How I turned my daughter into a racist

Let me begin by saying that karma is bullshit. Complete BS.

Steve and I spent Saturday being very good people. We saved a nest of bunnies (ahhh... bunnies!!!) from certain death. A grocery store clerk gave us $20 he thought we dropped and we returned it. We made this three-day holiday a car-free Memorial Day weekend.

So we were completely stunned by what Carolyn did at the playground. She walked up to this black man playing with his daughter and said, "You're a different color."

Aghhh. It was totally humiliating, made worse because I'm not sure we handled it correctly. We immediately pulled Carolyn aside and told her it wasn't polite to point out people's differences. Too tall. Too old. A wheelchair. A different color. But it's just something she's noticing right now, along with eye color, hair color and the fact that she has nipples.

This is making for a very awkward line of questioning.

The worst part was I felt like a should have said something to the guy, but couldn't bring myself to look his way. I just know he thinks we're a couple of suburban yahoos who've kept their children separate yet equal. And it's true, her school was completely white. Our neighborhood is largely white. Our city is mostly white.

Should I have told him, "Hey guy. Sorry about that, but I was raised in Detroit." Or perhaps, "I take her on the bus where there's lots of black folks." How about "I contributed to Barack Obama's campaign."

Really, it's an eye opener that we need to have more discussions about these things with Carolyn and Penelope, especially since we live in a not-so-diverse community. It's not Carolyn's fault, but deep down I feel like it's kind of mine.

And just for the record karma, we saved bunnies. Does that count for nothing?

Just a fish

Here's Carolyn this year at her grandma's pool. I'd say it was much better than two years ago, when she scared the creamed corn out of everybody.

Back to real life

We just returned from a nearly week-long trip to Tulsa. It was really fun — I got a chance to work on my sunburn, the girls got to play in the pool, we ate our weight in delicious restaurant food — but it's nice to be home. These trips, especially the driving, are tough and everybody is kind of in wind-down mode today, except for Steve who might in fact be in wind-down mode, but is doing so at work.

While in Tulsa, I ran my first 5K. Not to be outdone, Steve and the girls participated in their first one mile fun run, with Penelope coming in dead last, but still greeting everybody she walks by. See:


(*note: Penelope isn't waving, Steve tells me. She's holding a flower and admiring her flower as workers gather the orange cones behind her. When I say last, I DO not exaggerate.)

We'll miss everybody in Tulsa, but the girls will especially miss their cousins Jeremiah (who Penny calls Mia) and Isabella.




Also, I just got an A in my anatomy and physiology class, not that it matters. But still, how'd that happen!

Mother's Day

I had the best mother's day. Steve and the girls made it great. We're all very busy right now, so I won't bore you with anecdotes of how cute Penny is, or how grown up Carolyn has become, or how much fun Steve and I are.

But here's some pictures.

Why do we grow old?

Because we do, that's why.

It's Carolyn's new favorite obsession. What is time? Why do babies get older? Why don't old people get younger? Are you old? Is Fife old? Penelope's not old? Why wouldn't Peter Pan want to grow up?

Just because, OK. Things get old. I get old. Dogs get old. Tea kettles get old. It's just the way the cookie gets old and crumbles all over your couch leaving you both unsatisfied and messy.

But Steve tells Carolyn this problem has plagued physicists for years. Why does time, one of the four dimensions, alone move in one direction? Things move up and down. They move backward and forward. Why does time move in only one direction?

Carolyn literally rolls her eyes through this little speech. I tell her to listen to her Daddy. He's a smart man. But she goes back to asking if grandma is old, to which I say of course she is.

On the younger, less cerebral front, Penelope is turning into one of those people who's good at everything. You know, the kind of perfect person we all hate. Today, she's a kite-flying prodigy.

While Carolyn and I were struggling to get our kite to fly for longer than 30 seconds, Penelope was standing in the middle of a field, unassisted, flying her kite to perfection and even looking a little bored. Of course. I don't have a picture because I was failing at my own kite-flying efforts, but here's one of the girls in the bike on our way from the grocery store to the park for a picnic.

Greatest hits

In the newspaper today, we got the annual inundation of Mother's Day ads. Included, stuff for your favorite "soccer mom" at Farm And Fleet. This reminded me of a hilarious piece about Mother's Day, which of course I wrote. Yes, I'm so lazy I'm rerunning my blog.

Enjoy.

Mother's Day offered at low, low prices

A farming supply store ad came in the paper today promoting of all things — Mother's Day, which, if you're counting, is more than a week away.

In addition to a full page of kitchen appliances that would warm the heart of any housewife, and by heart I mean kitchen, this store was running sales on patio furniture, garden statues and grills to create "Mom's perfect backyard getaway."

Nothing mom wants more than a gas grill with 5,000 btu's. Mmmmm. I can smell the hot dogs cookin' already.

Fact is, Mother's Day is a horrible idea, right up there with Valentine's Day and New Year's Eve. I include Christmas on my list, but I'll leave the religious holidays alone for now.

The very best Mother's Day ever, and I mean the whole nine yard of good food, expensive presents and an endless adoration, could have been achieved any day of the year. And bonus — without a day dedicated to these three feats, add surprise to the list.

But for all the other moms waiting patiently for breakfast in bed while dear old husband snoozes away to the sound of screaming babies, the day is an utter letdown and marks you as the bad wife and mother you really are. If you were, in fact, a good wife and mother, you wouldn’t be brewing your own coffee while your 2-year-old screams for a cartoon that isn't on television Sunday mornings.

It's worse than if Mother's Day had never existed at all. Single people, Valentine's Day's got nothing on Mother's Day. If you're single on Feb. 14, you can pretend it's because you're too good for what's out there. There's no hiding from the fear of bad parenting.

But I'm sure all these tired, unloved mothers letting tears run freely into the cereal bowl just have to wait a while. That grill's sure to be waiting in the backyard with a big red bow, 10 pounds of red meat and a case of Bud.

And the leave en mass

For two weeks, my little family has hosted either house guests, dogs or some combination of both. And now, they are gone.

I'm feeling a slight load lifted, but also a little sad. Also a little hung over.

First, my mom was here for a little trip before she moves to Minnesota for the summer. My aunt and grandfather, who were in Vegas for the winter, were driving home and needed mom's help because my grandfather is 92, and while in very good shape, still 92.

So my mom left her little, blind terrier, Princess, and her super awesome hound mix, Buster (strangely, both from me and Battle Creek), while she went to Vegas. Buster was able to get me out of bed nearly every morning pre-dawn to go running. Yes, running!

So last night, we had everybody, plus my aunt's giant German shepherd, at the house for dinner. And this morning we bid them all a safe trip home.

And this afternoon? Nap. Playground. Leisurely bike ride.

Wow. After reading that, I don't even feel hung over anymore. I love guests.

Toy story

The girls and I hopped on the bike yesterday and hit some garage sales.

Penelope immediately found a Little People house that she knelt beside and refused to abandon. For $5, it was the perfect second-hand find.

But it brings me to my dilemma. Toys. We have too, too, too many toys. Perhaps it's because I, the only child of a shopaholic, gave birth to two beautiful girls providing fodder to the desire to spoil little girls. Or maybe, the toys get busy when we're not looking and multiply at a frenzied rate. Or many, I'm a lousy housewife and just don't clean out the toy chests often enough.

But it does not explain the clusters of stuff. There are a few (many, many) categories of toys taking over the girls' rooms, the basement, the living room and one of the bathrooms.

They include:

Horses. I believe Carolyn might have fancied horses for about a week sometime in early 2007.


Bunnies. This might be Easter related. Also, I have no idea why this is underlined.


Ducks. Also, perhaps, Easter related. Also part of our Barnyard overload.

Little People. I think I mentioned this.



The list also includes kitty cats, wild cats (leopards, cheetahs, tigers), dogs, teddy bears and dollys. I'm thinking a garage sale is our best option at this point.

The mother of all haircuts

I took the girls in for haircuts today. Carolyn's is a cute little bob (nothing too drastic). But Penny? Penelope, queen of the super long hair.

Gone. I figured, much like Carolyn's first major cut, if it's long enough to give to Locks of Love (an organization that makes wigs for cancer patients) than I can't go in and just get a few inches lobbed off. It's really a change, and she had such lovely hair, but it's done and it'll grow.

So here's the photo show.

Note the first picture is the girls this morning, in all their crazy hair glory.

Growing girls

Both girls spent today, the most beautiful of spring days, being super awesome. They were great at the grocery store. They were great at the playground. They are just great.

Here's my favorite today moments.

Penelope, without prompting and just because I think she thought it, told me she really liked my haircut when I returned from my hair appointment today. She said, "Your haircut is really pretty."

Steve, who I thought had set her up, seemed equally surprised. He said it was really nice of her to notice...

Then Carolyn finally got up the courage, with Steve's help, to ask the neighbor kids if she could come over and play on their jungle gym. She went over by herself and was the best guest ever. "I love your slide. I really like this over here," she'd tell the older Jordan. Carolyn was just a little sweetheart.

Just feeling really hopeful. That's what a little sun, and red wine, will do to ya.

Oh Penny

I was just checking my e-mail when I turned around and saw this:

Penny stealing coins out of my wallet. Now, while you might think stealing is a rather strong term in regard to a 2-year-old, I tell you my little Penny is crafty enough that it nearly applies.

Oh my Penny. She's about the sweetest little thing ever, aside from the stealing and the total disregard for my potty training efforts. Around strangers, she's even a little shy.

And here's my absolute favorite thing. She's totally content to be alone. Steve said she drew in her coloring books for about an hour by herself yesterday. And today, with Carolyn in school and my recovering from the novacaine used to install my brand new gold tooth, Penny being able to entertain herself is about the best gift any mother could have.

As a special thanks, I just gave her purse with her very own plastic cards (not credit, not yet), an empty compact and an old cell phone. That's Penelope's idea of the perfect gift.

Toilet terror

I give up.

I'm just going to invest in Pampers and call it a day. Penelope is untrainable.

This morning was traumatizing for the whole family. Penny screamed so piercingly at the suggestion that perhaps she just sit on the potty for a moment that Carolyn came in and said, "Mommy, stop hurting Penny. She doesn't like it."

And it's not as easy as just letting her run around without diapers, which is what I did with Carolyn. Just being without a diaper is enough to send her into fits of hysteria.

So what's a mom to do? Patience? Stern talkings to? Lots of vodka?

Or maybe I'll just try again next week. I just can't stand the screeching.

Easter Eggstravaganza

We went to the city's Easter egg hunt today. While it was about 34 degrees below zero and the hunt was situated on possibly the flattest, windiest spot in the Midwest (and that's saying something around here) we had a good time.

I was a little worried Carolyn would be overtaken by the older kids. She was in the 4 to 5 year group and typically not the most aggressive of kids. But as you can see, she's all about the egg hunt.
* Note: That bit at the end is a little jolting, but she's totally OK.



While I did not get a picture of Penny because we were late and she needed quite a bit of help with the hunting, but here's a cute pic of the girls before we left the house.



Happy Easter everybody.

The limited memory of a wine-soaked SAHM

Seriously, if it didn't happen yesterday, it's a distant memory for me. So I feel a little bad I haven't blogged more lately (I've diagnosed myself with chronic cabin fever) because Carolyn is so funny I should be writing these things down because if it didn't happen in the last 25 words, it's a distant memory for me.

Like today, I said, "Carolyn, come here. I'm going to fix your hair."
She says, "I like it broken."

See. That's 4-year-old gold. Also, she calls me Mom now. And she says it really dramatically, like, "Right, Moooooommmmm."

Penelope is quite funny as well, but in a more visual kind of way.

Plus, I'm getting a gold tooth because I grind my teeth too badly to get a tooth that isn't bling.

Happy spring everybody.

Is that my daughter's Barbie in there?

It's 47 degrees outside right now which can mean only one thing — summer's here.

Well, it's sort of spring-like, so Carolyn and I tackled the biggest issues facing our backyard: the dog poop, the sticks and the log cabin. There was really nothing we could do about the mud so we were just thankful for rubber boots.

In the midst of the log cabin cleaning, we found everything in pretty bad shape. It has been a long and wet winter, even by Midwest standards, so we really haven't played in the backyard since last year. But even I was not prepared for the horror.





Oh the horror



I will say, at least it was Barbie, whose dimensions I secretly covet for my own post-children bod. And plus, Barbie's a fighter. I'm pretty sure with a good scrub, and maybe a haircut, she'll be good as new.

Maybe a little therepy as well.

It's movie night

In winter, we take what little pleasures we can get. Tonight — Snow White. It's kind of funny how much more violent story-telling was years ago.

Today at the library, I got some fairy tales because Carolyn has this new obsession with The Three Bears so I thought I'd introduce her to some of the other classics.

Did you know that modern-day Three Pigs story is actually a lot more gruesome. The wolf eats the first two pigs and ends up trapped in a boiling pot. And the kicker? The third pig eats him.

Ewww.

Our lives here in Normal are pretty blah right now. It's still cold, even 30s starting to feel like shorts weather. Today I asked the girls if they wanted to go for a walk around the block. No, they said.

But don't you like to go outside? No, they said. What about the playground?

"I like the playground when it's warm outside," Carolyn said.

Here, here sister. But spring is on the way. I can feel it.

Nieve

Last night, when I was in school (which, incidentally, I continue to take even though I didn't get into the nursing school and now I have all this studying to do for tests I don't really care if I pass, sigh), Steve got Carolyn to go to bed by telling her he needed to spread snow all over the world and it was going to take all night.

So when she woke up this morning, and found this...



... she was pretty happy. It's hard to imagine anybody happy about snow, but it's true.

Ah, who am I kidding?



I was pretty happy too.



Thanks snow-delivery Steve.

Here are Carolyn's 4-year-old pictures. For everyone who doesn't know, I take pics of the girls on their birthdays wearing the same grown-up dress. I didn't take Carolyn's "on" her birthday this year because of the stuffiness and the sick. But I did them today and they turned out great. They're probably my favorite pictures so far.

Here are a couple.

It's not just me

It seems, there are others ready for spring.

Winter stinks...

Actually, winter smells quite nice. People coming inside from frigid temperatures are covered in the most wonderful smell.
But that's not really the point.
The point is, I just can't stand the cold anymore. It's so cold, so often, that I just want to curl into a wine-soaked ball and sleep for the next four to six weeks. I just can't stand to look at the inside of my living room anymore. My kids are sick. I don't have a car. It takes 45 minutes to leave the house. Blah, blah, blah.
But Carolyn, bless her 4-year-old little heart, practically begged to go outside today. And she played for about 10 minutes. I can't even bring myself to get the trash together.
But she's back inside now, insisting that I'm captured. Gotta go...