An unexpected gift arrived in the mail today. I really have no words.
Who doesn’t need a Columbian coffee scented vulva soap? My only dilemma is which bathroom to put it in?
Thank you, Kim, from Let Me Start By Saying. Friendship is vulvae in the mail.
L to T in the other room:
“Can you call someone to see about getting me a Batmobile?”
What in his life experience so far leads him to believe that T or I have people to call about things like this?
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Having a conversation with S is an exercise in madness. Between trying to figure out wtf she’s saying and the fact that her brain does not work in a linear fashion like mine does, we go around in inane circles that make my head hurt. This is an example of a conversation I’ve had in the car with her on multiple occasions:
S: Etend dis is a bus. (sic) (Pretend this is a bus.)
me: OK.
S: Mommy?
me: Yeah?
S: No! You not my mommy! You da bus diver. (sic)
me: Right. Sorry.
S: Mommy?
me: I’m not your mommy. I’m the bus driver.
S: Etend you’re my mommy now. (sic)
me: Uh, OK.
S: Mommy?
me: Yes?
S: Nooooo! You da bus diver!
me: I’m pretending to be the bus driver pretending to be your mommy. This is getting confusing.
S: Why?
me: No more talking on the bus!
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L on Saturday, trying his best to behave during our enforced quiet time*:
“If I don’t say anything, can I please run around and around like a crazy person?”
*There was to be no talking for any reason. This just killed L. Asking him to play quietly and by himself for a designated period of time is about as effective as asking him to stop breathing.
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Inspired by the brave and funny Iris over at The Bearded Iris, I decided to go ahead and try my first vlog. I’ve been meaning to do it for a while now, but was put off by my husband telling me that I look stupid/crazy and not funny. I say, no! I am funny, not crazy! Which, of course, is exactly what a crazy person would say. Anyway, without further ado, I give you my first vlog:
So, what’s the verdict? Stick to my day job?
OK, so here’s the answer key. There were a lot of creative answers and a couple of you got some right. Everyone was stumped by the first and last ones though.
Me eek keys in the boo-koo-montney?
“Me eat cheese in the supermarket?” Can’t go to the market without stopping by the deli for a slice of cheese. Luckily, even if I’m not buying cheese the folks at the deli counter are always willing to give S a slice. Try to get the girl to eat a slice of cheese at home? She’ll have none of it.
Me want more bup in my cup!
“Me want more milk in my cup!” Bup has always been her word for milk. I tried to teach her to say it correctly by having her copy me saying “mmmmm” and then “mmmmm-milk.” But she says “mmmmmm-bup.” Oh well.
Me all done beeking!
“Me all done sleeping!” Naturally, beeking = sleeping. She shouts this over and over again when she wakes up.
(singing) Cakey car ish kittniss!
This one is S singing along to the radio, and I had the pleasure of hearing it for the entire length of a song, and most of the rest of the day. “Taking care of business!” You would have known it if you heard it because girl’s got rhythm.
This was fun. I might add S-isms as a regular feature along with my WTF Tapas. What do you think?
Some kids are great verbalists. Not mine. L couldn’t pronounce his own (totally uncomplicated) name until he was well over 3, and he still erroneously begins words with the letter B (“becited”), and mispronounces several words like “hostible” and “resternaut.” I love these mispronunciations and am probably doing the exact wrong thing by not correcting them.
At 2, S is a chatterbox. She almost never stops talking and almost none of what she says is remotely understandable. I get about 70% of what she says. Luckily, L understands more like 85% and often acts as translator. When neither of us is around, she’s probably constantly frustrated and misunderstood. With good reason. Here are a few gems that she said just yesterday:
Me eek keys in the boo-koo-montney?
Me want more bup in my cup!
Me all done beeking!
(singing) Cakey car ish kittniss!
Any idea what she’s talking about? I actually was able to understand all of them. There was plenty she said that I couldn’t understand but I thought it might be fun to put these out there and hear your guesses. I’ll translate tomorrow.
When did I become a cliché? At what point was this whole motherhood script put into my brain? Do they pump out some subliminal messaging through PBS cartoons? Is it in the air in Target? Is there some secret coating on Goldfish packages that slowly changes a woman’s brain chemistry to go from typically saying sarcastic quips to things like, DO I NEED TO PULL THIS CAR OVER?!
Sometimes I take a step back and don’t recognize myself. Physically, I’m certainly not the same girl I once was. Weight issues aside, I’m dressed head to toe in clothes exclusively from Old Navy, Target, Marshalls, TJMaxx, and, if I’m lucky, Kohl’s. Long gone are my cute outfits from Banana Republic, Tahari, or anything resembling a boutique. My hair used to be styled, put together, cute, sort of healthy looking. Now I’m limp and bedraggled. Regular manis and pedis have given way to chewed nails, torn cuticles, and sad, ugly feet. Youthful glow replaced by adult onset acne. Cute pumps? Try clogs. My fitted purple vintage overcoat? That would be replaced by grey polar fleece. And that’s all just the superficial stuff. I’m unrecognizable to the core, People!
Today I got so fed up with my kids constantly complaining of boredom. I heard words come out of my mouth that some other mom* would say, not me. I told my kids if they were so bored they could occupy themselves by packing up all their toys to give to less fortunate children who would “only be too happy to have them.” I sent them away from me with the instruction that “I better not hear any fighting or the word ‘bored’ or else!”
*No doubt this “other mom” would be dressed in clogs, ill-fitting jeans and fleece, with wimpy hair somewhere between wavy and frizzy, and adult onset acne.
These aren’t natural things for me to say. Well, they are now. But what happened to put these words into my mouth? Is it really just par for the course that parents turn into entirely different people? At some point, when the kids are older and my life isn’t quite as consumed with every detail of their lives, will my old self re-emerge? Will I ever be the funny girl in the room again, or am I doomed to a lifetime of stereotypical motherly and wifely nagging and nothing else to say? (Oh, yeah, I nag too.)
Note from editor (me): I am fully aware that I am seeing my former self through rose-colored glasses. I picture myself in only my very favorite cute outfits, constantly funny, happy, and the life of the party. This is certainly not accurate or true to life, but caused by the same failure of memory which will one day make me feel nostalgia and longing for these days.
Listening to a commercial for Rosetta Stone:
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Looking at the NORAD live Santa tracker on Christmas Eve:
me: “Oh, he’s in Africa. His next stop is The Democratic Republic of Congo.”
L: “S! Santa’s really close! His next stop is the Democrafic Beploc of Bongo! He’s close! He’s close!”
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On all the days leading up to Christmas:
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L, finally going to sleep on Christmas day: “Mommy, tomorrow can we do the same exact thing we did today?”
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L as he darts upstairs pushing past his sister: “Whoever gets there first gets to eat a rotten egg!”
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In the car, listening to Christmas music:
L: I don’t like this song.
me: Why not?
L: Because it has bad words in it.
me: What? No it doesn’t.
L: Yes it does! It keeps saying “Jesus Christ.”
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I love when I find out something new and funny that my kids do or think. Here’s one from a recent conversation with L:
He holds his thumb out to me and shows me his nail and torn cuticle. L thinks his cuticles are called gums! I stifled my laughter and ran to the computer before I forgot.
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Conversation from the car yesterday:
This is where I figured out what he was talking about. Any guesses?
He was remembering a hike from when I was early in my pregnancy with S (over 2.5 years ago!). L was getting bored and restless with hiking so we gave him a job – to look for the markers on the trees denoting the trail.
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Ask anyone who has known me for any length of time, and they will tell you that I’ve always known I was an overlord. The problem was that the rest of the world didn’t realize it. Well, thanks to Selena over at Because Motherhood Sucks, the world can now finally recognize what I was born to be. She just awarded me the:
My first obligation to the universe that I now rule over is to change 3 things. This will be fun!
My second order of business is to pass on the award and its great responsibility to other deserving bloggers. It’s difficult to narrow the field since I know so many amazing people who would rock the whole overlord thing, but here goes:
Conversation in the car:
L: Can you help me write a letter to Santa?
me: Sure. You tell me what you want to say and I’ll write it.
L: Do you know how to draw a picture of me hugging Santa?
me: Sure.
L: OK. I want to say: Dear Santa, I want to send you this letter because you’ve done so much for me and I haven’t done anything for you. Love, Santa. Love, L.
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L is so thoughtful and considerate, and he’s always looking out for his little sister. In his letter to Santa he thought to ask for a present for S, since she’s too little to “write” her own letter.
He thinks she’d like a toy gun.
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S made up her own knock-knock joke. Seriously, she might be a comic genius.
This joke is especially funny because the only words that anyone besides me can understand is the toot-toot part. The rest of it sounds like a kitten with marbles in its mouth. Nevertheless, it’s better than the jokes L makes up.
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In the library picking out movies, L picks up Peter Pan:
me: This isn’t the one you’ve seen. It’s not a cartoon. It has real people in it.
L: The people are real?
He marvels at the DVD cover for a minute.
L: Is Tinkerbell a real tiny lady who can fly?
me: No. It’s just a movie so it’s pretend. She is definitely not a tiny lady who can fly.
L: Must be a bird in a costume then.
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Overheard from the other room:
L: S, stand on my face!
S: ‘tay.
L: (gutteral laughter) Ow! Ow! Hahahahahhahahahha. Do it again!
Maybe I don’t have to worry about paying for college after all?