I’m not very picky about most things as a mom. I let my kids wear whatever the hell they want, wherever the hell they want. Phaedra wears her purple ankle boots with every single outfit (except on Mondays, because that’s gym day), and I don’t say shit. Socks don’t even need to match. Halloween costume to the grocery store? Bring it on. I don’t even complain when I pick up the kids from grandpa’s house after work and discover Rob has dressed Bella and Surrey in all black and given them each other’s underwear.
We watch Bella walk around her new kindergarten classroom, where she’ll spend her school days beginning next week. It looks aimless to us, the people who can’t think the way she does, but I know her brain is working rapid-fire. She zeros in on specific things from time to time. “Candyland!” she happily shouts, as she tries to pull it free from the bottom of the stack of board games. She stops to investigate a stack of curriculum binders in another corner. The smart board grabs her attention. “Can someone turn this thing on?” she says as she draws on it with the green crayon sensor, her scribbles visible only in her mind.
Last Friday, I sucked it up, put on my big-girl panties, asked an old priest and a young priest to throw some holy water at my debit card, and took my girls school shopping at Target. Going school shopping is a BIG DEAL in our house. Bella needed a backpack and lunch box, Surrey really didn’t need anything, and Phaedra needed a to perform a live soap opera episode in the back-to-school aisle about the agony that is choosing a school lunch box.
Also, she needed a folder.
To say that Phaedra has acquired a touch of drama as of late is a pretty big understatement. She is ready to cry at the drop of a hat right now over minute shit. If she was ten years older, I would shove a chocolate bar and a few Midols under her bedroom door and hope for the best. However, she’s only eight, and I’m hoping that being a privileged suburban eight-years-old girl is the only condition she is suffering from right now. Either that, or shit is about to get painfully real in about five years or so when she Hulks out on hormones.
Back to School is coming fast. I’ve already written “Take girls school shopping!” on the calendar for this Friday, which makes me want to cry and dance at the same time. I’m hoping I don’t actually do this in the school supplies aisle at Target, because that would be disturbing for everyone involved. The crying is because it means summer is almost over, and I LOVE summer. Love the weather, love not having to pack lunches, or worry about homework, or get kids up in the morning. I just roll out of bed and head to work. It’s awesome.
I’d like to start out by letting you guys know that I am not a nature person. At all. I appreciate that nature is a thing, and that we need it and should live our lives in a way that supports its continued existence.
That being said: I want absolutely no fucking part of it.
I do not camp. I do not hike. I’m not sure why people would voluntarily walk through the woods for no reason other than for the experience of walking through the woods. Now when I say “nature,” I don’t necessarily mean animals. I LOVE animals. Give me a zoo, a petting farm, hell, even a pet store any day. It’s mostly the outdoors and the nitty-gritty of the natural world that I do not want. I don’t need bugs or trees or anything like that fucking up my flow. I’m not an outdoor cat; I’m an indoor cat. Give me a good ol’ fashioned window to look out and I’m happy.
About a month ago, Bella found four little caterpillars on Rob’s dill plants. Bella is pet crazy right now, and Continue reading
It’s summertime, which means every family is attempting to cram fifty different field trips into roughly three months’ worth of weekends. I get it – I’m exactly the same way. I have to get though a list of places my kids beg me to take them allllllll year round. Every single summer weekend is me escorting my kids around the state in the heat, spending all the money I would have spent on the heat bill during the winter on carrots for the fucking goats at the petting farm. But since I’m such a giving person, I’m going to give you a rundown of places people typically schlep their kids to this time of year, and why you should basically just stay home, pop in a DVD, and enjoy that sweet A/C coming out of those vents (or not, whatever). Continue reading
I love my kids. Love, love, looooooove them. Anyone who talks to me and makes the mistake of asking if I have kids knows this is true. I love talking to them, I love dancing with them, I love just hanging out with them. I love taking them to new places and finding things for them to do together as sisters. However, there is one thing that, after eight years of parenting, I’ve never really been able to get into.
I do not like playing with them.
I don’t really enjoy sitting down for an extended session of Barbies. I don’t want to sit and be told how to build a castle with blocks. I am not really interested in Continue reading
Phaedra has had a TV and DVD player in her room for years. It was accepted by all (begrudgingly by one) that since Phaedra has the larger bedroom all to herself, she has to share her room in terms of playtime and watching the TV during the daytime. However, this summer is the first that Bella has put together this series of logic:
1. Phaedra is allowed to watch DVDs to go to sleep on non-school nights.
2. I would like to do this also.
3. My bed is not in Phaedra’s room.
On the rare days that I leave work to pick up lunch, I always drive past Panera Bread and briefly consider it for a moment. Then I remember that I would have to actually walk into the store and what that actually entails, and I keep driving. Listen, I like Panera just as much as the next person — I’d sell my husband’s left nut right now for one of those croissants with the strip of chocolate in the middle. But there is no fresher hell for even the mildly socially awkward than the pain that is ordering lunch at Panera Bread.
The first issue I have to resolve when I walk Continue reading
Welcome back! Once again, it’s summertime here in Michigan, and the temperatures will soon begin to climb. You might remember that we, your favorite neighbors (HAHAHAHAHAHA) do not have air conditioning and will have every window in our house open 24/7 from now until mid-September. This means that you’ll once again be treated to VIP access to the shit show that is our regular family life, as we are a family of loud talkers. I’d like to take this opportunity to remind you of a few things about our family that will, if not explain what you’ll hear coming from within our house, at least give you a little background info to help you paint a more accurate picture when you’re re-telling the story to the people who live further down the street.