Thanksgiving, per Emma

Beware: imagination can maim your ponies and prostitute your mothers

Emma was playing with her ponies when they got into a terrible accident involving a city bus. It sounded quite traumatic, at least judging from all the gruesome sound effects coming out of Emma's mouth. However, she quickly stitched them up, and now broken wing, leg and snout are all healing nicely.

(Sidebar: yes, that is a bra hanging out in the upper right corner of this photo. I can't stand wearing a bra and tend to fling mine off the moment I enter my home, letting it land where it may. I do not now, nor will I ever, apologize for this.)

Sophie drew a picture of me this morning. Considering she's only 3, I'm pretty impressed that she did this all by herself. (Well, except for her signature. She points, I write.) Pretty good likeness, don't you think? I particularly like the beard.

I am mildly disturbed that she inexplicably wrote "Ho" on a drawing of me, but then again - a mother that can't keep her bra on really shouldn't be surprised, I guess.

Tree O' Family

Homework assignment: family tree. Here is what Emma created. It kinda rocks.

Red is definitely your color

Sophie colored this picture over the weekend.

I know, I know. You're thinking I've finally lost my mind and officially crossed over to the parental dark side, aren't you? Hell, maybe you even think I've been a happy resident of said dark side for years. Either way, you know the place I'm talking about...that softly lit, fuzzy-bordered alternate reality all parents succumb to the minute they start buying into the delusion that every single thing their precious, unique, singular child does is off-the-charts amazing and must be shared with the rest of the world. (i.e., "Billy blew a raspberry that sounded just like 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.' Call the papers!" "Lily made a smiley face on the bathroom wall using her own poo - she's so brilliant!" "Ben can count all the way to ten while scratching his butt...his own butt, people! Do you not SEE the genius inside this kid?????!")

Maybe I am one of these parents, and maybe I am not. I go back and forth on it myself. Regardless, it struck me as pretty cool that my almost-three-year-old singled out all the people in the picture and then colored them kinda-sorta within the lines. Usually her artwork consists of wild scribbles and the occasional lopsided circle, so this is definitely progress.

Oh dear god. It just hit me. I am actually blogging - proudly - about how well my toddler uses crayons. Jesus. Okay, I concede. I AM one of those parents. I guess there's nothing left to do now but embrace it. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go corner some random schmuck and gush at length about Sophie's mad nose picking skills. 

The Tracks of my Tears...whoa-oh-oh-OH

Behold...Emma's latest self-portrait.

I asked why she was crying in the picture. She said she was a beautiful princess walking home from the ball and a terrible monster came out of nowhere and yelled at her and knocked her down and made her knee bleed and it hurt so bad but she had to be brave and run run run as fast as she could or the mean monster would get her and gobble her up.

"Wait a minute," I said. "Are you talking about the time we were walking home from summer camp and you stuck your tongue out at me when you thought I wasn't looking and wrenched your body away when I grabbed for your arm and you fell and skinned your knee and sobbed and screamed that it was all my fault and I was so mean and then you made me carry you the rest of the way?" 

"Yep," Em said.

Mommy...you are not an alien after all!

Emma has been on a big picture kick lately. Here's a really detailed drawing she gave me this weekend. I must say, this one definitely makes up for the alien version of me she rendered a few weeks back, even though it looks like I now walk with a limp.

Emma Hearts Mom...Sometimes

Emma made a picture for me. She spent several hours on it, toiling away at the gym nursery and then continuing at home. She said it was "the harderest" drawing she has ever done. When she finished, she made me close my eyes before whipping the picture from behind her back and exclaiming, "Happy Birthday!" I reminded her that my birthday is still two months away. "I didn't want to forget," she explained.

I love that she created something so beautiful and specific just for me. I actually got a lump in my throat when I saw it. I plan to hang it in my room so I can gaze intently at the picture whenever she's in a time out and shouting that I am a stupid mother.

Dude. Your head is HUGE.

Emma has recently started carrying a notebook and pen everywhere she goes. She draws and writes in it. She is prone to whipping the notebook out at any given moment and mumbling things like "that's a good idea for a song" or "oooh...I want to draw that." It's all very artsy and deep...and, of course, very cute.

Yesterday, she drew the members of our family.
Doesn't everyone look lovely? Sure, our toothpick legs seem ready to buckle under the strain of carrying around heads large enough to be spotted from outer space, but we are still a good-looking bunch. Emma did explain that she gave Sophie and me long hair because she doesn't know how to do short hair. Although...that sure looks like short hair I see in Chris's picture. But hey - who am I to question an artist's process? At least we look happy, with beautific smiles pasted on all our faces. Oh yeah. Excuse me. What I meant was...on all our faces except MINE. Yep, my pic looks like I just sat on an upended nail and can't decide if I liked it or not. Emma told me she drew my "surprised face" because that's how I always look. What the what? Seriously? I always look like I'm high? I always look like I'm hypnotized? I always look like I can't take my eyes off the crossbeams emanating from the mother ship?

Weird, to think this is how she sees me. I was actually fired from a job once because they said I didn't smile enough. Guess I need to get happier, stat. Or at least my face does.

Emma: A Self-Portrait

The worksheet below came home in Em's school folder today. God, I adore this kid.

A Story

Emma wrote and illustrated a story today for her cousin Callie. It's too cute not to share. (I realize I'm turning into one of those obnoxious mothers that thinks everything their child does is so interesting and brilliant that the rest of the world MUST want to hear about it. And yet...I don't care.)

Father's Day

Chris had a nice Father's Day (I hope). We got him a game, let him sleep in, picked up donuts for breakfast, and just generally tried our best to make him feel how special he is to us. Emma drew him a picture and wrote him a poem. Chris seemed to get a big kick out of both of them. In fact, immediately after reading the poem he declared, "This has to go on the blog." So, here they are:

(Translation for those that can't decipher Em's phonetic spelling)

The Wind
the wind is
strong as
a tree branch
even stronger than
that I have no idea
how strong it
is I think
I'm going to puke!

Goodbye, Mrs. Parker

Tomorrow is Emma's last full day of school. She made this picture for her teacher. Oh, how we will miss Mrs. Parker.

Oh, What A World

Emma and Chris have been working hard all weekend on the last big homework project of the year: a model of the solar system. They painted each Styrofoam planet to look like its real counterpart and glued the whole thing together with sticks of different lengths to best represent each planet's distance from the sun. As a final touch, they added stars. The model is really impressive, and very detailed. (Earth even has each continent painted on it!) The below picture doesn't do the project justice, but at least you'll get the idea.
Not to be outdone, Sophie insisted on painting alongside Daddy and big sis while they worked. Below is the final outcome of her artistic labor.
Next challenge: transporting the model to school tomorrow, wholly intact!

Emma Bits

Bit #1:
I am running the Soldier Field 10 Mile race this Saturday, and I told Em that she and her sister are coming to the football stadium to cheer me on.
Em: "Again????"
Me: "What do you mean, 'Again?' You've only seen me in one other race! I thought you'd be excited."
Em: "But why do you keep running? Adults don't run! What are you running from?"
Me: "I'm not running from anything. I am running to something. In a race, everyone is trying to get to the finish line as quickly as they can."
Em: "Well, can't you just take the bus? It's faster."

Bit #2:
She rocks a mean hula hoop.

Bit #3:
I found this in a stack of papers this morning, and I actually teared up a little.