Little thankful: It wasn't my kid

I was in line at the grocery store after work yesterday and heard a small human shrieking and carrying on the next row over. Honestly, I didn't think much of it, because it happens, especially at the end of the day when everyone is tired. The thing that made this one memorable is the teenaged cashier and baggers were standing there smiling and kind of impressed with the level of intensity this kid had achieved. The cashier said, "Man, that kid is MAD!"

And that kid WAS mad. He was having a full-on snotty face, screaming, sweating, boot losing meltdown apparently over one of those little balloons on a stick that says get well. His mom remained calm throughout, which is something I am not sure I could/would have done. As we were exiting the store, I had to stop as she tried to collect kids and clothing items because they were in front of me. She looked at me and all I could do was smile and say, "it happens." And I was so very thankful that mine are big enough that we are past public meltdowns of that caliber.

Little thankful: I was wrong.

Being a woman of a certain age means that I am rarely cold anymore. As a former Girl Scout, I like to be prepared, so I always keep an extra blanket near my bed to grab in the dark if the Universe glitches and I get cold. Last night the temperature outside dropped to single digits and I woke up cold. I removed the cat from my extra blanket and started to snuggle back to sleep, when I realized that I was COLD! My room was COLD! And my furnace was COLD (not running)!

This wasn't a dead people visiting kind of cold, but really cold. As I laid there in the dark, willing myself to get up and call the emergency furnace repair guy, my dragon breathed to life and warm air started blowing through the house. My furnace was not broken! I have never been so happy to be wrong.

Today’s thankful: It wasn’t permanently attached

Youngest came into the kitchen while I was doing dishes the other night. She was talking funny, and the mom in me worried that she might be having a stroke. I was able to understand her somewhat garbled speech enough to hear, “Hey, Mom! Look! I have a tongue ring.” In the split second between her uttering that sentence and the moment she stuck out her tongue, my heart stopped a little because she is only seven and I wondered who I was going to have to kill for maiming my baby. Then I saw her tongue. She had put a finger ring around her tongue, not through it. She is trying to kill me. I am more than a little thankful that her ring wasn’t meant for a tongue.

Today’s thankful: She does have a brain and the ability to think

I was having a conversation with Middlest about the latest episode of Duck Dynasty and how Miss Kay was sharing with the grandkids about how she conceived their daddy. The kids were as horrified as you would imagine, and we were laughing about it. Then Youngest asked what conceived meant. I told her, then continued my conversation with Middlest. As many of our conversations do, this one spiraled to the eventual place of me saying how wrong it is to name your kids after where they were conceived. At that point, Youngest said, “like vagina?” After I got done laughing, I told her I was thinking more like Toyota or Dallas. Strictly speaking, though, she was dead on. She may not always get it right, but that girl is a thinker.

Today’s thankful: She didn’t really mean it

I was going through Youngest’s Friday folder and looking through her school papers for the week. They have been doing clubhouse activities lately and had to write about their own dream clubhouse. I always enjoy reading what my babies write, but this one gave me a start. See if you can spot the thing that freaked me the eff out. Youngest’s clubhouse is “huge, sparkily and pink.” No surprise there. Further down the page, “My clubhouse has a chocololite fountin, pizza parlor, plazma grinade, pool, diving board. . .” As my brain screeched to a halt, I silently gathered my wits and asked my tiny girl why she wanted a plasma grenade, because I don’t want to be one of those clueless parents who has no idea her kid is a wacko. Also, and here is the biggie, I had her tested and they said she was fine! Fine people do not want to have plasma grenades anywhere, let alone in their pink sparkly clubhouse! Or maybe they do. I don’t know anymore. Thankfully, she didn’t mean plasma grenade. She meant plasma TV. I cannot even begin to express the magnitude of my relief.

Today’s thankful: That foot stomping wasn’t directed at me

A friend and I were talking a few days ago about our moms and how they would occasionally get angry in public. One of the few times I saw my mom get mad and do more than get quiet and walk away happened when I was about seven years old. We lived about ten minutes from the grocery, and mom had taken me with her to buy chicken to fry for my sister. I think it was her senior picnic or something like that. Anyway, we went to the store, bought the chicken, and got it home to find it was rotten. Mom took a deep breath, loaded me back in the car and drove to the store. We exchanged the chicken and took it home, only find it was rotten too. At that point, she didn’t so much breathe, and dragged me back to the car. At this point she was scary quiet, so I sat in the backseat of the station wagon and pretended I wasn’t there. Then the magic happened. When the store manager told her to go get another pack of chicken, my mother stomped her foot. I knew this kind of mad, and I felt so bad for the store manager, because he didn’t know what was coming. As I stood there openmouthed, she stomped and loudly said, “I don’t want any more of your damned, rotty chicken!” I had never seen an adult move as quickly as that manager came down out off of his perch to try to quiet my mother before she created more of a scene. I don’t remember how it turned out, but am pretty sure he managed to calm her down, because we continued to shop at that store. I was just impressed that he made my mom stomp her foot and lived to tell about it. As for me, I was just really glad I wasn’t the one to make her stompin’ mad.

Today’s thankful: That wasn’t my weirdo in the bathroom

Youngest came home from school and shared this story. I have changed the names to protect the innocent little freaks. Youngest’s class (second grade) was using the restroom facilities at the same time as their book buddies (kindergarten). She witnessed one of the little buddies walk up to her teacher and say, “Ms.Teacher, Megan is licking the mirror.” That information prompted Ms. Teacher to hightail it into the bathroom. I cannot put into words how thankful I am that the mirror licker was not my daughter. In fact, not only did she not lick the mirror, Youngest wondered aloud why anyone would lick a mirror. Perhaps Megan thought she looked delicious.

Today's thankful: She didn't lick the tires

It was snowing those big, fluffy flakes a few days ago when I went to pick up Tiny Person after school. She got so excited that she licked one off of the car. And then came more words I never imagined I would need to utter: Don't lick the car! She didn't understand why I was so grossed out, given that the snowflake in question was freshly fallen from the sky and therefore not yellow. I guess I should just be thankful that she didn't lick it off of the tire.

Today’s thankful: I wasn’t actually dying

It is common knowledge at this point that I don’t eat much processed food. Sometimes, though, an old hankering grabs hold of me and I give in. Today that hankering took the form of chipped beef gravy. We call it dried beef crazy, because Youngest couldn’t say dried beef gravy when she was small. Anyway, Eldest wanted dried beef crazy and after I made it for her, it smelled so delicious that I went ahead and grabbed myself a bowl. I have to admit, it was a tiny bowl of steamy heaven. For a few minutes. Then my body realized what I had done and began to protest. As I was in the powder room expelling the poison from my GI tract, I may have called out to a diety about the pain. Youngest, never one to miss a show, was standing outside the door. Upon hearing my wails, she did her best wicked Witch of the West impression and started wailing, “Oh, what a world, what a world!” Her support almost made the incident worth the pain.

Today’s thankful: My treadmill

Today was the first day of week three of the Couch to 5K program. I realized during the first few minutes of week one that I really hate it when my shorts ride up between my chubby thighs and get stuck there. It took me until today to figure out a fix for the problem. I didn’t wear shorts to run. I wouldn’t recommend running without shorts at the gym or out in the neighborhood, but it was great in the privacy of my own bedroom.

Today’s thankful: I woke up in the middle of the night and washed Tiny Person’s hair

I have had a rule in place for the past dozen or so years that there are only a few reasons to wake mommy. If one is bleeding, vomiting or otherwise in physical distress, they may wake me. I know this rule sounds harsh, but both Eldest and Middlest inherited their dad’s insomnia. They were fond, as little girls, to wake me to let me know they couldn’t sleep. I am a good sleeper, hence the rule. Over the years, they have awoken me on numerous occasions, all valid. So about a month ago, Eldest woke me up to let me know there was something that resembled paint in Youngest’s hair. When I didn’t respond with much more than a sleepy grunt, Eldest became more adamant that I get up. She has always been great at following the don’t wake mommy rule, so I paid attention to her second attempt. I am SO glad I did. I went into the bathroom to find Youngest with something that looked like lumpy paint with sparkles and some sort of grease in her hair. I tossed her into the tub and washed whatever it was out of her hair. She refused to say what the substance was for about four days. The incessant nagging by her sister finally forced the information out of her. She had mixed old nail polish, powder blush and hand lotion. I have no idea where she got the nail polish, but she has been banned from paint of any kind for a while.

Today’s thankful: It wasn’t an angry bird

I noticed my dryer has been taking two cycles to dry the clothes, which means the vent in the side of the house needs to be cleaned out. I went to the side of the house, stepped up on my air conditioning unit, and reached up to pluck what I expected to be wet lint from my vent. What happened instead is that a bird had built its nest in my vent and it was a BIRD that came flying out of my vent when I stuck my hand in there. I am very thankful that I didn’t fall off the air conditioner when it shot out, as it scared the snot out of me. More than that, though, I am extremely glad it wasn’t an angry, attack bird.

Today’s thankful: It was a substitute teacher

At the dinner table this evening, Youngest informed us that they had a substitute teacher today. During the spelling portion of the day, the students were to make up sentences using their spelling words. Then they were going over them in class. Youngest said, “I got to read my sentence with the word found. I wrote, ‘I found some poop.’ The whole class laughed. I didn’t get to do any more sentences.”

Today’s thankful: Back to school

Tiny person was home with me for nine straight days over spring break. ‘Nuf said?

Today’s thankful: I learned to dole out truth slowly

A few months ago, Youngest asked about the tooth fairy. Since she is getting close to seven years old, I decided to tell her the truth. She took the news very well. I toyed with telling her everything, but after my experience with Eldest, decided to let her ask about each magical being on her own. With Eldest, I thought it would be less painful to just get all the bad news over at once, so when she asked about the Easter Bunny, I told her about all of them. She yelled, “I only asked you about the Easter Bunny!”
So not terribly long ago I started taking Youngest’s innocence with the tooth fairy. Yesterday she asked me about Santa. I told her the truth, including the part about him being a symbol of the magic of giving to others. She took the news like a trooper, then went to her room and sobbed. She wouldn’t let me in for a while. It broke my heart. When she finally let me in, I assured her that nothing would change, since it had been me all along. That information lessened the sting a bit, thankfully.
About an hour after the Santa incident, Youngest came to me and said, “The Easter Bunny is real.” I asked if she was telling me or asking me. She said, “telling.” I asked why she thought he was real, and she informed me that the bunny brings jelly beans. I said, “Don’t they sell jelly beans in the store?” She informed me, with a DUH! sound in her voice, that the store is where he gets the jelly beans. I guess a girl can only handle so much truth at a time.

Today’s thankful: I don’t need to take a class -- again

Youngest was less than pleased with the food I presented to her highness for lunch. After the food battle over six bites of broccoli and homemade mac and cheese ensued. About an hour after she finished her last bite, she asked me if there was a class you could take to make sure you don’t kill anyone with your cooking. Well, there kind of is, but I have already taken and passed it. Instead of admitting to her that there is such a class, I opted instead to remind her that I haven’t managed to kill her with my cooking yet and don’t plan to start now.

Today’s thankful: New night

About a thousand years ago when I was dating, I happened upon an idea that stayed with me and I have since implemented with my family. This guy I was dating said something to the effect that every Wednesday night, his mom prepared something they had never eaten for dinner. I wondered aloud if he and his siblings didn’t try to avoid Wednesday night dinners at home. He informed me that, while there was the occasional stinker, most of the Wednesday meals were at least decent. Adding to the allure of attending new night was the understanding that if you were present, you could cast your vote as to whether the new food would become part of the regular family rotation. Absence at new night meant no voting rights. He told me that they made an effort to make it home on new night. I don’t have an overly adventurous palate, but new night appealed to my sense exploration and I held the idea until I had a family of my own. Alas, my family doesn’t like change much, so I had to tweak the idea a bit. In consideration of my family’s aversion to trying new foods, I have agreed to only make new things on Wednesday. Also, not every Wednesday is new night. Sometimes I let them bask in the comfort of foods they know. Last night was new night, though, and we got a good one. I am glad the concept of new night was introduced to me all that time ago and that I was able to keep it in my memory file.

Today’s thankful: Baby’s words didn’t get her in trouble

When I picked Youngest up from school yesterday, she started telling me how one of her friends (and I use the term loosely in the first grade) was playing with someone, then dumped that someone for Youngest. She then proceeded to dump Youngest and three other girls in succession as they approached her one at a time. Youngest was insulted that she had been dumped, but instead of using her usual approach to anger and nearly getting herself kicked out of school, she chose this time to use her words. She informed the young lady in question that she is a hypocrit, calling herself a friend and then acting like that. She then said to the friend, in a glorious string of using her words, “You are on my wall of shame.” I asked what happened then. Youngest informed me that the girl told on her. Then what happened? Nothing. Score one for using the right words and no fists.

Today’s thankful: I am not the one being tested

I received a letter today from Youngest’s school asking my permission to test her for the GT programs. As I glanced over the rating scale provided for me to complete, it occurred to me that I don’t have the slightest idea how Youngest compares to her peers. I don’t ever hang around six-year-old children unless forced to do so. It is true that I am an experienced mom, but she isn’t all that different than my first two kids. In short, I have exactly no clue how to rate my baby. It sure is a good thing for her that I am not the one being evaluated.

Today’s thankful: It did not, did not hit the trash

My title today is in honor of the fabulous Ted Geisel’s birthday. He is and has always been my favorite poet. Now, on to my little thankful. Last night as I was struggling to get Youngest to pack up her backpack after homework, Spouse intervened and told her to pack up and put her backpack where it belonged. She said, “It doesn’t have a special place.” Totally not true, but she tried. He responded with, “You had better go find it a special place then.” Because I know tiny person so well, I took off in hot pursuit as she headed out of our bedroom, through the family room and into the kitchen. She didn’t realize I was behind her, and when I said, “You had better not throw that in the trash.” She jumped like she had been shot, dropped the backpack, then grabbed it up and took it to her room. I just can’t hardly wait until she goes through her tweens.