Lilly wakes up with a smile every day.
Every day, she bounces out of bed (I know because I hear the thump) and rushes to see us.
This is usually pretty cool, because neither of the boys cares to see us until they need a ride somewhere.
Once they figure out how to use scissors to open cereal, they're basically just here for the free laundry.
I've stopped fighting with her about her outfits. If she wants to wear a velvet party dress with some fruit themed knee socks, well, life is short.
She bounces out the door, and is better than I am about remembering her lunch box.
When I pick her up, she has absorbed the energy from her little friends, and is full of questions.
"Mom? How do traffic lights change?"
"See that yellow box on the pole there? It holds a computer that is programmed to change the lights at certain times."
I have no idea if this is true. I don't care if this is true. I don't care about this at all.
"So, is there a person nearby?"
"No, it's a computer."
"Is there someone in the yellow box?"
"No, no. No people. It's a computer."
"Oh, there's another one!"
"No, that's a donation bin, it just happens to be yellow. They aren't all yellow. See, this one up here is gray."
"Oh. And they are never smaller than that box?"
"I really don't know. I guess some might be smaller."
"And they are always yellow or gray?"
"Sweet baby Jesus please stop asking me questions."
"Fine," she says, full of hurt, "I'll ask daddy when we get home."
"Oh, please do."
We go to Target, and she is so excited about the yogurt that she trips and drops it. She is so excited about seeing one of her friends there that she runs straight into our cart. She's so excited about the Frozen nightgown she found that she falls over the foot of the rack.
At night, she demands we read her a book, every night, without fail. On tired days, we would skip the book with the boys, but Lilly doesn't believe in being too tired for a book.
Monday, October 26, 2015
Saturday, October 10, 2015
Baby Talk
Lilly and her cousin were playing together today. They were playing House - but this was apparently a sister wives household because there were no husbands to be seen and they referred to each other as "sister." As in, "sister, go get the stroller for Baby."
Oh, yes, there were also babies. Babies who would never suffer at the hands of their parents the way these girls had.
"Sister, I tried to put Baby down for a nap, but she does not want to take a nap. And because we want to be kind to our baby, we would never make her take a nap if she doesn't want to, right?"
"Oh, absolutely, Sister. And what should we make her for dinner? Because we love her and would only want her to have foods that she enjoys."
It was just, like, burn after burn on Parents who have Rules or Limits.
Later, Lilly was discussing family planning with me.
"Why doesn't Aunt Gail have kids?"
"I'm not sure, Lilly. It's just the way her life went."
"Because her body wasn't healthy enough to have kids?"
Yes, that is exactly what I said.
"I don't think that was the reason, Lilly. I think she just decided that she didn't want to have kids."
"Because she lives in Florida and they would always be begging to go to the beach?"
Yes, that is exactly what I said.
"She probably had some other reasons for not having kids. Also, she didn't always live in Florida."
I thought that would buy me a change in subject, but no.
"How did she not have kids?"
"She just don't have them," I respond, not wanting to discuss my aunt's potential forms of birth control.
"Did she take a pill?"
Goddamnit. Which one of you is having The Talk with Lilly? Because either stop, or do a good enough job that she isn't coming to me with follow up questions.
"People can. And sometimes people have to take pills to have a baby, but mostly it just happens for people and do you want to go eat a brownie?"
"Yes. But I would prefer to get a baby because I am tired of being the only girl, and sleeping by myself."
Oh, yes, there were also babies. Babies who would never suffer at the hands of their parents the way these girls had.
"Sister, I tried to put Baby down for a nap, but she does not want to take a nap. And because we want to be kind to our baby, we would never make her take a nap if she doesn't want to, right?"
"Oh, absolutely, Sister. And what should we make her for dinner? Because we love her and would only want her to have foods that she enjoys."
It was just, like, burn after burn on Parents who have Rules or Limits.
Later, Lilly was discussing family planning with me.
"Why doesn't Aunt Gail have kids?"
"I'm not sure, Lilly. It's just the way her life went."
"Because her body wasn't healthy enough to have kids?"
Yes, that is exactly what I said.
"I don't think that was the reason, Lilly. I think she just decided that she didn't want to have kids."
"Because she lives in Florida and they would always be begging to go to the beach?"
Yes, that is exactly what I said.
"She probably had some other reasons for not having kids. Also, she didn't always live in Florida."
I thought that would buy me a change in subject, but no.
"How did she not have kids?"
"She just don't have them," I respond, not wanting to discuss my aunt's potential forms of birth control.
"Did she take a pill?"
Goddamnit. Which one of you is having The Talk with Lilly? Because either stop, or do a good enough job that she isn't coming to me with follow up questions.
"People can. And sometimes people have to take pills to have a baby, but mostly it just happens for people and do you want to go eat a brownie?"
"Yes. But I would prefer to get a baby because I am tired of being the only girl, and sleeping by myself."
Wednesday, October 7, 2015
The Little Things
"Mom? Have you read The Giver?"
Sam recently finished this classic and had mentioned that he liked it.
"Yeah, I've read it."
"There was a part that I didn't like and it's been bothering me."
"Yeah?" That's a weird thing about Sam. When I read books that were beyond my maturity level, I was all, La La La, I'm reading a book, they just said a thing - who knows what it means!
"It was the part where they gave that baby the shot," he says.
Oh. Yeah. That part. The baby murder. Not my favorite, either. But probably he just thinks they gave the baby a shot. That's what I would have thought when I was his age. And I don't think they ever actually said, straight out, and "then they killed the baby."
Owen pipes in, "what did they do?"
"They gave a baby a shot that hurt," I answer quickly, wanting to manage the situation.
"They gave the baby a shot that KILLED it," Sam corrects.
Situation, managed!
Also, so Sam did catch that.
So now Owen is just all hand flappy, "what is happening?! Why with the baby killing?! I don't understand!!"
And Sam is all, "right? It was really upsetting and I can't stop thinking about it and why do you think that dad would give me a book like that to read?"
Sam recently finished this classic and had mentioned that he liked it.
"Yeah, I've read it."
"There was a part that I didn't like and it's been bothering me."
"Yeah?" That's a weird thing about Sam. When I read books that were beyond my maturity level, I was all, La La La, I'm reading a book, they just said a thing - who knows what it means!
"It was the part where they gave that baby the shot," he says.
Oh. Yeah. That part. The baby murder. Not my favorite, either. But probably he just thinks they gave the baby a shot. That's what I would have thought when I was his age. And I don't think they ever actually said, straight out, and "then they killed the baby."
Owen pipes in, "what did they do?"
"They gave a baby a shot that hurt," I answer quickly, wanting to manage the situation.
"They gave the baby a shot that KILLED it," Sam corrects.
Situation, managed!
Also, so Sam did catch that.
So now Owen is just all hand flappy, "what is happening?! Why with the baby killing?! I don't understand!!"
And Sam is all, "right? It was really upsetting and I can't stop thinking about it and why do you think that dad would give me a book like that to read?"
Monday, September 14, 2015
If Chris had a blog
"Do you think people feel sorry for you in my blog stories?" I ask Chris. "Like, does it come off mean? I'm not trying to be mean. I don't want my stories to make you feel bad."
"I don't care what you write. It's never bothered me. Seriously, it's fine."
We're on our way to the apple picking farm, the kids are in the back, watching a movie. Which means this is one of our most sustained conversations all week.
"Hey," he pauses, "We've been driving this way for a while. Do you think we're going the right way?"
"I'm not 100% sure, but my guess is no, Chris. I would say you made a wrong turn somewhere."
"Oh! You could write a blog about this!"
"About what?"
"Me going the wrong direction!"
"See, that's why you don't have a blog."
"Why?"
"Because this is neither funny nor interesting to others. Nobody cares."
"But it's me being an idiot. You always write about that."
"I promise you I don't write about it every time you are an idiot. Also, this isn't even being an idiot. It's just you getting slightly lost."
"But if you don't blog about this, it's just a waste of gas."
And Violà.
"I don't care what you write. It's never bothered me. Seriously, it's fine."
We're on our way to the apple picking farm, the kids are in the back, watching a movie. Which means this is one of our most sustained conversations all week.
"Hey," he pauses, "We've been driving this way for a while. Do you think we're going the right way?"
"I'm not 100% sure, but my guess is no, Chris. I would say you made a wrong turn somewhere."
"Oh! You could write a blog about this!"
"About what?"
"Me going the wrong direction!"
"See, that's why you don't have a blog."
"Why?"
"Because this is neither funny nor interesting to others. Nobody cares."
"But it's me being an idiot. You always write about that."
"I promise you I don't write about it every time you are an idiot. Also, this isn't even being an idiot. It's just you getting slightly lost."
"But if you don't blog about this, it's just a waste of gas."
And Violà.
Sunday, September 13, 2015
Same Old
"What's this?" Chris asks me, holding a package.
"Just some shipping envelopes I ordered. It's a package of packages!"
He looks at it, appraisingly. He considers my response. "No," he declares, "I think it's some airconditioner foam."
"Well, that's a good guess, but that's not what it is."
"It's not the right shape for envelopes!" he insists.
"Envelopes, my love, come in a variety of shapes and sizes. Also, why did you even ask me?"
"I thought you would know!"
"I suppose you could always open it."
Guys, it's almost sad. Because with a glint of defiance in his eyes he tears it open.
"Oh, my, look at that. Shipping envelopes. I did NOT see that coming. Wow."
It's like he doesn't even KNOW us.
"Just some shipping envelopes I ordered. It's a package of packages!"
He looks at it, appraisingly. He considers my response. "No," he declares, "I think it's some airconditioner foam."
"Well, that's a good guess, but that's not what it is."
"It's not the right shape for envelopes!" he insists.
"Envelopes, my love, come in a variety of shapes and sizes. Also, why did you even ask me?"
"I thought you would know!"
"I suppose you could always open it."
Guys, it's almost sad. Because with a glint of defiance in his eyes he tears it open.
"Oh, my, look at that. Shipping envelopes. I did NOT see that coming. Wow."
It's like he doesn't even KNOW us.
Thursday, September 3, 2015
Thursday night
*Brrrrrrrrrnnnnng*
"IRB administration, this is Beth."
"Yes, hi, I'm calling about an emergency use?"
"Of COURSE you are! It's 4:30 in the afternoon, I want to go home, and all the IRB Chairpeople are on vacation!'
An emergency use is, basically speaking, when a doctor has a patient who is going to die without a drug, but the drug isn't FDA approved so they need a letter from the IRB.
When you get that call you know the next two hours of your life are gone. And also that somebody somewhere is dying and a doctor is trying to save them, so only a jerk would be resentful.
----------------------------------------------------------
Text to Chris: "on my way,"
Text from Chris:"jst cmn strait to Fairfx I have all kids"
Okay, Chris took kids to playground. Hurry hurry. Feeling anxious about getting home late, and extra loving because none of my children are currently dying of cancer. Love my family! But also late! Get out of the car! Run! I forgot my purse! Unnecessary at the park! Forget about it! Just go! Where is he? Where are they? Why are all these cars here? SHIT! That stupid Boy Scout meeting!
Some Boy Scout guy came to Owen's class and promised them a rocket if they came to the Boy Scouts meeting. Owen was IN! So in. Like, in right now. Is it time yet?
I forgot. I walk in. It is very boring, I can feel the restless desire to escape rolling off the crowd the second I walk in. Wait, sweet Jesus, what's that smell?!? Oh. It's Lilly. She looks and smells homeless right now, and not in a cute way. Why would he take her in public like this?!
"I want to go outside!" Lilly says.
You and everybody else in this room, Lilly
"I have to leave in five minutes," Chris whispers.
Shit. Tennis. Goddamnit I was loving my family and now I have five minutes before my husband leaves me with a reeking child at a Boy Scout meeting.
Take Lilly outside, play, come back inside.
Chris has written a note: "Do NOT sign up! Do not pay!" And then scampers off.
Meeting ending.
"Everybody who has signed up and paid the dues, come get a rocket ship!"
Shit.
Shit.
No rocket ship Owen.
So this is when Owen's innocence dies.
We go outside, Owen is too sad to play. He heads off to lay on the ground.
Sam and Lilly want to play, though.
I have to stand in this exact spot. This one, right here. If I go to Owen, I've left my five year old unattended on a playground. If I go sit on the bench, I've left Owen crying by the sidewalk.
So I stand here.
This is boring. I want to go.
If I make Sam and Lilly leave, they will be upset. Owen is already upset.
I will stand here.
This is boring.
How long has it beeeeeeeen?
Three and a half minutes.
"Time to go!"
Get in the car. Jesus Christ Lilly stinks. When is the last time someone WASHED this kid? And what is she doing all day to build up that kind of layer of filth.
This ride home is eternal.
It's only been two minutes.
Almost there.
"Mom, aren't you going to drop the boys off?"
What? Why? Where?
"To get their bikes."
God bless America.
I drive back, put them on their bikes and make the eternal drive again.
"Straight to the bath Lilly!"
"I'm hungry."
You know what, how about one of you goddamn kids tells me next time you're NOT hungry and save us all some goddamn time?
My gratitude is slipping.
We walk in the house. It reeks of tuna fish.
Turns out, the only thing that smells worse than Lilly right now is hot tuna fish house.
Mom, I'm hungry.
Get. In. The. Tub.
"Mom?"
What.
"If you find a wood chip with a pointy end, it's mine."
There are dirty clothes everywhere. Why do we live in filth? Why? We have wall-to-wall dirty clothes in our hot tuna house and urchin children.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Everybody is clean now. Clothes down the laundry chute. I'll go tackle the dishes now, maybe manage whatever smells like tuna.
"IRB administration, this is Beth."
"Yes, hi, I'm calling about an emergency use?"
"Of COURSE you are! It's 4:30 in the afternoon, I want to go home, and all the IRB Chairpeople are on vacation!'
An emergency use is, basically speaking, when a doctor has a patient who is going to die without a drug, but the drug isn't FDA approved so they need a letter from the IRB.
When you get that call you know the next two hours of your life are gone. And also that somebody somewhere is dying and a doctor is trying to save them, so only a jerk would be resentful.
----------------------------------------------------------
Text to Chris: "on my way,"
Text from Chris:"jst cmn strait to Fairfx I have all kids"
Okay, Chris took kids to playground. Hurry hurry. Feeling anxious about getting home late, and extra loving because none of my children are currently dying of cancer. Love my family! But also late! Get out of the car! Run! I forgot my purse! Unnecessary at the park! Forget about it! Just go! Where is he? Where are they? Why are all these cars here? SHIT! That stupid Boy Scout meeting!
Some Boy Scout guy came to Owen's class and promised them a rocket if they came to the Boy Scouts meeting. Owen was IN! So in. Like, in right now. Is it time yet?
I forgot. I walk in. It is very boring, I can feel the restless desire to escape rolling off the crowd the second I walk in. Wait, sweet Jesus, what's that smell?!? Oh. It's Lilly. She looks and smells homeless right now, and not in a cute way. Why would he take her in public like this?!
"I want to go outside!" Lilly says.
You and everybody else in this room, Lilly
"I have to leave in five minutes," Chris whispers.
Shit. Tennis. Goddamnit I was loving my family and now I have five minutes before my husband leaves me with a reeking child at a Boy Scout meeting.
Take Lilly outside, play, come back inside.
Chris has written a note: "Do NOT sign up! Do not pay!" And then scampers off.
Meeting ending.
"Everybody who has signed up and paid the dues, come get a rocket ship!"
Shit.
Shit.
No rocket ship Owen.
So this is when Owen's innocence dies.
We go outside, Owen is too sad to play. He heads off to lay on the ground.
Sam and Lilly want to play, though.
I have to stand in this exact spot. This one, right here. If I go to Owen, I've left my five year old unattended on a playground. If I go sit on the bench, I've left Owen crying by the sidewalk.
So I stand here.
This is boring. I want to go.
If I make Sam and Lilly leave, they will be upset. Owen is already upset.
I will stand here.
This is boring.
How long has it beeeeeeeen?
Three and a half minutes.
"Time to go!"
Get in the car. Jesus Christ Lilly stinks. When is the last time someone WASHED this kid? And what is she doing all day to build up that kind of layer of filth.
This ride home is eternal.
It's only been two minutes.
Almost there.
"Mom, aren't you going to drop the boys off?"
What? Why? Where?
"To get their bikes."
God bless America.
I drive back, put them on their bikes and make the eternal drive again.
"Straight to the bath Lilly!"
"I'm hungry."
You know what, how about one of you goddamn kids tells me next time you're NOT hungry and save us all some goddamn time?
My gratitude is slipping.
We walk in the house. It reeks of tuna fish.
Turns out, the only thing that smells worse than Lilly right now is hot tuna fish house.
Mom, I'm hungry.
Get. In. The. Tub.
"Mom?"
What.
"If you find a wood chip with a pointy end, it's mine."
There are dirty clothes everywhere. Why do we live in filth? Why? We have wall-to-wall dirty clothes in our hot tuna house and urchin children.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Everybody is clean now. Clothes down the laundry chute. I'll go tackle the dishes now, maybe manage whatever smells like tuna.
Tuesday, August 25, 2015
He's got game.
So this weekend Chris was playing tennis with, as he described her, "a very attractive doctor." On a slick forehand slice, his follow through was so ferocious that he whacked himself right on the head. Today he has a sizable lump and another in a wonderful streak of embarrassing himself in front of women.
Like the time Chris, a married father of two at the time, got flirtatious with the enterprise rent-a-car lady and slapped himself so hard he knocked his glasses off.
The ladies don't have high standards, but they tend to become less interested the more you slap your own glasses off your face.
Just something I've noticed.
This is why I don't worry about Chris cheating on me. I have absolute confidence that if he ever even thought about it he would drool on himself and then trip. And not the stumbling kind of trip, but the kind where you go all the way down.
Like the time Chris, a married father of two at the time, got flirtatious with the enterprise rent-a-car lady and slapped himself so hard he knocked his glasses off.
The ladies don't have high standards, but they tend to become less interested the more you slap your own glasses off your face.
Just something I've noticed.
This is why I don't worry about Chris cheating on me. I have absolute confidence that if he ever even thought about it he would drool on himself and then trip. And not the stumbling kind of trip, but the kind where you go all the way down.
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