Sunday, August 31, 2014

A Parent's Prerogative

We took The Curly Girly Trio and two friends to the water park this morning.  Darlin' and Lovey have been friends with our girls for so long and spend so much time with our family that I consider them to be surrogate daughters.  We joke around the same way I do with B, M and L and it's a good thing too, otherwise, after what happened today, I'm not so sure they'll want to hang out with me again.  Or. . . maybe despite the fact that we have such a close relationship, they still won't want to hang with me.

On the way to the water part, Darlin' asked, "CGM, are you going to go on the water slides?"

"Oh, I don't know," I replied.  "I'm not a big fan of them."

"She'll go," piped up The Doctor.  "We'll get her on one before we leave today!"

That brought on giggles and laughter from all 5 girls and I think cheers of, "Yes!  She's gonna do a water slide!"

After we got into the park, The Doctor and L went to the Little Fishies area and the big girls went to the lazy river.  I joined them there a few minutes later, but they were already ahead of me.  Fine, I figured I'd need the relaxation now given I wouldn't get it later.  After I finished my very lazy and relaxing ride, I spied the 3 of the big girls heading towards the BIG water slides.

I called out to them and they turned around.

"CGM!  Are you going to go on the water slides?," Darlin' asked again, with glee in her voice.

"I don't know. . .," I said hesitantly.  "They look awfully big."

"They're a lot of fun!," cried B. "You need to go!"

"I don't know. . . ," I replied, while walking over to them.  "I'm afraid of heights."

"I'm afraid of heights too, but I faced my fear and you should face yours," advised Lovey, wisely.

By this point, we started the huge climb up to the top.

"Wow.  We are getting really high," I pointed out.

"What?  Are you chicken?," taunted Darlin'.

"Why, yes I am!," I replied and started doing the Chicken Dance right there on the stairs.

Darlin' looked at me like I was nuts and said, "Please!  Stop!"

". . . cluck cluck cluck cluck!," I sang, while clapping my hands.  "I am a chicken after all!"

B was ahead of us on the stairs, she looked back and then must have decided pretending she didn't know me was the best thing.

I sang another verse, full of clucks and claps and Darlin' turned bright red.

"You are embarrassing me!," she admonished.

"Well, good," I replied.  "Glad to know I'm fulfilling my duty!"

"What duty?," she asked as we stepped on to the last landing.

"The duty all parents have to embarrass our children in public," I informed her.

"Our Mom doesn't embarrass us," Lovey said.

Then, even better I'm doing so now!

It was my turn to go on the slides and I picked the slowest one.  The Lifeguard at the top told me it's so slow that if you go sitting up, you get stuck in the middle.  That was an important piece of advice.

I'm going to interject with a side story here:

When The Doctor and I were dating, we met his brother, Sal and a friend at Universal Studios.  After much cajoling, they got me on to The Hulk.  Now, I hate roller coasters.  Actually, I loathe them.  I do not like the feeling of having no control over my body and that's how I feel on roller coasters.

So, here I am sitting on The Hulk, strapped in and I had a death grip on the harness.  The ride took off, I squeezed my eyes shut and started screaming like a crazy person.  I felt the ride stop, opened my eyes and saw we were upside down!  I immediately squeezed my eyes shut harder and started screaming again.  The next time I felt the ride stop, I kept screaming, assuming we were still going, and I wasn't feeling it.  Suddenly, I heard Sal say, "Dude?  Is she OK?"  The Doctor leaned over and started prying my hands off my harness.

"The ride is stopped, CGM.  Unless you want to go again, you'd better get up," he said trying not to laugh.  Actually, he was probably outright laughing.  I know Sal and our friend were!  I have never moved that fast in my life.

So, back to today. . . I asked the Lifeguard if the slide was anything like a roller coaster.

"Maybe, like a really lame one," he answered.

"Well, you're looking at someone who freaks out on Goofy's Barnstormer," I informed him.

His answer was a fit of laughter.

I sat down and the water wooshed me down.  I started screaming, because that's my thing, evidentially.

"Aaaahhhh!!!!," I screamed.  "I am never doing this again!!!"

I repeated that phrase most of the way down.  My eyes were open the entire time and as I came to the slow part, sure enough, I stopped.

"Just like The Hulk," I surmised.  "At least I'm not upside down!"

I scootched myself towards the end of the slow spot and took off sliding again, resuming my scream.

I ended up in the water, stood up and said, "Never again!  We are done!  That is it!"

"I heard you screaming the entire time!," Darlin' said.

"What??  You were behind me!  How did you beat me down here?," I asked.

"I took the fast slide!," she said, laughing.

B and Lovey joined us shortly there after.

"I heard you screaming the entire time you were on the slide!," laughed Lovey.

"You did?," I asked.

"Yes!  In fact, the guys standing behind us heard you and were laughing a lot!," she replied.  "And, I'm really sorry to say, but I tried to stop.  I just couldn't.  I was laughing too."

"Mommy, it was so funny!," said B.  "You were screaming so loudly!"

"Come on," I said.  "Let's go find The Doctor and the other girls."

We spied them on the lazy river and as they got off, the 3 girls went running over to him.

"Daddy!  Daddy!  Mommy went on the water slides!," cried B excitedly.

"She did?," he asked.

"Yes," replied Darlin'. "And she screamed the entire way down!"

"It was so funny!," Lovey added.

All The Doctor could do was shake his head and laugh.

I may not be known for my bravery, but I'm well known for my chicken skills.

"Cluck cluck cluck cluck!," I'll always sing while clapping my hands.  Hey, if I can't be brave, at least I can be funny!




Saturday, August 30, 2014

A Grand Time

I am so incredibly blessed.  Not only am I lucky enough to have two of my grandparents living and with it, but I live within 45 minutes to each of them.  We see my Grandma (G Squared, to the girls) nearly every week and my Grandpa (Pa to the girls) every couple of months.

Tonight, we took a trip down to Pa's house.  I get such a kick of showing The Curly Girlies old pictures of my siblings and me, because no matter how many times they see them, they are still amazed to find out that the baby is truly me!  Sometimes I wonder if they think I was just placed here as an adult, because they always act shocked when I show them pictures of my younger self.

Pa doesn't have toys for the girls to play with, but tonight they busied themselves with a chess set.  B has been teaching herself to play and after setting up the board she asked if I'd like to play a game with her.  Given that I beat the pants off her last time, I said yes.

"Ok Mommy,  you can be white," she offered.

"So, does that mean I go first?," I asked (showing my mad chess skillz).

"Yes, Mommy," she sighed.

Great.  I made my first move and back and a forth we went.  I really thought I was doing great until she moved a piece up alongside one of mine (still in the row where it started) and said, "Check!"  I thought she had captured my bishop, but evidentially, it was my king (see, mad chess skillz, I tell ya).  She was ecstatic and I'm thinking I'll get that book on how to play chess she's been asking me to buy.  A little later, she tried her hand at teaching L to play and gave up after a bit.  I guess she realized teaching a 5 year old to play chess is harder than actually playing it.

After she gloated about winning, we wandered into the sunroom where I spied a stack of CD's and cassette tapes.

"Hey B," I asked, showing her a tape. "What's this?"

"Um. . . I don't know.  Something you listen to music with?"

"How does it work?"

"I think you have to take a screwdriver to wind this part," she answered, pointing to the holes (if there is a more technical term, it escapes me right now, which is kind of ironic.  I guess I shouldn't be asking questions I myself can't answer).

"But how does it work, B?," I asked, through laughter.

"I don't know!," she replied, laughing.  "How?"

I ran off to grab my camera/phone, mainly because I figured I'd put it on Facebook and allow my friends' kids to take a stab at this.

When I got back, The Doctor was holding a VHS tape and was asking the same kind of questions.

"What is this?," he queried.

"We watch The Magic School Bus on that at school, sometimes," piped up M.

"Ok, but what is it?," he posed again.

"Um. . . I don't know what it's called, but it's something you watch and then you use something to rewind it.," answered B, clearly perplexed.

"How do you watch it?," The Doctor asked.

I was beginning to feel I was watching one of those "Kids React" Youtube videos live.  If you've never seen one, I highly suggest you boogie on over to Youtube as soon as you finish reading this and watch some of those videos.  If you were born in the eighties or earlier, it will make you laugh and feel old at the same time!

"Well," she started to explain. "You put it into the thing and it just starts working."

"But how?," The Doctor pressed on.

"I don't know!," B answered, clearly exasperated.

Finally, The Doctor took pity on her and explained to her how it works, opening up the flap so she and M could see how the tape worked in the VCR.

"Then you take a screwdriver to rewind it, right?," she asked.

"No.  Actually, they made machines for that.," he answered, a bit confused.

I showed him the cassette tape and said, "She thought you needed a screwdriver to rewind this."

"No, B.  No. 2 pencils worked the best with those," he said and I nearly fell down laughing again.

I know I shouldn't laugh.  How can I when these "old" things are so foreign to today's generation?  This is the generation of instant gratification.  The generation of digital everything.  When I was little, the only way I could see a picture right away was to use the big, clunky Polaroid camera.  If we used the real deal, we'd have to wait until the roll of film was used ("Do not waste the film by taking pictures of the ground, CG!," a parent would admonish), then we'd have to wait until it was fully developed.  So much disappointment ensued going through the pictures at the Photo Center at the pharmacy, only to see that out of 20 shots, only 1 turned out decent.

I take a picture of the girls now and they immediately run over to me clambering, "Let me see!  Please, let me see it right now!"

We were talking about how funny (sad?) it was that B and M didn't know what the old timer things were and Pa pointed out how much technology has changed in the last few decades.  Pa has been around to see all of it.  How amazing is that?  He is well into his nineties and I think it's amazing that he's been around to see so many changes, both wonderful and terrible, in this world.  Talking to him is always so interesting, because he always gives some little snippet about himself that I never knew before.  Today, I learned that he loves sugar snap peas and that when he was boy he would help his mother shell them.  "By the time I was finished there were much less than what we started with, because I ate them as I went.," he chuckled, as he took a bite into a sugar snap pea.  I love that he shared that with me for 2 reasons.  First of all, it has never, ever occurred to me that you can eat these sweet veggies raw and I'll definitely be buying them for The Curly Girly Trio to snack on this week.  Secondly, I have a tendency to be a bit cheesy and I'll never again be able to eat a sugar snap pea without thinking of him.

I love the fact that my girls know G Squared and Pa as their great grandparents and not just as my memories.  I especially love that they are getting to make their own memories to take with them into adulthood.  Who knows, maybe when The Curly Girlies are adults, they'll see a sugar snap pea and say to their Curly Child, "My Pa loved sugar snap peas and I think of him every time I eat one" biting into it with a snap.



Friday, August 29, 2014

Lunchtime Woes

I have loved packing lunches for my girls these last few weeks.  I love making fun recipes, putting their bento boxes together and thinking about how happy they'll be when they open their lunchboxes in the cafeteria.

I can always expect some food to be brought home and I'm usually fine with that.  Every day, after school I ask the girls how they enjoyed lunch.

"Delectable," B always answers.

"Eh, it was OK" or "I LOVED it!," M usually replies.

"I didn't like it," answers L on nearly a daily basis.

This past week, however, I've been noticing their leftovers don't really match up to their answers.  B never eats a lot, though she enjoys nearly everything, so I'm used to finding half an entree, or some fruit leftover.

M is my good eater and she usually eats everything given to her, unless she's full, in which case she'll stop and L is a mix of both of her big sisters.

This past week, every time I've emptied their boxes, M has had nearly everything leftover.  Yesterday was the kicker.  I packed them 6 pieces of PB&J sushi, cucumbers, cherries and a Gooey Chocolate Nut Bar.  I emptied her box to find 5 pieces of the sushi and all of her cherries, so essentially for lunch all she ate was one small piece of PB&J, her cucumbers and the chocolate nut bar, but when I had asked her how lunch was, she said she loved it.

"M!," I called. "Please come here, I have a quick question for you."

"Yes, Mommy?," she answered, walking into the kitchen.

"You said you loved lunch, but you didn't eat.  I've noticed you haven't been eating lunch at all this week."

"Yeah," she sighed.  "My Friend (who was in class with her last year) makes yucky faces when she sees my lunch, so I don't eat it."

So, now, 2 things are running through my head right now.  First of all, how dare My Friend make a face at my wonderfully delicious and fun lunches!  I'm sure whatever I'm giving my girls is much yummier and more fun than her boring sandwich.  Secondly, what is wrong with my daughter that she'd rather go hungry than eat a yummy lunch because some brat wrinkles her nose?

"Really?," I asked M, exasperated. "You aren't eating because someone is making a "yucky face" at a lunch she doesn't have to eat?"

"Um. . . ," stammered M.

"Did it ever occur to you that perhaps My Friend is jealous of your lunches?," I asked.

"No.  No, it did not," she replied.

"Next time this happens, you should tell her she's being rude and get up and walk away.  I'm not even sure why you are friends with her when she's so totally not acting like a friend," I started lecturing.  At this point, M just nodded and I could tell she hit the "Mommy Off Button", so I dropped it.

The Doctor was working from home yesterday, and I needed to vent.  I walked into his office and started talking.  Being the good man he is, he took my craziness and offered to talk to M later.

Later that evening, after I tucked L into bed, I walked out and saw The Doctor and M were sitting together talking about lunch, and I decided to join them.

The Doctor has a way with the girls and is able to talk without lecturing, unlike me.  This is very helpful because they end up coming to the conclusions we want them to see all by themselves (well, with a teensy bit of help, I suppose).

After a few minutes of talking, M said, "I guess My Friend and some of the other kids make yucky faces because they are jealous."

"That sounds about right," said The Doctor.  "What can you do about that?"

"Um. . . Tell them they're being rude and walk away?," she asked, looking at me.  (Oh, yay!  She listened!)

"Well, that's one option, but what else can you do?" asked the wise Doctor.

After a few more minutes, The Doctor got M to see that it's silly to go the entire day without eating just because people are making her feel bad about my wonderful lunches.  

"I do love Mommy's lunches," said M.  "My Friend gets a sandwich every day, and even though it's in the shape of a star or a heart, it's not as fun as Mommy's lunches.  I got so bored of having sandwiches every day last year."

"So, what can you say to your friends when they make yucky faces at a lunch you like?," I asked.

"I can tell them 'You don't have to eat this.  I like it and that's all that matters!'," she replied.  "I can also tell them it's rude to make comments about other people's food."

"Awesome," I replied.  "Do you want me to let your teacher know what's going on?"

"No, not yet," she answered. "I want to try to deal with this on my own first." 

Hooray!  That's a proud Mama moment right there, Folks.  M will be just fine and my lunches will be eaten once again.

Thursday, August 28, 2014

The (Looney Toons) Roadrunner vs. a Sloth

I hate running late in the mornings.  I especially hate it when we're running late because my children are in s.l.o.w. m.o.t.i.o.n.  I'd like to say this happens once in a blue moon, but sadly, it's at least once a week, if not more that we're rushing to get to the car, just to make it to school before the tardy bell rings.

This morning was one of those mornings.  I came into the kitchen to find B (fully dressed.  Yay!) laying on the family room floor reading a book, M lounging on the couch with her shoes sitting next to her and L wandering around holding a cat toy and looking for Psycho Kitty.

"I'm happy to see that you're dressed, B," I acknowledged.  "Did you eat breakfast?  Did you get L breakfast?  Did you unload the dishwasher?"

"Grumble, grumble.  It's such a good book! Grumble, grumble," was her reply as she picked herself up and moseyed into the kitchen to pour 2 bowls of cereal.

"M!  Are you planning on going to school shoeless today?," I asked, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice.

"No, Mommy," she said, as she put on her second shoe and then proceeded to lay on the couch.

"Did you put the wet clothes into the dryer and the dirty clothes into the washer?  Did you eat breakfast?"

"*Gasp!* No!  I didn't!," she exclaimed and got up to do so.

"L, did you eat breakfast yet?," I asked the child who was still on her search for Psycho Kitty.

"No.  Because no one got it for me, yet!," she answered, dangling the cat toy in front of herself.  Perhaps she wasn't looking for Psycho Kitty, and was just entertaining herself.

"Well, let's get to it, people!"

The three of them were like sloths!  They ate slow, B and M never managed to finish their chores and when I pointed out to B that she was moving like a sloth, her response was, "I hate this chore!!"  She did confirm that she does indeed like getting an allowance, so hatred or not, she must do it.

We got out the door about 10 minutes later than we usually do and I could feel the annoyance brewing inside.  That is never a good thing, because stress and annoyance are my 2 biggest triggers for yelling.

"OK, girls.  We cannot be sloths during the week," I said after I got myself into the car.  "We can be sloths on the weekends.  In fact, if you want, we can have Slothenly Saturdays, where you can move as S-L-O-W A-S Y-O-U W-A-N-T [said in my best slow motion voice]."

"Yes!," cried M.  "We can be slow!  Well, except for getting to the TV.  I'm going to race to the TV and then plant myself there all day."

"Well, I don't know about that," I replied.  "But, during the week we have to be like the Roadrunner.  Do you know who he is?"

"Wait," interjected B.  "We can be like a coyote.  Coyotes are faster than roadrunners."

"Um, not in Looney Toons, he's not.  The Roadrunner is the fastest.  That's who I'm talking about."

"So, what you're saying is you want us to move 8mph instead of 10mph?  Because a coyote runs 10mph and roadrunners only run 8mph," she pressed on.

"B!  I am not talking about real roadrunners!  I am talking about the Looney Toons one, in which he is the fastest!  I want you guys to be like the Roadrunner!  From Looney Toons, I mean."

I was driving so I can't be certain, but I'm fairly sure B rolled her eyes at me.

After they got out of my car ("Move it!  Move it!  Be the Roadrunner, not a sloth!  Go!  Go!!  Go!!!"), I had to laugh at the whole exchange I had with B.  I absolutely love the fact that she has so much knowledge about things most people, myself included, don't (I mean really?  Who knows how fast roadrunners and coyotes run?  Where did she even learn this?).

I was so thrilled that I managed to turn my stress into something fun for them, but someone is going to have to remind me come Saturday that I have given them permission to move as slow as they want (except to get to the TV).  I'm sure when I tell them to hurry up, M will be right there to remind me that it's Slothenly Saturday and thus we can be sloths all day.  That might not be such a bad idea after all.

Wednesday, August 27, 2014

Why Do Today What You Can Do Tomorrow?

True story:  I sat down this morning to write about how B is a huge procrastinator, took one look at the screen and thought, "Eh. . . I'll do this later."  And I wonder where she gets it from. . . (is it too pedantic  for me to say "And I wonder from where she gets it?" Is it too pedantic for me to use the word pedantic?  See, this is how my mind works.  Back to today and my issue with procrastinating.)

So, now that I'm finished procrastinating. . . B is the biggest procrastinator I know and that's saying a lot!  I really believe her philosophy is "Not now, but later!" because she appears to do everything that way.  When she does her homework, she does sit down and gets right too it.  She then picks herself up, grabs a book and sits down on the couch to read.

"B, is your homework finished?," I ask (we could have this conversation recorded and just play it every day, for as often as we have it).

"Yes," she responds without looking up.

"Is it put away?," I query, looking right at it on the table.

"No.  I'll put it away later," she says, clearly annoyed that I'm distracting her.  Will you pay me on Tuesday for a hamburger today?  I should ask her that next time, though I'm sure that'll just earn me a blank stare.

"Fine!," she grunts, clearly annoyed that I'm making her tear herself away from whatever great American novel she's reading now.  "I'll do it now!"

Stomp, stomp, stomp

Yes you will, you know why?  Because homework isn't finished until it's put away.  B is not the only Curly Girly with this issue (clearly).

I can't tell you how many times I threw out homework last year, not realizing it was work that still needed to be turned in, because it was left on the table.

You go to school, you leave work behind, it gets trashed.  Not to sound like my mother, but "If it's important than put it away!"  Gah!  I hate when I have to pull out phrases I heard and hated from when I was a child.

B doesn't seem to realize that if she lived in the moment instead of thinking about doing it in the future, her room would be forever clean!  How hard is it to put dirty clothes in the hamper?  Evidentially, very, because none of the Curly Girly Trio seem to know how to use their hampers.

L is the worst at the messy room procrastination.  Well, actually, no she's not.  She's the worst at having to clean it up.  She'll play and play and play and then come out of her room to see if she can watch TV or go on the computer or have a snack and every singe time I ask, "Did you clean up?"

"Doh!," she grunts.  "It's too messy!  I can't do it!  I need help!"

"But, L," I lovingly point out. "You didn't need help making the mess.  Go get it cleaned up."

"It's too hard!," she cries.

That's when the big guns come out.

"Ok then," I soothe, grabbing a trash bag. "Tell you what.  Anything you don't want to put away, put in the trash bag and we'll give it to boys and girls who would love to have toys to put away."

"Ok," she concedes, with a small whine.  "I'll go clean."

I'm not sure what's sadder. . . the fact that I have to use underprivileged children as a threat or the fact that my child would rather clean up her things than donate them.

Today, after B finished her homework, she put it away immediately!  I almost fainted when I heard her say that she had to put it away before she could play.  I asked her why the change and she said, "Well, I'm trying to break my bad habit. . . Plus, you told me that if I could not procrastinate for the rest of the week, you'd give me an extra dollar in my allowance."  Money definitely talks. . . Too bad I'm going to go broke in the process.

Tuesday, August 26, 2014

Homework Blues

I have never liked homework.  As a child, I detested it to the point where I'd rather throw tantrums for 10 minutes than sit down and get it done in those 10 minutes.  I thought when I finished school, all the yucky homework would be finished too.

After the girls started school, I came to really enjoy homework time. . . Until they started asking me for help.

Last year, when M was in second grade, she needed help with her math homework. 

"Easy peasy lemon squeezey," I thought to myself. "It's second grade math!  I can do this with my eyes shut."

M came home from school the next day and was very upset.

"Mommy!  All of the math problems you helped me with were wrong!!" 

Oops.  That was the last time I helped any of them with math.

M came home today with grammar homework.  I love reading and words and I enjoy writing.  I like to think I have fairly good grammar but to remember subjects and predicates?  Yeah. . . I haven't had to think about that in over 10 years!  B had to school me on them briefly before I could help M.

Her homework was to write 10 simple sentences using 10 spelling words.  I assume she was supposed to underline the subject and predicate, I couldn't really understand all the blubbering through the tears.  

"You are a very creative person, M," I consoled.  "Surely you can come up with sentences for 10 words."

"Mommy, you need to help me!," came the sob.

"Oh no, M.  I am not doing your homework for you."

"But Mommy!!  My teacher says parents have to help!  She doesn't want us doing this all by ourselves!"

Really?  I'm friends with M's teacher and I highly doubt that's the case.  However, I fell for the trick and helped her.  I gave her sentences, which she wrote down (bonus spelling quiz!) and she then underlined the subject and predicate.  The best sentence was for the word "remarkable".  "My mother is a remarkable person."  Why yes she is, M, yes she is.

The good news in all of this is I have finally remembered subjects and predicates and they aren't anywhere near as tricky as I remember them being. I am only hoping that M's sentences are correct because if they aren't, I'll be beyond embarrassed tomorrow.  

The next time any of the girls ask "Why do we have homework?" I shall be very truthful with them.

My darlings, you have homework so you will be able to help your children with their homework!  It's the never-ending pattern.






Monday, August 25, 2014

"You Do the Hokey Pokey and You Turn Yourself Around. . . "

It is impossible to stay angry when you do the Hokey Pokey.  No, really.  It's true!  Try it the next time you're feeling really upset about something and I guarantee you'll be smiling in no time.

I have been yell free for 9 months.  I am beyond proud of this accomplishment because bad habits are hard to break.  Yelling was a very bad habit for me.  I used to say it was stress relief but in actuality, it just induced more stress for me and The Curly Girly Trio (and The Doctor as well, I'm sure).

I still feel stress and annoyance and sometimes anger, I just let those feeling out in a different way.  I sing, I dance, I whisper.  If we're home or if we're out, if I feel like yelling I dance and sing instead.  I'd rather people look at me like I'm strange because I'm singing and dancing in the store and not because I'm yelling loud enough to be heard 5 miles away.

Going grocery shopping with the Curly Girlies takes a lot of effort.  They have their Mama's wonderful quality of wanting everything she sees.  Every aisle we go down, I hear pleas of, "Oh, Mommy!  Can we please buy this?" and "Mommy!  I have to have this!".  L has even taken to quoting commercials.  The first few times, it was cute.  Now, it's just annoying.

We were walking down the laundry aisle in Target last week and L asked me if we use Clorox or Oxi-Clean.

"Oxi-Clean," I replied, astounded.  "Why do you ask?"

"Because," she explained.  "A man on TV says Clorox is better.  But he's wrong.  Oxi-Clean is the best product there is!"

Yesterday, after spending an hour walking around the grocery store fielding input from girls who insisted we buy Fruity Pirates Booty and Watermelon Juice (Ew! and Yuck!) along with some other items, M started begging for bubble gum.  I had told them time and time again that I was only buying the items on my list and funnily enough, nothing they were asking for was on it.

"Please Mommy!," whined M.  "Please!  I'll do anything if you buy me bubble gum!"

"Again, M," I replied, quite patiently.  "I already told you.  It's not on my list, therefore I'm not buying it.  When I put it on my list, I'll get some for you."

"But Mommy!," she pleaded.  "Please!  Pleease!  I'll do anything!"

This is when the Hokey Pokey came in to play.  She kept whining and turned on the tears and the sobs, so I started singing while I was unloading my cart.  We made quite the duo, her sobbing, whining and carrying on that I was the meanest Mommy and "Mommy, please stop singing!!!!" and I kept singing.  The fun started when B and L joined me!  I happened to glance up and saw the cashier staring at us, and I couldn't help but smile.  Stare away.  Stare all you want.  I'd much prefer you go home and tell your girlfriend about the crazy mother who sang the Hokey Pokey while her kid threw a fit.  I'm crazy and I know it!

M kept the sobs up long after I finished and started in on "If You're Happy and You Know It".  That got her to stop for a few minutes.  I guess because she wasn't happy and she didn't want me singing about how happy I was (though, I was more annoyed than anything  Don't let them see you sweat, right?).

After we got into the car, she whined, "Why didn't you buy me the bubble gum?" Really??  I mean, really???

"M, how long have you known me?," I asked.

"8 years," she replied.

"How long have you lived in my house, with my rules?"

"8 years," she answered a bit testily.

"Why is it then," I pondered. "That you act as though you don't know that when you carry on and whine you most certainly will not get your own way?  Did you honestly think I was going to buy you the gum after I said 'No'?  Did you honestly think that I was going to change my mind, especially after you carried on like that?"

"No," she answered meekly.  By this point we pulled into the parking lot of the other store we had to go to.

"Mommy," she asked. "If I'm good in this store, will you buy me gum?"

What??!??

I looked her in the eye and said, "You know the answer to that."

"Ok," she pouted.

When my girls pout and complain about my saying "No" I answer with, "I know I'm the meanest Mommy in the world."  Usually, they disagree and say, "No you're not!  You're not mean!"  Not yesterday, though.  I said my usual to M and she replied, "I know."  You know what?  I look good in the Mean Mommy crown.  It suits me.  I love Mean Mommy who doesn't yell.  Mean Mommy seems to be synonymous with Embarrassing Mommy and that is just fine by me.




Sunday, August 24, 2014

Fashion (?) Sense

One day, when I was 10, my family was going to the County Fair.  I don't remember what I was wearing, but I remember being very proud of my outfit of choice.  I felt so fashionable and grown up.  I came down the stairs, and immediately, my mother sent me back up to change.  I refused.  She sent me up again and I whined.  I thought I looked fantastic!  Why couldn't she see that?  She went upstairs and a few minutes later, she came down dressed very oddly.  She said, "OK, CG, what do you think of my outfit?"  

"You look great!," I exclaimed.

It turns out, that was the wrong answer.  I was still sent upstairs to change, because ". . . no daughter of mine will go out of the house looking like a gypsy!"  For the record, my mother changed too.  While I cannot remember what I was wearing (I think my ensemble included 3 belts, though), I do know I was mad because I thought I looked terrific. 

After I became CGM, I made it a point to allow The Curly Girly Trio to wear what they pleased, within reason, out and about.  Thus, we have left the house with fairy princesses, pirates, Belle, Cinderella, Doc McStuffins, a chef and other assorted characters.

For an entire year, I used to allow L to wear her pajamas out whenever she wanted, because I figured she was only little once and after awhile it stops being socially acceptable.  Why?  Wouldn't it be great if we could all just wear our jammies to the grocery store and not get odd looks from others?   I know I'd be far more comfortable!

This morning, I told the Curly Girlies to get dressed because we have to go grocery shopping.  As I walked into the kitchen, I heard B call my name.  I looked up and my jaw dropped open.  My 10 year old was dressed like a-- Well, let's just say she was dressed like someone much older than a 10 year old.

She was wearing a shirt that she had pulled off one shoulder to allow a cami strap to show, a plaid short tutu skirt that came with a halloween costume, a pair of leggings and her knee high, patent leather boots that she got for her Violet Incredible Halloween costume a few years ago.

"No.  No way.  You need to go change now!," I exclaimed, shocked at this outfit.

"Why?," she whined. "I like what I'm wearing!"

Ugh. . . Flashback to nearly 30 years ago!  Eek!  Now I know what my Mom was thinking!  

"Why?," I said incredulously.  "Because no child of mine will leave this house looking like a hooker!"  

"Fine.  What should I take off?," she countered, angrily.

"If you want to wear the shirt, it needs to cover both shoulders.  You can leave everything on but the boots."

She started to turn to walk away and I called her back.  

"Wait, a sec," I said as I grabbed my phone/camera.

"Are you going to take a picture of me?," she asked.

"You betcha!"

"No!  Don't!," she begged.

"I just want to get Daddy's opinion," I said sneakily.

"Well, OK."

After a few minutes, I heard clomping again.

"I said to take off the boots, B!," I called out.

"I did!," she exclaimed.  I looked up and she was now wearing her high heeled party shoes.  What??

"We are only going to the grocery store.  Why the party shoes?  Go put on flip flops," I advised.

"Mommy!!!  Flip flops don't go with this outfit!!," she admonished.

"Ok.  Fine.  Wear the shoes, but I don't want to hear complaints about how your feet are hurting halfway through the store."

I went back to my room to gather a load of laundry and when I came back out, about 5 minutes later, she was in the kitchen dressed much more like a 10 year old, wearing a 3/4 length sleeved shirt and a pair of jeans.

"You look very nice, B.  What made you decide to change?," I asked, surprised.  I honestly expected her to stay in her slutty outfit because she knew I didn't like it.

"Oh, well, the skirt was a little uncomfortable," was her answer.  That's good enough for me!

Just last night we were discussing how she always has an attitude with me.  I said something along the lines of, "Well, would you ever talk to Daddy like that?" and she answered, "Oh, no!  I would never be rude to Daddy!"  

"Really?  Because you're always--"

"I'm only sometimes rude to you," she interrupted.  

Well, as GI Joe used to say, "Knowing is half the battle!"  Now that she has admitted she knows she's rude to me, perhaps we can work on the attitude change.  Then again, I see the rudeness getting worse over the years.  If my tween and teen years with my Mom are any indication, B is going to be feeling like she hates me for a long time and then one day, she'll realize I've always been right.

Saturday, August 23, 2014

Just Call Me Monica

I often look at B, M and L and am brought back to my childhood.  They are slobs.  I'm not going to sugarcoat it, that's what they are.  Whenever I complain to my Sister From Another Mister about how messy they are, she reminds me that I was the same way.

Growing up, our families would alternate monthly dinners at our houses.  When we were at her house, we played games like Tag, Boys vs Girls and Nintendo.  When they were at our house, SFAM and her sister (her real one) would clean my room.  They didn't just put things away, they organized everything!  I'd lay on my bed, talking to them about the latest Baby-Sitter's Club and Sweet Valley Twins books and they'd be alphabetizing my bookshelf and organizing my dolls.  When they left, my room was always so much neater!  I was always in awe of them, because try as I might, I just couldn't get my room like that without them.  In fact, less than 24 hours later, it would be messy again.  Oddly, they were always befuddled when they'd come back and my room was a mess again.

I am not sure what happened, but somewhere in my late 20's to early 30's I finally figured out how to clean.  Not just that, but I actually enjoy it!  I mean, don't get me wrong, I hate doing windows and mirrors and I hate cleaning the bathrooms.  I'm not fond of ironing or folding and putting away clean clothes, either.  What I like, though, is seeing something go from messy to organized in one swoop.

One week a month, I go through each of The Curly Girlies' bedrooms and organize it for them, much in the same fashion SFAM and her sister did for me.  Just like me, they are always so appreciative of it and every time M says, "Oh!  Thank you Mommy!  I love it!"  I always tell her the best way to show her appreciation is by keeping her room clean and organized.

"Oh, I will Mommy!," she always exclaims.  And so she does, for exactly 3 days (2 and a half days longer than I did!).  M is quite a pack rat and we always joke she's going to be on the show Hoarders when she's an adult (sometimes, I'm quite certain that's going to be the reality).  She likes to hold on to every fast food toy, broken or not, scraps of paper that someone gave her, birthday cards from acquaintances and any other little odd and ends she can find.  Case in point, L just came over to me telling me she doesn't want something anymore and I said, "OK, let's get rid of it then" and thinking, "How fitting, given this blog post!"  M overheard and immediately started exclaiming, "Wait!  I play with that!  I'll keep it!  L, you can't get rid of it!  I think it's B's!  B do you want it?  I'll take it!"

Out of all the rooms, I love cleaning hers the best, because I love seeing the "Trash" and "Donate" piles adding up.  There is something so satisfying of seeing a room go from messy to neat in 2 shakes of a lamb's tail (when the lamb is shaking her tail very slowly).  B and L have a bunch of stuff too, but most of their things are items that they actually play with and use, so I end up moving a lot of stuff around until I'm happy with how it looks.

When we go out for Teppanyaki, the girls "ooh" and "aah" at the onion volcano and the beating heart rice and I do so at the end when the chef pours the seltzer water on to the hot griddle and makes it all sparkly clean again.  What has happened to me???  Every time, I say how much I love it (which is every time we go), The Doctor just sighs, rolls his eyes and tucks back into his meal.

I held a party this morning at my house for my friends and their kids.  While the kids were having a movie party, my friends and I were buying jewelry.  I broke a cardinal rule and allowed the kids to eat their pizza, candy, popcorn and juice boxes in the family room, in front of the TV.  B and one of her besties took their food into her room (another typical no-no, but I know they were trying to get away from M and L and their friends).  Towards the end of the party, I walked into the kitchen and saw dirt all over the floor and this is where I surprised myself.  I didn't freak out and I didn't stress.  Instead, my first thought was, "Oh, I can't wait to mop that up and see how clean the floor is again!"  Really?  When did I turn into someone who looks forward to mopping and vacuuming?  Does this mean B will turn into someone who actually likes to put away her clothes, as opposed to leaving them in a pile on her closet floor?  Will M turn into someone who will actually be able to tell trash apart from treasure?  Will L stop crying that she can't clean up the mess she made?  Cliffhanger. . . To be continued in 30 years.

Friday, August 22, 2014

The Antics of Psycho Kitty

I have talked about my Curly Girlies, B, M and L quite a bit on this blog, but there is one more sweet little girly who is begging to be mentioned.  Psycho Kitty is a little over a year old.  The Doctor found her in the parking lot of his office building when she was about 3 weeks old with her mother nary in sight.  He sent me a picture of her and I immediately responded, "If you are asking if I want her, the answer is yes!  Her name is Psycho Kitty."

B had just gone away to sleep away camp a few days earlier and we decided to keep it a secret from M and L because surprising them is always so much fun. We had 2 other kitties at the time (Sweet Girl and The Sweetest Boy) so we didn't have to get too many items to get ready for our new addition.  I had to buy some kitten formal and when M questioned me, I told her G-ma had gotten a new kitten and asked me to pick it up for her.

The Doctor came into the house holding Psycho Kitty (who was smaller than his hand) and usual, both M and L came running up to greet him.  M stopped in her tracks and said, "What's that?"

"What does it look like?," The Doctor asked back.

"A kitten.  Is it ours?," she asked.

I don't actually remember how we told her yes, she was, because as soon as we did, she started jumping up and down, screaming and then shouted, "L!!  We have a kitten!  Look L, a kitten!  Just like you always wanted!"  Hearing that, you'd think perhaps L was in the other room, but no, she was standing right there, having heard everything that had just taken place.

M has a habit of repeating everything she hears to whoever is willing to listen (sometimes a willing listener is just anyone who has 2 ears.  Doesn't matter if they are actually paying attention, or if she even knows them.  The poor grocery store cashiers know every little "exciting to M" piece of information she has).  So, L had already heard this conversation, but maybe because M was so excited, she started screaming, "We are?!?  Oh, thank you Mommy!"  I told her to go thank her Daddy, since he was the one who came to Psycho Kitty's rescue.

When M saw me pouring the formula into a bottle to feed Psycho Kitty, she asked, "Wait.  Isn't that for G-ma's new kitten?"  I looked at her and said, "G-ma didn't get a new kitten."

"You said this was for G-Ma.  Ohh!," she realized, "You said that so we would be surprised!"

"You are correct!," I replied, getting ready to feed Psycho Kitty.

"But, wait.  Did G-Ma get a new kitty?," she asked, still a little confused.

"No, M," I smiled.  "That was a ruse to keep you from figuring out that we were getting a new kitten."

"Oh.  Well, I think G-Ma should get a new kitten.  Can I feed Psycho Kitty now?"

Fast forward a year and two months. . . Psycho Kitty has lived up to her name very nicely.  My favorite form of entertainment is watching her chase her tail.  For months, I'd hear her hiss at nothing and wonder what spooked her.  For a minute (well, about a week if we want to be technical) I thought perhaps she was seeing ghosts or spirits.  During the year, we had to put down both Sweet Girl and The Sweetest Boy and I thought maybe they were visiting.  When I told my theory to The Doctor, he just rolled his eyes and sighed (ironic, eh?  I thought for sure he'd grab his sonic screwdriver and help me find the cause).  One day, I was in the kitchen and she was sitting by my feet with her tail swishing behind her.  She must have caught a glimpse of it in the corner of her eye, because she jumped about a foot in the air, started hissing like crazy and proceeded to run in a circle trying to catch it.  She then sat back down and rested.  A few minutes later, she turned towards her tail and hissed again and I about fell off my chair laughing.  That got her to stop looking at her tail and looked at me instead.  After giving me the kitty version of the Stink Eye, she slunk off to lick her wounds.  I guess my laughing hurt her feelings, but act like a fool, and laugh I will!




Thursday, August 21, 2014

Silliness at the Polls!

Before The Doctor left on his journey, he reminded me that early voting is happening right now and encouraged me to go, so I wouldn't have to be stuck waiting behind some dork who failed at signing her signature at the check in.

In all honesty, I completely forgot until I received an email stating that the DVD I placed on hold for L came in.  Our voting place happens to be at the library.  As I pulled in, I realized I could vote at the same time, and figured, "Why not?  Let's just get it over with."

I was greeted by a security guard who reminded me to silence my phone and I said to him, "OK.  Can you help me, though, please?  I just had my nails done."  He looked at me like I was nuts, but obliged my strange request.  He then told me to have my license ready to hand over to the volunteer checking political savvy (or maybe not savvy, just wanting to do their civic duty) people in.

"Yes!," I thought.  "I'm the only one here!  I'll be out of here in no time!"

See, I was starving because I never bothered eating anything after my Kickboxing class this morning.  I'm going to blame everything that happened next on my stomach grumbling so loudly I couldn't concentrate.

I handed my license to the lovely volunteer and she scanned it in and then asked me to sign, so I did.  She then looked at her screen, looked at me, looked at my license and then looked back at the screen.

"Is there a problem?," I asked.

"Well, um, your signature doesn't match," she replied.

"OK.  Can you not tell that it's me by the picture?"

"No, I can see it's you, but you didn't sign your name.  You just put a letter."

"Yes," I said patiently.  "That's my new signature.  It's easier than writing out every letter."

"Well," she explained.  "Your signature has to match what's on the license."

"I need to see the license then.  I have changed my signature about 5 times since I first got that license," I said, earning me looks from both her and the gentleman volunteer sitting next to her, listening to this great saga.

She thrust it back to me and said, "Make sure you sign it exactly like that."

I obviously don't follow directions very well, because it ended up being more squiggle like.  At least it wasn't just a letter this time, though!

She looked at the screen again and I said, "Is that good enough, or shall I try again?"

"No," she sighed.  "This will be fine.  Take the slip over the man over there who'll explain what to do."

The gentleman volunteer sitting next to her finally piped up and offered me some sage advice as I was putting away my license with my now outdated signature.

"You might want to get a new license so that your signatures match," he advised.

I thanked him and told him the next time I had to renew, I'd certainly remember that.  I did not tell him that this is my new signature this year.  When I go to sign, my hand does what it wants and if I like what I see, I keep it until my hand gives me something nicer.

It took me longer to check in than it did to complete the ballot and as I left, I went back up the security guard and asked, "Do you think you could please turn-"

"You want me to turn it back on?," he asked.  "Sure thing!"

I'm fairly certain I heard chuckles and laughter as I left.

I performed my civil duty and I gave people a laugh and something to talk about tonight around the dinner table!  My job here is done.

Wednesday, August 20, 2014

When the Gander's away. . .

The Doctor is traveling through time in the TARDIS so the Curly Girly Trio and I are on our own.  We always feel a little discombobulated when he's gone, but I like to think we get into a pretty good rhythm.

I used to allow the girls to rotate sleeping with me, which The Doctor had warned me would be a bad idea.

"Nah," I said.  "It'll be fun for them and I won't have to sleep alone.  A double win!"

"Ok," he said in an "I can't wait to tell you 'I told you so'" kind of a tone.

The first night was great!  M came in about 1 and slept very soundly.  I slept as well as I do when The Doctor is gone, which isn't very well.

The second night was B's turn.  Again, it went without a hitch.

"Hah!," I thought in the morning.  "He was wrong!  This is fantastic!"

The third night was L's turn.  She came in at about midnight and proceeded to sit up and chat for hours.  I'd grunt, "Lay down and go to sleep" and she'd lay down, but she was still talking.  Finally, after another hour, I said, "That's it.  You are going back to your room."  She started crying and told me she promised she'd go to sleep.

"But, Mommy, I sleep with my eyes open," she explained.

At this point, I was to tired to argue and given the fact that I was sleeping with my eyes open, maybe it's a possibility.  I told her to lay down and be quiet.

For 2 whole minutes it was blissful.  I nearly went back to sleep when I heard her little voice start up again.

"Go to sleep, L!  I mean it.  Stop talking or you're going back to your room!"

"But Mommy, I am sleeping.  Remember, I sleep with my eyes open."

"L," I pointed out, "You cannot be sleeping because you are talking to me."

"But Mommy," she patiently explained, "I talk in my sleep."

"That's it!  Go sleep with your eyes open and talk in your own room!," I said firmly.

"No!  I want to sleep with you!," she cried.  By this point, my alarm was going to be going off in an hour and I was so tired, I didn't think I could get out of bed.

"If you talk to me one more time, you will be grounded all day tomorrow," I threatened (and it was quite a full threat, no emptiness there!).

That worked, she finally stopped talking!  When my alarm went off, she mumbled, "What's that?"

"The alarm.  It's time to get up," I said, eager to finally get her out of my bed.

"But, Mommy, I am so tired," she whined.

Gee. . . I wonder why that is.

About an hour later, while we were eating breakfast, M said excitedly, "It's my turn to sleep with you tonight, right?"

"Nope," I answered.  "Daddy is coming home tonight, but even if he wasn't, from now on, you girls sleep in your own beds."

"Not when Daddy's not here, though!," cried B. "You said we could sleep with you!"

"Yes, I did.  You are correct.  Sadly, that was before I realized some of you wouldn't actually sleep," I grumbled.

Immediately, both B and M knew it was L and shot her daggers.

"Mommy, it is NOT fair that we are being punished when L is the one who wouldn't sleep," B argued. She says she's going to be a veterinarian, but I think she's going to be an attorney.  She has all the makings of one.

This happened a year ago and to this day, every time The Doctor goes on a trip, M says grumpily, "We would be allowed to sleep with Mommy, if it weren't for L."  Yep.  You would be and I would have been able to gloat to The Doctor that I was right.  I guess none of us are getting what we want.

Tuesday, August 19, 2014

Some Things Never Change

We have been at our elementary school for 5 years now, since B was in 1st grade.  I have always dropped off in the car lane and for the past 5 years, I end up being the car that holds up the car lane.  You know the one. . . The car that's stopped in the middle, while you are sitting behind it (or a few cars behind it), wanting to beep, but not wanting the scare the kids.  You're sitting there wondering what on Earth is that parent doing?  Blow a kiss to your kid and leave!  "Come on!, " you think.  "I have places to go and people to see!  Move your car!!"  I know you are thinking that, because I'm thinking that too and it's my car that's holding everything up!

My girls are so slow getting out of the car, I think I saw a snail pass them this morning.  I don't think they mean to be slow, they just aren't very coordinated at maneuvering a backpack, lunchbox and their body.  B nearly always has a book in her hand to make things that much more complicated.  I have tried to get the girls to put their various items into their backpacks, but they claim added items (to their bags that have exactly 1 folder and possibly one book in it) make them too heavy.  According to B, it's just easier to carry everything.  Mind you, half the time, she ends up throwing her bag out of the car, tripping over someone's lunchbox and tumbling out of the car, because one hand is holding her lunchbox and the other hand is holding a book, partially open, and she can't get her balance. This year we have the added joy of L who is so small, her backpack is practically as big as she is.  Thanks to my great bento box lunches, her lunch box is huge and weighs more than she does.

Today was the first day we did car lane and it was just as hectic as last year.  I usually try to drive all the way to the last cone, thus not holding up the lane too much, but it's hard to do that when you have a teacher waving you to stop.  I'd love to be able to lower the window and tell her, "I'd rather move down.  This is going to take a while!", but that would end up taking even more time.

So, today, I stopped at one of the middle cones, opened the door and started chanting, "Let's go!  Move it!  Move it!  Move it!!"  M got out of the car in record time!  B tripped and stumbled, but got out OK.  L had a bit of trouble getting her backpack out and ended up just standing in the car saying, "A little help here, please!"  Thankfully, the PE teacher came over to see what was taking so long and helped her out.  I felt torn because as I was watching L struggle I saw the assistant principal at the last cone waving me down.  What to do?  What to do?  I very nearly started driving down, as I am a rule follower and don't like not listening to authority.  After weighing the two options, I figured L's safety was more important than holding up the cars behind me and thus I disobeyed authority.  I'd love to say my heart was beating so fast because I was exhilarated at doing so, but in actuality, I was a nervous wreck.  I'm in my mid-30's and still afraid of the consequences of ignoring the principal or assistant principal.

Another issue we've had is my forgetting to sign the agendas.  Of course, today was no different, except for the mere fact that I didn't forget!  I asked B last night for her agenda and while she gave me her binder, I didn't see her agenda in it.  Pulling up to the school, I reminded B to bring home her spelling words and she claimed she had.

"I didn't see them," I said.

"They were in my agenda!," she exclaimed.

"I didn't even see your agenda, B.  I didn't sign it.  If you have it, I'll sign it for you now."

She passed her bag up to M, who handed me the binder with the agenda in it.  The reason I didn't see the coveted agenda was because it was hiding behind the folder I bought for papers to be brought to and from school (a topic for another time, I'm sure).

I opened it up and realized- No pen!  I started rooting around my black hole (that's the term of endearment The Doctor has for all my bags).  All I found were 2 lip glosses, so. . . That's what I used to sign.  Last year, nearly 2-3 times a week, the "parent's initials" line was circled because I'd forget to sign. Not this year.  I hate the little circle taunting me about being slacker Mom when we get home from school.  I was so proud that I was all MacGyver like and figured out a way of signing this thing.

When B came home, I asked her what her teacher said about my makeshift lipgloss pen and she said, "She didn't say anything."

You know why?  Because staring up at the page was that taunting, little circle.  My lipgloss initials looked like a chocolate smudge which means, her teacher probably thinks I was so busy stuffing my mouth with some tasty little morsel that I forgot to sign again.

Yep. . . good to know some things never change.

Monday, August 18, 2014

A Day of Firsts

There is a first day for everything.  Today was the first day of L's elementary school experience.  It was the last first day of B's elementary school experience (does that still count as a first?).  It was M's first day on the "big kid" playground since the 3rd-5th graders have their own playground "With a twirly slide!," M exclaimed excitedly.  It's the little things, you know?

The Curly Girly Trio had fantastic first days.  I thought L was going to cry.  I didn't just think it, I knew it.  I had a feeling she was going to be a sobbing, teary, snotty mess from the minute we entered the school until whatever time her teacher sent her to the guidance counselor.  She is my shadow and follows me everywhere and she was very concerned this morning about my being all alone today and didn't believe me when I told her I would be fine.

It's not that she hasn't been to school before, because she has.  She was in preschool for 3 years, but it was nearly always half days and she went to school an hour after her sisters did.  The days that I walked her to her classroom, as opposed to doing car lane, she was very clingy and teary, so you see, I had evidence that tears were going to happen.  The one thing I didn't factor in was the fact that her best boy friend ("He's not my boyfriend, Mommy!") from preschool is in her class.  He's the only other child from her preschool class going to her elementary school and it's like she won that jackpot that they are in the same class.

We got to school early, parked a block away and walked the girls in.  We walked to L's classroom first, because it's the closest to the entrance we came through.  I told her to sit in the hall and wait for her teacher to open the door or for her friends to arrive.

"I hope BF comes soon," she said nervously.

"He'll be here when he's here," I replied.  "You have to sit nicely in the hall."

"I know," she sighed.

She then squealed, "BF!  Look BF is here!"  I turned and sure enough, BF was standing right next to her!  I need to have her pick my lottery numbers, I think, because she's spot on (with this anyway.  Maybe I shouldn't gamble several hundred million on a 5 year old).

While this was going on, The Doctor had walked B and M to their classrooms.  Both of their classes moved up together from last year, but because grades were changed, the teachers had to move to different spots in the school.  M's classroom is the very last classroom in the school.  She is as far away from the spot I'll be dropping off and picking up as she can be and she was a little concerned she'd get lost finding her room.  This is the first year B isn't walking her to her classroom, because B's room is closer (Another first!).

The Doctor soon came back and shortly after that, L's teacher opened the door and in we marched.  The desks were arranged differently from when we went on Friday to meet the teacher and see the classroom and L marched straight to the desk she was at on Friday.  It's not her desk anymore, though.  We helped her find her desk and *huzzah!* her desk is right next to BF's!  They both sat down and L started chatting BF's ear off about the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (L's current obsession).  I turned to The Doctor and said, "Wow.  No tears!  I am shocked!"

We hugged and kissed her, said goodbye, talked to her teacher, called out goodbye again and walked out.  Nary a tear fell from this child's eye.  I am not upset about that at all, though I'm a little disappointed because I thought I knew my child better.  That makes 3 for 3 on tear free Kindergarten drop offs.

We walked down to B's classroom, where she was already busy at work solving a word search.  5th grade must mean she doesn't need long, lengthy goodbyes from her parents.  We then walked all the way out to M's classroom, where we were greeted by an excited M.  Her class isn't completely the same as last year, but she happens to know all but 2 students.

As we were walking back to our cars, I told The Doctor it felt strange to be child free.  For the last 10 weeks, I have had at least 1 child, mostly 2 and sometimes more, with me at all times.  It felt so strange to get into my car and be able to listen to the radio without hearing whines, yells, cries or bad jokes.  Oh, it was blissful!

I celebrated by going grocery shopping.  I have forgotten what it's like to go without hearing pleas for cookies, junk cereals and candy.  I was even able to have a phone conversation and wasn't interrupted once!  Euphoria, I tell you, pure euphoria.

My bubble burst when I got home and realized I had no one to help me bring in the groceries.  It was inflated again, though, when I realized that I could put the groceries away while watching (well, listening) to real TV and not Paw Patrol, Jake or Teen Titans Go!.  Ahh. . . I can get used to this.

Sunday, August 17, 2014

The One Downside to School Starting

If you know me, you know how excited I am school is starting.  This has been a L-O-N-G Summer.  One of the longest I think, though The Doctor claims I say this every Summer.  M asked me last Monday if I was going to be sad and miss the Curly Girly Trio when school starts (TOMORROW!!!) and was extremely offended when I replied, "No way!  I'm coming home and having a dance party!"

I am going to be a little disappointed though, because I'm losing my free (or very cheap) labor.

You see (or to quote L "You see here"), we have a wonderful chore rotational.  B, M and L rotate every week between Kitchen Duty, Laundry Duty and Bathroom Duty and they earn a weekly allowance of $2.00.  Whoever's room is the cleanest at the end of the week wins the Dollar of the Week.

Over the Summer, they were doing everything for each area.  Laundry was so easy for me, because all I had to do was fold and though I despise folding, it's easier to do when I know it's the only task I have.  It occurred to me yesterday that I'm going to have to pick up some of the slack while they are in school.  I still fully expect that they'll gather the dirty laundry, load and unload the dishes and keep the bathrooms tidy, but I know unless I want laundry to take forever, I am going to have to do more than just fold.

B was over the moon happy yesterday after she was moaning and groaning about having to do the laundry and I pointed out that once school starts, I'll be helping with it.  Her bubble burst when I told her allowances are still based on how much they do.

"If you spend your morning reading and moving at the pace of a snail, thus wasting time and not being able to get a load started, you will be docked in your weekly allowance, " I said.

"{indistinguishable whine}," she answered.

Her problem is, she is like Alexander who was rich last Sunday (you know, from the Alexander books?  Love those!)  She was rich last Sunday.  Sadly, she kept forgetting to turn off her light (a $0.25 fine for each infraction) and she must have thought her hamper was broken, because she insisted on leaving dirty clothes on the floor ($0.05 for each piece adds up quickly!).  This is a child who loves shopping and has parents who make her buy her own junk- uh, I mean wonderful treasures that she just has to have.  She was not too pleased when we passed through the wonderful doors of my favorite store (Target) earlier this week and my responses were "No" and "Nope" and "Ha ha ha ha ha!  Who do you think I am?" to all of her requests of "Please Mommy???  I'll pay you back!" and "I just have to have that!" and "Please, pretty please???  You can give me an advance on my allowance!"

The Chore Rotation changes today.  Her chore for this week is Bathroom Duty.  Remembering from the past, this will be accompanied by lots of eye rolls, sighs and whines.  Perhaps I should start charging for those too.  I'll be rich by the end of the week!


Saturday, August 16, 2014

Meal Planning at its Finest

I hate meal planning.  Actually, hate isn't a strong enough word.  I loathe meal planning.  For years, it was the bane of my existence.  For years, I'd dread Sundays, because that was the day I'd sit down with my recipe box (for someone who hate's meal planning, I sure do have a ton of recipes!) and try to pick at least 4 meals for the week.  I figured one day could be a leftovers day, Saturdays we'd order in pizza or go out and Sunday is always family dinner with my parents.  After a while, I realized I was picking the same 5-10 recipes over and over again.

One day, The Doctor saw my meal plan and said, "That again?"

"You think you can do a better job," I said, trying not to snarl, and knowing what the answer would be.

"Yes.  I can do a better job, " was the reply (for the record, I knew what he was going to say).

"Fine," I said, as I handed him the recipe box and stomped away. "From now on, you can meal plan for me."

I busied myself cutting coupons, changing a diaper or two and trying to clean up some kind of sticky mess when he called me over to the computer.

"Here you go," he said. "I call this our 8x5 meal plan.  5 meals a week for 8 weeks.  At the end of the 8 weeks, you go back to the beginning."

"This is brilliant!," I exclaimed.  It really was too.  Plus, it proved that even he didn't like meal planning.

The only problem was, after about 6 months, we started to get bored.  One day, last year, I decided to switch to the crock pot.  For months, I made crock pot recipes every night.  I was perfectly happy, as what's better than throwing a bunch of ingredients into a crock pot and walking away from the kitchen?  The answer to that, as I found out a few months later, is meat that is not stewed with veggies.  Although I'd use different meats, veggies and broths, everything had the same texture and color.  Not so good for a foodie such as The Doctor.

Over the Summer, I worked really hard to not use the crock pot and I'd forgotten how fun cooking can be when you're making meals that are super tasty.  In an attempt to get more organized, I took it one step farther, put on my Martha Stewart hat and created a menu board (props go out to my wonderful Sister-in-Law for the idea and to Pintrest for samples).  Because I was so proud of my creation, I bragged about it on Facebook.  It's not enough for The Doctor or the my 3 Curly Girlies to know I can be creative and crafty at times, I need other people to know it too.

I, then, had the great idea to put 2 and 2 together.  I sat down with my new and improved (non crockpot recipes) and created a new 8x5 meal plan.  Every week, I'll look at that week's meals, pull my recipe cards and write the meals on the Menu Board.  This way, I get to stay organized and I never have to answer the dreaded "What's for dinner?" whine again.

After talking about my meal plan on Facebook, I have had a few requests to share it, but I didn't think Facebook was the proper place to do so, so this post is dedicated to that.

Without further adieu, my 8x5 Dinner plan


MONDAY
TUESDAY
WEDNESDAY
THURSDAY
FRIDAY
Corn Crisp Chicken
Spinach Manicotti
Crockpot: Beef Stew
Leftovers
Maple Mustard Chicken
Chicken with Black Seasonings
Tacos
The Doctor BBQ’s
Leftovers
Orange Garlic Butterflied Chicken
Easy Cola Chicken
Goat Cheese Salmon
Crockpot: Tortellini
Leftovers
Chinese Chicken
Turkey Meatloaf Provencal
Baked Spaghetti
The Doctor BBQ’s
Leftovers
Apricot Ginger Chicken Thighs
Parmesan Crusted Tilapia
Tuna Noodle Casserole
Crockpot: Balsamic Cherry Chicken
Leftovers
Arroz con Pollo
Beef Fry Wrapped Meatloaf
Zucchini Paremsan
The Doctor BBQ’s
Leftovers
Honey Baked Chicken
Triple Citrus Salmon
Cheesy Tortellini
Crockpot: Beef Stew
Leftovers
Chicken with Black Season
Tuscan Spaghetti Casserole
Shepard’s Pie
The Doctor BBQ’s
Leftovers
Tuscan Style Chicken


Sides:
Roasted Vegetable (Brussels Sprouts, Asparagus, Mixed Veggies)
Roasted Brussels Sprouts and Grapes
Not Too Sweet and Sour Brussels Sprouts
Roasted Turnips (or Parsnips) and Mushrooms
Roasted Tomatoes, Onions & Zucchini
Green Beans with Mushrooms and Shallots
Green Beans with Tomatoes
Baked Spinach and Pea Risotto (Dairy)
Sautéed Zucchini, Onions and Mushrooms
Sautéed Spinach and Garlic
Sautéed Green Beans
Carrot Fries

After creating this, I remembered how this is The Year of Unboring Lunches.  I sat down with my handy-dandy Trader Joe's Easy Lunch Boxes cookbook (we are not lucky enough to have a Trader Joe's yet and I'm anxiously awaiting the arrival in late October).

I created a 5x5 Lunch Plan as well.  

Monday
Tuesday
Wednesday
Thursday
Friday
Peanut Butter and X*
Bacon Cheesy Pita Pockets
Leftovers from Night Before
Cream Cheese and Olives
Momables Pizza
Turkey Day Pinwheels
California Tommy Dogs
Leftovers from Night Before
PB&J Sushi
Deviled Eggs
Smoked Salmon with Cream Cheese
Deep Sea Dogs
Leftovers from Night Before
Quinoa with Chia, Apricot and Sunflower Seeds
Momables Chicken Nuggets
Oatmeal Blueberry Pancakes
Roast Beef Sandwich
Leftovers from Night Before
Turkey Roll Ups
Fluffernutter
Veggie Delight Sandwiches
Macaroni and Cheese Bites
Leftovers from Night Before
Rock and Roll Stuffed Croissants
Spaghetti Muffins
 *X= Nutella, Jelly, Honey or Banana
Veggie/Fruit:                                                             Snacks:

Celery (Ants on a Log)                                               Trail Mix
Fruit Kabobs                                                               Oreo cookies
Carrots and Ranch                                                      Homemade Cookies
Caramelized Bananas                                                 Gooey Chocolate Nut Bars
Apple/Peach/Plum                                                      Nature Valley Bars
Strawberries/grapes/raspberries                                  Pretzels and Nutella
Bell Pepper strips medley                                           Peanut Butter and Crackers
Balsamic Strawberries                                                Goldfish
Ambrosia Salad                                                          Chocolate PB & Oat Snackers
Roasted Chickpeas                                                    
Sweet Potato French Toast
Carrot Fries        

My girls cannot complain about boring Uncrustables or Gogurts this year. I bought bento boxes and I think I'm more excited than the girls are about using them.  As you might remember from the other night, M is so insanely picky and I told her today, lunches will not be catered to her.

"Do I look like I'm running a restaurant?," I asked.

"No, but Mommy, what if I don't like the lunch?," came the tearful reply (she's going for a Golden Globe.  This child can turn on and off the water works at a drop of the hat).

"Well, then I guess you have 2 choices.  You can either deal with it and eat something that's tasty, even if it's not to your liking, or you can go hungry," I said calmly.  She wasn't too pleased with that response, but I know she isn't going to starve.  She also has the option of buying up to 4 times a month, so she can weigh the lesser of two evils (the nastier of two lunches?) and pick.  If you ask me, though, my lunches will win every time.

If any of the recipes intrigue you and you'd like the recipe, let me know and I'll be happy to share.