4-Year-Old Cat Calls

From the myspace archives.

4-Year-Old Cat Calls
(written July 26, 2007)

I just dropped my daughter off at daycare. As you enter the daycare building, you walk past a fenced-in outdoor play area. Beside the door three of the four- and five-year olds who were playing outside that morning, lined up inside of the fence.

As my daughter and I walked past, one of the boys said "Hi!" I said hello back, because it is not unusual for the kids to say hello in the morning. Then, one of the boys said to my daughter "Hey, baby." My daughter got really upset, and turned to me. Pointing at the offender, she said "He just called me a baby! I'm not a baby! I'm a big girl!" I ushered her in the door, assuring her that she was indeed a big girl. The way the boy said it, I wasn't sure if he really had simply called her a baby or if it was the typical male start of a conversation. I hoped for the former.

My hopes were dashed as I walked out of the building. Oh, yes. I was cat-called by the same group. "Hey, M___'s mom. What's up?" "Hey, baby." I just kept walking.

Funny Things Heard in the Atkins' Home

From the myspace archives.

Funny Things Heard in the Atkins' Home
(written June 20, 2007)

While my children are a never-ending source of amusement for me, I must say they have been upping it a notch the past couple of days. Here are a few of my favorites:

Boy: Mommy, you're a pretty girl.
Me: Thank you, sweet boy.
Girl: I'm a pretty girl too, right?
Me: Of course you are, honey.
Girl: I was askin' my bruda. I'm a pretty girl too, right?
Boy: (Unitelligible grumble)
Girl: (sounding very small and verging on tears) T____? . . . I'm pretty too, right?
Boy: Yes. Now, leave me alone.
____________________________________________________________________


Me: Time for bed.
Girl: But we didn't have dinner yet.
Me: Yes, you did.
Girl: No, we didn't.
Me: We had pizza, remember?
Girl: That wasn't dinner.
Me: Yes, it was. And now its time for bed.
Boy: My sister is right. That wasn't dinner because I'm hungry again.
___________________________________________________________________


And the BEST:

Girl: Mom, I put my dirty clothes in the hampster.

Alone Time

From the myspace archives.

Alone Time
(written May 6, 2007)

I have recently made a decision. I have decided that I need to learn to do things on my own. Well, not on my own, really. I do that already. But ALONE. For instance, I have never been to a movie by myself. Not once. Ever. That needs to change my friends.

I have come to this conclusion because of a stupid boy. I do not have trouble finding dates. However, since making a switch into Monogamy Land, I have spent the last three weekends at home. Needless to say, I don't think I'm liking my tenure in Monogamy Land, and I'm quickly approaching the border back home. Why? Because the more I sit at home, the more I hate the walls around me. The more I hate the walls around me, the more angry I am at stupid boy. I was bitching to another friend of mine about the situation, and he asked why didn't I just go alone or go out with my girlfriends or have people over to my place. I was speechless. Hard to believe that I would not have something to say, but it is true. He was totally, 100% correct.

I don't go out with my girlfriends because I am not specifically invited to go out with them. Now, I know that it isn't really an invitational thing when the girls decide to get together. That doesn't stop me from feeling like I am somehow crashing their good time if I decide to go. Only when someone specifically says "Leann, would you like to join us?" do I feel that it is okay to be there. Well, that has to stop. And what is keeping me from being the one to say "Hey, anybody want to go for cocktails?" Nothing. That's what. Absolutely nothing. Except my own irrational brain waves.

Same thing with inviting people over. I've just been lazy. And I hate to do my dishes and it is slightly embarrassing. That part can be hurdled. So, I think I will. Oh, yes, oh yes. People at my house. What a novelty! It would also solve the problem of having to find a sitter. Why didn't I think of this before??

But I think the most important thing is that I am terrified to go anywhere alone. Why is that?? I made my first endeavor last night. I went to Route 44's CD release party last night. It was a rocking party. Here's my problem: I get there. I don't know anyone. I become instantly shy. If you know me, you know I'm not really shy. So, how is it that I clam up in a room full of people celebrating that they have a common interest while that said common interest is totally rocking out the house on stage? I found I couldn't talk to anyone. Thank God, I ran into some friends of mine and I could hang out with them. Otherwise, I would have been the weird quiet chick in the corner all night. I have decided that I must face this fear, and make repeated endeavors out unaccompanied. I will be going on a weekend away in July. Totally alone. But before I do that, I think I will take in a movie.

Looking for Princes

From the myspace archives.

Looking for Princes
(written on April 25, 2007)

I've written before about how my daughter insists that she needs to marry her brother because he is a prince and she is a princess and princesses must marry a prince. Well, I was getting ready for work in the morning, and the following conversation started with my daughter:

"Mommy, you's a beautiful princess."
"Thank you, baby. You're a beautiful princess too!"
"Mommy, princesses marry princes."
"Yes, they do."
"You need to marry a big, big, big prince betause you're a big, big, big lady."
"Gee, thanks. Uh-huh."
"And I need to marry a lil prince betause I'm a lil guwal."
"Well, you can wait until you're big to get married."
"But I tan marry my bruda."
From the other room comes an indignant "NO!" from the said brother.
"BUT YOU'S A PRINCE! I HAVE TO MARRY A LIL PRINCE!" screams back the little princess.
"NOOOO!"
"Honey, girls do not marry their brothers."
"But princesses do!"
The little princess ignores the last comment, saying: "You tan marry my daddy betause he's a big prince and you's a big princess."
"I don't think so, honey."
"But why? He's a prince!"
Not wanting to explain the why to my 3-year-old, I resorted to her level. "But Daddy's not my brother."
"Oooohhhh . . . Then you tan marry Pappy."
"But Pappy's married to Nana."
"Well, we got to find you a big prince." With that she left the room.

And off we go . . .

I'm so insulted . . . Kind of . . . Okay, not really.

From the myspace archive.

I'm so insulted . . . Kind of . . . Okay, not really.
(written April 17, 2007)

My daughter is home sick today. It's been a fun day. She started antibiotics yesterday, so she is feeling well enough to want to play today. So, I let her play and watch movies in the living room while I gave in to my eBay addiction. I also allowed her to have a bowl of dry Kix in the living room to snack on while she watched her cartoon. Normally, I do not allow children to bring food out of the kitchen in my home.

Well, about 15 minutes into my vintage clothing online shopping session, my son comes into my office saying "You have to come see what my sister did! Come look! In the bathroom! The whole bowl! Look!"

Exiting my office, I come directly into the living room where I find that my daughter has stolen her brother's snack of Sun Chips. She was sitting on the floor with a bowl of Kix beside her, cutting up the Sun Chips into small crumbs with one of her plastic play-kitchen knives. She looks up with a radiant smile to say "Look, Momma! I'm making Kix Chip soup!" She scoops up some of the shattered chips, puts them in her cereal bowl, and stirs the chip crumbs into her Kix with one of her tea set spoons. My son stands on the other side of the room, still beckoning me out of the living room toward the bathroom. I shake my head at my daughter's soup and go into the bathroom.

Here, I find that my little girl had failed in her first attempt at Kix Chip soup. The shards of chip must have simply been too large for her texture pallet. How do I know this from walking into the bathroom? Well, I'll tell you. She had dumped the entire bowl of cereal and chips into the bathroom sink and run the water over it, leaving a sticky goopy mess of lumpy Kix and soggy chips. Instead of getting angry, I realized I should have kept more of an eye on the snacks in the living room and I declared that it was nap time.

My daughter did not want to take a nap. She got very angry. She cried. She stamped her feet. She smacked the floor. She screamed. None of this worked. I walked out of the room. Then, she started yelling at me.

"I don't like you anymore, Mommy!"
"I don't even love you anymore!"
"You're meeeeeaaaann!"

And then the best one ever: "You're not a princess anymore! You're a boy!"

Well, I couldn't stop laughing. And the poor girl was so mad that she had failed to insult me that she laid down and cried for 20 minutes straight. What's a Mommy to do?? It was FUNNY!

Four = BIG

From the myspace archive.

Four = BIG
(written March 13, 2007)

My childrens' birthdays are coming up soon. In fact, my son will be 6 years old on Thursday. So, this morning, my daughter and I were discussing what we should buy him for his birthday and what kind of cake we should make him. But when you are a three-year-old princess, life revolves around you. So, the conversation, of course, landed on her birthday which is coming up in 6 weeks.

"Mommy, I'm going to be fowah years old on my birthday."
"That's right, honey."
"I won't be frwee years old no mowah. Frwee years old means I'm little. Fowah years old means I'm big."
"Four means you're a big girl?"
"Yes!"
"So, that means you'll have to do all the things a big girl does."
"Yeah."
"So, you're going to go to bed when I tell you to?"
"Yeah, betause a big girl would do dat."
"That's right. And you'll have to eat vegetables."
"But I don't like vegables," she says wrinkling her nose in horror.
"But big girls eat vegetables, honey. Are you sure you want to be big?"
She thought for a second, heaved a huge sigh, and said "Okay. I'll eat vegables. I like carrots."
"Carrots are yummy."
"Yeah. I like carrots and cheese and that's enough vegables. I can be a big girl."

Two Kid Stories This Morning

From the myspace archive.

Two Kid Stories This Morning
(written February 19, 2007)

First Story:
A few days ago, my children were fighting over some mardi gras beads that I gave my daughter to play dress-up with. They both love to play with them for different reasons, and the other morning, they wouldn't stop over these beads. Well, I distracted them by making them get dressed. We were going to go to the YMCA. They were excited. The fighting stopped. We went on with our day. As the kids and I are leaving the Y, my son is complaining to me that his foot hurts. I ask him if his boots are rubbing him, or if his socks are bunched up. He says, "No, my necklace hurts." "Your necklace?" I ask. "Yes, my necklace," he replies, most irritated that I'm not faster on the uptake. "You put the necklace in your shoe?" Well, he looked at me like I was the craziest mommy on the planet, and comes back with "No. In my sock." How could I be so stupid??

Second Story:
The kids played this morning while I slept in a little. So, naturally, both their bedroom and the living looks like they were both sources of a natural disaster. So, I told them that I was going to make pancakes for them if they would help me clean. My daughter gets upset and says "But Moooommm! I only have two hands!" I mean, how do I stand up to that argument?? So, I tell her, "Well, you're just going to have to learn to make due. Or I'll make broccoli for breakfast." She learned to work with her disability pretty quickly.