Sometimes I find “simple living” blogs/pins/memes to be inspiring, and sometimes I think they’re made for someone who lives on another planet.
Like the moms who claim that the secret to keeping the plastic cups under control is to have one for each kid that they are trained to use and refill all day long.
This system does not work for me at all. My lifestyle requires keeping a cup (clean or otherwise) in all of the following locations: under the passenger seat of the car, in the diaper bag, on the dining table, in the garage, in each child’s bedroom, underneath the couch, in my bathroom or closet, at my mother-in-law’s house, at my mom’s house, in the church nursery, and outside in the sandbox. That doesn’t count the four extras that are in the dishwasher or the few that I keep on hand for leaving behind in shopping baskets or at friends’ houses as part of a sippy cup pay-it-forward campaign I’m spearheading.
And somehow, I still can never find a cup and lid that go together when I need one.
Do I just need to get out more, or are there other people out there who also find Kipper hilarious? Abby randomly chose to watch it on Netflix today, and it made me chuckle out loud! It’s like a cross between Winnie the Pooh and Wallace and Gromit, with soft-voiced, English-accented animal characters saying lines like “My clay feels a bit squidgy,” or “Won’t you take a dip in the paddling pool, Pig?”
I’ve still got plenty of love for Barney the Dinosaur and Queen Elsa of Arendelle, but it wouldn’t hurt my feelings one bit if Abby got on a little Kipper kick for a while. Some gentle British preschool TV would do us all good!
Follow up: No luck. She’s become obsessed with “Mater’s Tall Tales”, which is neither British nor gentle in any way. Dad gum!
Speaking of Queen Elsa, she has inspired a new enthusiasm for French braids in our house, which has presented a problem for this unskilled mama. I’ve been practicing, though, and I think my efforts are improving.
I posted this picture of one of my braid triumphs to Instagram the other day, and seeing Abby’s thick, golden hair plunged me into another one of those “slipping through my fingers” moments. After all, this was just one year ago:
And this was the year before that:
Next thing you tell me she’ll be ready to go to Kindergarten. Oh, wait. Waaahh!
Stephen tried to divert some of Abby’s Frozen enthusiasm by introducing her to Tangled at Valentine’s Day. This plan backfired, because little did he know that a girl’s love for princess movies is kind of like a mother’s love for her children: it never divides, it only multiplies.
But here is my question: is there some sort of treatment available to curb the compulsive desire to break out into “Mother Knows Best” every time a child acts a tiny bit contrary? If so, I think I might need it.
Oh, Jem. When he was a tiny baby he was slow to smile and so we speculated about his solemn, contemplative nature and joked about him living up to his namesake, the Weeping Prophet. Then he started smiling and became the happiest, most pleasant child I’ve ever kept company with.
And yes, he is still a very sweet boy. Except for this one thing. He’s developed a habit of screaming like a velociraptor when he doesn’t get his way, especially at the dinner table when the food doesn’t come fast enough. It is SO SUPER annoying that my most fervent Lenten prayer has been for someone to invent a functional cone of silence that I can hide in at all times.
I may stop laughing one day when the bills from the therapist start coming in, but I get a huge kick out of Abby’s obsession with the mannequins at Old Navy. As I stood in line to pay for my $15 jeans, Abby went to the front display to make some new friends:
It was doubly funny because it reminded me of this photo we have from last summer:
Also apparently the bold horizontal stripes are a hot item at Old Navy for two years running.
A long time ago I promised myself I would NEVER blog any story that begins like this, but you know what they say about saying never…
This very morning I was using the bathroom. After about ten seconds of peace and quiet, the door slammed open, and in walked Jem. He handed me a book, sat down on the floor at my feet, and looked up at me expectantly.
I love this story because it sums up my life as a mom in one little snapshot.
(And yes, I went ahead and read him the story. We’ll start working on boundaries soon.)
This post has been three weeks coming, so there’s nothing “quick” about it, but I’m still linking up with Jen from Conversion Diary today.