B is for Batman?

B: You know what you and Daddy should get me for my birthday?
Me: What's that?
B: Shoes with suction cups on the bottom. You know, so I can walk on the ceiling.
Me: Brianna, they don't make those, and you can't walk on the ceiling.
B: So just sew some.

Sewing. Learning to sew has been B's main goal this school vacation. Unfortunately we have had zero time for sewing since we've done a billion other things that she's also wanted to do. She has zero knowledge of the sewing machine, so we really need to put aside an entire day to learn the basics. I'm expecting an angry frown when I hand her a piece of paper to practice on, and a rage quit when I teach her to thread the machine. Yeah, it's going to go GREAT. But, I will try, because I love that she finally shares an interest with me. I've mostly been passed over for Daddy's love of Legos, Nerf, and the ancient art of foam sword fighting.


B: I know what you can get me instead! Graveling hooks.
Me: Graveling hooks?
B: Yeah.
Me: I think maybe you mean grappling hooks?
B: Yeah, whatever. Get me some some grabbeling hooks so if I want to go up to the loft, I can just throw it up there and pull myself up.


In case you're concerned, I'm not buying her 'grabbeling' hooks. I'm sure she'd be the envy of all the boys, but it's not happening. When is the age when kids find out how much things REALLY cost? Like, the true meaning of money? Never? Okay. *


Although her birthday isn't until August, we've already had many requests for birthday presents. Among the long (neverending) list:

Skateboard
Barbie Camper
Parrot (A real live parrot that can talk)
Zebra
Panda


I guess I should just start planning to own a small zoo. I wonder if my backyard is big enough?


*After conducting a quick search for grappling hooks (which I almost spelled as 'grabbling'), I found that they are much less expensive that I had thought. No. The answer is still no. B does NOT stand for Batman.

What's a tam-pone?

Sometimes, when you're a Mom, you get so completely scatterbrained that you forget that your child kind of needs you to guide them through the world. To tell them what colors and numbers are. To explain the homework question. To tell them that no matter how hard they try to 'hear' popcorn, shoving it in their ear is not the right way to do it (true story, except it was MY four-year-old-self that had to have it removed. Sigh). And sometimes, SOMETIMES, you either evade topics all together. Until, that is, you've been backed into a corner.

Last week, my Mother yelled up the stairs to ask who had left the downstairs bathroom door open. One of our lovely dogs had made his way into the bathroom and eaten a tampon (gag), so she reminded us to keep the door shut. I returned to my room, where Brianna was SUPPOSED to be getting ready for school, except she wasn't (surprise!). She was sitting on my bed, and, from the curious look on her face, had been listening to our hallway conversation.

B: Uh, Mommy?
Me: Yes?
B: What's a tam-pone?

That fancy pronunciation. I almost died. I was trying hard not to laugh, but then realized 'Oh no. I think this is it. I think I have to tell her a real explanation'. I pulled myself together and tried to explain it in the easiest way for a seven year old to understand, yet not extremely horrify her to the extent of her believing that her lady bits were going to fall apart one day.

Me: Okay. So. When you're older, like an adult, your vagina bleeds.
B: WHAT.
Me: Yeahhhh, so then you use a tampon so you don't bleed everywhere.
B: *Folds arms and looks legitimately pissed off to be a girl*
Me: Sorry. That's what it is.
*Long two minutes of silence*
B: Are you wearing one RIGHT NOW?!?!?!
Me: No. Haha. You only have to for a few days every month.
B: EVERY MONTH?!?!?!?! *Continues to fold arms and be angry* Hmph.

Clearly I failed at the delivery of that conversation, but seriously, you try it on the spot like that. I needed notes, a white board, an overhead projector. Actually, who am I kidding? Any sort of prep or aide wouldn't have made a difference. Disaster either way.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO: no one.

Hearing a child sing Happy Birthday is one of those things that can melt anyone's heart, especially when the child is around preschool age and still figuring out how to say 'Birthday' and not 'Birfday'. That's when you sing nice and soft so you can listen to the sweet baby angel sing her song. It's when the child gets a bit older and no longer sings the correct words that you need to start singing like there's a tractor trailer parade rolling down your street and the drivers are continuously honking their horns. No, I don't want to hear how I 'smell like a monkey' or how I 'look like one too'. 

And then it gets worse. The plain, straight up REFUSAL of Happy Birthday. For those of you that know Brianna, you know that girlfriend is all about being the center of attention. How could she ever hate people singing to her?!? She doesn't. She sits there with that smug look on her face like 'YES, MY MINIONS. SING TO ME'. But, when it comes to trying to get her to sing it to someone else, forget it. No one else needs to be worshiped besides her.

Just a few days ago my lovely cousin Kim celebrated her birthday. I knew we weren't going to see her, so I thought I could get Brianna to sing her a quick Happy Birthday while I recorded it on my phone. Singing? Dancing? Being recorded? Should have been a piece of cake since that is all that ever goes on in this house (well, except for that recording thing. We don't have cameras rolling all the time. Although, we probably should because we'd make television GOLD. Anyways, back to my story.). So I go ahead and bring it up to B. 

Me: Let's make a video for Kim's birthday!
B: Eh, I don't want to unless you're in it. 
Me: I'll sing with you, but I don't want to be in it. I'm in my pajamas and I don't look very pretty. 
B: I don't either. 
Me: What! You always look pretty. 
B: Nooo. I don't want to be in it either. I ALWAYS look pretty. 

This was followed by a solid two minutes of laughter and giggles. She kept telling me she thought it was hilarious how *I* thought that *she* thought she didn't look pretty. Then she still refused to make the video. Ah, yes. Not only conceited, but also stubborn. Just like her Daddy. :P

Why Can't You Just Let a Girl Enjoy Her Childhood?

Hoarders. Clutterers. Pack rats. Okay, so we're not quite THAT bad, but this family certainly likes to hold on to lots of things that shouldn't be held on to. Every time I finally purge all the school papers, cable wires, broken crayons, and old arts and crafts supplies, it is almost a guarantee that I will need at least two things from that toss pile within a week. Never fails. But that sweet, SWEET, in between time of no mess is so gorgeous that it's totally worth the frustration. Then there's the 'Just In Case' pile.

 You know, the pile of things that you stack up while cleaning that completely tower over the 'Toss' pile. It's full of junk that you can easily replace, usually even for free. Paper bags from grocery shopping. Paper flyers from the mail. Massive amounts of stickers from birthday party loot bags. We're total arts and crafts junkies, and Brianna loves that stuff. She's actually painting as I type this and just started hysterically laughing.

Me: What's so funny?
B: THIS PAPER! Look at it!
Me: What does it say?
B: It's from St. Patrick's Day! WHAT!
Me: Wait, did you look at the date at the top?
B: Where?
Me: Right there. Where it says 2011.

This is a problem. Why would you ever need a store flyer from March 2011? I mean, it makes for good table lining (because let's be real; No 6 year old is going to paint JUST on the paper. It wouldn't be a masterpiece if they didn't get all the edges), but I could easily recycle that and just replace when needed. Two years is way too long to keep that stuff.


And the paint! Oh, God, the PAINT! I need to seriously start going through the art bin. I'm fairly certain that some of it is probably from forever ago and crusted to the sides. B's using a cheapy watercolor set right now, but only because we're inside and I denied her the good stuff. The art addict in her just freaked out on me, but no way is she using that in the house, especially on my Mom's table. I did get this lovely argument out of it though.

B: Why can't you just let a girl enjoy her childhood?
Me: What? Brianna, those paints are for outside only. Right now we're inside.
B: Can we move this party outside then?
Me: No, we cannot 'move this party outside'.

I tried so hard to be serious, but, as mentioned in a previous blog, sometimes you just can't. Like the time she asked me very seriously if we had fabric.

B: Do we have any fabric?
Me: No, we don't.
B: *loud annoyed sigh*
Me: Why do you need fabric?
B: Because I was going to make curtains.
Me: Oh. Well you're out of luck, sorry.
B: *sigh* Okay.

And that, ladies and gentleman, is why I should never throw anything away.

Mexican Lucky? You'll never unhear it.

You know that moment when you're driving along in the car, listening to a really good song, and you feel like part of the band even though you probably couldn't be more off-key? This is my everyday life. Add in a singing 6 year old who i'm fairly certain has no idea how loud she's actually singing, and this is my ACTUAL everyday life. Listening to her belt out the lyrics to some of my favorite songs makes me more happy than you can even imagine. Listening to her belt out the WRONG lyrics to some of my favorite songs makes me laugh so hard I can't breathe and probably shouldn't continue driving. We had one of those moments today when she told me she really liked Daft Punks new song 'Mexican Lucky'. I had to explain to her that they actually say 'I'm up all night to get lucky', and then immediately regretted and wished I had said 'oh yes, I too enjoy the catchiness of Mexican Lucky'.

It's not only songs though. Kids mishear so many things, and just fill in the blank. B came home from school one time and thought that the school lunch was 'chicken high eetahs'. Close, but not quite. At least that time she knew she was probably wrong about it, since she threw in a 'or whatever it's called' afterwards.

I personally love when she has no idea what she's saying is wrong. Makes me remember how little she really is, even if she does act like a grownup most of the time. I love watching her brain work.

 B: Anya goes to gynastics. I think the place is called 'Gym Gynastics'
Me: HAH! Like Spongebob's Campfire Song Song! I think maybe it's called something else.
B: I don't get why it's funny.
Me: Because you said Gym Gymnastics. Gym twice, then nastics.
B: Huh. All this time I thought it was GYNastics, and it's GYMnastics.

Of course she still calls it gynastics, but what can you do. She's 6, she's allowed. But I'm 27, and i'll tell you this, I'll never be able to sing the chorus of 'Get Lucky' ever again without thinking about how lucky Mexican Lucky actually is.

Thank You For Being a Friend

Ahh, so many things to write! As most of you lovely readers have realized, I haven't posted in what seems like forever (let's be realistic, it's only been about 5 months. Stop being dramatic.). SO, since it's been that long I have so much tell you all that I can't fit it in just one blog. Let's just start off with a throw back to my childhood.

Growing up I had the pleasure of spending my afternoons playing with a plethora of toys, and spending my Friday nights with the Tanners, and (later on) Cory Matthews. Saturday mornings I woke up early to draw with Captain Bob, and then drew chalk masterpieces and played Skip-It. Well, more like cheated by doing one skip backwards and and proudly displaying the Skip-It counter at 999 (don't act like you didn't do this).

Quite recently I've introduced a lot of these things to Brianna, and by introduced I mean we've literally sat in front of the television watching early 90's commercials and shows for hours. While she's taken a strong liking to Double Dare, and Legends of the Hidden Temple (AS SHE SHOULD), she's a bit confused on the commercials. I mean, she gets that they aired when I was a child. She understands that that means they're dinosaur ancient. But for some reason she never stops asking "Mommy! Can you buy that toy for my birthday?!?!". And even when I follow it up with a quick 'Sorry, they don't make that anymore', it's always followed by one word. Why. WHY. I think this might be the one word I hate the most. By the time I start to answer her question, we've already moved on to the next commercial, which is most likely a food item that was discontinued by the time I was 7. Now I owe her a bunch of PB Crisps, Magic Middles, and Amazing Fruit, and even worse, now I feel like crying because I remember how delicious they were and I can NEVER HAVE THEM AGAIN. Why are we watching this again?

Oh yes. Because all of it is amazing.

Even now, at 27, I still watch every episode of Golden Girls that plays on tv. It's absolutely one of my favorite shows. Lately Brianna has been interested in it, and looked pretty confused. I knew what question was coming. It was a question that probably all of us had when we were younger.

B: Mommy, is that a man dressed up as a woman?

She was talking about Bea Arthur. I was trying to contain my laughter.

Me: No, that's really a woman.
B: Oh. Because she sounds like the Mom from Hairspray.

Now, if you haven't seen Hairspray then you're probably not privy to the fact the JOHN TRAVOLTA plays the Mom. Yes. John Travolta.

Not related.

Once that was entirely taken care of and Brianna understood that Bea Arthur was, in fact, a woman (and that I was really, REALLY, certain), we finished the episode and went about our business. I'm fairly certain that she didn't believe me and thinks that Dorothy was played by a fashionable crossdresser. 


Since her 90's overload introduction, Mr. Feeny now gives Brianna a lesson before she goes to school, and at night she falls asleep to the sweet sound of Jesse and the Rippers. She is the proud owner of a Skip-It (OKAY, It;s a generic one, but whatever), and spends most of her afternoons drawing masterpieces. I've done it. I've successfully created a perfect replica of myself.

Well, not exactly.

You see, Brianna is, well, Brianna. She's silly, and clumsy, and is often hurting herself in the process of whatever she is doing. She thinks she's paying attention to things, but I'm pretty sure her mind is already on what she's going to be doing next. Which is all fine and dandy, unless you're doing Skip-It. There are not enough fingers on both of my hands to count how many Skip-It related accidents we've had at the Conway household. She loves the thing, but I cringe every time I see it.

Skip-your-face-right-into-the-pavement

Even though she loves being outside, she's a pretty big fan of electronics. It's so crazy to see children nowadays glued to ipads, ipods, kindles and xbox's, and realize that everything we use to play with is now contained on one single device. I realized the other day just how much actual toys are being forgotten when I showed Brianna this picture:

To you and me, this looks like that little game that we would spend hours playing because that one freaking ring would not get on the post, and then throw in a fit of rage. To Brianna this looked so foreign that she responded to it with asking me "Do you play it on a device?". Head. Desk. I was baffled. I can't even begin to imagine what it will be like when she has kids. The devices will probably be inside their heads. Hah.

All in all I feel pretty good about the 90's teaching my child how to play with toys, and all those life lessons she's learning. I can sleep soundly knowing that she'll never read a 'buy now, pay later' sign and accidentally steal a sweater, or think that caffeine pills are the way to get some serious studying done. Let's just hope she doesn't start dressing the part.

But I Don't Seeeeeeee Ittttttttttt!!!!

Where is it?!?!

I don't see it?!?!?

WHERRRRREEEEEEE??????!!!!????


If I could erase the above three statements from the English language, I would. Oh I would. I hear these words on an every day basis. No, I take that back. I hear these words on an HOURLY basis. Brianna is forever losing things in plain sight. At first, I thought maybe it was due to her poor vision. NOPE. She got her glasses and it was still the same thing over and over again.

B asks where a toy is.
I tell her where it is.
B says it's not there.
I tell her again that it is.
B insists I must be wrong.
I feel my anger start to rise due to being called a liar by a child.
B again calls me a liar and insists it is not in that spot.
I angrily march to said area of toy placement, pointing at said toy.
B again states "WHERE?!?!"
I am now on the floor touching the toy.
B is surveying the area and crying because she thinks her toy is lost forever.
I am now holding the toy in my hands, doing the Mom thing where I grit my teeth and say "HERE" without moving my lips.
B rejoices, "YOU FOUND IT!".

Every. Single. Time.

The only thing that can possibly make this ordeal worse is when i'm involved in something else. Hell, I could be juggling torches while balancing plates on my head and Brianna would be all "But Mooooooommmmmm, I can't find it! It's important!". Seeing as I can't juggle, nor is my balance that great, it's usually when i'm elbow deep in a sink full of dishes. I don't want to be doing dishes in the first place, so if I've committed to them, don't interrupt me. I WILL lose all interest and/or forget what I was doing in the first place and probably end up on facebook instead. And that's how I end up in my pajamas at 5pm scrambling to get all the cleaning done by the time Derek comes home from work. Story of my life.

Recently I've begun to teach Brianna how to clean. Surprisingly she's been much more into it that I thought she would be. She's helped me with dishes, laundry, dusting, making the bed, and organization. I have this strange suspicion that her only motivation has been the chore chart that my Mom gave her for Christmas. She earns stars for every task she completes, every day she completes them. When she reaches a certain number of stars, she earns a prize. This is where it gets good. The chore chart is designed for three children, and has a reward spot for each child. Brianna took it upon herself to fill in the blanks ON EVERY SINGLE SPOT.

Now, if you can't make out what that says at the bottom, here's a translation:

1 Star = $11

2 Stars = A new toy

3 Stars = Getting her nails done

Yes. You read that right. For every task that she completes, she expects to earn eleven dollars. After she so excitedly filled out the chart, she ran to her room and made her bed. 

B: I added one star, so I need that eleven dollars.

Me: Uh, no.

B: Do you want me to make that twelve?

This girl really thinks that I'm going to pay her money every time she cleans. Hah. My name isn't Derek Conway, and this isn't dinner time (That's right, Derek! I'm selling out you and your bribery tactics to try new foods!). 

I think we'll be reevaluating this chore chart and sticking to a set reward. ONE reward. Nice try though, Brianna. 

If you don't let me eat, I will DIE.

It's that time of year again. Children all over the country are sobbing hysterically because they have to go back to school. Behind those children? Parents silently cheering at the fact that they will have a quiet house from 8-2 every day.

Well, at least until 2pm. Then, let the most whiny/annoying/frustrating half hour of your life begin. That's right, I'm talking homework time. Maybe it's just me, but I don't remember having homework until MAYBE fourth grade. B started first grade last week and, although she lucked out the first few days, has had homework every day this week. Two sheets, practicing things she mastered last year in Kindergarten. Easy peasy, right? NOPE. Forget it. Those two sheets are stealing every last bit of sanity that I might have had. If you walked by my house on a homework night you'd probably think that someone was seriously injured due to the ear piercing scream that is coming out of my child. I'm honestly surprised that I still have ear drums.

First it starts with a "BUT I'M HUNGRYYYYY". Fine. You've been in school all day learning new things, you deserve a snack. Then, that turns into "I need another snack", followed by "and if you don't let me eat, I will DIE. People need food to survive". Excuse me? You just shoveled a gogurt into your mouth in 2.5 seconds, and don't act like you didn't sneak a ton of pringles BECAUSE I SAW YOU.

After the snack it becomes "I need a drink". Okay, drink a juice box while you do your homework. "But I don't wannnnnnnna do my homework". By this time, it's already 6pm and we're only at the beginning of the homework adventure. Not only am I aggravated with homework, but now I need to figure out what the hell I'm going to feed my family for dinner. At this rate, I'll be planning breakfast instead.

When I finally get her started on her worksheets, it only takes about one minute for something to go wrong. On one particular assignment, B totally lost it because the teacher didn't mark where the 0 went in the number 10.

Me: You need to write the number 10, starting at the dot.
B: But there's only a dot for the 1.
Me: Yes, because 10 starts with a 1. The dot is showing you where to start the 10.
B: But the teacher forgot the dot for the 0.
Me: No, the teacher only put a dot for the 1.
B: Well the 0 needs a dot because you need dots for all the numbers.
Me: No, just the start of the number.
B: No. She said start the number at the dot. I can't start the zero because there isn't a dot. This teacher is stressing me allllllll out.
Me: Do you need to take a break for a minute?
B: NO.
Me: Okay, so start writing your tens.
B: BUT HOW WILL I KNOW WHERE TO PUT THE ZERO?!?!?!?!

Fairly certain I needed to put myself on a timeout. Nothing worse than talking circles with someone who just doesn't get what you are saying. Especially when that someone is 6 years old and extremely emotional. The teacher is stressing you out? I don't even want to begin to think about what 13 year old B is going to sound like.

Eventually, she did take a break. She stomped herself into her room, screamed "THERE. I'm in my room, because you asked me to take a break so I put myself in timeout. HAPPY?!". I kept my answer to myself and enjoyed the five minutes of complete silence.

Zombies, Naked Barbies, and Stubby legs

Imagination is an amazing thing. Children use it everyday to pretend they're flying in a spaceship, saving princesses from dragons, or even a famous chef cooking up some plastic onions with a side of pickles. That's the great thing about imagination with little ones; they believe it and it becomes true.


Sometimes, their imaginations might be swayed by a ridiculous story that maybe their Aunt might have told them.

Kristen: Brianna, what happens at 6pm?

Brianna: The zombies are coming!

Kristen: And what are they gonna do?

Brianna: They're gonna SUCK MY BRAINS OUT! *Hysterical laughter*

Me: Is that a true story, or a fake one?

Brianna: *giggles* It's a faaaaake one.

Other times it's in the form of a made up song. 

"I'm a T-REX SAURUS! I'm a T-REX SAURUS! And I'm so prouuuuuud. I'm so very prooouuuuuuudddddd!". 

 

And more often than not, it simply just has to do with toys. 

Me: How come there's a naked Barbie riding a scooter in your room? Isn't she cold on her ride?
B: It was a hot, hot, day.

There are also those times that Brianna's imagination comes into play when she's a bit angry with me. Instead of telling me that she hates me and over-dramatically slamming her door shut (like any normal child would do), she gets me back by making these tiny stabs at me. At this point i'm so amazed with how smart and well planned she is, that I don't even have a comeback.

Me: Aww, you drew a picture at school about our Maine vacation?!

B: Yep! I did!

Me: It's a really awesome picture, but why did you draw a picture of you at the park?

B: Because I love parks.

Me: But we didn't go to a park on vacation.

B: Yeah, but it was the only thing I WANTED to do on vacation. And we didn't even do it. So I drew a picture of what it would have been like.

And my favorite use of imagination? The crazy made up stuff that she just starts talking about randomly.

B: What do YOU wish you had that someone else has?

Me: I wish I had shorter legs.

B: You could just cut them off, and then cut a short persons legs off, and you both could TRADE!

Me: Uhm, it doesn't work like that, babe.

B: Okay, well then just snip yours off with some scissors and walk around without your legs.

Me: Like, on stubs?

B: Yeah. I think that would look fine.

 Thank God we don't lose our imaginations when we grow up. I'd much rather imagine myself shorter than take a swift chop to the knee.

Head, Shoulders, Knees and Vaginas. Wait, Vaginas?

It goes along with all the little things you try to teach your child from day one. Things that I'm fairly certain newborns don't give a hoot about, or can even process, but we Moms just like to add onto that new mother crazy as much as we can. I'm not talking about ABC's, or 123's. I'm talking about eyes, toes, and everything in between. Body parts. ALL of them.

It starts out all cute-like. Mommy excitedly says 'Where's your nose?!', Baby points to nose. Mommy screeches 'Where's your eye?!?!' Baby pokes self in eye and starts crying. We'll work on that one.

Toddlers get the harder questions, with some elbows and knees thrown in there, but the real fun doesn't start until potty training. This is when kids learn some new, fun, words. Words that us adults can't use in a serious conversation without giggling a bit because no one uses them in real life. I'm going to warn you right now, this blog is going to be filled with those words. Turn back now, or join me and giggle at the words *whispers* penis and vagina (teehee).

Small child pronunciation is one of my favorite things ever. It's also one of the most frustrating things ever. Teaching a 2 year old how to say 'vagina' is like trying to teach me how to pronounce 'Cthulhu' (I can never remember how to say that damn word!). It started off as 'FA-gina', moved on to 'BA-gina', and then we decided to just cut it off at 'gina', with the 'I' sounding like 'eye'. Quick and easy to say, plus I didn't laugh every time she said it.

At this point, I figured she really didn't need to know what a penis was. I mean, she was 2 or 3, and had no brothers. I realized that I probably should have told her when she walked in on Derek in the bathroom and started crying "DADDY'S GINA FELL OUT!!!!". We had a brief conversation about how boys have different parts and went on with our lives.

Fast forward to age 5. Last week to be exact. Just me and B, driving along in the car, when she starts talking all this crazy stuff. Keep in mind that she sits behind me in the car, so I cannot see her facial expressions and have no idea how she is about to react to anything I say.

B: I'm never having babies when I grow up.
Me: What? Why not?
B: Because it will hurt. You know, like when they rip your belly open to get the baby out. What do they use anyways when they sew you back up? String?
Me: Uh, no. They use staples.
B: STAPLES? Did it hurt when they ripped your belly open to take me out?
Me: They didn't open Mama's belly. You didn't come out of my belly.
B: WELL THEN WHOSE BELLY DID I COME OUT OF?

(Now I'm trying really hard not to laugh at the fact that my kid is seriously starting to think she's adopted. I'm terrible.)

Me: You were in my belly. You just didn't come out of my belly. Not all babies come out of the belly. You know where else they come out of?
B: Uh, no. Where?

For some strange reason, I felt I should whisper, even though it was only the two of us in the car. I guess I felt it made things a bit easier to handle, seeing as I had no idea how she was going to take my answer.

Me: They come out of vaginas.

Complete silence. I couldn't even turn around to see how she was taking the news. After what seemed like forever, but in all actuality was probably only 3 seconds, she finally replied.

B: WHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAATTTTTTTTT?!?!?!?!

Laughter. All you heard was this kid cracking up at the fact that babies come out of a vagina. You would have thought I told her the funniest joke ever.

B: Soooo, I came out of your gina?
Me: Yes.
B: Hahahahahaha. That means I touched your gina once. With my body. Hahahahahaha.
Me: Okayyy, so anyways.

Probably the most awkward conversation I've ever held in my life. Pretty well received though, seeing as it totally could have ended differently. AND, I'm thanking the Lord Baby Jesus that she didn't ask me exactly how a baby got there in the first place. I'm still working on the answer to that one.







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Are We There Yet?

We're back from vacation! Not that I really want to be, but it's nice to sleep in my own bed. In case you're unaware, we DROVE to Florida. Yes, with a five year old. Twenty-four hours on the way down, then twelve hours to Kentucky, and about sixteen back to Massachusetts. Yes, with a five year old. She was surprisingly very well behaved and kept herself entertained for most of the trip. She of course kept us very entertained as well.

We spent the afternoon in DC, just to break the trip up a bit, and to stretch our legs. Our legs got an extra stretching (and a serious workout!) when we realized it was the Cherry Blossom Festival and half the city was blocked off by a fence. Surprise! You have to walk an extra two miles to get to your car directly across the street! Needless to say, we were all exhausted by the time we left. Brianna was extremely excited to see where the president lives, which is not in a lighthouse as she previously thought on our last trip to the beach.

Me: Look! There's the lighthouse!
B: *GASP* That's where the president lives!

Not a lighthouse.

 After DC, we got back in the car and made it all the way to South Carolina. I have no idea what time it was when we got there because I spent a decent amount of time sleeping since Derek told me I wasn't allowed to drive. Before you go thinking 'What the hell, Derek?', trust his decision. I get lost EVERYWHERE, and we would have wound up in Nebraska. At one point in the trip, Derek joked about how we would be in Canada if I drove, and B overheard him.

D: Oh, look at that, we're in Canada!

B: We're in ASIA?!?!

Hmm. Apparently they don't start learning geography in Kindergarten. D decided that he was going to explain to B that Canada and Asia we're not one in the same. That's when she so matter-o-factually gave him this gem.

D: Asia is a continent.

B: A continent is a letter of the alphabet, EXCEPT the vowels.

These are the moments that I wish I had video going because no matter how I type it, it just doesn't do it justice. I'm sure, by now, you've all figured out the tone of voice B uses on a daily basis, so just go with that.

When we stopped in SC, I just remember stumbling, half asleep, up some stairs, and into a bed. When I woke up, we were in a crappy little motel, which was surrounded by firework stores. The one next to us had a huge sign that read 'FIREWORKS ON DVD!!!!!!!'. I needed to get out of here. Now. Okay, okay, so it wasn't THAT bad; It was just old and a bit run down. D joked to my father that 'only one of us got bedbugs', and B freaked out when she overheard and said 'WHICH ONE?!'. Haha. 

I had completely forgotten that B had never been in a hotel before. We've never taken a big vacation like this, so she's only stayed in camping trailers/homes. She woke up and thought that this shit motel was the best thing ever. Ever. Two double beds make the greatest playground any child could ever ask for and she was thrilled! As soon as D went to get dressed, I whispered to B.

Me: You know, you could jump from one bed to the other.

B: I can?!?!

Me: Yeah, just be super careful. It's pretty far.

I'm such a bad influence, but B is usually so cautious about everything that sometimes she needs a little push to be a rebel. Of course I hadn't really thought about her potentially breaking body parts so D told her not to when he came out of the bathroom.

D: Stop jumping from bed to bed.

B: I have to. It makes my heart beat.

Best. Excuse. Ever. We let her jump for a little bit longer, then it was time to get ready and finish the drive to Florida. B didn't really want to leave this AMAZING room, and I can't really blame her. I mean, it had a perfect view of the half-filled green pool, and overlooked a pile of random debris as well. Plus, it was only a short walk next door so we could snatch up that dvd and watch fireworks every night. I grabbed a headband, ran the brush through B's hair a few times, and when I put the headband on her, my nail accidentally scraped her face. Barely. She looked me dead in the eye and said "Now I have a black eye". Well, guess we're starting this vacation off quite lovely. Annnnd, on to Florida.

Along our way, we had to stop at 8975485435 different rest stops because I swear this kid is just nosy about what different bathrooms look like. Not only do rest stops have bathrooms, but most of them have fast food places, so not only can we get out and empty our bladders, we can also empty our wallets. Let me start off this story by saying that we live in a very multicultural city. It's not uncommon to go to the grocery store and hear people talking in Portuguese or Spanish. At most of our stops, the employees would talk in different languages to their coworkers, which I didn't even notice until my lovely child loudly pointed it out.

B: Why is everyone speaking a different language?!

Me: Why do you speak english?

B: Because I'm American.

Ah, good one. Point goes to Brianna. The lady behind the counter says something, in spanish, to the cook. Brianna is wide-eyed and staring this lady down. She's quiet for a second and then opens her mouth.

B: ARE WE IN AFRICA?!?!

I've never wanted to leave a place so fast in my life. Sure, the lady was darker than us, but she certainly wasn't black. I did a pretty good job of containing my laughter until we got into the car. Derek had a talk with B about Africa, and what places speak what languages. It seemed like she understood what we were saying. Silence, again. Then, a quiet whisper.

B: Am I African-American? 

Nope. That conversation went right over her head. 

We finally made it to Florida by Sunday night, checked into the hotel, and hadn't been there all of ten minutes before Derek got swindled by some 40-something lady with an Australian accent. I don't really blame him, I mean, SHE HAD AN ACCENT. Next thing I know, we're signed up for a 90 minute presentation on Wednesday morning, for vacation homes. Awesome. On the plus side, they gave us $80 in vouchers to use around the hotel for food/arcade/etc..

Monday and Tuesday we spent at Legoland, which was absolutely amazing! My favorite part was actually the Cypress Gardens (which Brianna told me was boring), and Miniland. B loved the little rides they had, and she had her face painted on Monday.

Complete with everlasting glitter! 

No, seriously, she STILL has glitter in her hair.

 

Derek's favorite part was, well, everything. As much as we say it was a family vacation, or a vacation for Brianna, this was totally a vacation for Derek. Guy loves legos more than anyone I've ever met. His birthday was on Friday, so B decided to plan a party. 

B: We're throwing you a Lego birthday! And you can get as drunk as you want!

Uh, shit. There's that parrot again. D informed her that being drunk isn't something adults want to be all the time. They really go for more of a strong buzz. A buzz that I nicely acquired Tuesday night at the hotel pool. No outside food or beverage? Yeah. Okay.

On our way back from Legoland, we did something that could have been extremely terrible. We took a wrong turn, and ended up facing a huge 'Welcome to Disney World' sign. Doesn't seem too terrible, since it's supposed to be the happiest place on earth, but we made no plans to do Disney on this trip. Turns out, happiness costs a LOT of money. Anyways, I noticed the sign, made eye contact with D, and we both made that 'oh shit, this isn't good' face. Waiting to hear crying from the backseat, I was shocked when I heard giggles. Then more laughing. Then this:

B: HAHAHAHAHA. You GUYS! We're not going to Disney! I can't believe you went the wrong way! HAHAHAHA.

I'm fairly certain I have the only child that would laugh at that. I was seriously expecting her to chuck her DS at my head and call us the worst parents ever.

After we left Florida, we made the drive to Kentucky to visit some of D's friends (who were super nice, and we owe a big thank you to!). If it wasn't so damn far from the ocean, I'd move there in a heartbeat. Everyone is so friendly, and everything is incredibly cheap! I just don't think I could be that far away from the coast. Seems crazy. Plus, then I'd have that southern accent, and I'm pretty content with how I talk now. 

All in all it was an awesome vacation. We definitely needed it. B was only fresh a few times (like when she told me I was 'just like annoying orange', and followed it up with 'I must say!'), so it made everything go pretty smooth. Oh, and we somehow made it through the entire trip with minimal radio (maybe a half hour total), and didn't get asked about kidzbop (which I despise) until the last night of our ride home. 

B: Do you have kidzbop in here?

Me: I can't believe we went almost an entire vacation without kidzbop.

B: I was too scared to ask.

So that's pretty much it. I leave you with a couple of random quotes from our trip that were too random to fit into this blog. :)

Me: *Taps Derek with the back of my hand*

B: I caught you that time, punching Daddy on the shoulder!

*Pause*
B: You should be a shame on yourself!

-

Me: Look! A hot air balloon!

B: Yep. (Not impressed in the slightest)
Me: Do you know what that is?

B: A balloon. With hot air in it.

Polly Want a Cracker?

Our days mostly consist of comments from Brianna that are borderline fresh, but she's so damn smart that she knows how to deliver these comments and turn them into valid statements. Statements that I can't even argue with, and leave me shaking me head, thinking 'Shit; she has a point'. Other times, she is straight up rude. During these times I feel entirely like a hypocrite, since she's pretty much repeating things I've said to her at one time or another.

Me: Can you turn on that light for mommy, please?
B: You have legs. You can use them, right?
Me: I asked nicely, and thought you could help out since you're standing next to the light switch.
B: I don't want to have to do EVERYTHING for you. I'm not your maid, you know.


Then there's the rude with a bit of funny:

Me: I have to take a shower, because look at this hair.
B: Uh, yeah, you do.
Me: Would it embarrass you if I went to the doctors like this?
B: Yeah. I think it would even embarrass the doctors.


And sometimes, she's just plain rude:

Me: If you don't behave, Santa will bring you COAL in your stocking.
B: I'll just wash out my stocking and it's cool because I have like a million other toys already.


But the best ones are the ones where she seriously crosses that line of fresh and into ohmygodicantbelievethatjustcameoutofyourmouth. These are the cases that, as a parent, are the hardest to deal with. Not because you don't know how to punish them, but because you can't stop laughing and compose yourself long enough to discipline. By the time you can breathe again, your argument isn't even valid anymore.

B: I have to sit here because you put that fffff- toilet paper on the stool. Whoa, I almost said a bad word. You know what I almost said? Can I say it?
Me: Once.
B: I almost said fucking toilet paper because you put it where it doesn't belong.


Alright, so that one was kind of my fault. I totally thought she was going to say 'freaking', since girlfriend thinks that 'heck' is a swear word. I was totally not expecting her to drop an f-bomb at 7am, which certainly was an interesting way to start our day off. Since that incident, she's been testing the waters with swearing, which, in turn, is testing my patience and pushing my buttons. Brianna often inquires about the location of these buttons, to which I usually reply that she's just pushing them more. A few days ago, she thought Derek said 'shit', so she tattled on him. To me. Which is probably the worst thing she could have done. I'm not sure exactly why, but whenever this sort of thing happens, when it's all three of us, it always ends the same way. Derek is trying to punish Brianna, Brianna is crying and saying no, and I'm trying to breathe from how hard I'm laughing. That turns into Brianna slamming her door, me wiping tears off my face because now I'm crying from laughter, and Derek is yelling at me, because I 'need to be an adult'. Apparently I'm supposed to be able to keep myself composed, but there's just something about a kid speaking in such an adult way that makes me lose it. I know she doesn't fully understand what she's really saying, and she's probably just being a parrot of my (yes, i'll admit it) potty mouth. I'm hoping that one day she'll start repeating all the nice things I say, as well. For now, I'll work on my censorship.

No Comprende.

Me: Does your throat hurt?
B: ::shrugs shoulders:: I dunno.
Me: What do you mean you don't know?
B: I don't even know what a throat is.

More often than not, I find myself explaining things to Brianna. Things that straight BAFFLE me, since I figured she just knows. Like, how are you five and you don't know what a throat is? Pretty sure you've said the word throat about 873458 times before.

Me: Your homework says 'Write 3 lines about a lion named Leo. Illustrate also'.
B: Aw, MAN! I don't even know HOW to illustrate!
Me: It just means draw.
B: Ohhhhhhhhhh.

Okay, okay, so 'illustrate' is kind of a hard word for a five year old. I'll admit that. I'm just glad she didn't assume she knew what it was and do something entirely different. Although there have been plenty a time where she *thinks* she know what she's doing, especially when it comes to speaking spanish. Let me first tell you that my daughter is in NO WAY WHATSOEVER fluent in spanish. Not even close. Between the bits and pieces I remember from high school, and Dora the Explorer, Brianna's spanish vocab consists of 'Hi, how are you? I like oranges, and my head hurts'. So I was a bit surprised by the following, very casually stated, question.

B: Want me to teach you how to say bitch in spanish?

Whoa, whoa, WHOA. First of all, my kid knows that 'bitch' is an adult word and only adults use adult words. Second of all, I don't even know how to say bitch in spanish. A whole slew of emotions took over me, as I went from being angry at her swearing, to curious and excited to learn a new spanish word, and on to furious at the little snot in her class that had most likely taught it to her. They all swirled inside me and produced only one thing.

Laughter.

I. could. not. stop. laughing. Her father is giving her a lecture about bad words, and i'm sitting over here trying to hide my face from her. All I need is for her to start laughing and then this shit won't be serious. Damn.

We've had other spanish incidents as well. More so Brianna-Spanish, which is not actually spanish, but what someone would do if they didn't know spanish but wanted to sound like they did. You know, because Brianna DOESN'T KNOW SPANISH. It's actually quite impressive, and sometimes even I'm fooled. Annnnd, sometimes i'm really not.

B: Hey, Mommy, you know how you say oreos in spanish?
Me: How?
B: Zeeeeee annnnnn cos.
Me: Uhh, no.
B: Yep! *giggles* Zeeeannncos. That's oreos. *giggles again*
Me: That's not true.
B: Actually, it's feliz cumpleaños. (more giggles)

It's not just spanish that she doesn't know, either. Pretty much every day she's saying something that she misinterpreted for something else. She thinks the wizards name is 'Hairy Potter', and the singers name is 'Justin Beaver' (whom she absolutely cannot stand and literally argued with me that he is a girl, and if he isn't then there MUST be two of them). Little Miss Muffet is constantly sitting in my kitchen eating 'cursive and whey', and my landlords daughter is 'Candle'.

B: That little girl in the red shirt, I think her name is Candle, she told me she's allergic to ants. Can you believe it?!
Me: I believe her name is Kennedy.
B: Oh. I'll just call her Candle.

And my favorite one of all? The Circle Of Life song from The Lion King goes like this:

AHHHH SA VENYAAAA a Felice eeee a baaaa.

I Believe You Can NOT Fly.

I've known since she was an itty bitty that my daughter would be an absolute riot. When B was about 18 months old, my sisters friend Ashley left her cell phone on the couch. In the mere minute and a half that the adults were busy in conversation, B managed to steal the cell phone, sign onto instant messenger, and send an IM. Not only did she IM someone, she im'ed someone Ashley had not talked to in quite sometime. The extremely funny part? She sent one single word.

DOOM.

Yes, in all capitals. I often wonder what the guys reaction must have been when he received it. I still giggle at the thought of someone thinking Ashley is lurking in the shadows after them. I also often like to think that my child knew exactly what she was doing when she sent it. She's such a bad ass.

Although entirely unintentional, I find it very amusing. I also find intentional things extremely amusing, like her crazy imagination that she's shown since she could talk.

"Are you OKAY?! Do you need HELP?!?!"

Words that any mother would be a bit concerned to hear. Upon further investigation? Oh, just some little people figurines that were involved in a tragic horse stampede. Thank GOD for the Little Peoples Mom, who came to their rescue.

"HELP! HELP! I STUCK! I STUCK!"

Oh, God. Do I even want to poke my head into her room right now? Envisioning her dangling from her stuffed animal net, I decide I should probably assess the situation and decide what type of tools I need and if oil and/or butter is necessary. Nope. Not Brianna. That damn Farmer Joe is stuck in the barn loft again. When will he learn that he's too fat to fit through that small window?

While her imagination is mostly entertaining, it can sometimes be a bit scary, especially when she was still learning reality vs. fantasy. Involve a three year old with a bumblebee costume and the conversation might go as follows:

B: MOMMY! When I put this on, I can FLY!
Me: Oh, no baby, you can NOT fly. It's just pretend!
B: Yes. I can. I have wings now.

And now every time we watch Pippi Longstockings we have to have a long conversation about how people can not fly, even if they have braids.

Dear Baby Jesus, Please Kill All The Mosquitos.

Brianna: I think we like, pray everyday at school.
Me: What? (Seriously confused, since it's a public school)
Brianna: Yeah. Every morning we like, umm, stand up, put our hand over our heart, and we PRAY for the flag. We look at it for a while, and then we pray for it.
Me: Ohhh, you say the Pledge of Allegiance?
Brianna: Yeah. 



I've never been a super religious person (a statement that's probably making my Papa roll in his grave). I don't go to church regularly, I think the loljesus meme is hysterical, and I once jokingly told Brianna that our family Christmas party was Jesus' birthday party. That ended up backfiring when she remembered the night of the party and wanted everyone to sing Happy Birthday to Jesus, and questioned them as to where His presents were.

I'm not against religion whatsoever, I just like to believe what I believe and don't really think I have to be preached to to be reminded. Also, I'm lazy during the weekly services, and work every Sunday morning. Anyways, I'm absolutely fine with Brianna learning about different types of religions and practices. I even let Derek's grandmother take her to church, which I was a bit hesitant about, only because B is not one to sit still for an extended amount of time. When she got back from the service, she was absolutely wide eyed.

"The people singing almost made me cry. Not cause I was sad but because they sang so pretty! You know, sometimes you can happy cry!"

I was so touched with what she said, I briefly considered going back to church. She had loved it so much! But wait! There was more to say!

  "There was a man standing up front talking forever. I think he was a story teller because it sounded like he was making it up in his head."

I've reconsidered. We're not going back to church. I needed to find new and different ways to teach her about beliefs. What better than a children's movie? Apparently anything would have been better than All Dogs Go To Heaven. I thought Brianna was going to plot an attack on me in my sleep after I made her sit through it. Within the first 10 minutes, Brianna was questioning my ability to pick a movie, and I was beginning to remember why I hadn't watched it since my Mom made me watch it.

"He's in HEAVEN?! But that's so sad because that means he's... (changes voice to whisper) deaddd. This is a sad movie Mom. For reals".

After Charlie's clock gets rewound and he gets a second chance, B said "I hope charlie doesn't go back to heaven at the end of this movie".

Shit. She's inherited her fathers ability to know the end of the movie within the first 20 minutes.

By the end of the movie, i'm fairly certain her attack plan was almost complete. She was upset, but we talked about Heaven for a bit and she seemed okay. I figured she had completely forgotten by late afternoon.

B: Mommy, that was the saddest movie ever, and I hope I NEVER have to watch it again.
Me: But it wasn't all sad! Anne Marie found a Mommy and Daddy, and she was sooooo happy!
B: Mommy, the dog still DIED. It was soooo sad.

Oops.

Religious talk has definitely led to some confusion and prayers directed at things only a child would pray for.

"I hope Jesus gets rid of all the mosquitos, because they bite for their dinner!"

Sigh. I mean, I suppose you could pray for that, but trying to explain to a 5 year old why prayers are meant for things other than wiping out an entire insect is like talking to a wall. Every thought that crosses her mind is SUPER IMPORTANT and needs to be dealt with immediately. Maybe one day she'll understand, and forgive me for making her watch All Dogs Go To Heaven. Probably not. 

Sugar and Spice, and Everything Nice? Nope.

Sometimes, I swear I have a boy. This kid seriously thinks disgusting things are hilarious; a trait she's picked up from my lovely father. Honestly, I can't help but laugh at it. Like the time she farted extremely loud, called her father in the room and said 'Daddy! Come here and smell me! I smell so good!'. (The best part was that he had no idea, took a big whiff and was like 'What the hell?', while I giggled in the other room.) Or yesterday when she told me: "My butt smells like Buttonwood Zoo! You know, when you get to the farm part". Yeah, she's gross. But the one that takes the cake for unintentional grossness was her incident with truth or dare that she informed me of, oh so casually, during dinner.

B: You know that game truth or dare? My friend dared me to lick the window on the bus, and I did.
Me: Excuse me, you did WHAT?
B: My friend dared me to lick the window, and I did. You know, because you HAVE to do a dare if you say you're gonna.
Me: Why would you think it's okay to lick a window?!?
B: Because it was a DARE!

Needless to say, we had a long talk about how truth or dare is for older kids, and other things about not jumping off bridges. She informed me that licking windows is TOTALLY different than jumping off a bridge because you 'could get really hurt'. Annnnnnd conversation right over her head. Sigh. At least I know she's not going to try to jump off a bridge anytime soon, but she might be that kid licking the window of the bus passing you on County Street.  

And it Begins!

As I sit down at the computer to enter my first blog post, little feet can be heard running over.

Brianna: Umm, what are you doing?
Me: Typing some stuff up on the computer.
Brianna: Well, can you hurry up and let me know when you're done? I have things I NEED to get done on there.

These 'things' consist of unlocking a game from a code she found on one of her Christmas toys. A Christmas toy that I had cleverly hidden on a high shelf that she couldn't reach or peek at. Well, until I decided to take a random trip to Ikea and about 4 (exhausting!) hours later emerged with a low loft bed for little miss. This gives her an entirely new view of her bedroom, and me a heart attack every time she hangs over the edge and says "look at me!'. On the plus side, she has tons more space to play and thinks the under the bed space is a cool hideout. On the minus? Finding every single thing I've placed out of her eyesight.

B: YOU'VE BEEN ON THE COMPUTER FOR LIKE AN HOUR! What are you even typing?
Me: A blog.
B: A blob?
Me: BLOG.
B: What is THAT?
Me: Kind of like a story.
B: Why are you writing a story?
Me: I'm writing a story about you.
B: BUT WHY?!

Why? Because she's hysterical, and sometimes so incredibly sarcastic. Guess that's what happens when you have two parents that are sarcastic and quick witted. Most of the time it cracks me up, but occasionally I have to bite my tongue to keep from laughing, especially when we're in a public place where it's supposed to be quiet. This gem is from our outing to the Mary Poppins Broadway play. I'd like to add that it was very loudly stated, during a quiet part of the play.

B: Sigh, I wish this was in 3d.
Me: It is in 3d. Shh.
B: Well it doesn't LOOK 3d.
Me: Sigh.

Guess we needed the glasses.

We're off to the flea market today! I told Brianna that we were going there only to get fleas. She said she's definitely not going. :)