Sunday, March 23, 2008

Simply Enchanting

Princess Preschool

Today, we are learning to color without eating the crayons
as well as
how to slap magnetic letters up on a white board.
A princess always holds her basket just so when retrieving letters.
Princess see, princess do.

Princess Preschool Graduation
(okay, its really Easter Sunday)

Wednesday, March 19, 2008

Which word came first? Alienate or Alien?

I realized today that I am NOT perfect.


Okay, I realized it about a week ago. See? Imperfect.

I think I'm pretty much all that with the self-esteem, happy-go-lucky, life is what you make it, guns don't kill people, people kill people. Oh, wait...

Today it dawned on me that I don't like sharing people I care about.

We went to yet another birthday party for Isabella's friends. Only this time, it was for her BFF, Mitchell. His mom and I are good friends. We talk nearly every other day and see each other on school days. She's funny, relaxed, smart and we could blab endlessly.

However, when we are around her other friends, I clam up. I have nothing brilliant or even half-coherent to say. I feel awkward and ridiculous. I just converse with all the humans under 4 feet tall and hope adult whats-her-name-in-blue won't make eye contact.

It has been this way with any friend I've ever had. Yay fun when just us. Boo-hiss when someone else shows up. Very mature, I know.

I also don't like sharing my sister. She is my BFF. But when I am around her friends, the same tardness comes over me. Words don't even form in my mind to say to those friends. All of whom are very nice and funny! I just stare at inanimate objects and laugh way too loud at what everyone else says.

My husband says I don't like to share him either. But that's not it. I like hanging out with him and his friends. It is relaxed and we always have fun. However, throw in a new (and always temporary) girlfriend of theirs, then I am obligated to be Provider of Small Talk with her and it throws me off completely. Bartender!

I guess I'm still insecure around women I don't know well. I am trying so hard to overcome this because it is very frustrating! I've struggled with group bashfulness all of my life. I'm 35 friggin years old though! Why can't I hang out with a clan of mothers or non-breeders and be as cool n' witty as I know that I am (and MODEST, mind you).


Being a grownup is hard.

Friday, March 14, 2008

Its Great To Be A Kid

Unhappy with the idea that I can't birth a big brother for her, Isabella has decided to take care of it on her own.

She told me yesterday, in the car (where the most interesting conversations take place), that she'll just get married, have a baby boy named Iloveyou and when HE gets bigger, he'll be her big brother. That's a good idea, right, Mom?



You know all those cool names for the colors in the crayon box? My favorites were always Periwinkle, Aquamarine and Bittersweet.

Now I actually own a crayon color. Rather, my children do. It is this fabulous fuzzy Goldenrod reading chair that was my grandmother's. It rocks, swivels and is totally FUZZY!

Tuesday, March 04, 2008

Can I Just Throw A Tantrum Too?

Have you experienced the judgemental stare of others, particularly parents, as you try to wrangle your writhing, screaming, sobbing toddler from whatever plaything they've attached themselves to when playdate is over?

Have you had the joy of playing dodge kid at, oh, lets say Chuck E. Cheese, when the party is long over and your child manages to outsmart AND embarrass you as she avoids being nabbed to leave?

Do you handle these moments with grace? Or do you, like me, grit your teeth, call your child by her full name while shooting the most intense you-better-get-over-here-or-else looks her way only to be ignored because she's too busy in her moment of meltdown?


Bella's never handled leaving playdates, parties or the park very well. Or the pool. Hmmm, all those begin with "p"...isn't that interesting?

AnyWAY, I always give the recommended 15 minute warning. Then 10, then 5. She accepts the invisible timer with an enthusiastic "Okay, Mom!" like she's so grown-up and cooperative.

Then that silent dinger goes off and she senses it. That's when all hell breaks loose, or at least she does. Sometimes she reacts verbally with an intense wail as she convinces herself that her heart is breaking over such tragic news that it is time to leave.

Other times she reacts physically by running around whatever establishment I'm about to be humiliated at. She'll sob and screech like a curly-headed banshee.

I will grab her arm generally, trying VERY hard not to leave permanent finger marks, and I do the whole get down on her level to talk thing. But she's gone to visit that toddler Other Side where they hear and see nothing other than their own anguish.

I need new magic tricks as mine are obviously no longer working. As you know, you can talk to a kid till you're blue in the face but in that horrible moment there's not much to do (that I've seen) than to hook them under your arm while lugging your other kid and march silently out of the playground/party/playdate/pool.

No wonder my right arm looks as if I benchpress 150.