Stuff My Kids* Tell Me

Aren't They Already On?

2012-02-03T10:44:00.001-05:00

I think I finally discovered why some people enjoy being first grade teachers. Children who are learning to spell often sound things out, and when they do, their spelling is, well, beyond hilarious. Case in point: Aimee's class is learning how to write stories from beginning to end, and the way they do this is to write small how-to books. Aimee decided she would write one entitled How To Get Dressed.

This is the first page:

This is the second page:

"Let's see," I said, trying to decipher what on earth she meant by putting on her tits. "First you put on your underwear, next you put on your dress, then you put on your ...."

"Tights," she said.

"Oh," I said, "yes, tights. And finally you put on your bows."

"Yes," she said, smiling.

"Beautiful," I said.

Future Author

2012-02-02T10:00:00.000-05:00

Aimee has taken to writing books lately. Her current obsession is penguins. Here's the latest story:

When my husband read it, he asked, "Aimee, how did you draw those penguins?"
"It's easy," she said. "First you make a potato. Then you draw a face and add a beak."
"Really?" he asked. "They look so real."
"That's not my drawing," she said. "It's just my sketch. I draw them better than that."

Well, okay then.

No, Really

2012-01-14T10:57:00.000-05:00

Our kids have been begging us for a pet for ages. Of course, we had a dog who the kids totally ignored and when he died it took them four days to realize he was no longer around. Even though we loved him dearly, we soon realized the constraints having a pet put upon us. We didn't have to pay a hefty boarding fee when we wanted to take a trip. We didn't have to walk him on days that were below freezing or incredibly rainy. We didn't have to pay exorbitant vet bills. And - my personal favorite - we didn't have to vacuum the house every day to rid ourselves of the tufts of dog fur.

In short, we felt liberated.

The kids, however, feel gypped. They want a pet. Any pet. I reminded them about our dog, and they argued they were too young to care for it.
"You each had a fish," I answered. "And didn't notice those either until they died."
"We can't play with a fish!" they cried.
"No," we said. "We're not getting a pet."

They protest all the time. I'll admit, I'm starting to cave. My husband, however, who has long been the dog lover and animal fan in the family, is remaining steadfast.
"Do you want ticks in the house like we used to have?" he asked. He suffered from Lyme disease a few years ago and knows the idea of ticks getting on the kids is about as scary to me as walking blindfolded on a tightrope hanging between the Empire State Building and another skyscraper.

The kids decided what they needed was an indoor pet so ticks would not be an issue. Their suggestion? A bunny. Dear Husband told them they would soon tire of the fuzzy beast and we, the parents, would be encumbered with having to care for and feed it.
The result:

It says, "Dad, Please. My two friends say I am never going to get sick of my bunny! And I do clean up after myself! From, Lily."

"I can clean the bunny's cage and feed it and clean up after it."

Dad isn't budging.

Sort Of

2012-01-10T16:21:00.000-05:00

A few days ago my husband and the kids were driving around town. The girls noticed a nativity scene and asked, "What's that?" My husband explained its significance and when he got to the part about Mary's birth being an immaculate conception, the kids said, "What's that?"
"Well, you know how a baby is made, right?" he asked them.
"Yes," they answered.
"How?" he asked.
Lily cleared her throat and said, "I know. The man puts his direct penis into the woman's vagina."

Well, Okay Then

2011-12-02T17:49:00.000-05:00

Aimee was angry with me yesterday. I know this because she came upstairs, pinned the following note to our chalkboard in the kitchen, and glared at me afterward. I ignored her, as I was making dinner, so she took the note down, made some adjustments and pinned it up again.

Here's the note:

To clarify, it says: "Dear Mom. I am ~~not~~ sorry. Love, Aimee. P.S. I still ~~hate~~ love you.

Our Happy Family

2011-09-27T10:22:00.002-04:00

Drawing by Aimee, who is loving holding my diminutive left leg while I balance carefully on my enormous right leg. Dear Husband appears to be an alien, and my older daughter resembles Rapunzel, but we're all smiling, and that's what counts.

Trust Me, He Feels The Same Way

2011-07-21T18:18:00.001-04:00

My husband has been attending a workshop this week so my kids have not seen him since Sunday night. Due to the summer activities, my kids are sleeping more (yay!) so they go to bed before he gets home and wake up after he has already left in the morning.
Apparently, from the photo below, my husband's absence is having an effect on my 6-year-old.

It says, "Dear Dad, I miss you. I wish you were home. Love, Aimee."

Today's Question

2011-07-20T15:42:00.000-04:00

Riding home from camp today, Aimee asked me this question: "Mom? On the tippy top of the highest tree, are there germs?"

If anyone out there knows the answer for sure, feel free to comment. I, however, just shrugged and told her, "If you don't become a scientist, I'm going to be very disappointed."

Read The Sign

2011-06-25T11:14:00.000-04:00

This is what I saw when I went downstairs to the basement. The kids had made a fort and posted it for my husband and me to see:

It says: "No Baddies. No Grown ups. No Dogs." Considering we don't own a dog, and I haven't seen any "baddies" around, I took this sign kind of personally.

Duh, Mom

2011-06-22T20:03:00.000-04:00

Lily's school had been planning a trip around our town for a few weeks. Our little hamlet was built in 1802, so it has some historical homes, cemetaries and other noteworthy establishments the class was going to visit. They studied the different places and were supposed to embark on a bus tour two weeks ago. Due to a freak extreme heatwave, the trip was postponed to a day last week. Lily was so excited, she asked to borrow my camera in order to capture the experience on digital film.
That day I waited for her, waiting to hear all about it.
"Guess what, Mom?" she said when she saw me.
"What?" I asked.
"We didn't get to go on our field trip," she said. "And because school is almost over, we will never go."
"What?" I said. "What happened?"
She told me there was a mix-up with the bus schedule and the drivers never showed up.
"Oh, no," I said. "Were you disappointed?"
"Yeah," she said. She shrugged her shoulders.
"Oh, man," I said. "Were the other kids upset?"
"Totally," she said.
"Did anyone cry?" I asked.
"Mom!" she said. "We're in third grade. We don't cry anymore!"

Poor Kid

2011-06-20T13:15:00.000-04:00

The other day I ran into Lily's Girl Scout leader. We were both running errands, and she pulled me aside and said, "I just have to tell you a story." She reminded me of a field trip the Brownie troop took to an animal shelter in the spring. Since she is the troop leader, she drove many of the girls to and from the event. On the way home, the girls were discussing the various vacations everyone had taken. One mentioned Florida, the other the Poconos. "But Lily made me laugh," she said.
"Why?" I asked.
"Because she said, 'I never get to go anywhere interesting. The only place we ever go is Egypt.'"

Guess I better start looking into a trip to Ohio to fulfill her need for excitement.

There's No Pleasing Some People

2011-06-11T16:43:00.000-04:00

When both my kids were around 2 or 3 years old they would start to draw pictures of our family. Lily would always draw me as the biggest member, then herself a little smaller, then her baby sister. My husband (if he made it into the group at all) would be this little person off to the side. Aimee would draw herself smaller than Lily, but my husband always remained the smallest.

I remember laughing with a teacher about my diminutive husband in the family pictures and she said, "Kids usually draw their caretakers the biggest. You're her mom and you're home, so you are featured prominently in her drawings."

My husband never liked this explanation (rightly so, he is their dad after all) and would always frown in private when observing their sketches. One day he couldn't hold his tongue any longer. He pointed to something Aimee just drew and said, "Look how small I am!" She got upset and thought he was making fun of her artwork. "No, but am I really as small as you?" he asked.

She clearly got the message, because she came home from school the other day with this:

My husband took one look at it and said, "Look how far away I am from the rest of the family."

But Do You Mean It?

2011-05-24T09:15:00.004-04:00

Last week my 6-year-old decided she would test my patience. Not in the usual "I'm going to make your life a living hell just because I can" kind of way, but in the "do you really say what you mean" kind of way. So from the moment she got up until about 6 p.m. that evening, she yelled at me, kicked me, threw a few punches (albeit tiny-handed ones) and called me names I would never utter to my own mother at her age (or even now, for that matter). Each time she misbehaved I took away a privilege. It went something like this:

Aimee: hits me.
Mom: "That's no television."
Aimee: "You're a stupid mom! I hate you!"
Mom: "You may not speak to me like that. You've lost having friends over."
Aimee: holds her hand up, decides if it's worth it, and then kicks me instead.
Mom: "Now you've lost going over to a friend's house."

I tried getting her to stay in her room so she could cool off, but she kept coming out, slamming the door and banging on the walls. Soon she lost every privilege ever given.

"The only thing left is an early bedtime," I said (which I had planned on doing anyway. I mean, seriously - who wants to hang out with a kid like that all evening?) She screamed at me when she heard this, so I shrugged and said, "Oh, well, guess that's off the table."

She had an art class scheduled that afternoon that so I gladly dropped her off and took some much-needed alone time. She was angry and surly in the car on the way there, so I said, "Here's the deal: you can change your behavior and have a nice dinner with us, or you can continue acting this way and go to bed hungry. It's your choice."

When I picked her up, she was a new person.

I commended her on changing her attitude and then said, "Do you see how much better you feel when you've had some time to cool off?"
She nodded.
"That's why I was telling you to stay in your room," I said. "Because I knew you needed some time to calm down."
She nodded again and then left the room. She came back and handed me this:

It says: I am sorry for being badly behaved today. Tomorrow is a new day. Love, Aimee.

And wouldn't you know it, the next day, she kept her word.

Birth Order

2011-05-13T18:29:00.000-04:00

The other day at dinner I was asking the girls about their day. Aimee started first, hopping eagerly into the spotlight any chance it’s offered. She explained the day’s schedule, and as I asked her about certain lessons, she said, “Well, Mom, you know,” and pointed a thumb toward Lily.

“What?” I asked. “Are you saying I should know because Lily had kindergarten there as well?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Um, have you met Lily?” I asked, eyes widening. “She barely says two words to me about school!”

“Really?” Aimee asked.
“Yes!” I said. “She barely opens her mouth.”

Lily was smiling as I spoke and finally, with a wave of her hand, said, “It’s the second child’s job to be all chit-chatty.”

Happy Mother's Day!

2011-05-08T10:45:00.000-04:00

I awoke this morning to find a lovely bouquet of flowers, a hilarious card from my husband and kids, a hand-made card from my youngest daughter, a framed collage of funny photos of the girls, and this "present" (to the left) from Aimee, which she signed on behalf of her and Lily, all on the dining room table.
Apparently, when you're 6, giving someone a scented ad is the same as giving them an actual bottle of perfume. (And even though it says, "Happy Moth Day," I'm pretty sure she knows I'm her mom and not a flying insect.)

Hey, Wait A Second...

2011-05-03T20:37:00.001-04:00

The other night my husband got home later than usual. I knew Lily was still up because she had come downstairs a few minutes prior to his arrival complaining of a bug bite. I asked him to be quiet in case Aimee was already asleep. He sneaked up the steps, went into Lily's room (which is attached to Aimee's room - you have to walk through Aimee's to get to Lily's) and went to say good-night. He spoke with Lily for a few moments, kissed her and left. As he was about to leave Aimee's room, he heard Aimee say, "Aren't you going to kiss me good-night?" She lifted her sleep mask up and peeked at him.
"I thought you were asleep," he whispered to her.
"So, is that what you do? You come in and don't kiss me good-night, even when I'm sleeping?"
"No, I usually do," he said, laughing and walking toward her. She turned her head and let his lips fall on her cheek.
"G'night," she said, pulling her sleep mask back over her eyes.

We've Arrived

2011-04-27T21:33:00.000-04:00

When Lily was a baby she was extremely colicky. I would hold her for hours on end while she wailed into my ear. My husband worked a lot back then (even more than he does now, which seems incredible considering I barely see him these days) and I had to suffer through her crying fits alone. Some days I would lose it completely and cry with her. Other days I would pick up the phone, dial his office and just hold the receiver to her face as she screamed. After a minute or so, I'd say through clenched teeth, "Come home. Now," and hang up.
One evening he made it back to our tiny apartment in time to be the one she tortured. He held her and she cried incessantly. He bounced her up and down, rocked her and tried a million different other methods to calm her, all to no avail. "Oh, my God," he said to me, "How do you still love her?"
I laughed, knowing he was joking, and said, "I know, it's crazy. I love her so much even though all she does is cry."
A few weekends later he made it home in time again to soothe her. "Um," he said after 15 minutes of holding her, "when does she become a joy?"
My husband reminded me of this story the other night. We were out having dinner with our two daughters, who are now 9 and 6, and he leaned over to me and whispered, "Remember the comment about being a joy?"
I laughed and said, "Yeah."
"We made it," he said, looking at them with while they colored quietly at the table. "They've become a joy."
Indeed they have.

Nice Try

2011-03-22T18:31:00.000-04:00

My kids leave everything in the car - gum wrappers, drawings, crayons, even clothing. This particular habit drives me insane, because whenever I look in the back seat to find something I need, I see piles of crap everywhere. Every once in a while I will get annoyed and toss everything out (except the clothing, of course), but most days I instruct the kids to go back and take out whatever they have put in the car that day.
Today the girls had tennis. As I stepped onto the porch I noticed Aimee had left her tennis racket in the car (naturally). "Go and get your tennis racket, young lady!" I teased her.
She laughed, and then blocked the way so her sister, Lily, couldn't get up the steps. "Go and get my racket, Lily," she said, giggling.
"No," said Lily. (Which is unusual, because she will most times do anything her little sister asks.)
"Please get my racket, Lily," she said, stroking Lily's arm. "Be my little helper," she said.

I've clearly created a monster.

I'm Not That Old, Kid

2011-03-21T09:03:00.000-04:00

Every week Aimee's teacher gives her a book from school to read out loud to us. Last week the book she was given was about money. As she read to my husband, she sounded out the names of the presidents who were on each bill. "Is that George Washington?" she asked my husband, pointing to a dollar bill on the page.
"Well, you tell me," my husband answered.
"Yes," she said, reading the name. She paused for a minute and said, "Did you vote for him, Daddy?"

R-e-s-p-e-c-t

2011-03-19T09:21:00.000-04:00

One Saturday Aimee woke up and announced she was sick. She wasn't. She didn't have a fever, she ate normally and seemed pretty healthy, despite having a negative attitude. (She didn't sleep well the night before, which accounts for her feeling a bit "off" that day.) Lily tried to convince her to play a game, but Aimee wasn't interested. Finally, Aimee decided she wanted to go downstairs and play with her dolls, but she wanted Lily to join her.
"Come on, Lily," she said, heading toward the steps.
"Aimee, clean up your plate first," her big sister admonished, mimicking her mom. "You're a big kid, you know. You can clean up after yourself."
"Is that any way to talk to someone who isn't feeling well?" Aimee asked her.

How The &*%$ Should I Know?

2011-03-17T22:53:00.000-04:00

Every day I am asked a million questions. All day long I hear, "Mom?" "Hey, Mom?" "Um, Mom?" "Mom!"
Aside from the fact that I cannot bear hearing my name heard over and over again, what kills me most is the types of questions I am asked. Aimee is a curious child, and I appreciate that. But, tell me, what would you say to a child who asks this question:

"Mom? Are cartwheels good for you?"

She's Right

2011-01-23T16:30:00.000-05:00

We were driving through the Watchung Reservation on our way home from running errands today. The road can be windy and I tried to distract Aimee, who gets carsick, from feeling queasy. "Can you see any deer?" I asked.
"Why?" asked Lily.
"Because we're in the woods," I said. "And I thought maybe we might see some deer."
They were quiet for a moment and then I said, "Or bear. Do you see any bears?"
Aimee laughed quietly and said, "Oh, Mom, don't be silly."
"Why am I being silly?" I asked.
"Because bears are hibernating, you know," she said, still giggling.
I hate when my 6-year-old is smarter than I am.

Holiday Rush

2010-12-26T08:47:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, after opening all the presents, checking out the loot in our stockings and eating a delicious homemade breakfast, we all sat around the table chatting.
"So," Lily asked. "Are we going to do anything today?"
I looked at her because only a child would ask such a question on this holiday.
"Like what?" I asked. "It's Christmas. Everything is closed. Besides, it's a family day. We are going to spend time together."
"I have an idea," Aimee said.
"You do, huh?" I asked.
"Yep," she said. "Let's go to the mall."

Because somewhere in her 6-year-old head, Christmas was, simply put, the day of receiving.

Do You See What I See?

2010-12-21T20:27:00.000-05:00

A few years ago I thought it was a good idea to put presents under the tree as quickly as I purchased them. I would place the ones relatives sent to us under there as well, and soon we'd have a nice pile any child would appreciate. That year, however, I discovered a few weeks was a really long time for a young child to wait to open gifts. The never-ending, "When is Christmas?" or "When do we get to open the presents?" became unbearable.
So I switched gears.
After that year my husband and I made sure not to buy a tree before the first weekend in December. We may finish our holiday shopping early, but the kids were none the wiser. I'd immediately wrap the items selected from their wish lists, put them in a crawl space and hide any evidence of their existence. It was harder to conceal the goodies from relatives because sometimes that damn UPS driver would show up when Aimee was home and announce, "Looks like someone's going to be happy this holiday season!" (Who asked you, huh?) Nonetheless, our current tree skirt remains dotted with only a handful of packages, just two of which are marked for the girls.
The absence of boxes and parcels has not gone unnoticed, and each day, I see the girls peek their heads under O Tannenbaum and proclaim, somewhat sadly, "Nope. Nothing new yet."
Today Lily pointed to the pathetic offering and said, "Um, Mom? You do realize Christmas is only four days away, right?"
"Wow, really?" I said. "It's that close?"
"Yes," she said. "So, um, can I ask you a question?"
"Sure," I said.
"Where are all our presents?"

Echo

2010-12-17T11:11:00.000-05:00

This morning, while I was getting ready, Aimee walked in my bathroom. She stood there in her nightgown, her eyes still droopy from sleep, and watched me apply some mascara. "Mommy, you're beautiful the way you are," she said to me. "You don't need any make-up."
I smiled, knowing she was using the same words I have said to her and her sister on many occasions.
"Thanks, honey," I said.
"You're welcome," she replied, smiling. She gave me a hug and walked away.
Now, if only what she said were true...

She's A Liberal, Too, I Guess

2010-12-12T11:43:00.000-05:00

Aimee and I were riding in the car and she was asking about a friend of mine who I had seen recently.
"Does he have kids?" she asked.
"No," I said.
"Why not?" she asked.
"Well," I said, "he's gay, and he and his partner don't want to have children."
"What's gay?" Aimee asked.
"It means he is married to a man," I said.
She giggled for a few seconds and then asked, "You can do that?"
Hmm, I thought. Tricky question. "In some states you can, yes," I said.
She thought for a moment and said, "I want to marry a woman."

In Case You Need One

2010-12-08T16:23:00.000-05:00

Here's a grocery list, compiled by my 6-year-old:

It reads: Vegetables, fruits, pretzels, candy, peanuts, pineapple and watermelon.
So in case you're ever at the store and forget your own list, I hope this will help you get what you need.

From My Family To Yours...

2010-11-25T10:29:00.000-05:00

For some reason, Lily thought the turkey would be psyched about a Thanksgiving dinner, including its relative being served as the main course.

Aimee keeps it simple.

Dinner Conversation

2010-11-23T18:06:00.000-05:00

"Mom, when I'm older, do I have to wear make-up?" Lily asked me.
"No, of course not," I said. "In fact, you and Aimee are so naturally pretty you won't need to wear any at all."
"Good!" she said, wiping her brow in mock relief.
"I want to wear make-up!" Aimee said. "I want to wear lots and lots of eyeliner."
"You do, huh?" I asked, smiling. I pictured a 6-year-old Sophia Loren.
"And lots of red lipstick," she said.
"Red, huh?" I asked.
"Really red. Bright red. Like I wore with my flamenco dancer costume."

Look out, Heidi Fleiss, your competition is coming.

It's Good To Be Mom, Right?

2010-11-22T19:30:00.000-05:00

These are the words my children have slung at me over the past few days:

"You're such a rude mom." (Aimee)
"You are so mean!" (Aimee)
"It's not fair! You're never fair!" (Lily)
"No one else gets tickets, why do I have to?" (Lily)
"I bet you never got tickets as a child!" (Lily)
When I told her I was spanked as a punishment, Lily replied, "I'd rather be spanked!"
"I don't love you, not even a little bit." (Aimee.)
When I said, "That's okay, I have enough love for the both of us," she replied, "No, you don't."
"I hate you, you're a stupid Mom." (Um, like I need to tell you who said this?)

You Can't Get Rid Of Me That Easily

2010-11-20T11:14:00.000-05:00

This morning, at 6:30 a.m., I heard my girls chatting in their room. Now, mind you, it's Saturday and I don't appreciate being woken up at such an ungodly hour. Okay, let's be honest - those who know me know I don't like being woken up before 7 a.m. ever. But on a Saturday? I get even more surly because, dammit, it's the weekend and I just want to sleep in. Is that so wrong?
When I heard the banter I tried to ignore it. I even tried falling back to sleep. But no, they just had to get a little more giggly and I finally had to get up and give them the "I-am-really-pissed-off-so-make-yourselves-scarce" look.
When they saw me they immediately shut up, and when I turned and went back to bed I heard them scamper quickly down the steps as far away from me as possible. (Survival of the fittest plays a big part in our home.)
An hour later I got up, got dressed and got ready for a 9 a.m. hair appointment. As I grabbed my coat I said to them, "Kids, I love you very much but I don't like you a whole lot right now for waking me up."
Aimee, without missing a beat, says, "So you're leaving?"

Planning Ahead

2010-11-12T20:38:00.000-05:00

I had to go to Toys R Us the other day to buy a gift for an upcoming birthday party. I took Aimee with me, and while we were there she asked if she could visit the Barbie aisle. I said she could, reminding her that I wasn't going to buy anything for her that day. She spotted one of the 'career' (I use the term loosely) Barbies - it was called "Zoo Doctor Barbie" - and exclaimed, "Mom! I love all animals! So this one is perfect for me for Christmas."
When we got home, she decided the zoo doctor (or, as most people would say, veterinarian) wasn't the only doll she wanted.
"Can you write a wish list for me?" she asked.
"Why don't you write it?" I asked. "You know how to write."
"Okay," she said, "but I will need help with some of the spelling."
With a little assistance (most words, clearly, she spelled herself), she came up with this:

It says: Wish List. Aimee's. Newborn baby doctor Barbie.

I'm just hoping that's another poorly named Barbie product and not a request for a sibling.

Nice Try, But...

2010-11-02T14:29:00.000-04:00

As a disciplinary measure, we use a method called "tickets" with our kids. In short, the kids are given a certain number of tickets each day. If they misbehave, they lose a ticket. If they lose all of their tickets (which, in Aimee's case, happens more often than Lily), they go to bed early that night and don't get to enjoy the privilege of family movie night on Friday evenings.
A few weeks ago, Lily was so upset about losing all her tickets (she loves family film night) she wrote us this note:

It says, to clarify: "Dear Parents: I promise not to lose any tickets this week. Love, Lily."
When I showed my husband the note one evening, he took one look at it and quipped, "Tell her we're taking away all her tickets for poor spelling."

That's What I Thought

2010-10-25T13:33:00.000-04:00

Aimee likes to pin the blame on me a lot. To those of you who think she's an angel, this note will adjust your perception:

Oh, Yeah?

2010-10-21T15:51:00.000-04:00

Sometimes, even though the sentence is incomplete, the meaning is crystal clear:

Ambushed

2010-10-18T18:41:00.000-04:00

Tonight, while eating dinner, Lily said, "Mom, one of my friends told me the Tooth Fairy isn't real. Is that true?"
"Um," I said, "what did she say?"
"She said she stayed up late one night and saw her mom putting money under her sister's pillow, so she knows it's not real." She paused for a second to eat some pasta and said, "So do you give us the money, too?"
I laughed and said, "Um, uh, well..."
Then Aimee chimed in. "No, they're not real. Because there is no way the Tooth Fairy can bust into our home in the middle of the night, and there is no way Santa can barge in, either, so they aren't real. Right, Mommy?"
"Hold on a second," I said, grabbing the phone and dialing my husband's number at work. "Daddy needs to be in on this call."
When he answered I made Aimee tell him what she just said to me. Then, in Arabic (a language we both speak), I said, "I want to tell them the truth but I wanted to make sure you were okay with that first."
"Sure, go ahead," he answered.
"Well?" Lily asked. "Are they real, or do you give us the presents and the money?"
"You're right," I said.
"What?!" the both gasped. "It's true? They're not real?"
"No, they're not real," I said. "Are you upset?"
"No," they said. "We're not mad at all. But does that mean we don't get any presents from Santa?"
I assured them they would, which made them sigh with relief. Then I made them pinky swear they would never tell any of their friends. "Why not?" they asked.
"Because there are a lot of moms and dads out there who would kill me if I ruined it for their kids," I said. "So, keep it to yourselves."
"Okay," said Aimee. "But where are our teeth?!"

You Gotta Give Her Credit For Trying

2010-10-14T15:32:00.000-04:00

A few nights ago, about 15 minutes after I tucked both girls into bed, I heard footsteps coming down the stairs. I usually let the girls read in their rooms for a while before bed, so I knew they weren't asleep. But once I leave them, my job for the day is over and I want some "me" time. Therefore, when I heard the pitter-patter of tiny tootsies walking my way, I became annoyed.
"Mom?" I heard Aimee say.
I sighed and said, "What is it, Aimee?"
"Um, Mom, could you please sign this and put it in the mailbox when you're done?" she asked.
I walked over to her and saw she was holding this:

I could not contain my laughter. She had been flipping through the latest American Girl catalog, saw this postcard offer, and decided to fill it out.
"Why are you laughing?" she asked.
"Do you know what this is?" I asked.
"Yes," she said. "I want it." (Notice, she marked every one of the boxes, regardless of what they meant. Whatever they were giving away, she wanted it all.)
"You want what?" I asked.
"What they will send me if I fill this out," she said. She pointed to the parent's signature line. "But it says 'parent sign' something on it. What does that mean?"
"It means I have to sign it to show I give my approval."
"Okay. Can you do that for me?"
After a long explanation of why I would not send it in, I begged her to keep the card. "Why?" she asked. "Because you are amazing," I said. She just smiled, hugged me and went to bed.

Hmm... How Do I Put This?

2010-10-12T12:13:00.000-04:00

Last Sunday my family and I took a trip to Grounds For Sculpture. (Side note: if you happen to live within driving distance of this place, make it a priority to go there on a beautiful day. The garden is absolutely spectacular, the sculptures are awesome and the grounds itself is unlike any other. My kids both proclaimed it was their favorite place yet, which was odd because my husband and I felt the same way.)
While exploring the many footpaths we spotted a tree house and found a little spot overlooking a pond. We bolted up the steps and immediately noticed how several visitors to the area had sullied this particular spot with graffiti. Lily decided to read this one out loud, in front of several nearby children:

(In case you can't read it, it says, "We need more Dicks Here!")

Lily, who has no idea what the word 'dick' implies, laughed and said again, loudly, "Why do they need more dicks here?"
My husband and I laughed and had to shush her. I said to him, "I better explain." So I did.
"What?" she said, her mouth agape. "Why would anyone need more penises?"
Indeed.

The List

2010-10-07T17:43:00.000-04:00

Lily and I were talking about how funny my husband can be. She reminded me that he cheats when they play together.
"How do you mean?" I asked.
"You know," she said. "He says he's too tired to race me but then will start running when I'm not ready."
I laughed and said, "Yes, I know. That dad of yours is pretty funny."
I told her how important it was to marry a man with a good sense of humor. "Who is also kind, caring and treats you really well," I said.
"Well, I want a man who has no tattoos," she said.
"Okay," I said.
"And who doesn't smoke," she said.
"No, definitely not," I said, ignoring the fact that my husband was a two-pack-a-day smoker when I met him.
"And who hasn't been in prison," she said. (I didn't see that one coming.)
"What else?" I asked.
"And who has a beard," she said, thinking for a moment. "That's about all."

Nice Try

2010-10-05T13:10:00.001-04:00

Every so often Lily will test the boundaries. She isn't like Aimee; Aimee tests constantly. Lily is content for about six months or so and then she will act out, pushing the limit until she loses a privilege.
Then she freaks out.
The other day she was so badly behaved she lost movie night. (For those of you who don't know me or our family tradition, every other Friday evening my kids and I will rent a movie and watch it while we eat dinner. This has become a special bonding time and the loss of such an event is devastating to them.)
When my kids get in one of their moods - as Lily did a few days ago - I can't back down. So the day after she lost movie night, Lily handed me this note:

It says, "Mom give me a second chance."
I read the note, flipped it over and wrote this:

She didn't like my answer.

International Relations

2010-10-02T09:32:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, while in the car, Lily said, "Mommy, guess what? A girl came up to me at school and asked me, 'Are you Chinese?'"
Now, not that I have anything against anyone who is Chinese, but Lily, with her curly, light brown hair and clearly non-Asian face, looks about as Chinese as I do Swedish.
"What did you say to her?" my husband asked.
"I said, 'Um, no, I'm not Chinese.' And she said, 'Oh,' and walked away," Lily said.
"Was she Chinese?" I asked.
"No, she wasn't," Lily said.
"I want to be Chinese!" Aimee said.
"You do?" I asked, laughing. "Why?"
"Because you get to eat all the sushi you want," she said.
"Aimee, that's Japanese food, not Chinese," I said.
"I want to be Japanese!"

Yo, Jersey! Big Apple Circus Is In Town

2010-09-27T18:45:00.002-04:00

Usually I ignore the myriad of requests from people trying to get me to post things on my blog because, well, they're stupid. Yesterday, however, I saw something in my inbox that I actually wanted to share.

The organizers of Big Apple Circus offered me (and readers of this blog) discount tickets to the shows at the Rustic Mall in Manville, New Jersey. Because I love me a bargain, I thought my fellow New Jersey peeps might feel the same way.

Anyone who wants to see the show (it's only in town until October 11, 2010) should go to this link and enter the promo code MOMMY11, or call 1-888-541-3750 and mention the same code. Tickets for the show usually run between $30 to $50 each, but this code will get you tickets for only $25 a piece.

You're welcome.

Photo: Maike Schulz/Big Apple Circus

Let Me Write That Down

2010-09-22T20:58:00.000-04:00

There is a girl in Lily's third grade class who bullied her when she was in both kindergarten and first grade. We worked together on how to handle this girl, and thankfully our tactics worked. The girl left Lily alone last year.
This year, however, the girl was put in Lily's class. Although Lily wasn't thrilled, she didn't seem to give much thought to the girl's presence.
Until today.
I asked Lily who she sat next to at lunch this afternoon. Lily likes to sit at the end of the table and each day she tells me someone new comes and sits next to her. One day she was surrounded by "All boys - Eww," as she put it. Today, the bully.
"What did you do?" I asked.
"I just told myself, 'Relax. Take a deep breath. Take it easy,'" she said, laughing. "And it was fine."
Way to go, girl.

Ask A Stupid Question...

2010-09-18T10:19:00.000-04:00

Aimee and I were hanging out eating lunch when the word 'description' came up. I asked Aimee to describe herself and she looked at me, confused. "What do you mean?" she asked.
"Well, a description is when you use words to show what something is," I said. "For instance, if I were to describe you, I'd say you were a happy, funny kid."
She didn't say anything and continued to eat. "You could also describe someone by saying what their features are. For example, Aimee has light brown, curly hair, brown eyes and is three and a half feet tall."
She smiled.
"I just described you," I said.
"So," I said, "How do you see yourself?"
"In the mirror," she said.

One Kid At A Time

2010-09-17T11:20:00.000-04:00

My daughters are both totally into The Little House On The Prairie books. Laura Ingalls Wilder is their idol, and when they found out there was a television show based on the books, they begged me to record it. Because I am admittedly crazy about which shows my kids can watch, I searched my favorite parenting Web site, Common Sense Media, and investigated whether or not that show was indeed appropriate for both girls to see.
The Web site suggested 7 years old as the right age for that particular show, but because I am not a complete lemming, I decided to read more as to why it was given that age rating. Turns out that even though the show was somewhat politically correct for the 1970s, it had themes that would confuse today's young viewers. For example, one episode has an African-American man being treated really badly by some of the local townsfolk, and negative things are said about black people in general. Although I know racism was ripe in the 1800s (and still exists today), I knew my girls would be confused by these harsh and hurtful words and wanted to educate them about such misconceptions. Worse, I didn't want them to think the any of the slurs were accurate. So last night at dinner I brought up the subject.
"Kids, remember Little House on the Prairie takes place more than 100 years ago," I said. "So there may be some things you read in the books or see in the show that might not make sense to you."
"Like the Indians?" asked Lily.
"Well, yes," I said. "Native Americans were here in America long before anyone else. But back then, white settlers fought with the Indians and the books may say Indians are bad. But the situation is very complicated. There were good Indians and bad Indians, just like there are good people and bad people in every culture and ethnic background."(And, let's not forget white people stole their land, I thought.)
"What else?" she asked.
"Okay, for instance, on the television show, there might be African-Americans," I said. "And people weren't very nice to them back then."
"Why not?" asked Aimee.
"Well, that's a great question," I said. How could I explain racism to a child? The concept is ridiculous to me - people hating others simply because they look different. I know I'll have to explain this same situation to them one day since our family is different and the hatred toward who we represent is intense these days. But I didn't want to tackle that subject just yet.
"Because African-Americans were brought here against their will to be slaves," I began. I explained the history through emancipation and watched the look of horror cross both their faces. "I know," I said, "it's an awful truth. But people weren't as educated as they are now." (I know - I simplified an extremely complicated subject, but let's consider the audience here.)
"But why, Mommy?" Aimee said. "African-Americans aren't different from us. Some of them just have darker skin, but that's no big deal. I have medium skin and curly hair, and some of my friends have light skin, but that's all. That doesn't make us that different!"
Funny, I thought, a 5-year-old gets it, but many grown-ups still don't.

Um, Really?

2010-09-16T08:34:00.000-04:00

Last night was Back To School night at Lily's elementary school. Her teacher gave the parents an introduction to third grade and highlighted what the kids would be learning. Mrs. S had a good sense of humor and used a Promethean board to illustrate her points. In the end, she said, she asked the kids which subject they liked the most and why. She listed the children's quotes on the board and pointed to Lily's. "This one is my favorite," she said.
It read: "I like math because it makes my brain hurt."*
*Thanks, Maureen, for suggesting I use this quote today.

How About This One?

2010-09-13T14:18:00.008-04:00

Close friends of mine know my daughter's Brownie troop is lead by a very religious woman. I have no problem with her having a strong faith; what upsets me is that she refuses to separate Church and Girl Scouts.

Without going into too much detail, she held a private meeting with only a select few Brownie members and these girls earned a faith-based badge behind our backs. I found out about the ceremony by chance, and discovered she excluded not only my daughter, but other girls who were not Catholic. Although I know she didn't mean to offend anyone, I found her tactics to be divisive and insensitive. I spoke with some of the other moms in the troop about it - some were on her side, saying she was well-intended and didn't contact the non-Catholic members for fear of hurting our feelings. Others agreed with me: religion has no part in a program that teaches tolerance and acceptance, and earning a badge that not every girl in the troop can get is antithetical to the entire Girl Scout message. After all, the girls are supposed to be a team.

As a result, the leader agreed to let us all know when she was going to earn a badge that was different from the usual curriculum. Today I got an e-mail saying "if your daughter is not working towards the Catholic award and she is interested in doing a Faith Award for your particular [religion], I can e-mail you the information if you need it."

I sent the note to my husband who wrote back, "Tell her we want to earn the Ground Zero Mosque award."

Because I Want To Remember

2010-09-09T09:25:00.001-04:00

On the first day of school I announced I would take the girls to Rita's, a local Italian ice store as a special treat. Aimee, who was home earlier than Lily because our town only has half-day kindergarten (kill me now), decided to write down her order so she would remember it when she got there. This is the note she had with her:

Thankfully, we had gone to Rita's with my friend Kelly and her twin daughters. Aimee handed Kelly the note and Kelly read it out loud: "Oh, I see. You want chocolate and vanilla twist with cherry and blue, right?"
Aimee grinned. "Yes," she said.
I glanced over Kelly's shoulder and whispered, "I could only read, 'chocolate,' 'twist,' and 'blue,' so thank God she gave the note to you."
When the time came to order, Aimee proudly put in her request.

Guilt Trip

2010-09-08T10:56:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, on Aimee's first day of kindergarten, she took the bus to school. When Lily began public school, she was thrilled to take the bus. She excitedly hopped on the big yellow vehicle and emphatically waved good-bye. But Lily's independent and very positive. She takes all new experiences in stride.
Aimee is also independent, but of our two children, she is the most attached to me and the most apprehensive about trying new things. I could see she was a little scared yesterday, and my husband even expressed concern about her being able to handle being shuttled to and from school. "She's done a million activities and never once cried when I left her," I said, waving my hand. "She'll be fine."
While we all waited for the bus to arrive she was happy and giddy. Then, the bus came. She started to head toward the door and then turned around and came back to me for another hug and kiss. "You'll be okay," I said to her softly. "I love you. Have a good day!"
She smiled warily and got on the bus. I watched her as she walked the length of the aisle and found a seat. She smiled at me, but could tell she wasn't happy.
When she got home I asked her, "When you got on the bus, did you cry?"
"No," she said, looking down.
"Did you want to cry?" I asked.
"Yes," she said softly.
"But you told yourself you would be all right?"
"Yes," she said. "And I was nervous."
"About what?" I asked.
"I worried I would miss Mommy," she said. Then she added, "And Daddy."
"Did you?" I asked as I pulled her close.
"Yes," she said. "I always miss you."

Ouch.

'Atta Boy

2010-09-07T12:48:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, on our last day of summer vacation, my husband spent time with each child playing a game of Crazy Eights. Later, after the girls went to bed, I said, "They're getting good at cards, aren't they?"
"Yeah, Aimee beat me twice in a row," he said, smiling. "Then I smoked her ass."

No, I'm Serious

2010-09-05T13:34:00.000-04:00

My husband, kids and I decided to go on a bike ride yesterday. On the weekends, when weather is too nice to do anything else, we load up the two-wheelers and pick a spot to explore. Yesterday we decided to visit the Great Swamp because not only is it a lovely wildlife refuge, it also has a nursery and we are in need of new plants for our own garden.
While riding I was overcome by how happy I have been this summer. My kids are now in what I call The Golden Age - the period where they are mostly self-sufficient and aren't as dependent on me as they have been in the past. I can sleep in, drink my coffee in peace and even read the news before a myriad of demands comes my way.
The sun-drenched drought this summer meant lots of days spent outdoors, which is always a plus when raising kids. We have gone to the beach, swam at the pool and enjoyed a lot of time in the sunshine. The kids have been in a great mood most of the summer and so have I. Overall, it's been a fantastic three months.
While riding in the Great Swamp I decided I should tell my children how much they meant to me and how much fun I had hanging out with them. I didn't realize that, in the past, I used similar words to convey sarcasm when talking to them.
"Girls, I just have to tell you what a pleasure it's been being around you this summer," I said as we peddled down the gravel road. "This has been the best summer so far. I am so lucky to be your mom."
The girls were quiet for a moment and then Aimee broke the silence. "Um, Mom?" she asked. "Are you joking?"
"Yeah," said Lily. "Is that a joke?"

Turning The Corner

2010-09-02T18:32:00.002-04:00

If you have known me for a long time, you'd understand how much I have suffered raising two strong-willed girls. You'd also know that Aimee is a rare breed of child - she spat at me, hit me (more times than I can count) and threw tantrum after tantrum. Every. Single. Day. Of course, she mostly behaved this way in the privacy of our home, which led my friends and family to say, "Yeah, right," whenever I complained about her. I swear, it's as if she was perfect outside the home simply because she knew no one would believe me if I said otherwise.
Well, folks,after years of time outs and consequences, I'm here to say, the kid's finally come around. I found this note to her sister, Lily, while in their room the other day:

It says: "To Lily, From AI (her nickname). I am sorry for being mean."
I picked it up and showed it to her and said, "Is this for when you hit Lily on the head?" (Because she thought bopping her big sister on the noggin with a flashlight would be fun.) "No," she said, "I wrote her a different note for that. That note is for when I called her bad names."

She Got It

2010-08-23T12:18:00.000-04:00

About a month ago we took our kids to the movies. When the film ended, Aimee asked me, "What are we going to do now?"
It was 4:30 p.m. and my husband and I needed to get home and finish up some housework.
"Nothing," I replied. "We're going home."
Aimee began to get angry. She sulked, she yelled at us and then threw a massive tantrum (which included kicking our chairs and calling us bad names. Yes, friends of mine who think I make this crap up - she did.)
When we arrived at the the house I immediately put her in a time out. When the timer rang, I said, "Aimee, I get it. We were having a good time and you didn't want it to end, right?"
She nodded.
"I understand. I don't like when we're having fun and we have to stop, either. But when your mom and dad do something nice for you, such as take you to the movies, you don't respond by being badly behaved. Instead, you need to think about what you were given, not what you don't have."
She apologized and went off to play with her sister.
Yesterday we took the kids to see Nanny McPhee Returns (which was good, in case you were wondering). Afterward, we stopped at a toy store to buy a present for a friend (which Aimee enjoyed, even though she came home empty-handed) and then we went home. Aimee was sullen, but didn't throw a tantrum. In the car she said, "Thank you, Mom and Dad, for taking me to the movies."
My husband glanced at me with his eyebrows raised. "You're very welcome," he said.
I just smiled.
Later, just before dinner, Aimee handed me this:

It says, "To Mom - Thank you for taking me to [the] movies." The drawing is the four of us at the theater.
Just when you think your kid will never learn, she hands you a brilliantly written "I told you so."

In Case You Forget

2010-08-12T19:32:00.000-04:00

I was making a list of things to bring on an upcoming vacation when my daughter Aimee asked me what I was doing. She decided she wanted to help me out, so she wrote down the following and handed it to me:

To clarify, she wants me to remember her blanket, slippers, sunglasses, hat and her baby (doll, that is). The hearts, I notice, are becoming a theme in her notes - something I hope never ends.

2010-08-11T08:13:00.000-04:00

There are some days when I just can't take it anymore. I can't hear the same question one more time, I can't listen to the whining and I can't muster up any more patience. On those days, I sometimes snap. Here's the result of yesterday's grown-up tantrum:

It says, 10 times, "I will not bug my mom."
Okay, background story: yesterday was a hot, humid and supposedly rainy day (it never rained, but that's beside the point). I have been taking my kids to the pool and other outdoor activities for months now, and I just wanted a day where we stayed home so I could do laundry, read, and just relax. So I promised the girls we would watch a movie in the afternoon (the operative point here being p.m., not a.m.). From the point I mentioned the god-forsaken film to the second I had her write this note, Aimee asked me about 47 times if it was time to watch yet. I knew she was excited to see the flick, but she had to be stopped. Therefore, the note.
"I put hearts on it because I'm sorry for bugging you," she said sweetly when she handed me the paper.
An hour later, we plopped the disc into the DVD player and enjoyed a little movie time on the sofa.

How Do You Argue With That?

2010-08-06T09:37:00.000-04:00

The following story was told to me by my friend Peter:
Peter and his daughter were at Dunkin' Donuts one morning. His daughter "J" ordered a donut with chocolate frosting on it. As they sat enjoying their breakfast, he soon realized J was just licking the frosting off the donut and not eating the doughy portion. Two thoughts passed through his head: 1) He worried she would go hungry because no child could exist on a breakfast of frosting alone; and 2) now he had to have the ridiculous argument of telling her to finish her donut, a breakfast he knew wasn't the healthiest in the first place.
"But I don't like the bread part," J said to him when he asked her to eat it properly.
Peter sighed and said, "J, there are kids in Haiti right now who would be thrilled to have even a bite of that donut."
"Dad," J said to him, "the earthquake wasn't my fault!"

The Accent Makes A Difference

2010-08-04T08:58:00.000-04:00

I'm taking liberties here. This isn't about my kids (or notes they have left me) but I just had to post the following conversation:

My husband, calling the doctor's office: "Hi. Can I speak to Dawn?"
Man: "We don't have a Don here."
Husband: "Are you sure? My wife just got a call from your office and told me to ask for Dawn."
Man: "I don't know. We don't have a Don here."
Husband: "I mean D-A-W-N."
Man: "Oh. Dawn. One moment."

I'm Watching You

2010-08-03T11:14:00.002-04:00

The kids and I were driving to a recital a few weeks ago. On the way Lily started to tell me about the songs they were going to perform. Then she began to sing.

Aimee: “Lily, stop singing! Mommy doesn’t want to hear the songs we’re going to sing before the show!”

Lily: “I can sing if I want to.”

Me: “It’s true, Lily. I want to be surprised. I’m just as excited as you but I want to hear them when you are on stage.”

Lily became silent and began to cry. She made a gesture that I could not see, but that I later understood.

Aimee, angrily: “Why are you pointing at me like that, Lily?”

Lily: “I’m not pointing. I’m saying something with my fingers.” I glance in the mirror and see her point two fingers at her own eyes, and then point the same ones toward Aimee’s face.

Aimee, still angry: “What is that, Lily?”

Lily, just as annoyed: “It means my eyes to your eyes. I’m watching you.”

She must be watching R-rated movies behind my back or something because I have no idea where she learned how to do that.

Can You Feel The Love?

2010-08-02T09:02:00.001-04:00

The scene: Monday morning 8 a.m.

The girls have been playing in their room for about half an hour. When I go in to say, "Good morning!" I notice the laundry basket that has been sitting on the floor there for about three days.

“Kids, go downstairs and have breakfast. Afterward, come up and put these clothes away.”

The girls grumble but do as they are told. They go downstairs, pour their cereal and eat breakfast. As I sit on the sofa reading the news, I hear them go back upstairs. Aimee begins to sing a song that goes something like this: “I hate my mom, I hate my mom, I hate my mom, I hate my mom….”

Lily, upon hearing this, asks, “Why do you hate your mom?”

Aimee: “Just because.”

That’s okay, honey. I have enough love for the both of us.

Future Event Planner

2010-07-29T12:03:00.000-04:00

Her sixth birthday is four months away, but she's already making plans:

Clearly, she wants a monkey party (?), with carrot cake (which she doesn't really like) and maybe a movie (which one? She hasn't decided).

And It's Only Monday

2010-07-26T18:02:00.000-04:00

She kicked me, scratched me, punched me, ended up in six time outs and on the grass while her sister swam, but at the end of the day, she handed me this:

You Say Good-bye, I Say Hello

2010-07-22T20:36:00.000-04:00

Most days My husband leaves before the kids get up and gets home after they have been tucked into bed. He hangs out with them on the weekends but often times the only communication between them is done via the chalkboard in the kitchen.
One day a few weeks ago Aimee came down with a bad fever. I told my husband about how sick she was and he left her this note in the morning:

Aimee, upon seeing his note, wrote him one in kind:

It may not seem like much, but this simple correspondence made both of them smile widely and blush with love.

Dad's Mad

2010-07-21T16:55:00.002-04:00

When our first child began to eat solid food we owned a dog. I mention this furry creature because he provided excellent support in the cleaning department. Lily would ~~drop all her food~~ eat her dinner and afterward our pooch would sweep the floor with his tongue, leaving barely a morsel in his path.
I didn't realize how valuable his services were until he passed away a few years ago. The amount of food shrapnel left under the table now after each meal is enough to feed a classroom. Most days I point to a broom and dust pan in the kitchen and instruct whomever has the most debris under her chair to clean it up. Some days, however, I forget to survey the damage and the pile gets worse. Those are the days my dear husband sees the crumbs. One day, after he had stepped on enough crap, he decided to write this note:

He drew two figures (he dubbed them "animal children"). The first one says, "Napkins!" (Because that animal child has thrown not one, but two on the floor below her chair.) The second says, "I love cheese on my chair!" And finally: "Animal children strike again."
When I woke up and saw the note, I started to laugh. My oldest daughter grinned at me and said, "I know. I already cleaned it up."
Yay for Dad's strategic illustration!

The Lesson

2010-07-13T19:57:00.000-04:00

My kids have been exceptionally busy this summer (read: Very Happy Mom!), and as a result there haven't been many notes left for me. So instead, I'll share a little story that happened the other day in the car.

The scene: My husband in the driver's seat, I'm in the passenger seat and the girls are in the back. AC/DC comes on the radio. My husband immediately grimaces and changes the station.

Husband, turning down the volume: "Kids, let's go over something here. Remember when I told you what the worst band ever is? Well, AC/DC is the second worst band."
Me, laughing: "You can't say that! AC/DC is not the second worst band!"
Husband, ignoring me: "They are second worst band for sure. Now, what's the worst band ever? Do you remember?"
Lily: "Ooh! I know! The Scorpions!"
Husband: "That's right. The Scorpions. Why?"
Aimee: "I know! They sing terrible songs!"
Husband: "Right. The lyrics to their songs are awful. Why else?"
Lily: "They dress badly!"
(I begin to laugh so hard I start to cough. The kids ask about my well being but Dear Husband sallies forth without consideration.)
Husband: "Right again. They wear super tight leather pants and show lots of fluffy chest hair. Why else?”

The kids discuss their next move among themselves and finally decide: “Something about being German?”

Husband: “Very good! Yes, they are German, but insist on singing their songs in English, and as a result, they write incredibly horrible songs.”

Several minutes later, when I finally catch my breath, I look back at my kids. They both are smiley widely as if they have just won an all-expense paid trip to Toys R Us.

Sorry, Scorpions. You never even had a chance.

Simple Is Best

2010-07-01T07:16:00.000-04:00

Sometimes, just a couple of words say it all. This note was left for me last week:

It says, "To Mom, From Aimee. Happy Summer."
Indeed it is.

Sometimes, They're Actually Pretty Nice

2010-06-26T09:12:00.000-04:00

The other morning I woke up, went downstairs and heard my children playing in the basement. I noticed this sign on the door, written by Aimee:

It says, "Don't come in until Aimee and Lily say so."

They heard me walking around in the kitchen and Aimee shouted, "Mom! We put up a sign. Don't come down yet!"
"Okay," I said. I laughed because little did they know the last place I'd want to go first thing in the morning is where they were playing quietly.
About fifteen minutes later Lily called out, "Okay, Mommy, we're ready!"
"For what?" I asked.
"For you to see!" she said.
"See what?" I asked, delaying a trip downstairs. I still hadn't had my coffee.
"Come down here!" Aimee demanded.
"Okay," I said. "I'm coming." I opened the door, slowly walked down the steps and stopped. The basement playroom had been completely organized and cleaned up. The toys had been put away, the dolls were in their places and the craft area was tidy. Normally I have to demand such order; the shock of seeing it done without having to ask was awesome.
"Surprise!" they said.
"Wow," I said. "You guys are quite a team. It's a pleasure to walk into this room. Nice job!"
They both smile proudly. "We know," Lily said.
"Yep," Aimee agreed.
Now that was a good way to start the day.

Gee, Thanks

2010-06-24T22:32:00.000-04:00

Like most young girls, my daughters have a fondness for hair accessories. My youngest, Aimee, likes bows - the bigger, the better. Lily prefers hairbands. And both really love headbands. (Side note: Could someone please explain how anyone could love headbands? Any time I wear them for longer than 10 minutes I get a huge, throbbing headache.) Anyway, when I was at the store the other day I spotted a variety pack of colored headbands and tossed it into the cart. When I got home, I pulled out the new, stretchy circlets and Aimee immediately asked, "Mommy, are these for us?"
"Yes," I said.
She smiled widely and pulled one over her head. She admired herself in the mirror (as she does on most days, usually for hours at a time) and said, "These look just like the ones the old ladies at the gym wear."
"Old ladies?" I asked.
"You know, the ones like you and the other women in your exercise classes."

Oh, Now She's A Diplomat

2010-06-21T16:25:00.000-04:00

This morning my girls and I were discussing dance moves. At one point Lily said she could do the splits.
"No, you can't," Aimee said.
"Yes, I can," Lily said. She showed Aimee how far down she could stretch out her legs.
"There are two kinds of splits, Aimee," I said. "Front splits and side splits."
"They're called 'straddle' splits, Mom," Lily corrected.
I repeated the word 'straddled' but stumbled and said it wrong, as it was 7:30 in the morning and I hadn't had my coffee yet. Well, that, and because I couldn't really give a rat's ass about the correct pronunciation.
Lily giggled and said, "It's 'straddle,' Mom."
"It's a hard word,Lily," Aimee said sternly. "Don't make fun of people if they can't pronounce it."

Chomp!

2010-06-18T08:48:00.001-04:00

For his birthday, my friend Lynda's son asked for one of his teeth back. His story reminded me of this one involving my oldest, Lily, who was 6 years old at the time:

My mother-in-law was visiting us and Lily's adult front teeth had just grown in. When Lily she had baby teeth, she knocked those same two front teeth a few times. One time she and a friend were running around and she met his forehead with her mouth. Another time she fell and hit her tooth on a step, and yet another time, she smacked straight into a sideboard, again, teeth first. We thought for sure her pearly whites were ruined (seriously - who knocks the same tooth three times in a couple of months?) because she would barely use them when she ate, preferring to use her side molars when she bit down on something. So when her two, new teeth grew in without a mark, we all breathed a sigh of relief that she hadn't done permanent damage.
My mother-in-law, noticing Lily's shiny new chompers, said, "Hey, Lily, how do you like your new front teeth?"
Lily shrugged and said, "They're all right. I don't use them very much."

I Have No Idea How To Answer That

2010-06-16T19:52:00.000-04:00

Today was my daughter Aimee's preschool graduation. To commemorate this special day, my husband and I gave her a little gift she had wanted. She had asked for a Littlest Pet Shop toy, so when she woke up this morning she found a wrapped present on the dining room table. She ripped it open and was thrilled with her new, cheap, plastic, totally-useless-but-good-for-imaginative-play diversion. Inside the box was a pamphlet illustrating all the other figurines a child could desire - and, subsequently, annoy their parents to buy for them - but one of the "pets" shown was too far out of reach for Aimee's liking. She showed me the one, a platypus or creature of the sort, and said, "Mommy, why do I have to send in stickers for this?"

I was confused by her question until I read more:

"Good question," I said to her. "Probably because they want you to buy more and more Littlest Pet Shops, and that's the way they get you to do it."
"I don't want to send in the stickers," she said. "I think I'm just going to ask Santa instead."
I can only hope she forgets about this molded mammal long before December, or I'm going to have a lot of explaining to do.

Be Careful What You Wish For

2010-06-14T12:58:00.000-04:00

To foster a love for reading I subscribed to a few children's magazines such as Highlights and National Geographic Kids. I ordered two subscriptions per child, and my girls get totally excited every month when their magazine magically appears in the mailbox.
This afternoon Aimee's July edition of High Five arrived and she quickly began to flip through it. She pulled out one of those pesky subscription forms and eyed it.
"Mom, I really want Jump In," she said to me. She held up the order form and showed it to me.
I looked it over and saw that Jump In was a new magazine Highlights was promoting intended for early learners and beginning readers.
"That's for preschoolers," I said, hoping for once in her life she'd accept something I said as truth (even if what I said was only half true).
She took the paper back, looked at it and said, "It says for ages two through six. I'm five and a half, so it's perfect."
Sure enough, on the right-hand side, that's exactly what it says.

Someone, please remind me again why I taught this child how to read?

It All Starts With A Question

2010-06-08T09:22:00.002-04:00

Last night, as we were sitting at the dinner table enjoying our meal, my oldest daughter, Lily, started to tell me about her day. She described the projects they were doing at school, how she played on the playground and what a friend of hers was wearing. She mentioned this girl because of the T-shirt she was wearing; it was emblazoned with the name and face of a famous pop star. Lily, whose knowledge of pop culture is sorely lacking (thanks to her mom who refuses to let her watch most television shows), did not recognize this particular singer.
She was too hungry to ask a question, so she stuffed a spoon into her mouth, chewed slowly, held up a finger and swallowed. "Mom," she finally asked, "who's Justin Bieber?"
Here we go...

I Wish I Could Do That

2010-06-05T12:12:00.002-04:00

Today my oldest daughter competed in a triathlon. It was the first ever youth triathlon in our town, and she wasn't nervous or scared. (I, on the other hand, was a sweaty mess.) The race for 7 and 8 year olds consisted of a 25 meter swim, a mile bike ride and a half a mile run. The bike race was uphill for part of the way, the run was along a winding road and the finish line was at the end of a steep hill at the community pool entrance.
The competition began, and along the way we saw her. She smiled widely when she heard us cheer her on. "You can do it!" my husband and I yelled. Near the end, though, when the temperature reached 85 degrees and the humidity was at its peak, she wasn't smiling any longer. "Uh-oh," I said to my husband. "I hope she's all right."
She passed the finish line and we went in to greet her. She was breathing heavily, and stood with her hands at her hips. She wasn't smiling any longer.
"Great job!" I said.
"I came in sixteenth," she said, not sure whether to grin or frown.
"That's awesome!" my husband said, patting her on the back.
"Totally," I agreed, hugging her. "I can't believe how well you did. That was a hard race."
She smiled for a minute, caught her breath and said, "I'm totally doing this again next year."

Sing Me A New Song

2010-06-03T19:56:00.000-04:00

When Aimee misbehaves, she often loses a privilege. Tonight she was incredibly badly behaved and, therefore, was sent to bed early. My oldest daughter, Lily, was reading to me (as she has to do for school each night) and Aimee was furious she didn't get to listen. So she stood outside my bedroom (where we were sitting) and pounded on the walls and the door. I ignored her. Finally she said, "Mommy, I need to tell you something."
"I will be happy to listen after Lily's finished reading," I said. "Go and write down what you want to say so you don't forget."
A few minutes later, she handed me this note:

It says, "I am sorry for speaking badly." Sweet, huh?

Not so much. I've heard that song before. In fact, I heard it five minutes ago after she called me an "idiot" and told me she hated me. (Yep. She calls me an idiot a lot. Considering the frequency with which she uses the word, I'm actually starting to believe her.)

Well, That Offense Isn't Quite A Written Rule...

2010-05-31T10:19:00.000-04:00

When Lily was not quite 7 years old, she did something that resulted in a time out. The reason for her punishment was stated in her apology note:

It says: "I'm sorry for breaking the rules and sitting on Aimee."

Really? You Are?

2010-05-27T13:25:00.001-04:00

Yesterday, after a minor medical procedure, I was left feeling battered and bruised. My mother-in-law is visiting, so I asked if she could watch Aimee while I took a break. I went upstairs and rested on my bed. An hour and a half later, Aimee knocked on the door. She was clutching an envelope. "This is for you," she said. I opened the note:

It says, "To Mom. I hope you feel better. Love Aimee."
"I sounded out the grown-up words," she said. At the bottom is a drawing with the words "Dog Mom" over it. "That's my favorite part," she said, laughing.
I laughed, too, and thanked her. I kissed her head and told her the note helped a lot. She smiled and said, "It did? Good."
This morning I felt a little worse, and her behavior adjusted to join me. She was combative and surly. To her credit, she's also been home all week because she was sick, which only added to her boredom. (I kept her home an extra day to make sure she was 100 percent better; it doesn't necessarily pay off to be a 'good mom'.)
"Look, I know my not being around is hard on you, too," I said to her. "I know it's tough on you when I'm not feeling well, and I know you want to go to school. But I'm in pain, and I need your help." I told her to ask her grandma if she needed something. She nodded and apologized. She went downstairs to color. A few minutes later she handed me this:

"I am sorry. I hope you feel better. Love, Aimee."
Four minutes later she was in a time out. (Sigh.)

Stuff Other People Tell Me

2010-05-25T13:32:00.001-04:00

One of the hardest parts about being a parent for me is learning how to avoid giving a lecture. I just read this article about how an automotive journalist's son crashed the $180,000 Porsche he was testing for a story. (Seriously? I would go ballistic.) When the author, Peter Cheney, called a professional race driver who manages the Porsche press fleet, the man showed up, surveyed the horrific damage and said to the boy: “Stuff happens. We’re glad you’re okay. This is only a car. You don’t need a lecture. You already know.”

If someone can say that to a teenager after he ruined such an expensive car, I can certainly learn to say that to a child when he or she spills milk on my rug.(I'm not making any promises, though.)

(I'd like to thank Sh*t My Kids Ruined for posting this story in the first place. To read more of that hilarious blog, click here.)

The Kindness of Sisters

2010-05-24T07:43:00.000-04:00

My friend Heather sent me the following note and story:

"Hannah, 7, is obsessed with strollers and infants (it doesn't matter that there are no babies in this house). She will [push along] whatever she can get into the stroller. Occasionally it's a doll or some other appropriate candidate, but usually it's the poor cat or my son, Sean, 5. On this particular day she convinced Sean to pile into the umbrella stroller with no seat belt while she sped him down the driveway. To be expected, the stroller hit the Belgium blocks and he went flying out of the stroller at the bottom of the driveway. The crying and angst (from both parties) rattled me away from whatever I was doing in the kitchen (most likely figuring out dinner). After major damage control, multiple band-aids and loads of Neosporin, the situation seemed slightly under control. And although Hannah's apology was still hard to come by, I caught her stuffing this note under Sean's bedroom door...

It says, "Dear Sean, I'm very sorry about what happened outside. You mean a lot to me. Love, Hannah."

They're Not The Only Ones

2010-05-20T12:42:00.000-04:00

Since my husband works late and doesn't always see the kids before they go to bed, he often writes notes to them on the kitchen blackboard so they will know he's thinking of them.
Last night, Aimee announced she was ready to stop sucking her thumb. She asked me to hold her blankets for her because she worried if she had them she would be tempted to suck her thumb in the middle of the night. I wrapped them up in a little bundle and told her they were hers to keep forever. "I'll keep your blankets in a safe place until you are ready to snuggle them without sucking your thumb," I said.
I put a short, lightweight sock on her hand and piled as many stuffed animals around her as she wanted. Then I tucked her in. "I'm scared," she admitted in a whisper.
"You can do it," I said kissing her. "But if you feel you want to wait, that's fine with me, too."
"No," she said. "I'm ready."
In the middle of the night, my husband and I peeked in on her. She was curled up, sock still on her hand. She did it.
This morning, she awoke to the following note from Daddy. (Note: "AI" is a nickname for Aimee. It's a long story.)

Close, But Not Quite

2010-05-19T08:15:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, Lily, my 8-year-old read a book to me and stumbled upon the word 'affectionate.'
"Do you know what affectionate means?" I asked her.
"I think so," she said, apprehensively.
"Okay," I said. "What does it mean?"
She frowned and said, "Could you use it in a sentence for me?"
"Sure," I said. "Aimee is a very affectionate child."
Aimee, listening from the other room, yelled out, "Loud!"

It's About Time (Again)

2010-05-18T10:00:00.001-04:00

Every once in a while my kids decide I am not Satan's crafty minion and are overcome with a warm, fuzzy feeling about me (the decision is usually fleeting, however, and their adoration quickly subsides). Last year I found these two notes on my pillow. The first, from Aimee, who was 4 years old at the time, simply states:

The second, from Lily, who was 6, was more expressive:

It says "Dear Mom: I hope all your dreams come true. Love, Lily."

No Note Monday

2010-05-17T13:05:00.000-04:00

My 5-year-old has not kicked up her thumb-sucking habit. She is now 5 and a half years old. I mentioned this fact to her, reminded her that her older sister had stopped sucking her thumb when she was this age, and said, "So don't you think it's time you stopped, too?"
She looked me in the eye and said, "Nope."

The Wrong One

2010-05-16T09:59:00.000-04:00

I woke up yesterday to this note posted on the blackboard in our kitchen:

"Hey, Lily," I called to her. She was in the basement playing with her sister, Aimee. I was a little confused about the note because Aimee was the one who should have written that note, since the day before she screamed at me three times and was in four time-outs. Not that Lily was perfect, but I only reprimanded her once. "What's this?" I asked.
"Oh, that's for you," she said, smiling. "I feel bad about yesterday."
"Thanks, honey," I said. She came up to meet me and I hugged and kissed her. "I accept your apology." I glanced at Aimee, who said, "What, Mommy?"
"Did you see Lily's note?" I asked.
"Yep," she said. She turned on her heel at walked away.

It's Your Fault, Mom

2010-05-14T09:10:00.001-04:00

My 5-year-old, Aimee, who was suffering from the deadly combination of hunger and exhaustion, had a meltdown yesterday afternoon. She began to scream and cry, and then complained her tummy hurt. She pointed her tiny finger in my direction, and insisted I was to blame for her predicament. I was listening to my 8-year-old, Lily, read a book at the time, and said I couldn't listen to Aimee's complaints until Lily was finished reading. I also told Aimee I wouldn't listen until she could speak nicely to me. "I won't remember what I want to tell you!" she screamed. I asked her to write it down and show me the note when she was ready (and when the book reading session was over).

Fifteen minutes later, with tears streaming down her face, she handed me this note:

The note says: "I ate a popsicle, and 2 (Hershey) kisses, and you let me have a cookie."
In other words, she said, the pain she was enduring was entirely my fault because I let her have more treats than usual.

You're Damn Straight

2010-05-12T09:13:00.002-04:00

My youngest daughter, who was almost 4 when she gave this to me, knows who wears the pants when it comes to discipline in the house. She drew a picture of herself (with a rainbow over her head), then me (the "M-o" above me is a nickname she gave me, which is short for M-o-m).
She signed it: "To Mr. Mom."

An Oldie But Goodie

2010-05-11T09:19:00.001-04:00

My oldest daughter (now 8 years old) wrote this to me one night after a review of the house rules (she was 5). It says, "To Mom: I don't like your rules, that's why I am moving." I didn't find it until after she went to bed. I showed it to my husband and pinned it up on the blackboard in our kitchen. My husband wrote next to it, "Don't go!"
I wrote, "I'll miss you."

A year later, she upped the ante:

It says: "To Mom. I am not your daughter anymore."
This time my husband wrote, "Good job expressing yourself!"
I wrote: "I'll miss you."

It's About Flipping Time

2010-05-10T07:55:00.000-04:00

The note was left for me last Thursday morning. The front had a drawing (presumably of me). The back says, "Dear Mom, Thank you for making breakfast, lunch and dinner."

I only had to wait eight years for that.

Happy Mother's Day

2010-05-09T09:20:00.003-04:00

Two days before Mother's Day: My 8-year-old says to me, "Mom, I made something special for Mother's Day, but I'm not going to tell you where it is."
Me: "Okay."
Daughter: "I'm just going to say, whatever you do, don't look in my sock drawer."

(Note says: "Mother. Makes good meat balls. Helps me when I get hurt. She takes me out for a bike ride. Helpful.")

I Love You, But I Love Dad More.

2010-05-08T11:15:00.000-04:00

After a very long day of earning approximately seven time outs, my 5-year-old handed me the first note, which states: "To Mommy. I am sorry. Bye bye. I love you."

The second note my husband and I found on his pillow as we went to bed. It states: "I love Dad."