The jig is up.
We were making cupcakes a few days ago, and I sent Sophie to look for the food coloring. We were pretty sure that Dad had stashed it with the camping gear for some reason. After sifting through the still-unpacked remains of last weekend's camping trip in our garage for several minutes, she returned with a fiercely annoyed look on her face and something hidden behind her back.
"What's up?" I asked, "Did you find the food coloring?"
"No!" she snarled, "But I did find MY TOOTH!" she whipped her hand out from behind her back to reveal the paper Dixie cup which housed the tooth she lost on our camping trip.
"So...what does that mean?" I asked. Seven years old is a good a time as any to have one's illusions crushed.
"It means that Dad took it, and I am FURIOUS!!"
"Ok... so what does it mean that Dad took it?" I asked again.
"It means that DAD gave me the dollar." she hissed.
"And what does THAT mean?" I asked feeling confident that she could handle the truth.
"It means..." she pondered as her eyes rolled toward the ceiling, "It means...my Dad's the tooth fairy??" And with that her anger melted into fits of giggles.
"Yes," I cried, "Your Dad IS the tooth fairy!" We then discussed why the Moms and Dads of generations past had invented the tooth fairy in order to ease the fears of first time tooth-losers. Then there was a slightly awkward moment in which I had to admit that we had sort of lied about the tooth fairy. Sophie assured me that it was okay. She was not angry about this deception. Phew!
After a few moments of reflection Sophie also realized that all of the times that the tooth fairy forgot to come, it was actually Mom and Dad who had forgotten to make the tooth transaction, and this for some reason, was particularly hilarious in her little seven year old brain.
Are they still accepting applications for parents of the year?
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Monday, June 20, 2011
Happy Campers. Happy Father's Day.
I know you happy campers are out there. You love the sounds of nature in the early hours of the morning. You equally love the sound of the tent zipper being ripped open in the middle of the night to let a desperate seven year old escape and wee behind a pine tree. You love being huddled under blankets with chattering teeth and marveling at how "at one" you are with nature and what not. You also love knowing that there is a strange assortment of bugs flying and crawling around in the tent with you as you shiver and marvel. God's creatures are so precious. I know you happy campers love these things, but I happen to prefer a supportive mattress, climate control and perhaps a gourmet meal or two while I'm on vacation.
Basically what I am saying is that I am an awesome wife and mother. My husband wanted to go camping for Father's Day, and my kids were so excited they could hardly see straight. So I and my bad back took one for the team, and I have to admit I loved being with my family of happy campers this weekend. I even learned (or was helpfully reminded of) a few things:
- For some reason being woken by a wild turkey at 5 am is slightly less annoying than being woken by a family of ducks.
- Little girls and boys of all ages find peeing in the woods to be an amazing and liberating experience.
- Catching one's first fish is simply magical. I don't care who you are.
- The tooth fairy makes tent calls.
- Hobo Casserole tastes so good after a day out in the sun.
- Mosquitoes find my daughter Emma to be particularly delicious. This morning she counted 19 bites.
- Hot dogs taste better when cooked over a camp fire.
- It's okay if my one year old takes her top off in a boy friend's tent right now, but it won't be in 10 years or so.
- S'mores: you cannot eat just one.
- Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy.
- I love my family and consider myself to be one lucky mama.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Bieber Fever, Baby!
Guess who's got the Bieber Fever...
Just so you know, no one intentionally taught Lili to sing this. It's just so doggone catchy. What are you gonna do? (And sorry the picture is a bit wobbly. I couldn't help giggling and wiggling as I filmed.)
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Relinquishing
I am not a coward when it comes to color. Our last kitchen was a brilliant shade of orange, which we loved, and we have recently painted our "new" kitchen the perfect shade of red. Color is our friend...
We are not afraid of color for the record. My husband and I have been inspired by the new hue in our kitchen, and we are eager to cover the rest of our walls in more exciting non-neutral shades. Our eldest daughter is also anxious to change things up in her bedroom. Sounds lovely, doesn't it?
There is one small problem. I don't want to paint my daughter's bedroom "the color of a yellow highlighting marker" (her description). I thought we had settled on a lovely shade of purple, after much hemming and hawing, when out of the blue, she brought up turquoise blue. Nothing in the child's room matches turquoise blue...although it is a lovely color. So we discussed this. Then she suggested a color from our paint sample wheel which was called "Electric Avenue." I will just let you use your imagination. "You are planning to SLEEP in this room, correct?" I asked.
This was when my beautiful, stubborn daughter started to get choked up. She began to express her frustration. She feels as though everything she likes causes her mom and dad to frown. She feels as though her creativity is being stifled and that she must choose what we want in order to keep the peace. Her mother knows that her frustration is not solely about painting her room. She feels defeated every time her mother pushes the hair out of her face and suggests that she get it cut. Her confidence and sense of independence is threatened each time that woman asks her to change into "something more sensible," "something that matches." Sometimes mothers speak before thinking about the consequences of our words. Sometimes I bite my tongue, but my face displays disapproval, and my daughter feels it.
I am very fortunate that I have a rather wise partner in parenting. The Dad at our house rocks. While taking a break from the intense disagreement and frustration up in my daughters room last night, my husband reminded me that it is important that our girls be allowed to try new things, that they be allowed to make mistakes and that they feel free to express themselves... especially in their own bedrooms. He is right. "You have to relinquish control," he told me.
Wow. That is hard for me since I know that the way I want to do things is best. He is right. I need to allow my daughters to make decisions and mistakes for themselves so that they can learn to be their own people. I need to get over the hair in the face and the mismatched clothes. A nine year old should feel that she has control over her own body. I need to let go. Anyone have a paper bag I can breathe into??
So last night we all made the decision that Emma would ultimately choose the new color for her bedroom. Mom and Dad will offer advice, but the decision will be up to her. If she chooses a wretched color, she will have to live with the consequences. This means she will have to "live with" the unsavory color or pay part of the cost of re-painting it. She is happy. My husband is happy. I am breathing deeply and going to my happy place. Stay tuned.
We are not afraid of color for the record. My husband and I have been inspired by the new hue in our kitchen, and we are eager to cover the rest of our walls in more exciting non-neutral shades. Our eldest daughter is also anxious to change things up in her bedroom. Sounds lovely, doesn't it?
There is one small problem. I don't want to paint my daughter's bedroom "the color of a yellow highlighting marker" (her description). I thought we had settled on a lovely shade of purple, after much hemming and hawing, when out of the blue, she brought up turquoise blue. Nothing in the child's room matches turquoise blue...although it is a lovely color. So we discussed this. Then she suggested a color from our paint sample wheel which was called "Electric Avenue." I will just let you use your imagination. "You are planning to SLEEP in this room, correct?" I asked.
This was when my beautiful, stubborn daughter started to get choked up. She began to express her frustration. She feels as though everything she likes causes her mom and dad to frown. She feels as though her creativity is being stifled and that she must choose what we want in order to keep the peace. Her mother knows that her frustration is not solely about painting her room. She feels defeated every time her mother pushes the hair out of her face and suggests that she get it cut. Her confidence and sense of independence is threatened each time that woman asks her to change into "something more sensible," "something that matches." Sometimes mothers speak before thinking about the consequences of our words. Sometimes I bite my tongue, but my face displays disapproval, and my daughter feels it.
I am very fortunate that I have a rather wise partner in parenting. The Dad at our house rocks. While taking a break from the intense disagreement and frustration up in my daughters room last night, my husband reminded me that it is important that our girls be allowed to try new things, that they be allowed to make mistakes and that they feel free to express themselves... especially in their own bedrooms. He is right. "You have to relinquish control," he told me.
Wow. That is hard for me since I know that the way I want to do things is best. He is right. I need to allow my daughters to make decisions and mistakes for themselves so that they can learn to be their own people. I need to get over the hair in the face and the mismatched clothes. A nine year old should feel that she has control over her own body. I need to let go. Anyone have a paper bag I can breathe into??
So last night we all made the decision that Emma would ultimately choose the new color for her bedroom. Mom and Dad will offer advice, but the decision will be up to her. If she chooses a wretched color, she will have to live with the consequences. This means she will have to "live with" the unsavory color or pay part of the cost of re-painting it. She is happy. My husband is happy. I am breathing deeply and going to my happy place. Stay tuned.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
What Saturdays Are For...
My kitchen is being painted today, so I decided it would be a good idea to get my kids out of the house. I took the lot of them out to an art fair. Seven year olds do so enjoy perusing stalls and stalls of handmade crafts after all. There was also a stall promoting our local animal shelter, and Lili just about wet her pants when she was presented with the opportunity to poke fourteen different dogs and cats with her little index finger whilst woofing and meowing appropriately. Emma decorated a pair of sunglasses at the children's craft area while Sophia created a color-changing bead bracelet, and Lili dumped an entire bag of pony beads on the grass. Check, please.
Once I had invested five dollars in a large cup of "freshly squeezed" lemonade, we decided we had done enough damage at the art fair. We could all tell that our one-year-old was gearing up for a most impressive hissy fit, so we let her push her own stroller right out to the car, and we loaded everyone inside.
Did I fail to mention that it was North Carolina-hot and humid up here? Once we arrived at home and feasted on peanut butter-covered fruit and vegetables, I challenged the children to stay out of the house (allowing our fabulous painter to have some peace) and come up with a creative way to stay cool. My girls never disappoint...
Once I had invested five dollars in a large cup of "freshly squeezed" lemonade, we decided we had done enough damage at the art fair. We could all tell that our one-year-old was gearing up for a most impressive hissy fit, so we let her push her own stroller right out to the car, and we loaded everyone inside.
Did I fail to mention that it was North Carolina-hot and humid up here? Once we arrived at home and feasted on peanut butter-covered fruit and vegetables, I challenged the children to stay out of the house (allowing our fabulous painter to have some peace) and come up with a creative way to stay cool. My girls never disappoint...
Oh dear, what are you up to?
Wow! That's cold water right from the tap.
None of that sibling fighting seemed to be an issue today.
But you'd better watch your back!
This is most definitely what Saturdays are for.
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