A Rose By Any Other Name Would Be Obscene

Friday evening I overheard Paige telling another little 3 year old about the peacocks at the zoo. Except instead of peacocks, she called them "pink cocks".

Which is,um, something else entirely. Yes it is.

When I told my sister-in-law about the pink cocks, she reminded me that when her son was Paige's age he would often refer to woodpeckers as pecker woods.

Oh kids. Whattayagonnado.

All She Needs is a Pole

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Tonight we attended a professional basketball game.  Oklahoma City now has its own team - The Thunder.  The team is really good, which makes the games all the more fun.  And Sunday nights are "family night", so lots of kids are there.  We've been a couple of times before, and Paige is always THRILLED about it.  She loves the crowds and the excitement (as does her father). 
William and I tolerate it all for the sake of the family.   Ahem.

The Thunder has "cheerleaders" (or maybe they're pompom girls?  I don't know.)  These gals carry pom poms and run onto the court at various times during the game to dance.  The rest of the time, they're seated on stools at the ends of the aisles.  They sit there bouncing along to the music and cheering at the appropriate times. 

Oh, and did I mention they do all of this NAKED?  Yes!  (ok, no).  Really they're wearing, uh, some clothes.  Imagine an amount of clothing juuuuuuust this side of pasties and a g-string.  Now add knee-high go-go boots.  And a spray tan.  And false eye lashes. 

That.*

So it just so happened that our aisle was one of the aisles that had a jiggling Thunder Girl seated on her stool.  The men all around were having trouble focusing on the game, what with all the breasts and eyelashes and hairspray.  I kept noticing little girls coming up to the Thunder Girls.  Some would ask for an autograph, and others would just stand there, mesmerized.

I started to get worried.  I mean, is THIS the sort of thing I want my BAYBEE girl to see?  Naked, bouncing women?  Oy.

Sure enough, Paige asked if she could go talk to the stripper the Thunder Girl.  I agreed, and watched Paige make her way over to the cheerleader.  She leaned in and said, loudly, "Hi, I'm Paige, I sure do like your sparkly panties!".

And then I died.  Dead.

The end.

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*Am I old or WHAT?  I'm certain if my ass looked that good I'd probably put on a g-string and wear it in public too. 

Heartstrings

Folks, my boy is a smart cookie in so many areas.  For instance, his homework yesterday included the following problem:

"Label the congruent quadrilaterals red."

HUH?  The only words I understand in that sentence are "the" and "red".

And yet he was able to answer the question with no help from me.  Which, I have to say, sort of freaks me out.

And then he and I had a serious argument over diagramming the following sentence:

The quick mouse ran across the floor.

He SWORE the word "across" was an adverb because it tells "how/when/where", whereas I said it was a preposition.

In the end we had to call in reinforcements.  Neighbor Susan has her master's degree in English for heaven's sake, SHE would know this answer, yes?

Um, no.


Susan even had to look it up on the Internet.  Turns out the word "across" is both an adverb AND a preposition. 

William, although not right about his homework problem, outsmarted two grown women.  One of them a very smart woman.  HE'S IN FIRST GRADE PEOPLE!

I'm telling you all of this, because I want you to know that my kid, in many ways, is freakishly smart.  However, when it comes to anything involving the use of his HANDS, well, he's a bit of a buffoon. 

I say "buffoon" with all the love in my heart, you understand. 

And this, uh, LACK of hand coordination has meant that things like cutting, and writing, and even buttoning have been HUGELY difficult.  To this day, he'd rather squeeeeeeze himself into his pants rather than face the daunting task of buttoning them. 

And don't even get me STARTED on tying shoes.  The mere mention of shoestrings around this house sends a shiver down my spine.  I often imagine myself dashing up to tie his shoe before he walks across the stage at graduation. 

Which is why today is perhaps the most exciting day I've had in a really long time.  Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you my boy, who, as of today (after many, many, many SOVERYMANY lessons), can independently tie his own shoes.




Now where the hell is my trophy?

Soul Shaping

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Dave and I attended a parenting class last night.  A 13 week course on "how parenting has raised YOU".  The room was full of new and old parents.  Some were bopping tiny babies on their laps, while others were bemoaning the trials of teenagerdom.  The rest of us were somewhere in-between.  The first assignment was to break into groups and tell everyone something that surprised you about parenthood.

The answers were typical.  "I had no idea how impatient I was."  "I was so selfish before children."  "That I'm so controlling".  And the best answer: "That I immediately turned into my mother".  (Hilarious.)

The consensus was that parenting tends to shine a light on our biggest frailties and flaws.  It shows us our weaknesses.  Which is so true.  But for me, becoming a mother also showed me how very strong I am.  Before giving birth, I don't think I had any idea.

I was an grouchy child.  Constantly complaining and whining.  I voiced my every emotion - and most of them were negative.  My cheerleading squad used to call me (with fake affection) "Rita the Wuss".  Because I moaned all the time.  (Side note: cheerleading really is HARD, y'all.  I had black eyes... REGULARLY, and I lost count on the number of sprains and breaks.)

And my parents were always happy to point out how VOCAL I was.  They would tell people that when it came time to make family decisions, sometimes it was easier to just do what I wanted so that they wouldn't have to listen to me gripe.

Isn't that awful?  I want to punch Kid Rita square in the face, don't you?  I don't know how they didn't sell me to the gypsies.

So I grew up thinking I was 1)a total pain in the ass (because I was) and 2)I was weak.

Rita the Wuss got married, and eventually had a baby.  And I guess I thought I wouldn't be able to handle it, because I had always been such a complainer.  Rita the Wuss a MOTHER? No way was THAT going to end well.  Except guess what? It turns out, when you're a mother at home with a young baby THERE'S NO ONE THERE TO HEAR YOU COMPLAIN.  And for some reason, I liked that.  I liked that I had to sort of suffer in silence.  I had to be strong when no one was watching.  When no one was there to hear me complain.

Nowadays when I'm schlepping grocery bags while weaving amongst traffic with two children in tow, I find myself feeling like I'm earning a secret badge.  One that only I will know about.  Because no one is watching when I zip coats ever so carefully so as not to catch hair or skin.  No one is taking notes when I cover that pointy part of the car door just before Paige walks by so she won't bump her head.  But I know.  I know I've earned that badge, baby!

Good Thing I'm Flexible! (Not Really)

This morning was our first semi-normal day after the long Christmas break.  The day that Dave went back to work.  *sob* Gone are the days of staying in our pajamas until noon while eating leftover cookies and sipping coffee laden with eggnog.

Side note: My GOSH eggnog is good in coffee.  I will miss it so.

I sat down last night and carefully planned out my day.  One that would involve school work for William (Yes! He had homework over the break! THE NERVE!).  And yes.  I waited until the very last day before school resumes to start his homework.  This should come as no surprise to anyone who has known me for more than five minutes.  My list also included several errands and a stop at the grocery store.

I woke up this morning feeling prepared for my day.  I had a list!  I was ready to start marking things off!  I even made my bed BEFORE 8am!  My GOSH I was going to show 2012 who's boss!

And then I glanced at my calendar.  The paper calendar I keep in the kitchen so as to provide ease of viewing.  The one I SHOULD consult before planning an entire day of errands and school work.

Turns out I scheduled a trip to the Oklahoma Science Museum with my friend Sarah and her three children FOR TODAY AT 10am!  Guess what time I glanced at the calendar and realized I had plans? GUESS! 

9am.

At 9am the children and I were in our pajamas.  I still needed to shower and pack lunches.  I had to be out the door by 9:45 to make it to the museum by 10am.

And by GOSH I did it!  WHERE'S MY TROPHY?  HUH?  WHERE?

The kids and I ended up having a great day.  William finished his school work after dinner (although with much grumbling and sniping), and all is right with the world.  Well, except for the fact that I accomplished exactly ZERO of the things on my pretty little list.

So, um, TOMORROW.  Tomorrow I will show 2012 who's boss.  Yes.  Tomorrow.  I just know it.

Oh shut up! Yes, I checked the calendar, I do NOT have plans. 

I Am A Cliche'

I spoke to an old friend today.  Someone I haven't spoken with very much in the last year.  But someone who has known me (almost literally) my entire life.  Which means that a year of infrequent contact is forgotten in a matter of seconds and we are able to pick right up where we left off.  She updated me on her life (wonderful! plus a new tattoo! WHOA!).  She said she considered 2011 a good year because she had moved forward - spiritually, physically, emotionally.  She's better today than she was a year ago.

That stopped me in my tracks.

Because for the first time ever, I find myself markedly WORSE in many ways than I was a year ago.  I'm a good 10 pounds heavier.  And my bank account is many thousands of dollars lighter.  And emotionally Dave and I feel like we've been through a war.  Not with each other, but with the world.

Now I realize that being fatter and poorer than I was last year is certainly not a tragedy.  At no time during the last year did I consult a divorce attorney (or even consider it), which is amazing considering the stress in my household.  My children are healthy and happy.  I live in a lovely home.  I have amazing friends. 

And my health!  Let's not forget that I have my health!

But still.  I'd like for things to be better in 2012.

Which brings me to resolutions.

I'm always a little afraid to make resolutions at the New Year.  It feels like a proclamation destined for failure.  Plus, weight loss resolutions are so cliche'!  PLUS? I've struggled my entire life (almost literally) with body image and weight issues.  So making weight-loss resolutions seem especially fraught with heavy emotional baggage.

But I'm going to put my neck out there and make one anyway.  In fact, I'm going to take "before" pictures.  No seriously!  I'm totally doing it!

Oh I'm not showing YOU.  I do have SOME dignity left.

But I am telling you.  I'm going to unzip this fat suit I've been wearing around.  If I change nothing else, at least by this time next year there will be less of me than there is now. 

As for the bank account.  Well, I plan to appeal Google's decision to pull ads from this site (based on some unknown/undisclosed reason).  I realize Google ads will not solve my financial problems, but it's a step in the right direction. 

So there it is.  The typical American resolution.  Lose weight.  Make a little more money. ICK!

I feel bad!  I should be resolving to feed hungry children in Africa and teach homeless children to read and find homes for all abandoned pets!  I should.  I really should.  Instead, I'm going to do something nice for myself.  The children and animals of the world are going to have to get in line behind ME.  At least for a little while.

What about you?  Do you make resolutions?  Are they big and grand or just cliche like me?

De-Decked!

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Every year after Christmas I become frantic about taking down the decorations. As much as I love the twinkle of the lights and the sparkle of the ornaments, by December 26th I'm always feeling claustrophobic. I long for clear tabletops and walkways uncluttered by garland and wayward pine needles.

So when the last box went into the attic yesterday I let out a big sigh and settled back in to my clean house.

It's a good way to start the year.

What about you? Are you a "get it down now" neurotic like me? Or do you hold on to the Christmas magic until Valentines Day?