Yesterday, at the end of a long work day, I made my routine trip to the bathroom--my final moments of peace before the evening maelstrom begins. I'm sitting there and I hear the taptaptaptaptap of Ava's little feet and then...
Ava: MAMA!!!
[taptaptaptaptap]
Ava: MAMA!! You in there?
Me: Yes.
Ava: Let me in!!
[I open the door.]
Ava: Mama! You go potty?
Me: Yup. What are you doing?
Ava: I playing.
[She starts to wiggle and make a face.]
Ava: Ow!
Me: What's wrong?
[She reaches into the front of her diaper.]
Me: Is something in your diaper? What is it?
Ava: Ow!
[She digs around and pulls out a piece of something about the size of a nickel.]
Me: What is that?
Ava: Cracker!
And then she put it in her mouth.
I stopped her before she could actually eat it, but if I hadn't been there, she would have had a snack that she found in her diaper.
I like to believe that in the event of an apocalypse, she'd outlive us all.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Pets & Farts
Pets
Last night Sophie watched Beezus and Ramona. At the end, their cat dies (spoiler alert!!)...
Sophie: I'm glad Hazel's not dead.
[Yeah...about that...]
Me: Me too. But she is very old, sweetie.
Sophie: I know. She'll probably die soon.
Me: She might, but she's had a really long, good life.
[a long pause which includes some dancing and then...]
Sophie: Mom, when she dies, can we get another pet to replace her?
Me: Well, we can't replace her, but we'll get another pet eventually.
Sophie: When?
Me: When mom's not so sad about Hazel anymore.
[Yes. I talk about myself in the 3rd person.]
Sophie: Well when we do, I want to get a hamster...or a puffer fish.
Me: A puffer fish?
Sophie: Well, maybe 2 puffer fish so they can play together.
Farts
Later, at bedtime, Ava refused to let me put her pajamas on.
Me: Ava, I'm getting angry...
[Okay. I say it a lot, but at least I warn her.]
Ava: NO!
Me: Yes, I am. Now get over here and let me put your jammies on.
Ava: NO!
[Finally, she gives in and I put her on the changing table.]
Ava: Mama...you getting angry?
Me: Well I was because you wouldn't cooperate.
Ava: (with a devilish smile) You not angry.
[She lifts her bare tush up, screws up her face and cracks a giant fart.]
Ava: Mama...you hear my toot? That funny.
Of course, she's right.
Last night Sophie watched Beezus and Ramona. At the end, their cat dies (spoiler alert!!)...
Sophie: I'm glad Hazel's not dead.
[Yeah...about that...]
Me: Me too. But she is very old, sweetie.
Sophie: I know. She'll probably die soon.
Me: She might, but she's had a really long, good life.
[a long pause which includes some dancing and then...]
Sophie: Mom, when she dies, can we get another pet to replace her?
Me: Well, we can't replace her, but we'll get another pet eventually.
Sophie: When?
Me: When mom's not so sad about Hazel anymore.
[Yes. I talk about myself in the 3rd person.]
Sophie: Well when we do, I want to get a hamster...or a puffer fish.
Me: A puffer fish?
Sophie: Well, maybe 2 puffer fish so they can play together.
Farts
Later, at bedtime, Ava refused to let me put her pajamas on.
Me: Ava, I'm getting angry...
[Okay. I say it a lot, but at least I warn her.]
Ava: NO!
Me: Yes, I am. Now get over here and let me put your jammies on.
Ava: NO!
[Finally, she gives in and I put her on the changing table.]
Ava: Mama...you getting angry?
Me: Well I was because you wouldn't cooperate.
Ava: (with a devilish smile) You not angry.
[She lifts her bare tush up, screws up her face and cracks a giant fart.]
Ava: Mama...you hear my toot? That funny.
Of course, she's right.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Melon Squeeze
It's been very quiet on the Bonnem/Friedman home front. The weather has been halfway decent; the children have been sleeping...sort of; not much to report, except...
Yesterday I made my quarterly trip to Costco. I used to go more often, but I can't handle it anymore. Plus, small, rambunctious children and Costco do not mix. But yesterday, I broke down and took Ava because I needed huge amounts of meat and I'm cheap.
It was a very pleasant trip. Ava sat in the cart and ate animal crackers almost the entire time...miraculous. We got snack foods, matching dresses for the girls (a thing I swore I'd never do and yet...), huge amounts of meat. I was getting ready to change my mind about Costco and small children, and then...
We had just finished up in the cold veggies section. Ava leaned over the front of the cart, gave me a hug and said, "I love you, mama." So sweet. Then, out of nowhere, she reached her little hands out and grabbed my boobs. And not just a little pat. I'm talking full bore, honk honk, melon squeeze in the middle of the cold cuts in Costco.
I said something about not touching mommy's boobs in public, which I later realized sounds like I permit her to squeeze them in private (I don't). Then I hauled ass out of the cold cuts.
Why?
Yesterday I made my quarterly trip to Costco. I used to go more often, but I can't handle it anymore. Plus, small, rambunctious children and Costco do not mix. But yesterday, I broke down and took Ava because I needed huge amounts of meat and I'm cheap.
It was a very pleasant trip. Ava sat in the cart and ate animal crackers almost the entire time...miraculous. We got snack foods, matching dresses for the girls (a thing I swore I'd never do and yet...), huge amounts of meat. I was getting ready to change my mind about Costco and small children, and then...
We had just finished up in the cold veggies section. Ava leaned over the front of the cart, gave me a hug and said, "I love you, mama." So sweet. Then, out of nowhere, she reached her little hands out and grabbed my boobs. And not just a little pat. I'm talking full bore, honk honk, melon squeeze in the middle of the cold cuts in Costco.
I said something about not touching mommy's boobs in public, which I later realized sounds like I permit her to squeeze them in private (I don't). Then I hauled ass out of the cold cuts.
Why?
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Mojo, Worried Presidents & Egyptian Leprechauns
Mojo
Last night while I was cooking dinner, Sophie asked KC what "mojo" means...
KC: Mara, explain to your daughter what "mojo" is.
Me: (thinking hard) It's like your special energy, or your spirit. It's sort of like good luck, but...
And then I went on for a little, trying to define "mojo". I used it in a sentence. I thought about mentioning the guy on our block who has vanity plates on his Range Rover that say "GR8MOJO" (more like "MEDI0KRMOJO" but that's another story). Anyway, Sophie listened patiently and then...
[pointing at the bottle on the counter]
Sophie: No...what's that Mojo?
Me: Oh. That's just a wine label. Mojo is the name of the brand.
Sophie: Oh.
Worried Presidents
Sophie is a Harry Potter addict. We read it every night; we've been to the exhibit, and she's now on the 3rd movie. It's very cute and nerdy.
This morning, we watched some Harry Potter: Prisoner of Azkaban which we started last night.We got to the part where Scabbers turns into Peter Pettigrew and Harry learns the true story of Sirius Black and his unfair incarceration. Interestingly, Sophie laughs through most of the movies. I'm not sure if that's because she doesn't understand what's going on, or because the acting is so hideously bad. On the way to school, she wanted to talk about it...
Sophie: Peter Pettigrew was funny looking wasn't he?
Me: Yeah. He was a rat face, just like Scabbers.
Sophie: Yeah. He was funny with his teeth and his nails. He looked like a worried president.
I have no idea what she meant by that. When I asked her to clarify, she said, "You know, like George Washington," and then made a weird face.
I was just impressed that she knows who George Washington is.
Egyptian Leprechauns
After we talked about worried presidents, we saw a woman wearing a giant green felt top hat.
Sophie: What's that hat?!
Me: It's for St. Patrick's Day.
Sophie: Oh man! We didn't catch any leprechauns.
[Earlier in the week, she and Tyler made a leprechaun trap so Sophie could steal some gold and buy, "3 kinds of soda."]
Me: Oh well. Maybe next year.
Sophie: Did you ever try to catch leprechauns when you were little?
Me: No. I wasn't smart enough to figure that one out. I did try to find the end of the rainbow so I could have the pot of gold, though.
Sophie: Did you find it?
Me: Nope.
Sophie: Well that's because it ends in London.
Me: It does?
Sophie: Yes. That's where leprechauns come from...no wait...it's not London...I think leprechauns started in Egypt. That's where the pot of gold is.
Aha...that explains it.
Last night while I was cooking dinner, Sophie asked KC what "mojo" means...
KC: Mara, explain to your daughter what "mojo" is.
Me: (thinking hard) It's like your special energy, or your spirit. It's sort of like good luck, but...
And then I went on for a little, trying to define "mojo". I used it in a sentence. I thought about mentioning the guy on our block who has vanity plates on his Range Rover that say "GR8MOJO" (more like "MEDI0KRMOJO" but that's another story). Anyway, Sophie listened patiently and then...
[pointing at the bottle on the counter]
Sophie: No...what's that Mojo?
Me: Oh. That's just a wine label. Mojo is the name of the brand.
Sophie: Oh.
Worried Presidents
Sophie is a Harry Potter addict. We read it every night; we've been to the exhibit, and she's now on the 3rd movie. It's very cute and nerdy.
This morning, we watched some Harry Potter: Prisoner of Azkaban which we started last night.We got to the part where Scabbers turns into Peter Pettigrew and Harry learns the true story of Sirius Black and his unfair incarceration. Interestingly, Sophie laughs through most of the movies. I'm not sure if that's because she doesn't understand what's going on, or because the acting is so hideously bad. On the way to school, she wanted to talk about it...
Sophie: Peter Pettigrew was funny looking wasn't he?
Me: Yeah. He was a rat face, just like Scabbers.
Sophie: Yeah. He was funny with his teeth and his nails. He looked like a worried president.
I have no idea what she meant by that. When I asked her to clarify, she said, "You know, like George Washington," and then made a weird face.
I was just impressed that she knows who George Washington is.
Egyptian Leprechauns
After we talked about worried presidents, we saw a woman wearing a giant green felt top hat.
Sophie: What's that hat?!
Me: It's for St. Patrick's Day.
Sophie: Oh man! We didn't catch any leprechauns.
[Earlier in the week, she and Tyler made a leprechaun trap so Sophie could steal some gold and buy, "3 kinds of soda."]
Me: Oh well. Maybe next year.
Sophie: Did you ever try to catch leprechauns when you were little?
Me: No. I wasn't smart enough to figure that one out. I did try to find the end of the rainbow so I could have the pot of gold, though.
Sophie: Did you find it?
Me: Nope.
Sophie: Well that's because it ends in London.
Me: It does?
Sophie: Yes. That's where leprechauns come from...no wait...it's not London...I think leprechauns started in Egypt. That's where the pot of gold is.
Aha...that explains it.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
I'm About to Be Angry...
Ava and I went to Starbucks again this morning...
Afterward, we ran a couple of errands. Then, when I went to put her in the car, she refused to get in her car seat. She wanted to go to the pet store and I told her that we couldn't, because I had to get home to take our pet to the vet. Still, she refused...
Me: Ava, put your tushy in that car seat.
Ava: NO!
Me: We need to get home.
Ava: NO!
[This goes on for a few minutes, and then...]
Me: Ava, I'm about to get angry...
Ava: I ABOUT TO GET ANGRY!!!
At that point, she knew she had crossed the line. I gave her the look and started to count to three. She sat in her seat and I buckled her up.
Then, on the way home, she screamed at me because I wouldn't stop at Barnes & Noble to play with the trains. When I suggested that maybe Tyler would take her later in the day she told me that Tyler locks her in her room.
For the record, that's not true.
Afterward, we ran a couple of errands. Then, when I went to put her in the car, she refused to get in her car seat. She wanted to go to the pet store and I told her that we couldn't, because I had to get home to take our pet to the vet. Still, she refused...
Me: Ava, put your tushy in that car seat.
Ava: NO!
Me: We need to get home.
Ava: NO!
[This goes on for a few minutes, and then...]
Me: Ava, I'm about to get angry...
Ava: I ABOUT TO GET ANGRY!!!
At that point, she knew she had crossed the line. I gave her the look and started to count to three. She sat in her seat and I buckled her up.
Then, on the way home, she screamed at me because I wouldn't stop at Barnes & Noble to play with the trains. When I suggested that maybe Tyler would take her later in the day she told me that Tyler locks her in her room.
For the record, that's not true.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Poop or Puke: Cast Your Vote!
Hazel barfed in the car on the way to school today. Sophie thought it was really funny, but let me tell you, it wasn't.
I'm a mom with a poop-holding child. I've cleaned up a lot of disgusting things--feces-filled undies at 10,000 feet anyone? But there's something about barf--animal or human--that pushes me over the edge. Give me poop any day. Keep your barf to yourself.
The poop/puke preference is a big dividing factor among parents. Ask any parent, and they will belong solidly to one camp or the other (except KC who, when I asked which he thought was worse said, 'Depends on the poop,' but then conceded that 'barf is always bad.').
Anyway, since I've been blogging for months now and haven't had a single comment, I thought I'd solicit some by inviting you to weigh in. It's time to end the debate forever. So which is it? Feces or vomit, doodie or barf, turds or upchuck, caca or throw up, butt nuggets or technicolor yawns, dropping the kids of at the pool or praying to the porcelain goddess.
Which is worse? Cast your vote!
I'm a mom with a poop-holding child. I've cleaned up a lot of disgusting things--feces-filled undies at 10,000 feet anyone? But there's something about barf--animal or human--that pushes me over the edge. Give me poop any day. Keep your barf to yourself.
The poop/puke preference is a big dividing factor among parents. Ask any parent, and they will belong solidly to one camp or the other (except KC who, when I asked which he thought was worse said, 'Depends on the poop,' but then conceded that 'barf is always bad.').
Anyway, since I've been blogging for months now and haven't had a single comment, I thought I'd solicit some by inviting you to weigh in. It's time to end the debate forever. So which is it? Feces or vomit, doodie or barf, turds or upchuck, caca or throw up, butt nuggets or technicolor yawns, dropping the kids of at the pool or praying to the porcelain goddess.
Which is worse? Cast your vote!
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Kissing and Some Awesome Dancing
This morning I took Ava to Starbucks...
When we got home, we hunkered down on the couch for some princess Wii action and I gave her a kiss:
Ava: You just hug me.
[I give her a hug and she pats my hand. Then I give her another kiss.]
Ava: Don't kiss me.
Me: Oh. I can hug you, but I can't kiss you?
Ava: No...you can kiss daddy.
Me: But I can't kiss you?
Ava: No. It's gross.
In other news, here is a video of the girls rocking out to Kidz Bop. It's not great—doesn't even come close to capturing the insanity—but I love Sophie's move on the floor.
When we got home, we hunkered down on the couch for some princess Wii action and I gave her a kiss:
Ava: You just hug me.
[I give her a hug and she pats my hand. Then I give her another kiss.]
Ava: Don't kiss me.
Me: Oh. I can hug you, but I can't kiss you?
Ava: No...you can kiss daddy.
Me: But I can't kiss you?
Ava: No. It's gross.
In other news, here is a video of the girls rocking out to Kidz Bop. It's not great—doesn't even come close to capturing the insanity—but I love Sophie's move on the floor.
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