The Piercing


     Ever since my daughter found out that I got my ears pierced when I was five, she’s been bugging me to get hers done.  (Monkey see, monkey do.)  I told her that she had to wait until the end of soccer season, and I finally made good on that promise over the weekend. She was on top of the world with anticipation over this big event.  I, on the other hand, had a gut feeling that this whole ordeal would somehow come back to give me a big, fat headache.

     I took her to one of those “Claire’s” stores in the mall, since I know of no other piercing places that don’t also do tattoos and body art (not really the childhood memory kind of a place I had in mind for her).  And let it be said that I despise “Claire’s” with every fiber of my being.  It’s like some douchebag idiot decided it would be a great idea to cram as much shitty merchandise as is humanly possible into one teensy tiny area of space. You can’t even walk in that freaking place without knocking off a headband or a necklace.  It makes me totally claustrophobic, and I want to claw out my eyeballs. However, being the awesome mom that I am, I pushed aside my contempt for this retail hellhole and whisked my daughter through their overcrowded doors.  

     The assistant manager explained the whole process to my daughter who took it all in with her very innocent little hole-less ears. She described how she would have to keep the earrings in for eight weeks, clean them three times a day, and turn them four times a day. I asked her again for the five thousandth time if she was absolutely sure she wanted to do this, to which she emphatically replied, “YES!” She then had to pick out which earrings she wanted from a board that had everything from itty bitty birthstones to itty bitty flowers. She hemmed and hawed for a good while as I signed off on all the paperwork.  Finally, she decided to go with the itty bitty pink daisies, and we were ready to poke some holes.

     I asked the woman if she would pierce both ears at the same time, so we could get it all over with in one fell swoop. She called over another associate who measured out just where to put the holes and marked the spots with a purple marker.  My daughter just sat there and grinned away, while I second-guessed this whole dumb ass decision of mine.  When I looked at the twinkle in my daughter’s eyes, though, I knew there was no turning back.  She squeezed my hand very very tightly, and just like that, she was sporting itty bitty flowers on her earlobes. She was a freaking rock star, too, never crying or even so much as flinching. I thought she’d explode with happiness when she took that first look in the mirror at her new and improved ears, and I breathed a sigh of relief that we’d made it through without even one little tear.

     That night, we cleaned her ears and turned the earrings just like we were supposed to, and she went to sleep lying perfectly still on her back so as not to jack up her new ears.  The next morning, she insisted on a high ponytail to show off her pink sparklers and practically ran all the way to school to show her friends.  They oohed and ahhed over them, and all seemed good in the hood…until that night.  For whatever reason, she had a complete freak-out at bedtime over the fact that she couldn’t take out the earrings for eight weeks (even though she’d insisted that she was cool with this very fact less than twenty four hours prior to this!)  She couldn’t understand why I was allowed to take mine out and change them whenever I wanted to, even though I had explained umpteen times to her that I’d had mine pierced for over thirty years.  She was so hysterical that I thought for sure we were taking out the daisies and calling it a day.  God only knows what goes on in the mind of a six year old female, though, cause she all of a sudden calmed down, and I haven’t heard a thing about it since.

     I sent her off to school today with another high pony in case anyone happened to miss her new addition yesterday.  I’m praying that she comes home this afternoon still in love with her piercings, but I’ve given up on trying to predict her unpredictable moods.  I do know that I absolutely draw the line at ears though.  There will be absolutely no belly button piercing, lip piercing or nipple piercing going on while she’s living under my roof.  Oh, snap, have I turned into my parents?


Hair Fetish


     Call me a prude, but I happen to think six years of age is a wee bit early to get your freak on.  Shouldn’t it be all about riding scooters and playing hide and go seek at this stage of the game?  I mean, come on, we all know there’s plenty of time to act like a dirty old man later on in life. So, when my first grade daughter starts requesting that I fix her hair a certain way to please a little dude at school, I can’t help but raise an eyebrow or two. Just who does this young hustler think he is trying to mold my precious baby into his own little puppet? And why is my precious baby just eating right out of the palm of this little mastermind’s hand?  Apparently, I need to be blasting some Spice Girls up on the Ipod and have a lesson or two about girl power.

     One morning last week, my daughter announced out of the clear blue sky that she wanted to wear her hair in a ponytail.  I should preface this with the fact that she NEVER wants to wear her hair up, so I knew that something was fishy. When I asked why, she told me that “Jacob” liked it when she used to wear her hair in a ponytail and wanted to see her in one again.  I kinda laughed it off at first, although deep down I was surprised that she was even concerned about pleasing someone else, much less a BOY, with her hairstyle.  But, I played the obliging mother role and tried like hell to get her very short, bobbed hair to stay up in a ponytail.  She was as happy as a peach when I dropped her off at school that day.

     As it turned out, I ended up having to drop something off in the office, so I was able to peek down the hall towards her classroom. When what to my wandering eyes should appear but Jacob circling my daughter and nodding his head with approval at her awesomely stylish head of hair.  I kind of laughed to myself and chalked it up to a silly blip of a memory. But, no, that was most certainly not the end of Jacob’s quest for the perfect coif.  My daughter told me that next morning that he’d now asked her to wear not just one but TWO ponytails to school.

     After much debating as well as for the sake of getting her there on time, I ended up caving and slopping her hair into two friggin’ tails. She was all smiles and giggles later that afternoon when I asked if Jacob dug her ‘do.  Much to my surprise, though, she told me that he was most certainly NOT her boyfriend, which left me completely confused. Why go to all that trouble when you don’t even have the hots for someone?  I just didn’t get it.  However, I think I figured out the answer to that puzzling question later that night.

     Friday night was the big fall festival at my kids’ school.  There were games, prizes, dancing, and lots of chaos going on in the two gyms. When my daughter and I got in line for the cake walk, we just so happened to run into none other than Mr. Jacob. His face lit up like a light when he saw his little protege.  He immediately grabbed her, dipped her, and planted a huge kiss on her cheek.  It caught me so off-guard that I just stood there like a statue at first.  When I came to my senses, I pulled him off her, as did Jacob’s dad, and said that was quite enough.  And as I took a good look at my daughter who was beaming with pride, it dawned on me.  She absolutely LOVED all of this attention.  It seemed to me that it was actually my little girl who was playing Jacob.  She’d give him a lil’ somethin’ somethin’ with the hair as long as he kept falling all over himself with admiration for her.  Unbelievable.  I knew the girl was a fan of the spotlight, but good Lord.    

     If she’s already playing these little mind games at six, what the hell’s she gonna be trying to pull when she’s a teenager?!  I feel like I should tattoo a WARNING label on her forehead cause I foresee lots of broken hearts in her suitors’ future.  It seems the girl’s definitely got game and is not afraid to use it.  Just to be on the safe side though, I think I’ll let Aretha sing her to sleep tonight with a little “R-E-S-P-E-C-T.”

The Perfect Date

rman2941l    Since my daughter had her big daddy/daughter campout with my husband this weekend, I promised my son that I’d take him out on a dinner date.  As crazy as our lives are during the week, I hardly ever get to spend a whole lot of one on one time with the little man, so it was awesome to chat and chill, just the two of us.  He was super-stoked about having me all to himself without his chatty Kathy sister constantly interrupting him.  I have to say that the lil’ dude was a perfect gentleman and made for the perfect Saturday night companion.

     I let him pick the restaurant, and naturally he picked a place that we refer to as “The Crazy Straw Restaurant.”  The dude could seriously care less about the food, but he is thoroughly blown away by the tornado-swirled straws that come in the kids’ drinks.  Bells and whistles people, bells and whistles.  Unfortunately, however, even though I called ahead to put in our names, we still had to wait for a few minutes to get a table.  I was all set for him to dive right into a dramatic, kicking and screaming monologue about dying of starvation right there in the middle of the restaurant. Surprisingly, though, my little date never bitched or moaned or even said so much as an “aww, shucks.”  He actually waited patiently right beside me until our buzzer finally lit up.

     We enjoyed a pre-dinner cocktail, a glass of Kendall Jackson for me, a cup of chocolate milk for him (complete with crazy straw, of course!), as he wooed me with his wealth of solar system knowledge. I learned that I apparently live in a ditch since I didn’t know that Pluto is no longer considered a planet.  I guess I’m not smarter than a six year old, let alone a fifth grader.  As we sat there shooting the breeze, I noticed that a little girl in the booth next to ours kept giving my son the old googly-eyed look. This chick was trying her very damnedest to get his attention but was failing miserably.  I tried to get my son to give her a little smile just to throw the poor girl a bone, but he was completely uninterested.  Next thing I knew, this little vixen had made her way over to our table with her dad.  Her dad actually had the wherewithall to say, “Does my daughter know your son from somewhere?”  Homeboy was purposefully throwing out pickup lines FOR this four-year-old hussy!  But being the player that he is, my son didn’t even give her the time of day.  You see, he’s a one-woman guy, and he was way too busy having fun with his main squeeze for the night.

     After we finished our candlelight dinner for two, we stopped off for a nightcap at Ben & Jerry’s.  With globs of chocolate ice cream dripping down his chin, he continued to charm the hell out of me with all his funny little tales.  We walked hand in hand to the car and drove home singing along to the radio.  I thoroughly enjoyed every single minute of my night out with this honorable little fellow, and the best part of the whole date was that the only thing he expected me to put out was a pair of race car pajamas.

My Little Pisser


      Wonders, especially my twins, never cease to amaze me.  I swear, just when I think I might have seen it all, my kids go and do something that once again makes me stop dead in my tracks. Yesterday at the beach, my daughter did something that made me contemplate whether anyone can truly know what goes on inside the mind of a six year old.  

     As I was chatting with the nannies of my kids’ friends down by the water, my kids decided they wanted to go up to the beach playground.  Typically, this has never proven to be a problem in the past.  They play tag, they dig holes, and they do what kids do. Apparently, though, my daughter decided to do something that I wasn’t aware that kids do.  I was in the middle of a conversation when one of my daughter’s friends came running back from the playground to report the big story of the day.  

     It’s become a common little game amongst our possy of six year olds to steal the Cubs’ baseball cap of this one little boy in particular. It then turns into a game of keep away, whereby everyone is trying to steal the hat and run.  The owner of this hat just so happens to be the boy that my daughter has declared is her boyfriend., and for reasons unbeknownst to me, my sweet little innocent daughter, took it upon herself to steal the hat and pee in the freaking thing!  Yes, you read that correctly, and your eyes are not deceiving you.  She took the hat and used it as her own personal toilet.  I mean, seriously, what the??!! As soon as I was finally able to wrap my mind around the story that my daughter’s friend had just reported, I stomped my way on up to the playground to have a word with my little cap pisser.

     When I called my daughter over to me, I was a little surprised to see that Cubs hat boy was following right along behind her.  I tried to focus my attention on my daughter and the reason for this insane behavior, but I was having a hard time not being distracted by the fact that the kid was still wearing the pee–soaked hat!!  I asked him if he had at least rinsed the thing, and he claimed that he did.  Still, though, I would be washing that thing on super wash in scalding hot water if it were me!  

     I made my daughter come and sit back on the towel for a time-out next to me.  I wasn’t really sure what type of punishment this type of incident even warranted.  I was so flabbergasted as to what on earth possessed my child to do such a thing. We most certainly do not make it a habit to pee in other people’s clothing in our household, so I don’t know exactly where she even got the idea in the first place.  I finally got her to admit to me that she thought it would be funny. Honestly, I was just speechless.  This is something that a freaking frat boy does, not something you’d expect to see a cute little kindergarten graduate demonstrating.  I’m quite sure that this was not in the owner’s manual that came with my babies when they were born.  

     Because the new puppy was the biggest piece of collateral I could think of at that moment, I warned her that this was her first major strike against her and the quest to bring a dog into the family.  Three strikes equal no dog.  She knows I’m extremely disappointed in her behavior, but I think the dog threat is my best bargaining tool at this point.  Truth be told, I have to just make this crap up as I go, because who wakes up and thinks to herself, “Hmmm…I wonder how I can punish my kid for pissing in someone’s hat today?”

The Furry Vest


     Most kids, particularly girls, tend to have a favorite item of clothing. They want to wear it every single day, regardless of whether it fits them or has a zillion holes in it from one too many washings. My daughter’s favorite thing in her closet is a furry vest that I think very much resembles a dead squirrel.

     Late last summer when my mom was in town for a visit, she wanted to buy the kids a back-to-school outfit, so we headed over to Gapkids at the mall.  She happened to point out this brown furry vest to my daughter, who instantly fell in love at first sight.  It was clearly a fall/winter piece of clothing, but nevertheless, my daughter immediately slipped the thing over her sundress and pranced around the store modeling it.  Even though it was pretend fur, I could just imagine someone dumping red paint on her as she walked down the sidewalk someday.  I had to then bear witness to all kinds of begging and pleading from my daughter who wanted nothing more than for me or her Grammy to buy the vest for her.  One of us (I can’t remember who) eventually gave in, the suckers that we are, and my daughter was then the proud owner of  her very own fashionably fake road-kill vest.

     Throughout the entire winter, I constantly had to battle my daughter over this thing.  She wanted to wear the vest every other day.  Her favorite teacher at school had complimented her on it one time, so from that moment on, she was determined to show it off as much as possible.  I was so sick of seeing it by the time Spring finally rolled around.  I thought I had finally seen the last of it — at least until this morning, that is.

     I was racing through my shower in hopes of finishing before the kids woke up, when my daughter pounced into my bathroom.  She loudly announced that she had peed her bed and needed some dry clothes.  I told her to clean herself off with wipes and to pick a t-shirt out of her closet to wear.  I was almost ready to grab my towel and get out of the shower, when my daughter strolled into the bathroom once again, wearing nothing but that brown furry vest and a great big smile on her face.  We’re talking buck naked, with the exception of the vest! I told her I thought she might be a little hot, given the fact that it is MID-JULY!!!  She said she wanted to wear it to eat her breakfast, so I told her that at the very least, she needed to put on some underwear.  

     Luckily, she got hot and decided to change into her pink Minnie Mouse t-shirt instead.  And now, the furry vest is once again tucked away in her closet, ready to make its next surprise appearance at any given moment.  I just hope any future ensembles come complete with pants….

Me And My Shadow

me and my shadow     My kids had their first day of camp yesterday, and when they came home, they were beyond beat.  I tried to talk them into meeting some friends at the beach for a bit, but they wanted nothing to do with that plan.  So, my son opted for the cool air-conditioned house and the Wii, and my daughter opted for following me around like a lost puppy dog.  I needed to plant flowers in the backyard, so I decided to ask my daughter if she wanted to help me.  Now, it must be noted that my daughter LOVES helping others.  However, her idea of “helping” is a lot different than my idea of helping.  

     It all started out well, with her helping me pull the mangled-looking pansies out of their planters.  She’s very into collecting flower petals that she can press in one of her books in her room, so she was psyched to add some pansy petals to her collection.  She must have about a trillion dried-up petals by now.  It was then time to add some more soil to all the pots, which was right up her alley. The kid loves to dig in dirt.  The problem was that her aim is not quite the best, and rather than adding more soil to the pots, she, instead, added more soil to the ground and everything BUT the planters.  Another mess to clean up — just what I needed.  I had to just grin and bear it, though, because after all, she was just trying to spend time with me and help.

     Next came time to put in the new flowers.  This was all fine and dandy until we came to the last window box on the garage.  It’s located above a bush that seems to be the party spot for all the bees, and my daughter absolutely flipped her lid.  For some reason, she is completely TERRIFIED of bees this year.  Every single thing that buzzes by her head is assumed to be a big, bad bee, causing her to scream bloody murder and cower behind me in fear.  It could be the world’s smallest living gnat, and she will go ballistic, thinking it’s going to sting every square inch of her little body.  The crazy thing is that her brother is the one who’s been stung twice by bees and could care less about bugs whizzing past him.  It’s like my daughter’s decided to be scared for the both of them or something.  

     After calming down Miss Paranoid and cleaning up the dirt garden she created, we finally got all the flowers planted and watered.  And they look pretty darn good, if I don’t say so myself!  I felt guilty for being annoyed with my daughter, because I know she just wants to do whatever she can to hang out with me.  Guess when you’re a parent, you get more than one shadow — in my case, I have three….

Daddy/Daughter Dance



     Last night was a very big night in our house.  It was the Daddy/Daughter Dance for which my daughter had been waiting on the edge of her seat for weeks. She absolutely could not wait for this special night with her dad.  She was even more excited to be going on a double date with her best little girlfriend and her dad (who just so happens to be one of my husband’s favorites of all the dads).  So, it was a win-win situation for both parties involved.

     It was no shock to anyone who knows my daughter that she picked out the pinkest dress she could possibly find in her closet to wear. She had two very important wardrobe stipulations:  it had to be VERY pink, and she had to be able to twirl in it.  Her final selection covered both of these criteria. Because she was going on a date with her daddy, we decided that he should probably coordinate with her outfit.  So, we went shopping yesterday afternoon for a pink tie to go with my husband’s suit.  Now, I wasn’t even sure if he would actually wear a pink tie, but I figured he wouldn’t be able to resist my daughter in all her dolled-up charm.  We even took the dress along to the mall to make sure we picked out just the perfect shade. My daughter was very particular about which tie looked best, and of course, following in the footsteps of her mama, she had her heart set on the most expensive one.  What can I say?  The girl’s got good taste!  

     As an added bonus, my husband very sweetly decided to stop at a florist on his way home from work and pick up a little flower corsage for my daughter to wear with her dress.  Unfortunately, they didn’t have one small enough, so, instead, he bought her the absolute cutest little bouquet to carry.  She was over the moon when he gave it to her, and I almost cried at the extreme cuteness before me.  

     We took lots of pictures before they headed off, my husband decked out in his pink tie and my daughter clutching her tiny bouquet.  They raced off, and I had to wait in anticipation for hours to hear about the details of the evening. My son and I went out to dinner with some friends in the meantime, so that he didn’t feel left out of all the fun.  When my daughter and husband finally returned home, it was more than obvious that they’d had an awesome time.  My daughter had so much fun dancing that she didn’t want to come home.  Apparently, she’s a dancing machine just like her mama.  It was definitely a very sweet moment that I’m sure they’ll remember for a long time.  Now it’s time for a Mama/Son Dance, so we, too, can get our groove on….