Ivy and I like to have deep conversations in the car on our way to school. They include subjects such as why I have moles, how I'm almost really old, and whether I look pretty or not. Today's is about what will happen in twenty years:
IVY: Mommy, what do you think I will look like in twenty years?
ME: Well, you should be taller, your hair will be different, and you'll be just as pretty.
IVY: Mommy, what will you and Daddy look like in twenty years?
ME: Well, Daddy will have grey hair. And we'll have wrinkles.
IVY: Daddy will have grey hair?
ME: Yes.
IVY: You'll have grey hair, too, right?
ME: Nope.
IVY: Yes you will.
ME: Nope, I color my hair, Ivy.
IVY: Yes you will. You'll have long grey hair, and you'll wear it in a bun.
ME: No! It will not be grey, long, or in a bun.
IVY: Why not?
ME: Because I'll only be 53!
IVY: Really??? That's old!!!!!!!
ME: So, that's old, but I'm not old right now?
IVY: Oh...yes, you're old right now. But in twenty years, you'll be really old.
Thanks, Ivy.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Classroom Pets
Story gets a lot of pets at her daycare. They have fish. They had chicks in a cage for a week. They've been watering plants. Now, they have bird eggs in an incubator. Ivy, understandably, is jealous.
She loves her class...but is really wanting to get a classroom pet. I told her she should ask her teacher if they can have one. And if they wanted fish, they could have our fish tank (which no fish has survived for more than a month in, but I'm hoping it's just me).
This was Ivy's conversation about it in the car....with herself:
Well, I could tell Mr. B that we need a pet, or ask him if we can get one. And they costs lots of money. We don't have a lot of money in our class. Like Abby was expensive right? Maybe something smaller would not cost as much monies.
But that would be hard on him. It would be a lot more responsibility, and he already has a lot of responsibility.Maybe he would say yes, though...and then if we gave him the fish tank he would only have to get some fish, and they aren't very expensive, right?
But I don't know where we would put it? It can't go on the computer table. The cubbies are all full. We can't put it in the housekeeping section. No way it would fit in the reading corner. We could make room for it somewhere, but then where would Mr. B put the stuff we moved? He really needs a bigger room.
But then, Mommy? How would we feed the fish when we were gone on the weekends? And in the summer? The poor fish will starve. And if we go to a new class next year, do the fish go with us? Even if they haven't gone through a whole year? And would that be fair for Mr. B to keep them for a new class?......and on and on and on.....
Gee, do you think she's got control issues?
She loves her class...but is really wanting to get a classroom pet. I told her she should ask her teacher if they can have one. And if they wanted fish, they could have our fish tank (which no fish has survived for more than a month in, but I'm hoping it's just me).
This was Ivy's conversation about it in the car....with herself:
Well, I could tell Mr. B that we need a pet, or ask him if we can get one. And they costs lots of money. We don't have a lot of money in our class. Like Abby was expensive right? Maybe something smaller would not cost as much monies.
But that would be hard on him. It would be a lot more responsibility, and he already has a lot of responsibility.Maybe he would say yes, though...and then if we gave him the fish tank he would only have to get some fish, and they aren't very expensive, right?
But I don't know where we would put it? It can't go on the computer table. The cubbies are all full. We can't put it in the housekeeping section. No way it would fit in the reading corner. We could make room for it somewhere, but then where would Mr. B put the stuff we moved? He really needs a bigger room.
But then, Mommy? How would we feed the fish when we were gone on the weekends? And in the summer? The poor fish will starve. And if we go to a new class next year, do the fish go with us? Even if they haven't gone through a whole year? And would that be fair for Mr. B to keep them for a new class?......and on and on and on.....
Gee, do you think she's got control issues?
Sunday, May 8, 2011
High School Bathrooms and Black Dresses
So, our band concert was today. My husband and I brought the girls with us, and they basically just played with whatever kids weren't performing until he or I were available to watch them.
To the concert, I wore a nice, conservative knee length black dress which didn't give me any real wiggle room based on the constricting material of which it was made. I also wore 2 inch black heels (in other words, a disaster waiting to happen).
After the concert, I realized I brought nothing to change in to for the take-down. So, I shucked the heels and pearls, pulled my hair back with a rubber band, and started tearing things down in my dress as well as I could.
We're waiting on pizza to arrive, and Story comes running in the band room yelling about how she has to poop NOW!!!! I took off after her to the bathroom. She got there first, and shut the door behind her. I waited patiently by the sinks until she was ready for me to help her "clean up."
"Mommy! I done!!" she yelled a minute later. I walked to her stall, and pulled on the handle. It didn't move. I pulled on it, pushed on it, and shook it, but it was locked and not giving.
"Story!" I yelled as I tried to jimmie the thing with my thumbnail. "Get off the potty and open the door!"
"No."
"Yes!" I yelled, frustrated at my now shredded thumbnail.
"I can't, Mommy." So, I looked under the door to the stall where there was definitely not enough room to me to crawl through.
"Story! I can't fit through here! You need to get off the potty and open the handle for me!" She sat quietly and smiled.
"You can fit."
"No, I can't!" I yelled even louder out of frustration. I didn't know what to do...should I try to fit? Or tell her good luck with the wiping? Fortunately, that last thought sent a shudder through me, and I decided that I had to get in there. Even if she did make it off the potty, the chances of her smearing poop all over the bathroom were large.
So, I gauged the amount of room I'd have under the stall door. I tried to crawl under it, but of course, I was too big. Finally, it looked like my only option was an army crawl...
Yes, that's right. An army crawl. On my stomach, in a tight black dress, on the floor of a high school bathroom. I took a deep breath, and pushed myself forward with my hands, trying best I could to think of ice cream and Christmas, and not the millions of particles of...of...stuff I was smushing up against me. At least it was only on one side of me, or so I thought.
I made it through, but then realized that I couldn't get up. My dress was acting like a plastic tube around me, keeping me from the necessary motion I needed to get vertical again. So, I ended up rolling onto my back, and contaminated BOTH sides of myself. But, on my back, I could propel myself into a squatting, then standing position.
My black dress was....gray. I brushed it off, and then wiped Story. She covered her ears, and I pushed the button for flushing. Interestingly enough, everything went down the toilet with the exception of a giant piece of poop. I pushed the button again. It didn't budge. Again. Nothing. Really? I thought. Am I really dealing with this after I just army crawled through a cesspool????
But, I was pretty sure that I couldn't get much dirtier...so I grabbed a wad of toilet paper and pushed it in to the hole, and reflushed....and it went down.
Friday, May 6, 2011
To pick or not to pick?
Story is a serial nose picker.
I think all kids learn to pick their nose at some point. I mean, there's stuff up there. The finger fits so perfectly. They see other kids at daycare do it.
But most kids have realized by a certain age that it's not nice, and definitely that if they continue to do it, they have to at least hide in the bathroom or something.
Not Story.
She picks and eats with pride in front of anyone. The more embarrassing it would be to me for her to do this, the more she does it. In front of the band. At school. In front of my mom. Doesn't matter.
The past couple of months, Daddy and Ivy and I have been telling her how nasty it is. I refuse to pick her up or touch her if she's just played "hide the finger." Nothing has worked.
A ray of hope came last week when Story confessed to me that she had talked to her teacher at daycare. Her teacher had a heart to heart with Story about her bad habit.
Story proclaimed, "Mommy, Imma not pickin' my nose anymore."
I was elated, but cautious. "You sure? You sure you won't pick it?"
"No, Mommy, I pwomise."
As I said, I was leery...but I didn't need to be. In fact, Story took great pains to make sure I knew she wasn't doing it anymore. She'd walk right up to me in the kitchen and yell, "MOMMY!"
"What?" I would say, right after I peeled myself off the ceiling.
"Watch me not pick my nose!" she'd exclaim, and then stand and stare me down...her finger going nowhere near her nose.
"Uh, good job?" I said.
This went on for days. Several times an evening, Story would yell to one of us and tell us to "watch her NOT pick her nose." We were all very patient and did as she asked.
Then, her allergies started back up. I'd see that little finger sneak its way past her upper lip, pause, and then back down. At least she's resisting, I thought.
Finally, she couldn't stop the urges. I saw her duck into the bathroom with a finger in her nose. At bedtime, she'd hide her head in the pillow, but I knew what she was doing.
One might think this is defeat, but I find it instead to be a VICTORY. She might have fallen off the wagon, but at least she's trying to hide her habit now. And she's stopped demanding that I watch her NOT pick her nose. =)
I think all kids learn to pick their nose at some point. I mean, there's stuff up there. The finger fits so perfectly. They see other kids at daycare do it.
But most kids have realized by a certain age that it's not nice, and definitely that if they continue to do it, they have to at least hide in the bathroom or something.
Not Story.
She picks and eats with pride in front of anyone. The more embarrassing it would be to me for her to do this, the more she does it. In front of the band. At school. In front of my mom. Doesn't matter.
The past couple of months, Daddy and Ivy and I have been telling her how nasty it is. I refuse to pick her up or touch her if she's just played "hide the finger." Nothing has worked.
A ray of hope came last week when Story confessed to me that she had talked to her teacher at daycare. Her teacher had a heart to heart with Story about her bad habit.
Story proclaimed, "Mommy, Imma not pickin' my nose anymore."
I was elated, but cautious. "You sure? You sure you won't pick it?"
"No, Mommy, I pwomise."
As I said, I was leery...but I didn't need to be. In fact, Story took great pains to make sure I knew she wasn't doing it anymore. She'd walk right up to me in the kitchen and yell, "MOMMY!"
"What?" I would say, right after I peeled myself off the ceiling.
"Watch me not pick my nose!" she'd exclaim, and then stand and stare me down...her finger going nowhere near her nose.
"Uh, good job?" I said.
This went on for days. Several times an evening, Story would yell to one of us and tell us to "watch her NOT pick her nose." We were all very patient and did as she asked.
Then, her allergies started back up. I'd see that little finger sneak its way past her upper lip, pause, and then back down. At least she's resisting, I thought.
Finally, she couldn't stop the urges. I saw her duck into the bathroom with a finger in her nose. At bedtime, she'd hide her head in the pillow, but I knew what she was doing.
One might think this is defeat, but I find it instead to be a VICTORY. She might have fallen off the wagon, but at least she's trying to hide her habit now. And she's stopped demanding that I watch her NOT pick her nose. =)
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