It's supposed to be bedtime and all I can reflect on is how my role in life is bewildering. Take tonight for example: Hazel's screaming at me because I try to change her clothes for bed after she's begging me to "dup" her in bed, Eli's crying because he really, really wishes he could see a live saber-tooth tiger, and Abby's busy reorganizing her schoolbag after she spent ten minutes searching without seeing it lying on the floor of her room. Five minutes after the drama, Hazel is reading a doggie book, clutching her dee & little Elmo; Eli is showing me what skipping and galloping are; and Abby is among the missing...most likely in her room thinking about getting dressed for bed or maybe she's following directions and brushing her teeth.
Hans sadly commented some years ago how disappointed he was to realize his wrists are too small for him to be a sword fighter in the fourteenth century. As this information came completely out of the blue and with obvious distress on his part, I was very confused as to what I missed. How does one respond to this sort of statement? Seriously?
Monday, November 2, 2009
Friday, August 7, 2009
Personality
I'm sure I've mentioned the incredible amount of personality exhibited by each of my children at a young age, amazed as I am at their exuberance, their tenacity & their inquisitive nature. Hazel has been no exception.
Hazel spends most days climbing onto her sister's bed as much as possible. The top bunk holds much appeal. Not only is it so high above the floor, thereby tempting gravity & neck injury at the slightest misstep, it contains her sister's treasured belongings: stuffed animals galore, jewelry, a music player, books & miscellaneous decorations. I am greeted with ear-splitting giggles, baby teeth grinning & eyes alight with unadulterated joy at her accomplishment of pulling her tiny body up the end of the bed frame, crawling to Abby's pillow so she can pull the blanket over her legs & then examine her new book in comfort.
Hazel spends most days climbing onto her sister's bed as much as possible. The top bunk holds much appeal. Not only is it so high above the floor, thereby tempting gravity & neck injury at the slightest misstep, it contains her sister's treasured belongings: stuffed animals galore, jewelry, a music player, books & miscellaneous decorations. I am greeted with ear-splitting giggles, baby teeth grinning & eyes alight with unadulterated joy at her accomplishment of pulling her tiny body up the end of the bed frame, crawling to Abby's pillow so she can pull the blanket over her legs & then examine her new book in comfort.
Monday, May 18, 2009
Wishes
Vicente told Abby that wishes on clovers come true and it doesn't matter if it's a three- or four-leaf clover. So she made many, many wishes yesterday.
"Don't guess it, Eli! If you know my wish it won't come true!"
"Mama, Eunice needs to stay outside tonight." Eunice is Abby's unicorn Webkinz.
"Why? Why does Eunice need to stay outside?" I am annoyed at her insistence after I had told her to bring her toys in from outside.
"I can't tell you. I made a wish and if I tell you, it won't come true."
I don't have the heart to tell her it doesn't matter how many wishes she makes, her unicorn will not come alive overnight. She will not wake up to a unicorn horn tap-tapping on her window, waiting patiently for her to come play. I love her faith in dreams and wishes and want her to hold on to them as long as she can.
Hans thinks he might find some horseshoes and make prints in the yard, especially outside Abby's window for her to find. Then when her excitement fades to dismay, convince her of the magic which only allows Eunice to be alive at night. When I pointed out that would only make her try to stay up all night to experience the transformation, he thought to tell Abby he had planted anti-magic statues in the yard to prevent any bad magic from happening to our home and family (thus prohibiting any good magic from occurring as well). He can be such a brat.
"Don't guess it, Eli! If you know my wish it won't come true!"
"Mama, Eunice needs to stay outside tonight." Eunice is Abby's unicorn Webkinz.
"Why? Why does Eunice need to stay outside?" I am annoyed at her insistence after I had told her to bring her toys in from outside.
"I can't tell you. I made a wish and if I tell you, it won't come true."
I don't have the heart to tell her it doesn't matter how many wishes she makes, her unicorn will not come alive overnight. She will not wake up to a unicorn horn tap-tapping on her window, waiting patiently for her to come play. I love her faith in dreams and wishes and want her to hold on to them as long as she can.
Hans thinks he might find some horseshoes and make prints in the yard, especially outside Abby's window for her to find. Then when her excitement fades to dismay, convince her of the magic which only allows Eunice to be alive at night. When I pointed out that would only make her try to stay up all night to experience the transformation, he thought to tell Abby he had planted anti-magic statues in the yard to prevent any bad magic from happening to our home and family (thus prohibiting any good magic from occurring as well). He can be such a brat.
Friday, May 8, 2009
Girly Girl
I swore I was going to be gender-neutral when my first was born. It was simple to do as we were unsure of her gender until her arrival. Our "helpful" ultrasound technician thought our baby would be a girl, but when pressed, admitted to only being "50%" sure. I had already figured that much out on my own. There are only two choices.
We presented Abby with a baby doll for her first birthday and made sure she was also presented with a dump truck. She didn't seem to take to the doll dubbed "Emily," but she loved pushing that truck around the apartment or having her family push her in the dump truck, racing around the furniture in our tiny second story flat.
Eli's arrival introduced us to more traditionally accepted male play despite the boy baby doll (aptly named "Boy" by his older sister) I found for him. As soon as he could, he vroomed his cars on the floor, pa-chooed imaginary guns and whooshed while flying through our home. I had glimmers of neutrality in the shared nursing experiences with Abby nursing her baby doll under her shirt and Eli feeding his cow cereal under his shirt. Maybe just having an older sister allowed moments of non-gender-specifity. (I did thoughtfully preserve such precious moments and will enjoy pulling out said evidence when he is older.)
Somehow (maybe the increased age gap?) we have in our youngest a force in her own right. Although her brother's cars lie about and tractors are available for the pushing, she chooses to hug and kiss her stuffed fox or giraffe or kitty or doggy. She drapes her sister's sparkling costume jewelry over her arm, laughing as she raises her arm to better show the glittery affair. She's dug through a bin of tractors to love and cuddle a new stuffed animal. She does enjoy a light saber battle with her brother on occasion and yet, I am required to wrap the doll she found in her dee for her to clutch to her chest, rock gently and firmly "ssshh" me. Who she is emulating is a mystery. Her sister chooses to play with bugs and nature; her brother is all about physical, imaginative play. She'll be interesting to know as she grows.
We presented Abby with a baby doll for her first birthday and made sure she was also presented with a dump truck. She didn't seem to take to the doll dubbed "Emily," but she loved pushing that truck around the apartment or having her family push her in the dump truck, racing around the furniture in our tiny second story flat.
Eli's arrival introduced us to more traditionally accepted male play despite the boy baby doll (aptly named "Boy" by his older sister) I found for him. As soon as he could, he vroomed his cars on the floor, pa-chooed imaginary guns and whooshed while flying through our home. I had glimmers of neutrality in the shared nursing experiences with Abby nursing her baby doll under her shirt and Eli feeding his cow cereal under his shirt. Maybe just having an older sister allowed moments of non-gender-specifity. (I did thoughtfully preserve such precious moments and will enjoy pulling out said evidence when he is older.)
Somehow (maybe the increased age gap?) we have in our youngest a force in her own right. Although her brother's cars lie about and tractors are available for the pushing, she chooses to hug and kiss her stuffed fox or giraffe or kitty or doggy. She drapes her sister's sparkling costume jewelry over her arm, laughing as she raises her arm to better show the glittery affair. She's dug through a bin of tractors to love and cuddle a new stuffed animal. She does enjoy a light saber battle with her brother on occasion and yet, I am required to wrap the doll she found in her dee for her to clutch to her chest, rock gently and firmly "ssshh" me. Who she is emulating is a mystery. Her sister chooses to play with bugs and nature; her brother is all about physical, imaginative play. She'll be interesting to know as she grows.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Huh?
Sometimes just getting through the day with everyone alive means I had a successful day. I wonder if I am just out of sorts because I missed a day of my prozac or if I'm still recovering from my adrenaline charged Saturday when I confronted the old man who stole my daughter's coins at the Fred Meyer deli. I am not sure what is more appalling: that my 7-year-old daughter's purse was emptied of all her saved coins or that it was done by an overweight, denture-wearing, unintelligible old man eating his chicken and Haggen-Daaz with his equally overweight, elderly wife. Thankfully someone saw the disheveled old man near our table and I screwed up enough courage to ask such a pathetically despicable person (whom I had already questioned twice to what he may have witnessed being so near our table) to return what he stole. He reluctantly stood and began to pull small handfuls of the jingling change from his front jean pocket. After repeated requests to return all of the coins, I turned to the woman who refused to look at me and asked her if she could help. Her response of, "I don't have any money," as she continued to eat her Haggen-Daaz ice cream bar amazed and disgusted me. Hot, angry tears filled my eyes, but I felt pity for these immoral, unethical cretins. Too many questions regarding their deplorable behavior will remain unanswered. What would possess a man to steal a couple of handfuls of miscellaneous change in United States, Chinese and Mexican currency as well as random souvenir coins from our family adventures? Maybe I'll see them again. Maybe I could photograph them and post their likeness in glorious digital detail on Facebook to be shared with the world, or at least all in Skagit County. Maybe.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Grandma & Grandpa
Things I'm not sure I ever wanted to know:
"Oh Anna, let Hans stay and play a game with Alec. Hans never gets to play with anybody. Oh wait! He's been playing with you--look at the condition you're in!"
"There's a whore over here." What? The neighbor's dog was in heat and came over to take turns with our two males.
Grandma's over-sharing of information is in direct relation to my questions from The Grandparent Book. I know I'm running out of time with her and I'm trying to fill out the book before the questions never are answered. Most responses to what she thought of Grandpa was "not much." Huh? They were married 60 years before he died. She said she thought she could change him. Haven't we always been told not to go into a relationship thinking that very thing?
"What did you think of Grandpa when you met him?"
"Not much."
"Why?"
"He was bossy."
Tell me about your first date with Grandpa. Was there anything about being married that surprised you? Grandma told me the answer to the first question before I even met Hans and substituted the word ankle for breast (although she used the word "boob" when retelling the story post-stroke--the stroke damaged her censor). No wonder Grandpa was confused when I asked him about it. (His response once he clued in to Grandma's code: "Well, I had to know if she was a good girl or not.") The last question brought up her surprise at his sexual appetite. I did ask, although I was thinking the response would be more along the lines of how different it is to share a closet or share a bed with a penis.
- Grandpa was really into Grandma because when they met (at a volleyball match between White Rock and Blaine) she was wearing shorts and he thought she had great legs
- Grandpa tried to touch Grandma's breast on their first date (in the 1930s!) making her want to end the date immediately
- Grandpa was a regular horndog and "took care of his part" by getting married (he just wanted to "go off somewhere") because he wanted nookie
"Oh Anna, let Hans stay and play a game with Alec. Hans never gets to play with anybody. Oh wait! He's been playing with you--look at the condition you're in!"
"There's a whore over here." What? The neighbor's dog was in heat and came over to take turns with our two males.
Grandma's over-sharing of information is in direct relation to my questions from The Grandparent Book. I know I'm running out of time with her and I'm trying to fill out the book before the questions never are answered. Most responses to what she thought of Grandpa was "not much." Huh? They were married 60 years before he died. She said she thought she could change him. Haven't we always been told not to go into a relationship thinking that very thing?
"What did you think of Grandpa when you met him?"
"Not much."
"Why?"
"He was bossy."
Tell me about your first date with Grandpa. Was there anything about being married that surprised you? Grandma told me the answer to the first question before I even met Hans and substituted the word ankle for breast (although she used the word "boob" when retelling the story post-stroke--the stroke damaged her censor). No wonder Grandpa was confused when I asked him about it. (His response once he clued in to Grandma's code: "Well, I had to know if she was a good girl or not.") The last question brought up her surprise at his sexual appetite. I did ask, although I was thinking the response would be more along the lines of how different it is to share a closet or share a bed with a penis.
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