Currently Bubba

IMG_2159   Eating:  Cheese toast, PBJ, craisins, applesauce, vanilla yogurt, goldfish, “Daddy’s cereal” (aka Cracklin’ Oat Bran), and strawberries with whipped cream.  He’ll eat English muffin pizzas these days too, but they must be topped only with sauce and bacon bits.  No cheese allowed.  He also loves Hot Tamales.  Gets it honest, I guess.

Reading:  Before nap he was begging for When Sophie Gets Angry–Really Really Angry.  We got this book and the read-along CD from the library yesterday and listened to it for the first time before bed.  Sophie’s major temper tantrum made for an interesting discussion about good and bad choices over lunch today.  When I wouldn’t let him listen to the book again before nap (I think it was scaring him, and I didn’t want this to prolong nap time), he got really, really angry himself and did a complete reenactment of the book.  Lovely.

IMG_2158Listening:  If he’s in Daddy’s car, it’s the music from Frozen.  In Mommy’s car it’s whatever chapter book on CD that happens to be playing.  Right now–Mary Poppins.  Except that yesterday we heard Mary Poppins in about 20 second spurts.  That’s as long as it took for him to formulate a new question about her, thus forcing us each time to stop the CD again, answer, and try to convince him to just listen.  No luck there.

Singing:  Ten Little Monkeys Swinging From the Tree.  Also, approximately every tenth word when singing along with the Frozen songs.

Watching:  Jake and the Neverland Pirates, Frozen, Mulan, Pocahontas, and Strawberry Shortcake.  Daddy’s not very happy about that last one.

IMG_2137Saying:  This morning I read my Currently Bubba post from a year ago and chuckled at the fact that I was celebrating that he was finally putting two words together.  It took him a while to get there it seems, but he is certainly following Chica in his verboseness.  I couldn’t pick just one, so here are a few of my favorite things he says these days:

corny–This is what he calls any coin.  It’s his own funny cross between coin, penny, and money, I guess, and I can’t bring myself to correct him.  I admit we’ve started calling them cornies too sometimes.

A-duh-LEE–After a long weekend at the lake a few weeks ago, he started copying Grandma’s way of saying his sister’s name.  I don’t think Bubba will understand our explanation about stressing the first and not last syllable any better than Grandma did.  : )

Can you lay w’me for a widdle while?–Man, it’s hard to say no to that cuteness.

I like your wet hair–Every morning after I’ve had my shower, he says this.  I’m still not sure why.

Playing:  The marble game.  Bubba hasn’t figured out how to build with this toy yet, but he’s all about dropping the marbles and watching them roll down.  Daddy originally said he hated this toy because the approximately 347 pieces just ended up all over the floor.  But once I built a run that actually used every single piece (and left none on the floor to step over), Daddy decided he had to get in on the action too.  He totally showed me up with his design stair-stepping off of the end table.

IMG_2149Hoping:  Daddy will buy us another giant bag of Hot Tamales at Sam’s.  (Hint, hint.)

Learning:  To jump and climb….off of and onto everything!  Which means that I’m simultaneously learning to take deep breaths and pray more.

 

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Bubba Turn

Bubba has this super cute cyber buddy who writes a great blog.  Drakeson is a whole year younger than Bubba, so I figured Bubba shouldn’t have too much trouble giving it a try.  When I asked him if he was up for blogging about his day, he agreed.  Actually, he said, “Bubba turn!”

I have posted his dictated words first and then the translation for those of you still learning Toddler Talk.  I do a lot of translating these days.

Eat Mommy.  Bar.  Applesauce.  Bubba pickle.  Bubba oatmeal.  Cake no like it.  

Mommy slept in all the way until 7:00 or something.  Lazy bones.  I had to beg her to get up so I could eat.  She needs lots of reminders.  At first I asked for my usual cereal bar and applesauce.  But then I remembered it was Saturday, and we sometimes eat special things on the weekend.  So I asked for pickles and oatmeal.  I don’t really like pancakes.  Even when they put chocolate chips in them.  Pancakes are for big people.

Mommy shoes on.  Walk.  Mommy car.  Stroller.  Big water.  Night night.

After breakfast Mommy put on her running shoes, not the flip-flops that she usually wears.  I know this means we are going for a walk.  Together we drove to Percival’s Isle where I didn’t get to walk…I had to ride in the dumb stroller.  I was hoping to stay awake to see the river where you go over the second bridge, but Mommy’s friends just bored me right to sleep.  They talk too much.

Mommy car.  That one. That one.  Eat Mommy.  That one.  Sister seat?  Home.

When we got back in the car, Mommy called Daddy to tell him we had to go to the store.  Something about a care package for a friend at summer camp.  I don’t know what care packages or summer camp are, but she sure got a lot of cool stuff.  I kept pointing out other good ideas for her, but she didn’t really like my advice.  I again had to remind her to feed me, so I got goldfish out of the deal.  I asked Mommy a bunch of times where Sister was.  All she said is that shopping is easier without Chica.  Something about not having to answer a million questions.  FINALLY she took me home…shopping took forever.

Eat.  Night Night.  Elmo’s World.

This is what I do every afternoon.  No news here.

Bubba shoes on.  Walk.  Sister play. Wilson?  Willlllllsonnnnn?   Look.  Have it.  Welcome Mommy.  Apple.  Apple yucky.  Bubba apple?  Mommy apple?  Deer apple.  That way.  Slide.  Bubba do it.  That one.  Ant.  Swing.  More.  More.  That way.  Up.  Welcome Mommy.  Hug.  Home.  Eat applesauce.  Wilson?

IMG_0382This was obviously the best part of my day…totally worth putting my shoes on for.  Mommy took me on a walk without Sister because she was playing with our neighbor friend.  This meant I actually got to walk and not have to ride in that stupid stroller.  It also meant me and Mommy could talk.  I never get in a word when you-know-who is around.

First I asked Mommy if she knew where Wilson was.  That’s my friend’s cat.  She didn’t, so we tried calling him, but he didn’t come.  When we got to the top of the street, I asked to look at the magnolia tree like Sister always does.  Mommy got me one of those dried up flowers to carry.  I thought about how cool Mommy is, and I told her thank you without even being asked.  Mommies like that stuff.

We found these little apples between our street and the park, but Mommy says they are yucky.  She wouldn’t let me eat them, and she wouldn’t try them, but she said the deer might.  I knew she was trying to distract me with the apple talk when we walked past the street the park is on, but I didn’t let her get away with it.  Once we were in there, I tricked her and said we should go swing, but really I was thinking about the slide the whole time.  She actually let me go down the slide by myself, but she sure didn’t look like she was having as much fun as I was.  Mommy gets all panicky and jumpy around that slide.  She told me to ask Grandma about it.  I’ll ask her tomorrow.

We played on the wooden playground, rode the tire swing together, and then I tried the baby swing just to make Mommy happy. She was right.  It was fun.  Mommy took a lot of pictures, but I think this is the only one that shows how fun it was.

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When we left the park, you know what she let me do?  She let me walk on the high wall outside the old school building just like Chica always does.   I think this means I’m big now.  I told her thank you again because she was being so fun.  Ok, nevermind.  I really just wanted a ride on her shoulders.  This was a long walk.  Then I got tired of riding on her shoulders, and thought that if I asked for a hug, she would just carry me regular.  It didn’t work.  By then I couldn’t wait to get home and eat applesauce.  I didn’t see Wilson when we got home either.  I’m starting to get worried about that guy.  Do you think he’s still my friend?

Boogie-woogie sunshine.  Bubba shoes on.  Sister ice cream.  Mommy ice cream.  Daddy ice cream.

I did my usual stand-up sit-down comedy routine after dinner.  I wonder how long they’ll laugh at the same old material.  Then something weird but wonderful happened.  I had to put my shoes on AGAIN because we were going out for….wait for it……ice cream!  Even though Daddy got me my own this time, I still tried everybody else’s.  I wonder how long I’ll get away with that too.  In the end I shared mine with Chica because I was full on all the other kinds.  Mommy pointed out how nicely I was sharing, and Sister said something about about flies and honey and vinegar.  What the what?  Girls are so weird.

Bubba bed.  Sister read.  Belly book.  Mommy night night.  

I wasn’t very tired when Sister started reading to me tonight.  What’s up with her trying to put me to bed this week, huh?  Anyway, she read my favorite, the Belly Book, and a bunch others.  But I just wasn’t tired, so Sister had to get Mommy.  Then they both helped me go to sleep.  Bonus.

Hmm….I wonder if I play my cards just right, if I can get all three of them to put me to bed tomorrow night.  I think I’ll give it a try.

A Few Moments

That moment (6:45 a.m., to be exact) when you start looking for your kid’s shoes and remember where they are.  On the porch.  In the rain.  And he only owns one pair.  Major mommy fail.

In that moment, my brain goes to two places:  1)  Who to blame and 2) How to fix it.  I can’t say for sure which came first today, but most of the time the thoughts come in that order, so let’s go with the blame first.  I could blame Bubba for them being out there in the first place.  Or I could blame Jay for not seeing them when he left the house earlier this morning.  But the truth is that I knew they were out there “drying” and had also commented that it looked like a storm was coming last night…I should have put two and two together.  So amidst my back and forth blaming and pity partying, I moved on to a solution.

Send him barefoot?  His class plays outside now.  Socks only?  Same thing.  Make him wear them wet?  They were literally dripping, so that might be considered torture.  Throw them in the dryer?  Not enough time.  Dig in the hand-me-down clothes in the attic on the off chance that there is something there that would fit now?  The probability is slim.  It seems  there was only one viable option:  get everyone to Wal-mart.  And fast.

Even while I was driving there, I was still riding that merry-go-round of blame and pity.  I actually called Jay and my mom to invite them both to my party.  But every few passes I tried to grab hold of at least the tiniest bit of thankfulness.  Maybe it was a good thing after all that we all got up at 6:00 and not 6:30 because we never would have had time for this trip.  Thank you, God, that I live less than 15 minutes from a new pair of shoes.  Thank you, Wal-mart, for having Bubba’s size in a pinch…and a belt for me because I couldn’t find mine this morning. 

I’m hoping these kinds of moments in the future (because I am sure there will be many, many more mommy fails) will be filled with more grace and thankfulness and less blame and pity.

That moment (7:15 a.m., to be exact) when you know exactly what your kid is getting ready to say, and you can’t stop it.  Your best evil eye and distraction conversation and silently willing her, “Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say it,” are all lost.  “MOM, WHY DOES THAT MAN HAVE NO LEGS?”  Too late.

So you do the only thing you know to do.  You grab her by the chin, get in real close, talk real low, and try to explain right there in the middle of the Wal-mart entrance why her innocent question (at 115 decibels) is wrong.  And you pray that he sees you.  That he doesn’t think you are that mom who lets her kid get away with it.  “When you see people that are different, you do NOT point it out.  This can hurt their feelings.  If you have to ask mommy about it, you can ask me way later, when they can’t hear you.  That was very rude.”

It seems we have lots of these chin-grabbing, low conversations these days….about calling people fat, and private parts, and telling the truth, and not giving up.  If even a few get through, I’ll be glad.

Maybe today’s got through, because when he rang up Bubba’s shoes and my belt, she kept her mouth shut.  Or maybe she just didn’t realize it was the same guy.  Either way, he made a joke with us about the belt being “for the kids,” so I assume he had forgiven us.  And I forgave her too.

And finally, that moment (7:35 p.m., to be exact) when you suck it up and just play with your kid.  All you really want to do is check the day’s Facebook posts, or sit on the porch in silence, or maybe even wash some dishes.  (Ok, never mind on the last one.)  But she’s begging you, and you have no real excuse to say no, and worse, a friend who reminded you this very same day about the very same moment.  So you do it.  And it’s not so bad.

And you find yourself dancing on the sidewalk to the music in her head, dramatically passing a bunch of fake flowers back and forth.  Or pretending to be a monster and a little girl from the Brave Human World forming a new friendship.  Then she “reads” you a book in which she makes up every single word.  And you end the night by sniffing the skunk and stinkbug she has drawn on the Magna Doodle, clarifying which one is smellier.

Thanks, friend, for the reminder that I’m not the only one who would rather do anything but the thing that will bring me the most joy.  May we both have eyes to see those things and courage to do them.

“Don’t have a great day, just grab a couple great moments.”  —Momastery.com  

Please Don’t Make Me Play Barbies

So let’s be honest here…there are some pretty undesirable parts of parenting that we all must endure.  There’s the daily dousing in any number of bodily fluids.  There are loud, obnoxious toys that will invariably come to life when you are trying to creep out of a sleeping baby’s bedroom.  Oh, and don’t forget stepping on torture devices also known as Legos.  (Yes, each of these did, in fact, happen to me today.)

But ranking right up there (er….down there maybe) with these other least favorite parts of parenting you’ll find playing Barbies in my list.  We don’t use the “h word” in our house, so instead I’ll say that I despise, loathe, and detest this obligation as a mom of a four year old girl.

I had an indifferent attitude toward Barbie as a kid.  I owned one metal cookie tin’s worth of Barbies, and my favorite was by far the astronaut.  She had a purpose.  But my Barbies spent most of their time crammed in the tin in the bottom of my closet.  I much preferred my Cabbage Patch doll, Legos, and a Ninja Turtle or two.

My quam with Barbie isn’t the typical body image complaint that most moms get worked up about.  I’m sure one day it will be a deal, but right now that kind of stuff isn’t on Chica’s radar.  For me the problem with playing Barbies is the script.  See, the writer and director of our play, Chica, is seriously in need of some new material.  Every single time we play, it’s all about getting married.  The director feeds me one line at a time that I must recite.  There’s no use trying to use a little artistic license and veer from the script.  We must do it her way.

This afternoon she woke me up from my oh-so-sweet Sunday afternoon nap to invite me to play with my not so favorite toy.  Grrrr.  More than anything I didn’t want to get out of bed yet, so I agreed to play if it meant I didn’t have to move from my cozy spot.  She liked that idea, and so the torture began.  When we got to the part in today’s edition of Let’s Get Married that involved red stuff dripping from Ken’s eyes, I decided this story had to be recorded for your reading pleasure.  Here’s a recap of today’s saga…

As always, the story begins with four desperate Barbies, each begging the prince, Ken, to marry her.  He gives an emphatic, “No,” to each one, but the Birthday Princess Barbie somehow catches his eye enough to give her a second chance.  He again says, “No,” explaining that he is too young to get married, but in the end he just can’t resist her.  It must be the hair.

So he agrees to marry her and invites Birthday Princess Barbie over to his house to play.  They play an exciting game of tag followed by hide-n-seek.   The prince invites Barbie to lie in his bed and look at the stars, but Barbie (played by me at that point) just isn’t ready for that step in their relationship yet.  So the prince and Barbie play more tag instead.

All of a sudden, the prince gets too tired and hot, and red stuff starts dripping from his eyes.  (Seriously…where does she get this stuff?!?)  Barbie, who is more practical than sympathetic, of course insists that he clean it up.  The prince, being a spoiled mama’s boy, calls his mom in to clean up the mysterious red liquid.  Mom seems not at all surprised and agrees willingly.

Time passes and the prince tires of Birthday Princess Barbie and her predictable games of tag and hide-n-seek.  He decides that he doesn’t want to marry her after all.  He wants to marry this one because, “She’s gooder.”

Birthday Princess Barbie responds in the only way she knows how.  She gets mean.  She determines she’s going to be the, “Queen of all princesses,” no matter the cost.

The prince’s wedding to the “gooder” girl begins, complete with an elaborate wedding march song hummed by Chica.  Birthday Princess Barbie can’t take the sight of losing her man, and she crashes their wedding.  “Marry me!” I am forced to beg.  (Here’s where a little artistic license sure could have livened up the story a bit.  There are all kinds of words Birthday Princess Barbie could have used to describe a girl who would show her crack on her wedding day.  I digressed.  Sorry.)

When crashing the wedding doesn’t work, Barbie tries her last tactic…manipulation.  She begins to sulk and then cry, and surprisingly the prince is much more sympathetic than I would have ever been.  He embraces her, and her kiss makes him realize that Birthday Princess Barbie is truly the girl for him.  He says, and I quote, “I haven’t finished the wedding meeting yet, so it’s okay.”

At this point I am actually the slightest bit interested to see if the happy couple will face any retaliation from Gooder Girl.  Regrettably I don’t get to find out, however, because a farty noise making, crawling ogre enters the room.  Yeah, Bubba woke up from his Sunday afternoon nap, and he couldn’t resist getting in on the action.  Playing Barbies with an eight month old is even less fun than playing with a four year old, so I am thankfully rescued from my misery….until next time.

Maybe next time I can convince Chica to let me be the screenwriter.  When I’m in charge, Birthday Princess Barbie won’t meet Ken until she’s had a chance to figure out who she is without him.  She’ll befriend Gooder Girl and they’ll go on all kinds of adventures together.

When they are parasailing in Rio, Barbie and Gooder Girl will meet Ken and his equally smart and handsome twin brother, Kip.  No jealous drama needed.  After a long courtship (which doesn’t involve any smooth, “Let’s watch the stars,” lines from either guy), they’ll get married in a double wedding right there in Rio and live happily ever after.  Oh…and Gooder Girl gets a new dress by then.