a bit.  I was angry at the media, obviously, but I was angry at gun-enthusiasts, gun-control proponents, people asking for prayer, people saying that God isn’t in our schools, everyone on both sides of every debate.  It made no sense, but that’s how I felt.  I just wanted them to all shut the fuck up and focus.  Focus.

So Friday night, I did just that.  I put on some inspirational music, lit a candle, and I focused.

Saturday, my anger had ebbed, and it was a busy family day.  We were making our holiday trek up to Staten Island to visit family.  I focused.  On my husband, on my daughters, on not getting lost when we got off the Jersey Turnpike, on balancing engaging with my in-laws with supervising my kids, on keeping track of my twins and our 10-year-old niece in the swarms of drunk Santas and seasonal tourists in NYC.  It was madness, Peeps.  But whenever there was a quiet moment, a single thought would pop up, “I can’t imagine how scared they were.”  That one thought kept sneaking into my consciousness and trying to take hold.  “Their last moments on Earth were terrifying.”  I couldn’t avoid it.  I still cannot.

Sunday I spent a quiet day cuddling and watching holiday cartoons with my babies.  Just laughing and kissing and telling them a million times that I love them.  Lala told me that I am now limited to one hug a day, to which I told her that’s impossible and I cannot abide by that.  Loopsy told me that she KNOWS I love her, and I don’t have to tell her anymore.  But I still do.

Monday, I finally braved it.  I logged back online, and read the stories, saw the pictures of the victims.  I saw my daughters’ smiles in each of theirs.  I can’t help but put myself in their parent’s shoes.  I can’t begin to imagine how they are going on.  I want to help.  I want to stop this from ever happening anywhere again.  I want a solution, an answer to our prayers, our calls to action, our sobs and shouts of rage.

What can we do?  How do we honor these babies and their educators?

We can remember.  We can hold onto love and refuse to let go.  We’re living it all for them, for every soul who has gone on before us.  Life is a gift.  We owe it our best.

 

 

Is that bad?

As a companion to my Motherhood Monday’s feature of Kiddie Comic Relief, I will also be posting questions I ask myself about mothering.

Is it bad if…:

  • The kids asked for animal crackers for breakfast and I gave them some?  That’s ok, right?  Most of my FB friends seem to think so.
  • I sometimes “treat” my kids with activities they’d be a part of regardless, like going grocery shopping? I tell them they can’t go unless they clean up ( or finish their lunch, or stop fighting, etc).  It actually works.  Suckers.
  • During the spring and fall months when we have our house windows open, I often tell the girls that if they play/sing/fuss too loudly that our neighbors will call the cops and we’ll go to jail?
  • I once told Loopsy that the bottom drawer of her dresser was filled with tiny polka-dotted monkeys that like to eat children just so she’d stop opening it and throwing her clothes all over the room?  In my defense, she was only about 2 at the time, and I didn’t think she was really paying attention.  I certainly didn’t count on her actually believing me.
  • Hubs and I ate all the good (read: chocolate) candy from their Halloween buckets and we told them that they must’ve eaten them?

I’m definitely going to hell for some of these.

Kiddie Comic Relief III

  • After sampling some of her Halloween stash, Loopsy declared Skittles the best M&Ms ever, prompting me to Google the number of that DNA testing place that Maury Povich uses because clearly I am not her real mother.
  • I sang a silly made up song to the girls the other day in a terrible off-key voice.  I asked them if they liked my singing.  Lala said that I’m the best singer, but that Daddy is the best dancer.  If you’ve ever seen my Hubby dance or heard me sing, you’ll realize just what I did…  This kids are full of shit.
  • At a restaurant, a nice lady stopped to talk to the twins.  She asked them if they have a special secret language.  Lala told her yes, sometimes they whisper to each other.  She asked them what they whisper about and Loopsy answered, “We say, ‘Why is Mommy so grumpy?'”  Sigh.
  • They both just told their Daddy that he’s going to be on the naughty list because he is yelling.  He was not yelling.

 

Kids TV is rotting MY brain

I limit my kids’ TV viewing to movies or shows either on Netflix, on PBS, or on Disney Jr or Nick Jr (no commercials).  But still, these shows are driving me bonkers.

Here are some less than appropriate thoughts I’ve had or statements I’ve made or songs I’ve sung about kids programs:

1.  “Handy Manny IS a tool…”  sung to the Handy Manny School for Tools theme song.  To which Loopsy replied “No him not, Mama.  He’s a people.”

2.  Along the same vein, “Mickey is a Mouseketool, am I right?”  (Said to my “nephew” Matty Moo moo when he was about 5 and we were on the way to OBX for our first combined family trip.  He didn’t get it.  Not sure he even heard me.)  Happy 9th birthday Matthew!!

3.  Ruby from Max & Ruby gets on my last damn nerve.  I mean, where are her parents?  They probably left because she’s such a bitch.  (Going to Hell for that one, Peeps.)  Why does she have such control issues?  Max is USUALLY right…  You’d think by now she’d give the poor kid more credit.  Poor Max.

4.  Caillou.  I mean, need I say more?  I’ve made up lyrics to his theme song too.  “I’m just a whiny-butt, I never have some fun, I keep on whining I’m Caaaaiiillloou…”  I’ve asked my kids again and again why he has no hair, but his baby sister Rosie does.  They say it’s because he’s a boy.  Whatever.  His parents are clearly on some good pharmaceuticals.  They are way too relaxed and easy-going and patient with his antics and whining.  He’s a big whiner, in case my song wasn’t clear.  Stupid Caillou.

5.  Some theme songs just get stuck in my head.  On endless loops of animated insanity.  Special Agent Oso (he’s a unique stuffed bear, btw).  Gaspard & Lisa (“Hello, Bonjour!).  My Big Big Friend (OMG…  we get it.  He’s your friend and he’s big. Carry on.).  Sid the Science Kid (Hey, Sid, whattaya say?  Shut it, Sid!!!)  At this very moment, the twins are watching Toy Story 3, and I guaran-damn-tee I’ll be singing or humming “You’ve got a friend in me…”  all the live long day.

ALL the LIVE LONG DAY.

The Scroogy Family Band

Loopsy, Lala and I have formed a band.

Loopsy plays Lead Recorder, Lala heads up the rhythm section with a mean Paper Mate pen on a plate.  And I, of course, am on Vocals.

We just did a rocking rendition of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.

I think the band is heading for internal strife though.  Loopsy keeps demanding bagels and Lala wants to go to Little Katelyn’s and I just want to write my blog then do the dishes.

This would be the point on Behind the Music where we’d break up, I think.