The Farmer in the Dell

So we get a note home from Curly's Kindergarten teacher on Friday telling us that the kids are to come to school on Monday dressed as a farmer or a farm animal. We are not to run out and buy anything, just use what is around the house. Fair enough. I think we can manage that.

Then Curly tells me she does not want to be a farmer. She wants to be a farmer's wife. EXCUSE ME? Did I fail? Does she not know that women can be so much more than some one's wife? That women can be farmers, doctors, teachers, lawyers, basketball players, movie starts, dentists, accountants, etc? The woman's libber in me died a little death.

She went on to say that she wanted to wear a big poofy dress and a hula hoop. Apparently, my daughter thinks that they are dressing as farmers and their wives from the 1800's. And, although I'm all for women wearing the pants in their relationships, I can understand the allure of wearing a big poofy dress. I think the hula hoop would be a hoop skirt, but I'm not sure about that. Maybe she thinks farmers' wives stand in the corn and hula hoop while the men plow the fields. I can certainly see how a six year old would find that attractive.

Well, having neither a big poofy dress or a hula hoop, I convinced her that girls could be farmers too and that there are still farmers in the world and that they wear jeans. She considered this and asked if she could be a sheep. She wanted to stick cotton balls all over herself and was crestfallen when I suggested that may not work out very well because most of the cotton balls would probably pop off before she even got to school.

Then I had a Good Mommy Moment. "You know," I mused out loud "farmers spend a lot of time in the sun. Maybe I could draw some freckles on you with make-up!"

SOLD! We devised a plan. Rolled up jeans, red rain boots (because farms are muddy), a red shirt (because farmers wear red apparently), two piggy tails with red ribbons and of course, the make up freckles.

She looked so cute this morning when she headed out the door. I think she felt very farmer-ish. And I felt like a Very Good Mommy.

love

For me, there is no love more sweet, more pure, more honest than when BabyGirl, eyes closed and largely asleep, grabs my finger and holds on tight while nursing. It makes my heart surge every single time.

Out of the mouth of one particular babe

Peanut is at that wonderful age where she learns new words everyday, but has poor enunciation, little volume control and no notion of social graces. Going out is always an adventure because you never know what she is going to say. Screaming "TOOT!" when she passes gas is not an unusual occurrence.

Our latest parenting blunder was to teach her that not all eating utensils are spoons. Normally, I'm all for gentle correction. For example, when she call my tea "water" I say "That's my tea. Yum!"

So that is what we did with "spoon". She'd need a fork and ask for a spoon. We'd say "Here's your fork." She'd drop her fork and say "Uh-oh spoon!" and we'd say "Uh-oh fork!"

So why is that a parenting blunder? Take the "or" out of "fork" and put in a "uc". Then add in Peanut's propensity for shouting everything she says and you will understand why we won't be going to a restaurant anytime soon.

I am hot.

No, it's not that warm outside. I got flirted with today. I wouldn't go so far as to say "hit on" but I definitely got flirted with.

I went kidless to pick up a pizza. I was wedding ringless too (it's too big and I'm afraid of losing it, so I take it off at night and often forget to put it back on.) My pizza wasn't ready, so I waited.

Initially I did not feel even remotely hot. My hair looked beyond bad, I was fresh faced (read: no make-up) and running on little sleep as usual. But the guy behind the counter apparently likes the tired mom of 4 look because he said "So, how are you?" well after I was finished with my pizza transaction.

I know, I know that sentence alone means nothing. But I'm a girl, I know when someone is bringing the flirt and he definitely was. I answered "I'm good. Not having to cook is always a plus." and he smiled and then another customer came to the counter and that was that.

No biggie, right? Except, I dunno, it kind of was. Most of the time I feel extremely un-cute. Remember the first season of Desperate Housewives when Lynette ALWAYS looked like crap? I'm right there 95% of the time. And today was in that 95%. Until that moment.

Now it's not like I was going to shove all the pizza boxes off the counter, jump up on it and scream "Take me, Pizza Man!" That's absurd. But he made my day for sure. I am still hot. Under all the baby spit and kid stains and baggy, puffy eyes and old clothes, I've still got it. I am still flirt worthy material.

Thanks Pizza Dude. You made my day.

totally random thoughts

These are the random thoughts I have had today. Nothing special at all. Just the stupid crap that lives in my brain:

• My friends are coming to stay in 10 days and I should probably clean out the extra bedroom so I don't die of total mortification.
• My hair looks like a poodle who had relaxer put on and rinsed it out too early, so it is neither straight nor curly. Not even really wavy. Just a mess.
• I really, really hope the CA Supreme Court makes the right choice regarding Prop 8.
• My baby needs a bath.
• I haven't been to the mailbox in a week. Oops. My mailman probably hates me.
• I have leftover chocolate cake in the refrigerator and I want to eat it, but I don't want to share with the children. I'm thinking of throwing them outside and locking the door behind them so I can indulge. At first I thought that might be mean, but now I realize it's good parenting. They need the sunshine. It's good for them and chocolate is good for my frame of mind. Everybody wins.
• Curly is a pack rat and her room is way over cluttered. I cleaned out a whole big garbage bag of total, un-freecycle-able junk and it's still not done.
• Why do my children only play well together when it is either time to help me clean or time to go to bed? I am suspicious of this phenomenon.
• Dammit. I got caught with the cake.
• The more children I have the better I get with letting them Cry It Out a little. I don't know if this makes me more practical or just more mean.
• I'm lazy.
• I don't want to sit at gymnastics for an hour because just sitting drives me crazy. So then maybe I'm not lazy.
• I'm having pizza for dinner with my sister. I haven't seen her in 15 months. I'm excited for her to meet BabyGirl.

That's it. Nothing exciting. But I needed to blog and I had nothing to say. So now you know all the "nothings" running around in my head.

Young Love

In order to appreciate this conversation you should know that StinkyMan has a little crush on a girl in his class we'll call Sarah.

StinkyMan: Mommy what are you doing?

Mommy: Getting the wax out of BabyGirl's ear.

S: I don't have wax in my ears

M: Yes you do. Everyone does.

S: Do you?

M: Yes I do. So does Daddy. And Grammy. And Grampy.

S: And Curly?

M: Yes

S: And Peanut? And Tommy? And Krissy? And Sam?

M: Yes.

S: And Uncle B? and Auntie M? And Miss Missy and Miss Ella?

M: Everybody has wax in their ears, StinkyMan. Everybody.

Stinkyman: Not Sarah. Sarah doesn't have wax. She's special.

Love is blind...and ear wax free.

Spring forward and add a little insult to injury

So we're all one hour short of sleep. I am also short a husband. It's another Sunday of travel for Husband. Only this time he's going to Hawaii.

Yep. Hawaii. While I stay home with 4 kids and all the everyday tasks he's going to Hawaii. It's not for fun, it's for work, but still I'm jealous. He'll get in Sunday early afternoon so he's currently trying to figure out if he's going to snorkel or see the Pearl Harbor Memorial. I am going to a 6 year old's bowling alley birthday party.

Yeah. That seems fair. *sigh*