Mother of the Year

Someone come over here right now and give me a tiara, sash and one dozen roses.

Seriously, not only did I make Christmas treats for friends and neighbors 

(a miracle in itself) but I let the kids help.

(Despite the look on his face, I didn't force him to help)

Do you realize the implications of a decision like that?

Yeah, my kitchen is still bearing the signs of 2 underage cooks.

But please spare me and don't look too closely.

But the people did great.  

Stirring, ball forming, dipping, tasting - they did it all.

And I didn't even mind when they made powdered sugar clouds and spilt all forms of sticky gunk all over the kitchen.

Oy.  It was a mess.

Oh yes, there we go.

That's more like it.

Student of the Week

Does anyone know the child described in this paragraph?

I know I sure don't.

I know it says her name is Brooklyn, but if that is the case,

then there are definitely several  misrepresentations.

#1.  Admittedly, we don't go out much ever.

Therefore, Brooklyn has probably only been to McDonald's

once or twice in her entire life.  

And even if she did go regularly, she likely wouldn't want anything on their menu. 

Her exact quote (to me) is that she likes all the food at McDonald's

"except those little meat things."

#2.  Tennis?

Do any of your 6 year old's play tennis?

Or really even know what it is?

(Ok, maybe yours does, but mine definitely does not.)

#3.  She doesn't own a single Barbie.

I told her teacher we got a little chuckle out of Brooklyn's fabricated dream world.

She told me that Brooklyn kind of pulled McDonald's out of a hat

(as in "it was the only restaurant she could think of"). 

She kept insisting that her favorite place to eat out is 

VONS.

Where she sometimes gets to choose a fruit roll-up.

Maybe we should branch out a little.

I'm pretty sure I've succeeded in being the world's awesomest parent

if my child's favorite place to eat out is a grocery store.

How cool are we?

P.S.  Isn't she darling in her Christmas dress?!

(even with a freaky Santa octopus on her right shoulder and an

albino gingerbread man on her head?)

Huh?

Do you ever feel like your child's ears are full of cotton?

Or Playdoh?

Or that maybe when they left heaven, someone forgot to turn on their listening switch?

I'm kinda feeling that way lately.

Mostly with one particular child.

Who may or not be named Bradley.

He listens similar to a rock.

And it's giving me high blood pressure.

I mean, I know he's 2 (and very good at it),

so I expect a little trouble in the listening department, but sheesh.

He's decent at home, but the minute we are in public...forget about it.

I'm amazed I haven't lost him.

Oh wait.

I have.

Like more than once.

Because he's also a bit of a wanderer.

Actually, if a nomad and a cheetah had a baby, they would name him Bradley.

Faster than the blink of an eye, he slips around corners and hides in bushes.

Probably secretly laughing at his panic stricken mother darting around looking for him.

Good grief. 

I'll probably die young.

Tell me I'm not alone my friends. 

And if I am alone, then keep it to yourself

and let me continue to think that my child might be normal.

Meanwhile, I think I'll go check the back of his head for that switch.

I'm sure that's the problem.

P.S.  I am Bradley's mother but I am neither a nomad nor a cheetah.

For the record.

This boy

(Jack the Snowman.  Pre-K Christmas Program. Dec 2010)

He certainly keeps me on my toes.

And often (okay, almost always) he has me scratching my head

as I watch the little wheels in his head turning,

wondering what kind of trick he's trying to bamboozle me into. 

For example: Last Wednesday's lunchtime conversation.

Jack:  "Mom, is Captain Hook a bad guy?"

Me:  "Yep."

J:  "So does that mean that he says * STUPID?"

M:  "Uh, I guess so."

J:  "What about I * HATE Peter Pan?"

M:  Yeah, probably.

J:  "Does he say, * FAT?"

M:  (raised eyebrow)....speechless

J:  (wheels spinning faster)  "Mom...what are some more bad words that Captain Hook says?"

Must I continue?

The *starred words are of course a small sampling of the forbidden words at our house.

But of course Jack wasn't saying them. 

Captain Hook was.

Now that we're on the subject...

What subject?

Obviously the subject of how Aubrey has no control over her environment

and is forced to deal with the whims of her siblings (and parents).

Aubrey, you see, loves her nightly bath. 

She lays in there, flaps all those squishy little limbs and sends water flying!

Oh, and all that hair swirls around in a beautiful little halo around her head.

It's a sight, really.

Well, unfortunately for her, her brothers (Bradley mostly)

frequently like to climb in there with her.

She doesn't mind really.

But she probably should.

Bradley sat down, (in that warm water),

and suddenly a perfect golden arch

landed itself directly in the middle of Aubrey's forehead.

Nice.

Nice aim.

What did Aubrey do?

She just giggled and flapped her squishy little limbs.

Disclaimer:  I know you are all wondering why I didn't move this poor child

while she was being splattered with bodily fluids. 

But the truth is that it all happened so quickly that my only option was to laugh.

So laugh I did.  :)

The Talented Brooklyn

Brooklyn has decided that she would like to develop some new talents.

And I must say that I am proud to have such a talented daughter.

Her new talent should come in very handy!

Hello!  She's asked many times to change Aubrey's diaper -

why have I not let her?!

Now we just have to master the dishwasher, the washer, and the oven.

Oh the possibilities!

Note to self: Teach the menfolk in this house a few new talents!

Pepe'

Remember Brooklyn's little friend Skuttles?

And do you remember how traumatized the poor girl was

that her little motorized hamster gave up the ghost?

Oh, and do you remember how I said I would hate to see

how she reacted if one of our real pets died?

Unfortunately, last week we had that very experience.

Our little dog Pepe' died.

(Pepe' le Pug)

Poor Brooklyn took it pretty hard.

She loved that little dog.

And so did her father.

The rest of us did too, but not like they did.

November 23rd was a dark day around here.

But, I am pleased to say that Brooklyn has been expressing her grief

by giving Mona (our other dog) lots of extra love (food). 

Which means the little butterball won't be able to walk soon.

We'll have to roll her across the yard.

She definitely does not need to be eating pepperoni.

She already looks like one -

a big, round pepperoni with little nubbins for legs.

Oh well.

In the name of Brooklyn grieving cheerfully,

Mona can go right ahead and gain another 10 pounds.

I certainly don't think we'll hear Mona complaining.