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.