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Posts Tagged ‘daddy’

I want you all to know that I read every comment I get here and on my FB page and every single email. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate all the feedback, support, advice and points of view. There are too many awesome points for me to respond to each one, so I’m writing this as a general response:

  • Yes, I am still going to go forward with having L evaluated by someone who is not that douche-bag doctor we saw the other day. My objective is to find out what makes L tick, so I can help him tick in a way that will not piss me off is more socially acceptable.
  • You’re right, all kids behave worse at home. I should be happy and proud that L can behave so well at school. It does mean, at the very least, that he’s not a psychopath, sociopath, or any other kind of terrible-path. And it also shows that he trusts me enough to never really sell him on eBay.
  • I will try to look at L’s ransacking the baking/junkfood cabinet and the freezer at dawn today as a step towards his becoming an independent, self-reliant man. (Damn, some of you are very glass-half-full people!)
  • I had an aha moment today when I read this comment:

….I’ve found my kids doing the exact same things. They ignore rules they’ve known for years, make messes just for the sake of being messy, and misbehave for me while acting the angel for everyone else. I’ve also come to realize that every time they act this way, it’s because they know they can get away with it. I realize I’ve fallen into the parent trap of frustrated speech, not following through, and trying to plead with them to do what I told them. When I follow through with discipline and kind words, all goes back to normal…

Dean is totally right on. Things were bad with L a year ago, I got really strict and mean, things got better. Things were so good that I thought I was out of the woods. I let my guard down. I let small things slide. Small things snowballed into an avalanche of bad, and now I’m here. Time to bring back mean mommy. This will not be fun, but will probably provide blog-fodder.

So, watch out, L! Mean-Mommy is back. And Daddy’s going to bring back Hammer-T. I will try very, very, very hard not to react emotionally. I will suppress my inner combustible self. I will be nonplussed, calm, and mean.

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WTF Tapas

S finally said her first sentence! As a reprieve from her usual pointing, shouting a word and screeching, she said, “There’s bubbles in the bath!” We’re all very happy. She followed this up with pointing, shouting “bubbles” and screeching.

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In the car L suddenly exclaims: “Mommy, I saw 2 bears!”

me: mm-hmmm. (clearly I pay a lot of attention.)

L: No, not bears. Um, what are those things?

me: dogs?

L: No. I know. Bullies. I saw two bullies!

me: Bullies?

L: Yeah. But not the people kind. The other kind. With horns.

This is when I died of cuteness as I realized L calls bulls “bullies.”

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My kids drop things like cereal and gold fish on the floor like it’s their job. S is great about helping clean up. I’m always torn whether to make L clean up though. On one hand, he should because he dropped them, on the other hand, if he’s anywhere near them he is guaranteed to step on 5 and kneel on 8 making what was once an easy object to pick up into crumbs crushed into carpet. No amount of telling him to look where he steps and kneels helps. What is up with that?

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I’ve mentioned before how much L prefers T over me. T is like a rock star around here, and I’m like, uh, well I guess a servant that you really need around but don’t like that much. Anyway, the other night two things happened to illustrate this. First, L had a complete meltdown because he wants to marry T and he’s upset that T married me instead. (WTF?) Second, L comes out of his room after bedtime and says to me from the top of the stairs, “Mommy, can you please tell Daddy a message for me? Can you tell him that I love him more than you? I mean, that I love him more than I love you. OK? Can you tell him that?” Nice.

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WTF Tapas

Talking to L about a pair of identical twin girls:

me: Can you tell them apart?

L: Yes, it’s easy.

me: How? Which is which?

L: G is the one with the beaver.

me: The what?

L: Beaver. She has one and showed it to me.

I just chalked this up to a misunderstanding and ended the conversation there. 

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L: Smells good. What’s for dinner?

me: Chicken.

L: Chicken on the cobb?

me: Yup.

L: My favorite! You know those are dinosaur bones.

Chicken on the cobb is what L calls a chicken drumstick. I will never correct this.

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Discovery: I was talking to T about how I hate toys with multiple pieces. I hate cleaning them up, I hate trying to play and discovering missing pieces etc. I jokingly said, “I just want to throw all the puzzles away.”

He said, to my surprise, “You might as well. Whenever I’m cleaning up and I find a puzzle piece I just chuck it.”

“What???”

“I’m not going to go through all the puzzles and find which one it goes to. So I throw it away.”

No wonder we don’t have a single complete puzzle in this house. And here I was blaming the kids!

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S is the best person to share a sandwich cream cookie with. This is because she’s stupid unworldly. I twist the top off and hand it to her. I get the bottom with all the cream. We’re both happy.

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In the car the morning of S’s birthday, on the way to buy balloons:

me: L, when you were little you couldn’t say balloon so you said “babloon.” It was so cute.

L: (exaggerated, head thrown back laughter) That’s so funny. Now I can say things much better. I can even say ‘hostible’ [sic]. See, ‘hostible, ha-ha-hostible. ha-sta-bull.'”

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T read yesterday’s post and knew immediately what the blue stuff is. Any guesses?

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No?

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Are you sure you want to know?

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OK, here it is. Mystery solved: the blue stuff refers to the blue part of a flame. T and L were talking about camping and fires and s’mores and L fixated on the fact that parts of a fire are blue. Anyway, he was absolutely right about it: one should never touch it. It’s very, very hot.

So, now we can all rest easy. Our houses won’t be condemned. No need to worry about the cat’s fur. (Actually, this blue stuff would be very bad for a cat.)

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L is learning some tricks from his Dad. After years of successfully telling L to “look over there!” while stealing a french fry off his plate, T has finally passed on his superior sense of tomfoolery.

Yesterday, during a rousing game of Monkey in the Middle, L used the line “Look! A moose!” several times in his attempts to outplay us. This was cute, but made awesome by the fact that about 20 minutes after coming back inside, T said “Look! A moose!” at an actual moose that was crossing our lawn. (Next time we’re outside and L tells me to look for a moose, I might just look for a moose. That thing was HUGE and I’d have to somehow rescue my babies.)

This morning for some reason L wants to trick me into thinking there’s a mouse running around the house. I’m hoping that he isn’t having another animal premonition. The funny thing this time is that he’s impersonating the mouse. He still drops his S’s off the beginning of words so his mouse imitation isn’t exactly convincing:

‘Queak, ‘queak! Mommy, there’s a mouse!

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Yesterday was our 8 year wedding anniversary. I told L in the morning that we were going to cook something special for Daddy and explained it was our anniversary.

Throughout the day we had some interesting conversations. Here are a few snippets:

L: Are you going to wear your married clothes for dinner?

me: You mean my wedding dress? No.

L: Why? It’s our 8 year married day!

me: Well, it’s a very fancy dress. And it doesn’t fit me anymore.

L: Oh, you got too tall?

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In the car:

L: Are you done looking in the mirror?

me: Why? What is it you want to do back there that you don’t want me to see?

L: Am I allowed to sleep in the car, or are you going to make me stay awake?

me: You can rest if you want.

L: I’m just so tired. I need to rest so I can stay awake for the dancing part after dinner.

(I have no idea where he got the idea that there would be a dancing part.)

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L: Are we going to sing “Happy Birthday?”

me: No. It’s not anyone’s birthday.

L: But it’s our 8 year married day! What will we sing?

me: I don’t know. What would you like to sing?

L: “Happy Birthday.”

me: To who?

L: Me, I guess. It’s not your birthday.

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L: I think Daddy would like Batman on his cake. And a big huge heart cookie. With frosting. And Batman on it. He told me to tell you that.

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In the end life got in the way of our special dinner. I ended up getting home after T; knowing I’d have two hungry kids in tow, he had made a big batch of scrambled eggs for everyone. I paired the eggs with Pinot Noir. L informed us when it was time for dancing. We danced. And sang.

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Conversation between L and T while L sat on the toilet playing with his Superman action figure:

L: Do you think my toys come alive when I’m not here?

T: I don’t know, maybe.

L: Maybe I could leave and you can tell me if Superman comes alive.

T: I’d have to leave too.

L: Maybe we could both leave, and then sneak back.

T: Good idea, but Superman just heard your plan.

L: (Throwing Superman to the ground) Maybe we can leave and then sneak back in.

T: Superman can still hear you. He’s right there on the floor.

L: Just kidding, Superman! Ha, ha ha. (now whispering) Maybe we could leave and then sneak back in!

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