Pumpkins, Parties and a Parade

Some weeks are just a shitstorm of activity and this was truly one of ‘em! Halloween is a much loved holiday around this house and the girls have a ton of stuff they want to do to make it the most perfect Halloween ever. This is also the last week of my class, so I had a final in addition to the usual workload.

Sugar decided she loved last years costume so much, she wanted to wear the same thing again. However, we had to change up the makeup and add vampire teeth so she was actually a vampire-witch. Read between the lines here folks, a hyphenated costume means an additional spend and extra effort. This week she has had a Girl Scout Halloween party, school parade and party today, then trick-or-treat on Sunday. The very cool false eyelashes and rhinestone tattoo are being saved for Sunday’s grand finale.

Spice had her preschool party today and was beyond excited to wear her costume to school. Is there anything better? We also contributed a Graveyard Cake for her party. It was decorated this morning with gravestones, skeletons and skulls, pumpkins and gummy worms. The ulterior motive in Spice offering assistance was that she had to personally taste test every item that topped the cake. Gummy worms did not meet the expectations of her gourmet-level palate.

I’m glad I took today off from work. It was Sugar’s last march in our town’s annual Halloween Parade. I think it’s really cool that the town still closes down Main Street so the two elementary schools can have their students show off their costumes. Then on Halloween, all the Main Street businesses are open and hand out candy to the trick-or-treaters. A fun place to live… remind me I said this when I complain about the ridiculous real estate taxes I pay.

Most of the activities are now behind us, but for pumpkin carving and trick or treating. It will be a fun-filled weekend, but a small part of me looks forward to tucking in my tuckered goblins on Sunday night. 

xoxo

Ice Princess

CH-RIS

For years now, I have occasionally seen this woman on my way to work in the morning. She is easily recognizable driving in her cutesy Hyundai Santa Fe, with her personalized license plate and adorable Winnie the Pooh license plate holder.

I would get behind her and she would always be driving 5 MPH under the speed limit. I thought perhaps my speedometer was wrong, so I gave her the benefit of the doubt and tried not to tailgate. Fast forward a few years and she has a new car (Same color. Same make. Same model. Same faded freakin’ plate holder and same plate). I also have a new car. She’s still driving 5 MPH under the speed limit. It’s not my broken speedometer, it’s her driving.

At the beginning of the 2009-2010 school year, she started showing up at the bus stop at the bottom of my street. There are only 17 houses on my street, I assumed she bought the house right next door. Every single day, no matter how early I got to the bus stop, she was there. I stationed Sugar at the window to watch for her a few times, but we never saw her. I concluded that she must leave for the bus stop at the ass crack of dawn.

Not only was she at the bus stop every day, but she would go around the bus every morning while traffic was stopped, so she could be “first” or whatever her issue was. I came unglued and called the police. Apparently, three other neighbors called the police as well. Mind you, she did this daredevil move every morning, but as soon as she hit the open road, she’d slow down to 5 miles under the speed limit.

I try everything in my power to get away from her. I stop and get gas. I wait and let her get a big head start. But every single day, without fail, I end up back behind her. If she happens to miraculously reach the appropriate speed out on that big, scary road, she panics, hits the brakes and slows down to 10 MPH under the speed limit. She also has this annoying habit of looking down side streets that feed into the road we are traveling.If there’s anyone within her line of sight, she STOPS and lets them go in front of her.

But you know what? She still gets to be first because she drives so slow. She’s always like the lead clown car in her very own personal freak parade. Every morning I stare out the rearview mirror at the long line of traffic trailing us. Sometimes I even yell “stupid lady” at her in hopes that she can hear me.

I found out at the beginning of this school year that she does not in fact live on our street. She lives elsewhere in our town, but this pick-up time works best with her work schedule. She can drop her son off and still make it to work on time. Here’s a novel idea: drive the speed limit, maybe even a touch over. You will feel exhilarated AND get to work on time. Become friends with your gas pedal: it’s the one on the right. Use it before I lose it. 

Dirty Laundry

Spice calls the laundry basket in their bathroom the “dirty hamper.” I think she’s onto something. No matter how often I do laundry, it seems like the dirty clothes are piled to the ceiling every time I go to wash another load. I am convinced there’s some little creature hiding in the bottom of the hamper who occasionally shouts out, “go forth and multiply!” to the various articles of clothing tossed in. Of course, this rule does not apply to socks. Those bastards simply go missing.

Besides being nearly suffocated from the pile of clothes requiring laundering, it was a relatively quiet weekend. The girls went to see my parents, then opted to stay overnight. Fine by me, I got my homework turned in before noon today. Twelve hours ahead of my usual schedule.

I picked the girls up in the early afternoon and headed to Walmart for a few necessities. It’s never a good thing to run out of toilet paper! I knew I was going to be in for a long, cranky afternoon when Spice asked to sit in the cart. She’s almost five and hasn’t wanted to sit in the cart since she figured out that all the stuff on the shelves can be played with, perhaps even accidentally tossed into the cart. Sugar begged for 512 different items, Spice insisted on going up and down every toy aisle to check out all the toys she’s seen in commercials. We got a few touch-up items for Halloween costumes, the emergency items on our list and beat feet out of there.

The afternoon and evening were fun-filled with fighting, arguing, pushing and shoving. Most time spent with the girls these days seems to involve more refereeing than anything else. Is there anything that CAN’T be fought about? The first throwdown occurred over Sugar’s room. Spice was helping her clean, but wasn’t doing it in an “organized and orderly fashion.” Where does Sugar get that bossiness and OCD from? Hm.

Then I get a phone call from the President of the PTA of Sugar’s school. Seriously, do they try to recruit over the phone now? No, even worse… Sugar had recently sold hundreds of dollars worth of cheap crap for a fundraiser and someone’s check got returned, not because it bounced, but because the account doesn’t exist. Who the hell writes a check for cheap crap on a nonexistent account?  Apparently Mrs. PTA attempted to reach the woman to collect the $16 plus $15 returned check fee, but the woman hasn’t paid up yet, so they’d like me to collect from her. I don’t even really know this woman. The director of Spice’s daycare took the book and passed it around and a bunch of teachers bought stuff. How does one collect funds? Do I need to bring my piñata buster from work when I pick Spice up tomorrow?

The house is again blissfully quiet. The UFC contenders are snug in their beds, too tired tonight to even shout from their respective rooms. The dishes are done, and there’s yet another load of laundry to be folded and put away. I’m seriously considering asking EN to install some sort of camera in the dirty hamper so I can keep an eye on the action. I could make some serious coin. I bet there’s a huge market for laundry porn.

xoxo

Ice Princess

My Peeps

Yesterday’s post was a downer. Flat-out, there wasn’t much “happy” to be found in it, was there? My biggest fan didn’t even text me to tell me that she loved my post and I need to come up with another IMMEDIATELY. Ok, not immediately, but yesterday. She’s a pushy broad, that Cindy! And that’s why I love her. She pushes me to be better, stronger, happier.

What moves me? What makes me smile? What makes me laugh so hard I’m afraid I’ll pee my pants? Mostly my husband and children. If you don’t live with the people that make you laugh the hardest and love the mostest, what’s this life for?

I have this incredible husband. This man that thinks I rock. I juggle a thousand things at a time and he tries to help, but really, does a man ever do anything right? Can a man living in a Barbie House of Pink really ever have a say and stand strong? Not so much. But he tries. He’s been dealt a couple of figure skaters after thirty-something years of dreaming of hockey players. He can dress a Barbie, drink tea out of a plastic teacup and wipe ass better than I’m sure he ever thought he could. He is amazing.

Then there’s Sugar. Her smile lights my world. She wakes in the morning with this ridiculous smile on her face, ready to embrace the adventures that she’ll face today. A morning person does not live with me. How could this child have come be mine? She was the baby strangers smiled at in the stores because she was always happy. She has these humungous brown eyes that light up when she’s happy… and go completely blank when she is sad. Her happiness, her zest for life, her aura… is breathtaking. She is truly the first-born, spoiled child of a couple who waited a long time to welcome another into their brood.

And Spice. Holy shit, where did this kid come from? She’s sassy, rude and everyone who meets her loves her madly. She bitches endlessly about how the world has wronged her, but at the same time her family is her world. She tells her sister frequently that she’s the “best sister ever.” She woke me up at 6 am on a Saturday. I opened one eye and said, “Baby, why are you up so early?” She said, “because, Mama, I missed you.”

Stinky morning breath has never smelled so sweet.


xoxo
Ice Princess

Hurtful Mothering

When you become a mother, your life tends to revolve around your children. You do what you can to make them successful in school and life in general. You teach your kids the skills they need to become good little people. Does there ever come a point when we stop mothering? Are we ever done?

It seems that lately I’ve been surrounded by examples of what I’d call Hurtful Mothering, and the victims are my grown-up girlfriends. We’re all in our mid to late 30’s and I’m stunned to see the power that our mothers still have over us. A few words or a simple action wounds us severely. He who said “sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me” was full of shit.

My friend Chris recently asked her mother to watch her son for a few hours because both she and her husband had crises at work that needed to be handled on a Saturday afternoon, when daycare was not available. Instead of getting a helping hand, she got a lecture about managing her time more wisely with an extra insult thrown in about how she was too old to have such a young child.

My friend Kate went on vacation this summer with her mother, two brothers and assorted nieces and nephews. Throughout the week, Kate had to listen to her mother and sister-in-law talk about her “weird” kids and “bad” husband. Finally, Kate stood up to her family for some negative things they said to her daughter. Instead of seeing the impact the words had on her granddaughter, Kate’s mother informed her that her daughter was nothing but a liar and the incident was all in her head. The vacation was soon over, the arguing went on, then Kate’s 60-something-year-old mother defriended her on Facebook.

And my own mother… We speak frequently (several times a week) and I try to keep the conversation light. We laugh about the buffoonery that Sugar and Spice bring to my day. We talk about books and sales and family gossip. I rarely share Big Important Things that matter to me. Over the summer I took a Public Speaking course and had to write a speech about something that I was proud of. I would like to say that I struggled for hours over this speech, but it really came pouring out of me in no time at all. I loved my speech and wanted to share it and decided to include my mother. I attached it to an email, then sat there thinking “should I send this?” with my finger hovering over the “Send” button. I clicked send.

The next day was “speech day” and I gave my presentation to my class and got a very positive response. I came home elated. There was a message on my answering machine and I listened to it while still floating on air. It was my mother. She had read my speech and was less than pleased. How dare I talk about my childhood that way? One line about how I didn’t get the Trapper Keeper I wanted when I was twelve overshadowed the three pages about adopting a soldier in Iraq and making sure she had a fabulous Christmas. I was blown away by what she said and very deeply wounded. It goes without saying then, that when the speech was published in the local paper (submitted on a dare), I didn’t buy her a copy.

At the end of Grey’s Anatomy on Thursday, the main character said “by the time we are standing on our own two feet, we are standing there alone.” We are grown up now, but we don’t want to be standing alone. We forever crave the acceptance and pride that can only be given by our mothers. We want the same applause, hug and “atta girl” they gave us when we spoke our first words and took our first steps.

We secretly always long for the approval of our mothers and therefore can never stop mothering our own babies. Teach your children well and realize that their successes are a reflection of your influence on their lives. 

Little Music Lovers

She’s following me around, booty shaking, one hand on her little hip, other hand pointing at me as she belts out her newest favorite song, “Stuck on You” by Sugarland.

I’m stuck on you
Whoa-oh, whoa-oh
Stuck like glue
You and me baby
We’re stuck like glue
Whoa-oh, whoa-oh

The voice isn’t good and the dance isn’t much better, but the sheer joy on Spice’s face as she sings and dances is priceless. The girls love music and they seem to learn lyrics quickly.

When they are in the car with me, we listen to a lot of country music. It’s one of my favorite genres, but also kid-friendly. There’s not a lot of bad language or “situational” lyrics. The first song they learned the words to and sang as a duet was Kid Rock’s “All Summer Long.” I thought nothing of it until my parents took them on an outing and my angels rocked out while singing:

"While we were trying different things
we were smoking funny things
Making love out by the lake to our favorite song
Sipping whiskey out the bottle not thinking bout tomorrow"

Ok, a little inappropriate, but just because they know the words to a song doesn’t mean they are going to head out to indulge in whiskey and weed, right?

I recently started paying closer attention to other songs they knew and it really seems like they hone in on the bad words. Those words are screamed out with glee, the “boring” lyrics are lost in the shuffle. It’s ok to talk about drinking and smoking if it’s in a song, right? Some examples include

"It’s a quarter after one
I’m a little drunk
And I need you now"
-Lady Antebellum, and

"'Cause I gave up smoking, women and drinking last night
It was the worst fifteen minutes of my life"
-Rodney Atkins

So I consider turning to the Disney station on Sirius for music by Justin Bieber, The Jonas Brothers, etc… but the torture of listening to songs like that can’t compare to Spice turning the highest piece of furniture in any given room into her stage and shouting:

"I got my toes in the water,
ass in the sand
Not a worry in the world,
a cold beer in my hand
Life is good today."

This song, by the Zac Brown Band, thrills her to little bits and pieces. And I’m always there to remind her not to use words like “ass” and “beer”… at least when there are responsible adults around.

Random Updates

The heat is on. And I didn’t turn it on, let me remind you all. The whatchamacallit has been replaced and some blah-blah board repair was made. I really just need the abridged version (“it’s done”) rather than the details, but since I had to suffer through a detailed play-by-play of the repair, you do too.

In an effort to jump start my weight loss, I have taken the stairs to the office for the last two days. I’m also parking a bit further away and haven’t had soda or beer since the weekend. Baby steps. I even brought celery as a snack today. I considered going for a walk at lunch time, but let’s not take on too much too soon.

Sugar and Spice spent the night at my parents house on Satruday and Spice chatted my mother up about the stickers she so thoughtfully decorated the house with. Their conversation went something like this:

Spice: Did you find the last sticker I put up for you?

My mom: Yes, I sure did!

Spice: Well I knew Grandpa wouldn’t see it, that was special just for you!

My mom: It is a very pretty sticker. I’ll keep it there forever and ever.

Seriously Mom, are you not the same woman that mandated that any posters we hung up in our rooms need to be on the doors only, where they could be easily removed? They aren’t kidding when they say you treat your grandchildren much differently than you treat your kids.

And I’m beyond thrilled to announce that Spice has brought her artistic flair to her very own bathroom. Would you have ever thought to put a sticker on your potty? 

xoxo

Ice Princess