Jokes, Jokes, Jokes

In the short video below, Sophie and Em each take a stab at making us laugh.

A little background:
You may recall from a recent post that Sophie's joke-telling skills need some honing. So my Dad taught her the classic knock knock joke about the banana and the orange. She loves it, but as you can see, she sometimes has a bit of trouble remembering the order.

A few hours before this video was taken, a discussion about marriage proposals ended with Chris and I sharing the story of our somewhat long and winding way to the alter. I believe that's where Emma's joke comes from. (They say the truth hurts, but sometimes the truth is just straight-up funny.)

Quote of the day...

Sophie: "Don't dance, Emma. It bores me."

The Ramblings of Emma

Me: "Emma, your outfit doesn't really go together. Do you wanna go put on something else?" 
Emma: "No. When you are beautiful, you can wear anything."
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Emma, screaming at Sophie: "Jeesh! Until you're a grown up, or at least 20, or a teenager...or as old as ME, would you just LISTEN? If you'd just LISTEN to me, Sophie, I'd never be mean to you AGAIN! It's your fault, and that is...just...unaccESSIBLE! Uggh! Find your humanity!"

Silly Safari

One of the many many many reasons I love Hoyne Street Playgroup, where Sophie now attends two days a week just as Emma did before her? The awesome creativity of the teachers. Click here to watch the silent movie that Jake (onscreen) and Ben (cameraman) made today with the kids. Keep your eyes open for a couple quick glimpses of Sophie!

Sophie tells some "jokes"

I wish I could just climb right into her brain and settle in. What a ride that would be...

Why Don't You Come With Me, Little Girl(s)/On A Magic Carpet Ride

Emma, me, Chris & Callie at Adventure Stage's Spring Fling: An Arabian Extravaganza last Saturday.

Who's the fool in April Fools anyway?

Ah, April Fools Day. A lovely holiday celebrating the time-honored tradition of making asses of each other. I've never particularly understood the point of this "holiday." It makes about as much sense to me as Daylight Savings Time. (Seriously, I suspect Daylight Savings Time started out as an elaborate April Fools hoax by one clever prankster who wanted to prove how easy it could be to convince an entire country to do his bidding, even when the directive makes no sense. And 80+ years later, said prankster is still waiting for us all to get the joke.) I've been on the wrong end of several April Fools' Gotcha! moments over the years, and I've tried to be a good sport about it. But this year, I was not a good sport...or a good mother, for that matter.

We were leaving a friend's house, and I was getting the kids settled into the car when I heard my phone beep. I checked the phone, and a text from Emma's best friend's mom was waiting for me: "O said she don't want to be friends with Emma anymore. She won't tell me why." Em and O do just about everything together. They are in the same class, they ride together on the bus, they go to summer camp together, they have multiple play dates and sleepovers. To say they are close would be an understatement. So when I got this message, I felt like I'd been sucker punched. I immediately turned to Emma and asked if she and Olivia had had a fight. When she asked why, I told her what the text said. Yes, you read that sentence right: I TOLD MY DAUGHTER THAT HER BEST FRIEND NO LONGER WANTED TO BE FRIENDS WITH HER.

Emma, understandably, was devastated. What proceeded was one of the worst 45 minutes of my life. I'm not exaggerating. Emma sobbed, and I sobbed at seeing her sob. The sobbing was bad enough, but she soon quieted and just stared into space while silent tears coursed down her face. She looked shell-shocked. Now, most regular readers of this blog are aware of my oldest child's penchant for the dramatic. My daughter has had wailing fits that would rival those in the darkest Greek tragedies. But I have never ever seen her as she was during that car ride home. I drove as fast as I could, threw Sophie into her crib the minute we arrived back, and found Emma curled into a fetal position on the top of her bed, mewing quietly like an injured animal. At that moment, I would have pulled my own skin off to alleviate her pain. I have never felt that sort of visceral empathy before, for anyone, ever. It rendered me breathless. I put my arms around her and we just lay there, snuggling and crying. Then we heard my phone beep again. Of course, when I checked the message, it said, "April Fools!!!!!"

I was stunned. Never, not even for one fleeting second, did it occur to me that the first text was a joke. I was outraged. Who joked about something like that? When I essentially asked the mother that very question, she insisted that she never thought I'd actually tell Emma. She figured I'd call to find out what happened, and the joke would stay between her and me. In the mother's defense, she felt really horrible about the whole thing. (And rightly so, I say.) Emma was SO relieved, although the first words out of her mouth were, "That's a really stupid thing to joke about." But then she started laughing and thinking up jokes she could do to others in the spirit of the day. She recovered much more quickly than I did. I was still emotionally blasted by what had transpired. I was frustrated that I'd needlessly upset Emma, but the full bizarreness of my choice to tell her still hadn't hit me. I told my close friend about the incident. The first words she texted back to me were, "I can't believe you told her without calling the Mom first. How awful, Jen." Wha?? Huh?! Talk about kicking someone when they are down! I know she meant well, and she dutifully proceeded after that to shower me with sympathy. She was just sharing her first gut response, which was disbelief that I'd screwed up so epically. She is not only one of my closest friends, but also a fellow mother whose opinion I greatly value, so her perspective on the situation hit me hard. Then I told my Mom. She was gentler about it, but essentially concurred with my friend's assessment that telling Emma about the text was not my most stellar Mom moment, to say the least. I finally grasped the full horror and ineptitude of what I'd done. Yes, I was still annoyed with the Mom for pulling such a tasteless prank. But the blame for Emma's anguish fell squarely on my shoulders, and mine alone.

So why did I do it? I generally consider myself a pretty good mother, with a good head on my shoulders. Why, in this instance, didn't I make a better choice? Maybe just butt out of it and let Em and O work it out on their own? Or call the mother about it, as she had expected, without dragging Emma into the drama? I think the closest I can come to answering that question is by pointing out that the one person who instantly understood what I'd done and why I'd done it was my husband. His first words to me when I told him what happened were, "I'd have done exactly the same thing." And I think the reason he gets it is because he's the only other person in the world who knows what it is like to be Emma's parent. She is a fabulous child, truly. I am not just saying that because I'm her mother. Em is smart, clever, funny, insightful, expressive, inquisitive, loving, sensitive and sublime. I adore her. Chris and I both do. However, she can also be a pill. Perhaps that's not a cool thing to say about one's own child, but hey - it's the truth. She can be rude and bossy and controlling. (I still have no idea where she gets any of that from.) And when interacting with friends, she can be domineering and obnoxious. Chris and I have privately shared our fear that eventually she'll piss everyone off and find herself friendless. So I think when I got that text, my first instinct was...Emma, what did you do? It's a horrible thing to admit, but in the interest of truth, there it is. So I asked her about it. Because I figured she would already be aware of the situation, and I wanted to hear her side about what happened before I spoke with the mother. Of course, the second I saw Emma's face after I told her, I knew I'd made a terrible mistake. But by then, it was too late.

Hearing that Chris would have had the exact same instinct in the situation made me feel validated, but also deeply guilty. I mean, what does it say about us as parents that our gut reaction to any conflict in our child's life is to assume she's responsible? Isn't it supposed to be the other way around? I made a huge, huge, huge mistake that day, and I can't take it back. Not for Emma, and not for myself. Because not only did I tell Em something she didn't need to know and upset her greatly, but I got my first glimpse into what it is gonna be like when Em does experience the first loss of someone she loves. Most relationships don't last forever, and at some point in the future, odds are that a boy or girl she cares deeply about will break her heart. And I don't know if I'll be able to handle seeing her in that kind of pain. Hopefully next time, I'll at least have the very small consolation that I was not the person who caused it.

Most parenting missteps I try to shrug off after the requisite time of self-loathing has passed, reassuring myself that we all make mistakes. But I don't think I will be able to forgive myself for this one. April fool, indeed.

Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-CHANGES

I don't always deal well with change. I try to be open to whatever life brings, but at the same time, I'm definitely not one of those "just roll with it" type people. In fact, I often try to avoid change, which is hilarious when you think about it. Despite my (and others') best efforts to the contrary, it seems that whether change is forced or beckoned, the one constant is that it always comes. Oh boy, does it come. And after all these years, you think I'd be a bit better at tempering my anxiety with acceptance, even joyful excitement, whenever the winds of change begin to blow. But I've yet to master that skill.

We have a couple changes ahead for our family, and for me personally. Sophie had her first day of preschool this morning. We only stayed about an hour; it was mostly an introduction for her, the teachers, and the other children. It's the same parent cooperative that Emma attended, so the teachers are familiar friends. In the car on the way over, Sophie asked me four times if I was leaving her alone. I assured her that I was not. She said that she might feel shy and would just stay with me; I told her that was fine. Once we arrived, she spent approximately three seconds at my side and then jumped right into play for the next hour without a thought about my continued presence. Next week she will go by herself for the morning, and in two weeks' time she'll be up to her full schedule: Mondays and Thursdays, 9 to 5. I suspect the transition will be relatively smooth for her. She's ready for this. I, however, am not.

While I caught up with one of the teachers and surreptitiously watched Sophie interact with the other kids, it was all I could do not to weep right there, sitting cross-legged on the carpet with a plastic cucumber in my hand. Sophie has been my constant companion for the last three years, four months and seven days. With few exceptions, we spend all day, every day, together. The idea of being away from her for two whole days a week is both thrilling and devastating. On the one hand, I love the idea of having time to myself...precious, precious, precious time. Time to work and think and breathe and BE without constant interruption. For years, the very idea of something so decadent felt like dreaming of the lottery; both seemed equally unattainable. Even as I type this, just the thought of several hours alone on a consistent basis literally makes me shiver with joy. And I know that Sophie will thrive at playgroup, just as Emma did. Seeing Sophie smile with her whole body after only five minutes in the teachers' company today was all the reassurance I need that I will be leaving her in very capable and loving hands. But still...my youngest child, my last child, my littlest roommate...off to preschool. Her first real steps toward a life lived without me. I relish seeing her grow, and I also dread it. Every milestone that passes leaves me feeling simultaneously bereft and triumphant. As happy as I am at the small taste of freedom preschool brings - both for me and for her - oh, how I will miss my baby.

I'm also starting a new job tomorrow. I'm not leaving my current job at Adventure Stage Chicago. I love the people there, and love what I do. But I'm taking on a new challenge, as Marketing & Communications Director for Erasing the Distance, an organization that has been close to my heart for many years. I am very, very excited about this change. But I'm also anxious. Can I juggle both jobs and still be available for my children the way I want to be? I think (hope) that the short-term answer is maybe, and the long-term answer is yes. It will take awhile to adjust, and I am planning to take time off from acting until I get a handle on this new role in my life. Simply put, the next couple of months are gonna be nutters. But I feel so blessed to have the opportunity to earn an income for my family while predominantly working from home - and doing so for two arts organizations I deeply believe in and support - that additional craziness is a small price to pay. Pile on the crazy, I say. We always got room for more.

Other changes are coming down the pipeline. (Aren't they always?) How they will develop remains to be seen. Regardless, history dictates that my reaction will most likely be bittersweet. But I think that's okay. The bitter only makes the sweet that much sweeter, right? And lately, there is so much more sweet than bitter floating around in my life that I can only be grateful. Very, very, very grateful.

Moments from a day

Sophie: "Look at me! I beautiful! Look at my pretty lips." 
Emma: "Yeah, I've been to kindergarten, Sophie. I know what lipstick is."
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Me: "What would you get if you could buy anything in the world?"
Soph: "You!" 
Me: "Aw, that's sweet. But you already have me."
Soph: "Oh. Then actually...Fun Dip."
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Em: "Sophie! Clean my room right now and make it FAST!"
Me: "Whoa. You don't talk to your sister like that. That's very rude."
Em: "But we're playing pretend! I'm a mean princess and Sophie has to do whatever I say."
Me: "Oh. Well then, carry on. And might I add, you are doing a wonderful job pretending."
Em: "Thank you. Miss Cooper says I act mean very well."

Emma and Sophie Greet Their Public

My girls decided they wanted to make a video talking about themselves. I think, somewhat inadvertently, the video captures both of their personalities quite well. Mine too, probably. If you have a couple minutes to kill and want a giggle or two...here you go.

A mermaid, a princess, a fairy, a middle-aged white guy with no rhythm, and a full bladder

If this video clip were a joke, I guess the first line would go something like this: "A mermaid, a princess and a fairy take over the dance floor." I'm not sure about the punchline, though...it's either Emma running into the wall, Chris's body spasms or Em's bladder. You decide.

E.T. seems harmless, but can we really trust him?

A few weeks ago, I showed the girls E.T. for the first time. Emma loved it as I'd hoped she would, but surprisingly, Sophie enjoyed it too. In fact, Sophie has since developed a weird love/fear fascination with the film. She adores the movie and has every plot point memorized after countless viewings. Yet she still seems to believe that the film has the potential to morph at any time from a feel-good flick about a friendly alien into some horror tale about the extraterrestrial from hell. Hence, she goes through a specific three-step process whenever requesting to see it: 1. Talk about it. A LOT. 2. Beg to watch it. 3. Proceed to hide from it.

Here's a glimpse...

Crazy things my kids do

A round up from the last couple of weeks of insanity that passes for normal life in our family.

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Watched Alice in Wonderland with the girls. Fun movie, but more violent than I'd expected. During the big finale when the jabberwocky's head is cut off, Sophie hid under a blanket. Em just blinked hard and said, "Wow. That's awkward."

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During a particularly tense "you-touch-me-annoyingly-and-then-I-touch-you-annoyingly-and-we-see-who-loses-their-mind-first" battle between the girls, Sophie suddenly growled at Emma through gritted teeth, Dirty Harry style: "Don't...even...think about touching my arm."

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Alas, Emma is not a morning person. While Em raged and growled about the horrible injustice of having to arise early for school, Sophie whispered, "Mama, why is Emma doing a fit?" Emma turned on her and shouted, "I can HEAR YOU! Don't talk about me. That's so rude! Why can't you...just...LIVE WITH IT?!?"

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Sophie: "Be careful when you touch the walls because you never know when it is a magic wall and then it eat you and you dead."

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Em lost her second tooth, and she's been full of questions. Top one? "How does the tooth fairy know where to find you when you go to college?"

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Sophie keeps walking around the house mumbling to herself, "There's nothing to be afraid of. E.T. is just a good, nice alien."

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Em: "I can't wait for the tooth fairy to come tonight. I hope he brings me money, toys and Gatorade!"

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While watching the beginning of "Powerpuff Girls" (where they explain how the girls came to be made), Em seemed unimpressed that the girls were created in a test tube with special chemicals that gave them superpowers. But there was one thing that caught her attention: "Wow. I can't believe they were born with clothes!"

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Putting on her button-down fairy pajamas complete with old-fashioned collar, Sophie looked in the mirror and giggled: “I look like a customer!”

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Sample commands from Emma during her playdate: 

"More hot chocolate please!" 

"We need lemonade, water, orange juice and cookies. Right now." 

"Excuse me? Miss? We'd like more popcorn at our table." 

"Hello! We have empty plates here!"

It was like flashing back to my worst waitressing days...the ones where I found myself at the mercy of a ridiculously obnoxious customer and I just knew I wasn't even gonna get a tip out of it.

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Emma: "Mama, I've never been bad at all today. That's the first day in my whole entire life that I've never been bad!"

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While listening to a Carrie Underwood song about seeing Cinderella at the ball, Em's whole face lit up in awe. "Wow," she whispered. "I can't believe she knows Cinderella."

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Emma just wiggled her bottom in my face and announced that her butt has got scratch.

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Once again, we warned the girls that getting fingerprints on the DVDs can cause the movies to skip when being played. "It's Sophie's fault," Emma immediately piped up. "Oh, really? And why is it always Sophie's fault?" I asked. "Well,” Emma answered, “I am the older person here."

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Sophie fell hard on her bottom during a twirl-gone-wrong and bit her tongue, so I suggested a popsicle to make her feel better. After her first lick, she declared, “This DOES make my tongue feel better! It makes my bottom better too. Like ice cream inside-a my butt. Popsicles are magic.”

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While trying to help Emma with her math homework on making change, she told me that she doesn't need to know how to count money because she'll just ask her lady in waiting to do it.

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Sophie was just horrible on a recent car trip home from Indiana. Emma exhibited remarkable patience, but she finally hit her breaking point just minutes from home when she screamed, "SOPHIE! YOU HAVE RUINED THIS ENTIRE TRIP WITH YOUR NAUGHTY!"

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Chris and I had to cancel our date night in celebration of my new job because we have no money. (Hmmm...I wonder if it’s in bad taste to ask for an advance in pay when I haven’t even started the job yet?) He knew I was disappointed, so he brought me home a giant chocolate bar as consolation. Emma’s eyes bugged out of her head when she saw it. “Oh my gosh! You have to share that chocolate with me or I'll die like a seal."

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Sophie got mad and threw her cup at Emma, nailing her right in the middle of the forehead. Emma burst into tears, and I immediately pulled over the car to diffuse the situation. "Sophie!" I reprimanded. "We do NOT throw things at other people." Sophie responded by whipping her goldfish snack bowl in my face and shrieking, "Yes. We. DO!"  

Little Ditty...about a Great Lake

Here it is! Really, really bad video of Em's school show on Friday. I was way in the back, so it's hard to see her - but you can definitely hear her! Emma is the girl in the center, on the floor, to the right...the one who sings the first verse by herself. (Notice how the second girl forgets the words? BUT NOT MY EMMA. Just sayin'.)

You can hear Em loud and clear through the entire song. Miss Cooper was having a hard time keeping the kids in unison, so a recording of Emma singing the entire song plays in the background as a guide for the other kids to follow. That's why it basically sounds like The Emma Show. (And really...I'm okay with that.) Wish the visual was better, but this will have to do until the professional recording that we ordered arrives. After the video are a couple cute pictures of her in costume. Enjoy!

Lady of the Lake!

 Disney teachers are the best! Em with Miss Cooper.

Diorama Papa

Emma's big show at her school is coming up this Friday. You may remember my post last year about how every grade at Em's school dedicates two weeks to studying and creating a show about a special topic. This year, the first graders are focusing on biomes. (Alright, I'll admit it: I had no idea what the word meant. Dude, don't judge me...I'm an artist, not a scientist, okay?) There are seven first grade classes, and each has been assigned a different environment to research. Emma's class is studying lakes, and part of her assignment was to create a lake diorama that exhibits the many forms of animal and plant life. That's when Daddy enters, b/c as you regular readers know, he excels at helping with these creative school projects. (Wow, it's like link-apalooza today!)

So they spent the entire weekend putting together their lake diorama. Here they are, hard at work transforming their little shoebox into Lake Michigan.

 

 Um...notice how Chris is sorta doing the work, and Em is sorta watching/assisting? Still a team effort, but I suspect the roles are supposed to be flip-flopped and my husband just didn't get the memo.

And without further adieu...ta da! The fruit of their labors!

I know, I know...I can't wait for summer, either. Winter: go away.

Truly, the photo doesn't do it justice. Ms. Cooper told Emma it was the best diorama she'd ever seen, and OF COURSE she would never lie to boost a kid's ego, right?

You'll have to wait a few days for video of Emma singing about the Great Lakes to the tune of Mellencamp's "Jack and Diane." Oh yeah...NOW I've got your attention.