Sweet moments

Today was a wierd weather day with just a dash of rain.  I was unaware of the rain until I heard a familiar song quietly coming from the living room...

"Rain, rain, go away.  Come again some other day."

I snuck in to find Mia knelt on the back of the couch and watching the rain fall outside the window.  She just kept singing her song over and over again.  I love catching her in sweet little moments like these ♥

Don't look directly at it

Christopher had to leave really early for work the other morning.  When he does that, he’s on his own.  If I absolutely don’t have to get up, I will not.  So he got himself ready like the big boy he is, and before he left he came to give me a kiss and tell me he was leaving.  This is all normal.  So he tells me he’s going now and kind of nudges me to turn so he can kiss me.  When I do, he hesitates for a minute and then just kind of gives me a little peck.  Not normal.  But I was too tired to care.  So several hours later when I finally get up, I go in the bathroom to brush my teeth only to find a huge pimple on my chin right below my lip.  Well, hello gorgeous!  I haven’t had a big monstrous thing like that in a long time.  And then it started to come back to me…the early morning goodbye…the hesitation…the wimpy peck.  That little brat.  I had to call him on it.  Couldn’t help it.  So I make the call and I can tell by the background noise that he’s driving, so I keep it short.

He answers.  “Hey, what’s up?”

“Oh, nothing.  Just…seeing how you’re doing.”

“I’m good.  Just headed back into town to take care of some things real quick.”

“Oh, okay.”

“…Did you need something or – “

“I just woke up a minute ago...and I see now why you didn’t want to kiss me this morning.  Yeah...I remember.”

Immediate laughter from him followed by, “I was afraid that thing might pop all over me.”

I hang up.  Even from miles and miles away, I swear I can hear him laughing.

We kid, we kid.  But lovely nonetheless.  So I go lay back down in bed to read until Mia wakes up.  When she does, she comes and crawls into bed with me and she wants me to “go to sleep with me” which means put the book down and pay attention to me.  We’re lying there looking at each other and talking.  She starts poking at me and labeling my face:  “…hair, eyebrows, eyes, nose, lips – “ then she stops.  “What’s that?”  Pointing to my new friend and almost touching it.

“Don’t touch it, Mia!”

"Is it a miple?"

"Yes, it's a miple."

“Will it bite me?”

I laugh and do a mental face palm.  “Really Mia?  Bite you?!”

She starts laughing hysterically.

I could tell it was going to be one of those days.  I felt like burrowing in my bed until the rather large growth on my face disappeared…or sprang forth an alien being.  Either way.

Channeling Captain America

It's no secret that my dear husband is in love slightly obsessed with Captain America.  So much so that he dedicated his first tattoo to the superhero's very first shield.  Safe to say Mia knows all too well about Cappy.  She kind of has a thing for Spiderman; she thinks Iron Man rocks; and she's both mesmerized and terrified of the Hulk.  But she knows where Daddy's loyalties lie and so she, too, is a little obsessed and honors the Captain in different ways. 

For instance, I was looking online and the cute 4th of July clothes that were starting to come out when she came up from behind me and freaked about something she saw on the screen...

And the reason she freaked?  Because she said they were "Captain America" boots.  Uh-huh...not...quite.  But okay?

So me and Christopher were in the mall and were walking by said store when I told him I wanted to just go in and look around, not even thinking about the boots.  And there they were...and there was only one pair left..and they were in her size.  I gave him the "but it was meant to be!"  look.  He looked at the price and I swear I could hear his sphincter tightening.  "For kids boots?!"  Obviously Daddy is not the one that shops for Mia, as he has no idea how expensive everything - including little red cowboy boots - is these days.  Then I realized I had forgotten to tell him the most important thing about them.  "You know, your daughter only wanted them so badly because she thought they were Captain America boots."  It took him about two seconds to get that big grin on his face and say, "Give 'em to me."  Okay then.  Lesson learned.  If it has anything to do with Captain America, it's totally worth it.

And now Mia has created these new play-scenarios where she is Captain America and she must save the day.  Our favorite one is when we're playing outside and she tells us to "pretend to be sad when you don't have your ball" so we act sad.  She goes and throws the ball into the flowerbed, which drops down about 5 inches from our grass.  Well, you'd think it was 5 feet the way she squats down with her arms back like she's making a huge jump.  The funniest thing, though, is her words and subsequent song that go along with the rescue.  As she's in her squatting position with arms back, she always says, "Don't worry!  I'm Captain America and I'm gonna saaavve the day!"  Then the little hero ditty comes in, "Dun-dun-duuunnn! - Dun-dun-duunn-dun-dun!"  It goes on a bit longer than that, but that's the jist of it.  Sounds awfully similar to the Wonder Pets theme song, as a matter of fact, but we'll just look that part over.

And we've known for a while that there's a new Captain America movie coming out this summer.  God help us all.

Fun with Percentiles!

Mia had to have her pre-admission doctor’s exam before starting school this fall.  She hadn’t been to the doctor since our beloved Dr. Tulin retired, so this new cat we were seeing was uncharted waters for us. She’s Russian.  From her name, that’s all we could tell.  Then we met her.  And she was nice enough, but not what we had hoped for.  I guess we just went from what we considered the best children’s doctor in the entire universe to a fairly new doctor who does everything by her charts and what the papers and computer screen is telling her to do.  Ugh.

Then she brought up Mia’s, shall we say, heftiness?

In her thick Russian accent (Think Natasha from Bullwinkle) “It looks like she’s in the higher percentile for her weight.  We don’t want her getting too high because that’s when the concern for obesity comes in.”

Excuse me?  Oh, no she didn’t!  I’ve seen obese.  My child is nowhere near obese.  Trying to keep my attitude in check, “Yeah, I don’t think she’s going to be obese, doctor.  She’s always been a thicker kid, that’s just her.”

(I effing hate the “percentiles”.  Seriously, hate.  They’re meant to fit your child inside a box of what’s “normal” in the eyes of who?  Exactly.  I think what made me hate them even more was both the worry and boasting of different parents around me that would throw their child’s percentiles around like they meant everything.  Hearing friends worry about their little ones that were in the low percentiles for weight and the doctor might have to put them on some kind of supplements if they didn’t start eating certain things more and gaining weight, and they were just sure their child was not going to grow normally.  Or worse, the parents who loved to say things like, “Little Suzy is going to be so tall!  She’s in the 99.999999999th percentile for her height and her doctor said she’s such an incredible phenomenon!”  Chik-Chik…that’s me racking my theoretical shotgun to end my torture of having to listen to that crap all too many times.)

By her frozen-smiled blank stare, I could tell she wasn’t quite buying it.  “Okay. Let’s go through her food intake and activity in a day.”

You are kidding.  Ok, lady.  Ya got me.  We start our day of with pancakes galore, naturally slathered with the lardiest lard  and syrup we can find. She gets a minimum of 8 hours of television a day, and to ensure that, she’s tied to a chair the entire time.  We continuously gorge on anything fried, fatty or fabulous until dinner when we eat greasy McDonald’s, pizza, you name it – if it’s disgusting, we’re eatin’ it!  We follow that up with cake, cookies and buckets and buckets of ice cream.  Oh, is that the wrong kind of diet?  You’re kidding?  I had no idea, as I’m such a complete moron who doesn’t know a healthy diet from a heart attack.  Take me to bad-parenting jail now.

So we went through her usual daily meals and snacks, and her daily activity.  And what did she say?  Nothing.  Because she couldn’t say anything.  Mia eats incredibly well and gets plenty of exercise.  Of course she sometimes has sweets and pizza and her Happy Meal – she’s a kid!  But that’s sometimes.  I don’t let her eat like crap and I’m lucky enough to have a child who loves her fruits and veggies.  She’s just naturally a little thicker.  So what.

And then she tried it.  “Well, maybe she should stay away from juices.  They’re just unnecessary sugar.”

“She doesn’t really drink juice.  I know it’s just sugar, that’s why I don’t let her drink it very often.”

Still with the frozen smile, “Okay, good.  And maybe just try to limit her bready carbohydrate intake like with the toast at breakfast and sandwich at lunch and the bread with dinner.”

“That’s whole wheat/whole grain bread and that’s half a piece of toast at breakfast and half a sandwich at lunch and maybe half a piece at dinner.  So she has maybe two pieces of bread throughout the day.”

Although I was as pleasant as possible, I think she could tell I was getting irritated.  “Okay. Well, she’s not there yet, but we just want to watch that to make sure she doesn’t go above where she should be.  So we’ll see how she does at her 4-year visit.”

Yeah, lady.  Okay.  Whatever you say.  Wouldn’t want her “percentiles” to read wrong.  That might throw off the balance of gravity and disturb the Earth’s orbit around the Sun and all would be lost.  And who wants that, right?

And then…she gave me…this…

Oh. My. God.  I laughed.  I couldn’t help it.  I think she realized it was both insulting and just plain stupid.  “This is just a guideline to help with portions and what each meal consumption should consist of.”

Really?  Does your checklist on your computer screen tell you that this visit is almost over because I’m just about there.

- Try and make patient feel inadequate as a parent: ✓
- Look like a moron: ✓
- Barrage about diet and activity: ✓
- Hand out idiotic “Healthy Plate” chart: ✓
- Look like an even bigger moron: ✓

Job well done!

Needless to say, we miss our old doctor.  Dr. Tuuulliiinnn! Where are yoooouuu?!  Oh, that’s right. Enjoying your retirement and the fact that you don’t have to deal with little snotty noses anymore. 

Well, this mother and her little snotty nose miss you dearly.

Conflicted & Confused

It's hard to explain how I feel about the death of a horrid person who's responsible for the deaths of so many.  After the news last night, I felt a little shocked and a little at peace.  Shocked because it was just unexpected and at peace because - although senseless killings will continue, nonetheless, by those who choose to hate - he can't hurt anyone else.

But after the news spread and people started reacting, I felt something else - dazed, in disbelief, disturbed.  I'm disturbed by the celebration and downright giddiness of so many people.  I just don't quite understand it.  I know why - I get that.  He was a horrible excuse for a human being and so many people - so many innocent people, so many troops - so many died by his actions.  But the reaction of the masses is just leaving me a little uneasy, sort of sick-feeling.  I'm afraid and sad for people.  I just feel like we're so much more than this, we're better than this.  Arent' we?

I wish my daughter were older so that I could explain this whole thing to her.  I want to explain that sometimes people's lives are saved by the death of someone, but that doesn't mean we celebrate that death.

In all the buzzy madness, I searched for those who had the same reservations as I did because I felt so alone in my feelings.  I found them, but much fewer than I had hoped for.  The consensus seems to be to follow the crowd and celebrate, but I cannot.  And I will not.

I came across this quote and it summarized my feelings:

"I mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy. Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that"

— Martin Luther King Jr.

Good day for 3s

I've always thought good things come in 3s.  Or is it just what people are more likely to remember?  So many things in our culture are grouped in threes - The Holy Trinity, three wise men, Jesus rose from death after 3 days, The Three Stooges, red-white-blue, three wishes, yesterday-today-tomorrow, blonde-brunette-redhead, three musketeers, three strikes, one-two-three-GO, positive-comparative-superlative adjectives, Minister-Priest-Rabbi jokes...yada, yada, yada...blah, blah, blah.  Ha!  The list goes on and on.  Just musing...

The number 3 is just interesting and maybe a little mysterious.  In the words of Jack Johnson, "♪♫ Three, it's a magic number ♫♪" 

Mia's the 3rd grandchild on both sides of our families and I just realized she was 3 years, 3 months and 3 days old today - so maybe it will be a really good day.  Here's to hoping with three cheers!  :o)