Mean Girls and Sleepless Nights

Last night was less than fun. I was up barfing at 11, got to sleep by around 11:30, only to be awoken by the alarm on my cell phone randomly going off at midnight. I woke up in sort of a panic and it took quite a while to get calmed down and back to sleep. A few hours later the kids started their shtick. Laylee was crying that her ears hurt so Dan carried her downstairs for some ear drops and a cough lozenge. He told her she could stay up until the lozenge dissolved.

I love the guy but he obviously doesn’t understand the ability of a determined 6-year-old to permanently preserve a candy in a dry spot in the side of her cheek if it means she can stay up all night watching Rick Steves and his glasses tour Europe.

I’m sure that the original manuscripts of the 4 gospels would be perfectly intact to this day if they’d been given to a child who was told, “Hold these in your mouth until they dissolve and then you need to go to bed.”

So Dan sat with Laylee while I laid in bed until 15 minutes later when Magoo woke up screaming that his throat hurt. I cuddled and calmed and shushed him and he continued to scream out and grab the side of his neck every few seconds.

“Is it your ear that hurts, buddy?”

“No. MY FROAT!!!!”

Now if it really was his throat, I’m not sure that ear-piercing screams were the best therapy for it but it was hard to convince him of that and so I brought him water to drink and held him while he screamed. Eventually I was moved to employ the Tylenol placebo. “If he is in pain, it might even help with that,” I told myself. If you give a kid medicine they’ll shut up and sleep, right? Or maybe they’ll just want some milk to go with it…

Of course as he swallowed it, he began to rage as though I’d poured acid down his throat. “It HURTS. OW! I WANT MY DAD!” he screamed. “Oh, for the love, you can have him,” I thought as I headed downstairs.

“Trade,” I said to Dan. “I’ve poisoned the boy with cherry-flavored-poisonous-pain-killing-death and he wants his dad.”

As Dan headed upstairs, I looked at Laylee’s airtight sealed cheek and smiled as sweetly as I could muster in the middle of the night and suggested, “Chew it and swallow it. You have 3 minutes.”

This morning we took the kids to the pediatrician and they’re both all swollen up with ear infections. Antibiotics all around! We stayed home together, laid around and watched the time pass. Tonight they are drugged and appear to be sleeping. Hooray for small miracles. I wonder how long after I go to bed they’ll decide they’re in agony again.

Over at Parenting today I’ve written about our kindergarten experiences with Mean Girls and exclusive cliques. Go on over and let me know, have you noticed these behaviors happening this young with your kids?

Posted in Random | 9 Comments

Drill Team, Princesses and the Best Mom Ever, Who is Me

I’m always looking for great new ways to play the hero to my children, while expending limited money and effort. Sometimes I really have to search for these opportunities and other times they just bonk me over the head.

drill-team-comp-004The past week Laylee’s been really acting up. We’ve made some changes at home, I’ve been sick and she’s been looking for attention in less than helpful ways. Around Thursday we made up and she’s been sweet as pie the last couple of days, no snotty looks, cranky backtalk and picking on her brother for no particular reason. I’ve been trying to think of a way to give her some good positive attention for the attitude transplant.

Enter an email from one of the high school girls I teach at church and a mother-daughter date afternoon was born. Today Layee and I attended the high school drill and dance team competition — princess themed. For the cost of $5, both of us got into the event, Laylee dressed in an elaborate princess-meets-sorcerer-meets-flower-fairy costume. Our friends Eve and Missy joined in the fun.

drill-team-comp-001Keep an eye out for this kind of thing in the local news section of your paper because it was a fun, cheap way to support the community and have an unforgettable time together. Laylee was absolutely smitten with all the dancers whose routines ranged from modern/jazz to drill team to pom to hip hop.

Laylee enjoyed the drill team stuff, crisp as lettuce with fake hair bouncing smartly. I’m sure she wondered why their hands were glued to the smalls of their backs whenever they weren’t dancing but she didn’t ask.

She thought the modern/jazz dancers were beautiful because they did pirouettes and arabesques like ballerinas. But when they finished and were followed up by the pom girls, she decided she liked the pom dancers better. “They were just SO much happier!” It’s true. They were happier. While the lyrical dancers were serious and dramatic, the pom girls had smiles that could not be chiseled off. I think it’s in the international pom code of ethics. If your smile is not atomic, you will be stricken from the team forthwith. I mean, if you’re shaking glittery poms and doing high kicks, your face has to keep up somehow.
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At some point in the afternoon Laylee and Missy were eating snacks. Laylee had a giant chocolate muffin the size of her head and Missy was enjoying a dry white bagel. Looking for the perfect opportunity, she waited for Laylee to finish a bite and reopen her mouth before she shoved a giant piece of bagel into Laylee’s pie hole. Laylee sat in stunned silence, white carbohydrates completely plugging her mouth and Missy looked up at her mom proudly. “I always share,” she said. Laylee removed the bagel from her mouth and smiled at me confusedly.
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Now the whole afternoon we were waiting for them to call the girls up to be led in a princess parade by one of the drill team girls. It didn’t appear to be happening. Rumor was that the parade would happen at intermission but intermission came and went and there was no parade. “Maybe we should go ask the announcer,” I suggested to Eve. “I don’t want to bug anybody though.”

“It’s okay mom,” Laylee said, grabbing my hand, “I’ll go up there with you.”

So we walked up together and I asked about the event. They didn’t seem sure but said they’d do it soon.

A few minutes later, they announced it was time for the parade and called all princesses to the center of the gymnasium. Laylee and Missy marched up proudly, followed by….. nobody. In the end, one mother carrying a baby princess joined the group and our two little divas, not at all intimidated by the bleachers full of adults and teenagers, twirled and flitted about with princessly grace. Their drill team leaders attempted to lead them across the floor and they followed them… sort of. But they were defninitely not going to give up their spotlight easily.

I love this video passionately and if you’re my mom or someone who knows Laylee, you probably will too. Anyone else can skip it. Just believe me when I say it was the experience of a lifetime for our little highnesses. My favorite part comes at the end when the music has stopped but the girls just stand like deer in headlights staring at the crowd and refusing to move until they are gently escorted back to their seats by their drill team idols. Priceless.

Best line of the day — when Laylee was watching a ballet-ish lyrical number, she leaned over to me and said, “Mom. I picture myself doing that someday.” Good job Laylee. Keep visualizing. I’ll be there to cheer you on. I won’t have poms though. They’re just not part of my past, present, or future skill set. I could wave a hanky or a program or something and if you really want me to, I’ll get my teeth whitened.
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Posted in around town, dancing, women | 17 Comments

Have Fun and Don’t Be an Idiot

The kids are growing up and doing stupid stuff. It takes my mind back to the good old days when I was young and doing stupid stuff and couldn’t understand why my parents were concerned.

[Read more at Parenting.com]

Posted in parenting | 1 Comment

A Funeral for Hope?

headlines
Yes, it’s true. According to the Saturday Seattle P.I., hope is dead. While the rest of the country was desperately doing chest compressions, the Post Intelligencer decided to cover up a yawn and just call it. Time of death – 2am, Saturday, February 21st.

It’s sad that they’re such Debbie Downers but they’re not the only ones. Despair makes for drama and drama makes for exciting news. I can’t count the number of times I’ve heard a news anchor use the words “Great Depression.” I keep waiting for the black and white street urchin photos to start being rolled out.

And have you heard the latest Hyundai promotion? If you lose your job within the next year, you can return the car with no penalties. My first thought was, “That’s nice.” And then I thought, “Oh wow, that’s depressing!”

I wonder if they’d extend the same deal to small business owners who lose so much business that they can barely keep their heads above water or people whose hours or commissions are cut drastically. Just because someone isn’t laid off doesn’t mean they’re not affected by the crappy economy.

It’s pretty scary out there and we’re watching the current economy affect everyone around us but I have to say that I still have hope. I’ve seen people reach out to each other with amazing acts of kindness and offers of help. I feel a sense of community and family growing because we’re all realizing how much we need each other.

That’s not hopeless. It may just be the most hopeful thing I’ve seen in years.

Posted in around town, get serious | 13 Comments

Fare Thee Well JackAgain

Poor Jack is dead. Poor JackAgain is dead. I noticed him laying on the bottom of the bowl a few days ago, his untouched pellets swollen on the surface of the water. This is not unusual for JackAgain. He will sometimes lie on the bottom of the bowl for days at a time as if sleeping or in deep thought, only to startle when the glass is tapped and then sink back down to the bottom.
This picture taken 2.5 years ago
I think he was always prone to depression, a little fish stuck in a bowl with no chance of escape.

When I tapped on the glass this time, his lifeless body just swayed with the motion of the water but nary a fin did he flap. I tried again, this time noticing that his body seemed to be covered in sort of a waxy film.

So I told the kids. They took it okay. Laylee was off and running in a few seconds. Magoo seemed fine until suddenly he was not. His eyes filled with tears. “JackAgain is dead?” he cried. “Yes buddy, I’m afraid he is. But it’s okay. It’ll be okay.”

Magoo reached out for some mama loves and I picked his giant boy body up in my arms and held him like a baby. Seeing the attention he was getting, Laylee came running over. “I can’t believe he’s dead,” she faux-sobbed in a voice vaguely reminiscent of a half-way decent impression of real sadness. “I just can’t believe it. Oh JackAgain!”

My eyes did not do a full roll. They just sort of drifted heavenward and my eyelashes only fluttered a bit as I reached out a hand to touch her un-Oscar-worthy play-grieving arm. “Yeah. We’ll sure miss him,” I lied.

So we held a bowl-side flush funeral for the fish. Dan asked for advice on what he should say and we came up with a Finding Nemo meets The Lion King sort of Christian sermon about how all drains lead to the ocean and he’ll then be eaten by a bigger fish in the great circle of life but his spirit will live on in fishy heaven. You see, I have a firm belief in an afterlife and resurrection but I’ll be darned if I could explain exactly what JackAgain’s spirit was doing at that moment. Honestly I didn’t much care.

I have disliked that fish with a fervent dislikishness since nearly the day we brought him home almost THREE YEARS AGO. We had gone through a series of fish rather rapidly. They would die or eat each other and we’d get a new one. I was sick of cleaning fish poop out of the bowl but each time I’d cave and buy another to quell Laylee’s grief. When she was 3, it was more believable.

The day I bought JackAgain, I told Dan he was the last fish I’d ever buy. In 3-6 months when he kicked the bucket, I was done. The kids loved him for about 2 minutes every couple of weeks when their friends were over but other than that, it was just me, Jack, and the stinking bowl of fish ish. He couldn’t do anything cool. I sensed he was unhappy in his little glass prison. He looked weird. My confessions of periodically forgetting to care for him earned me nasty comments from pet lovers who felt I should not be allowed to reproduce considering my inhumane treatment of Betta fish.

At some point, around when I read the first book in the Twilight series, I began to wonder about how he was living so long. Maybe he wasn’t alive but some sort of undead fish who would “live” forever, pooping and tormenting me, long after my children were grown and gone.

Apparently he was un-undead because now he’s actually dead and I think we all know that’s impossible for an un. I can’t say there wasn’t some glee as I cleaned out his bowl for the last time, running his little glass rocks and plastic plants through the dishwasher to remove any deadness that might have rubbed off on them.

Since he left no last will and testament, his home and other personal effects will be donated to my neighbor Natasha, the marine biologist, to be used in some sort of humane and deeply noble project that will possibly absolve me from openly admitting my failure to love one of God’s creatures.

Posted in faith, save me from myself, shish | 15 Comments

Laylee’s Mite

Laylee’s been trying to interpret and apply the biblical story of the widow’s mite. I blogged about it over at the Parenting Post.

…She replied, “Maybe Jesus just decided he didn’t want people to give as much money to the treasury anymore so he was happy that she understood what he wanted and only gave a little bit.”…

[read more at Parenting.com]

Posted in faith, parenting | 1 Comment