Bus Dressing

Oh, School Bus, the lessons you teach us.

Emma burst from the bus this afternoon and started shouting before her feet even hit the ground.

Em: "Mommy! I have a very bad thing to tell you. Some mean boys on the bus said that you were a pass dresser."

Whaaa?

Me: "A pass dresser? Are you sure they didn't say 'bad dresser'?"
(This would totally make sense because I pick her up every day in my sweat pants. I do almost everything in my sweat pants. If I weren't already married, I would propose to my sweat pants.)

Em: "No Mommy, that doesn't even make any sense. They said pass dresser. What does 'pass dresser' mean?"

I started to ask if they said "fat dresser."
(This would totally make sense because...well, just because.)
But then Em jumped in again.

Em: "Wait! I forgot. They said you were a maniac. What does 'maniac' mean?"

Whaaa?

Me: "A maniac? How strange. That sounds nothing like 'pass dresser.' Um, let's see, a maniac is someone who acts very..."

Em: "Wait! I remember now. A trespasser. They called you a trespasser! What does 'trespasser' mean?"

Whaaa?

Me: "Wait a minute. Slow down and explain to me exactly what happened."

Em: "Well. I was doing something that those teenage boys didn't like very well and they told me to stop and I did stop but then they said, 'Your mother is a trespasser.' And I said, 'Don't you talk to my Mommy like that!' and then they laughed at me. They made fun to me and I don't even know why."

Me: "Wow. That's a lot to take in, and I can see why you are upset. The truth is Em, sometimes people are mean just because they can be. Who knows what those boys were thinking or why they said what they said. But thank you very much for defending me."

Em: "What does 'defending' mean?"

Me: "'Defending' means sticking up for somebody else, like you did for me with those boys."

Em: "Yeah, but they laughed at me."

Me: "So? Who cares what they do? The important thing is that you stood up for yourself and told them to stop."

Em: "That's true, I did do that. And you know what? It felt really really really really good."

That's my girl.

p.s. I still have no idea why I am a trespasser.

Sidelined by snow and sniffles

Sophie and I are stuck inside today...partly by sickness, partly by choice. I don't want to take her to the gym today because she is a snotty, hacking mess. Normally I'd at least go run an errand or something to help split up the day, but I got to bed really late last night after a long rehearsal and Olympic figure skating on the DVR (of course! Olympics rule!), and it's snowing outside and I'm too tired to deal with all the coats/gloves/hats/boots/snack packing/snow navigating/road slickness required for a simple trip to Target. Therefore, I've declared today one of our rare homebound days.

Since I've got some unexpected time on my hands, I'm gonna post a few random pics while Sophie hangs out with Max and Ruby. Here's one of my favorite recent photos of Emma and Sophie, taken in Florida. I realize I am extraordinarily biased, but I think we've got pretty gorgeous kids.
This next pic is of Chris and Em playing "Roxanne" on Rock Band. There's really nothing more satisfying than passing along a beloved time-wasting activity from parent to child, don't you agree? I love the look of concentration on Emma's face. She really gets into it.
And here's Sophie this morning in her new Little Mermaid nightgown. (If you look closely between the first photo and this one, you can see the difference in Sophie's hair, as referenced in an earlier post. And that's all I'm gonna say about that.) In between sniffs and coughs, she keeps twirling in circles and shouting, "Look, Ariel! My a princess! My spark-el-y! My a spark-el-y princess!"
Lastly, I'll leave you with a goofy video montage of my children at play. For background, let me explain that Emma had just seen The Last of the Dragons, a play about a mean dragon that turns nice, and Sophie had just watched the movie Thumbelina, where basically all the heroine does throughout the film (at least in Sophie's mind, apparently) is run.

And now, I have to go. Sophie has a poopy diaper and is currently beating up the Kleenex box because I won't let her play with scissors.

Welcome Back

I had one of those days yesterday. You ever experience one of those rare gift days when everything goes right, the world is in order, and faith in yourself as a competent - dare I even say pretty damn good - parent is restored?

Yeah. Well. I'm not talking about one of those days. No, yesterday was a just-back-from-vacation, all-hell-has-broken-loose day fueled by overtired, off schedule, mega-cranky kids...and parents.

It all began first thing in the morning. Something went horribly wrong with Emma's tights. And by "horribly wrong," I mean that apparently the toe reinforcement in the tights' feet were not hitting Em's little piggies at exactly the right angle. This catastrophe set off approximately 40 minutes of crying that culminated in me dropping her off at school and then shutting the car door in her face mid-wail.

After returning home, I got the brilliant idea that I should cut Sophie's hair. In hindsight, I am mystified as to why, of all things I could have chosen to calm my frazzled nerves, I opted to operate a pair of scissors near my skittish toddler's head. In my defense, I think at that moment I was vicariously likening the joy of cutting Sophie's tresses to the imagined euphoria at snipping Emma's vocal chords. Whatever my reasons, I quickly assembled the proper equipment, positioned Sophie in front of the TV, and began my work on the Dora-distracted child.

Well, she wasn't distracted for long. She sat very still at first, but about halfway through she began to protest. And maybe 30 seconds later, she was done. I, however, was not done. I had successfully hacked off approximately two inches from the back of her hair in a relatively straight line...but I was only 3/4 of the way done. So the cut started out great and then curved jaggedly into a weird-looking hair tail behind her left ear. Only a person with their head tilted permanently at a 45 degree angle would consider the cut even remotely straight. Basically, it looked like her hair had been styled by Raymond Babbitt.

Desperate to finish, I begged, pouted, cajoled, bribed, promised...anything to get her back in the chair. Nothing worked. She wouldn't let me come anywhere near her. I couldn't conceive of taking her out with her hair like that, so I refused to admit defeat. After all my best manipulative tricks did nothing to sway her, I resorted to the only card I had left: brute strength. I actually wrestled her to the ground, arms and legs wrapped around her in some type of bizarre stronghold, and screamed "Hold still! Hold still! I'm begging you, for one second just HOLD STILL!" while she shrieked and squirmed and clawed to get free. I can only imagine the sight we made: crazy scissor lady and the betailed two-year-old. Not my finest mothering moment.

I did finally come to my senses and give up the fight. We went to the gym, and the nursery workers laughed until they cried when they saw Sophie's hair. I ran the fastest mile I've ever done on the treadmill, muttering profanities to myself the entire time, until my anger was somewhat spent. Then I sat on a mat with my best friend and bitched for an hour while other people dealt with my children. After that, things began to look up.

Emma made up for her earlier hysterics by helping me play "Beauty Shop" when she got home from school, so I was able to correct the worst of Sophie's haircut by making it a game. Wow, a game...now why didn't I think of that from the very beginning? I don't think Sophie's in danger of being recruited for a hair commercial any time soon, but at least she no longer looks like she lost a fight with a drunk barber.

Vacations are great, but post-vacation insanity is not. I'm just gonna call yesterday a wash and consider today our first official day back.

Florida

We just returned from a very cold stay in Sarasota, Florida, where we learned many valuable vacation lessons:

1. If the major planned activity of your trip is to swim, sunbathe, or otherwise frolic outdoors on the abundant (and FREE) outdoor playground that is Florida, only to see that entertainment option cruelly ripped away for your entire stay, be prepared to scramble for boredom-avoiding and bank-account-draining alternatives with increasing desperation.
2. Keeping two young children consistently engaged for 10 consecutive days does not necessarily constitute a vacation, per se, for the parents.
3. Mother Nature has a really wicked sense of humor.

I believe the temperature may have reached the upper sixties on one day of our trip, for approximately 30 minutes. Mostly, the weather was cool, cloudy and gray. We did make it to the beach and the pool one day each (while clothed in either layers or goosebumps), but to say the weather was a disappointment would be an understatement. However, while Chris and I were deflated, the girls' spirits were undaunted. They were in heaven with so much continued access to their beloved Grandma and Grandpa Kitty. (Many, many thanks to Pat and Dave for being such wonderful and generous hosts, as always.) And since spending quality time with the grand-parental units was the entire point of our travel, I would count the trip a resounding success, low temps and all.

And now, a sampling of photos from our time in the tundra. :)







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Girls At Play