The Death of Feminism?

Her Majesty likes to disappear.

I usually start looking in all of the places she shouldn’t be, and I almost always find her in front of my make up drawer. This morning, she has slipped away and I find her poised in front of the open drawer running her fingers against the end of a large brush.

“What are you doing?” I know the answer, but for some reason motherhood requires I ask the question anyway.

“Making my eyes pretty,” she says with a grin.

I put her glasses back on and pick her up to better examine her eyes. “But your eyes are already pretty. You don’t need make up.” I twirl her for good measure and place her back on the floor.

She points proudly to her left eye. “But this one is prettier because I put the pink stuff on it. I like the pink stuff.”

I sigh. “I know you like the pink stuff, but are you supposed to be in my make up?”

“No.”

I usher her out of the bathroom, through the bedroom and into the hall where she turns to look at me. “You forgot to put your make up on!”

“Maybe I don’t want to put on make up.”

“Why?”

“Maybe make up is based on the needs of a now defunct patriarchal society but advertized as a necessity in order to drive up sales for a product I don’t really need.”

She considers this for a minute. “But it would make you prettier. Maybe if you added a little lipstick…”

And it’s moments like these where, for just a moment, I think I’m having a conversation with my mother instead of my daughter. 

The Hobbit Joins our Absurdist Musical

This morning I decided to take The Hobbit to school because he needed to take an AR Test.  I knew he was feeling feisty because he threatened me with a banana saying, "It's loaded, and I know how to use it...okay, not really.  I don't know how to fire a banana."  I gave him my patented Mom-has-not-had-coffee-yet look, and he beat a hasty retreat to the car. 

We hadn't even reached the end of the subdivision before he decided to go all philosophical on me asking, "Which do you like better, original Tron or Tron Legacy?"  To my credit, I actually tried to think about his question.  But I failed.  So I gave him the answer for every question at that point of the morning:  Coffee.

Immediately, my nine-year-old started singing a song to the tune of Ernie's "Rubber Duckie;"

Mommy's coffee, you're the one.  You make Mommy lots of fun.  Mommy's coffee, I'm awfully fond of you....boo boop be doo..."

Coffee or no, I had to smile at that.  I may even start singing it--once I've finally had that cup of coffee.

The Apocalypse is Nigh, or What Happened as I Put the Dawdlekids to Bed

I should have known I was in for an interesting evening when brother and sister hunched around the trash can to peel their clementines together.  While humming Stars and Stripes Forever at the top of their respective lungs.  Another clue I was currently residing in an alternate universe centered on how Her Majesty has been singing a variety of songs to the tune of the Peaches and Herb classic: Shake Your Groove Thing.  We started with “It’s April Fool’s Day, April Fool’s Day…yeah,yeah” and progressed to “I am awesome, I am awesome..yeah, yeah” to “Take my shoes off, take my shoes off…yeah,yeah.”  It is possible I have exposed my children to entirely too much disco.  I blame Pandora.

Anyhoo, the littlest one took her turn at Just Dance and went to the bathroom willingly only to request a “manzana” immediately after her bath.  How better to stall a former Spanish teacher than to demonstrate you’ve learned a new word in Spanish?  I, of course, caved and let her have an apple.  The Hobbit fixed his own cereal then went to the bathroom with considerably more prodding.  He, of course, had to see a man about a horse.  Why equine negotiations can’t take place at another time of day, I don’t know.  I suppose I could scout out the stables to see if the deal was legit, but I really didn’t want to.  By the time he emerged, I was trying to dry Her Majesty’s hair.  At this point, he had to poke his little sister until she giggled causing her to move around and making it very hard to dry her hair.  Even better, the two of them started singing her rendition of You are My Sunshine. You know, the one that includes the verse “you smack me happy when skies are gray.”  Much playful smacking ensued.

I threatened him to within an inch of his life and he jumped in the shower, but I still had to brush Her Majesty’s teeth.  While I wrestled with the toothpaste cap, she flung back the shower curtain to hear her brother squeal like a girl.  At some point anti-Justin Bieber sentiment was also expressed.  Why that came up in the bathroom, I’ll never know.  

Now, here’s the kicker:  before she went to bed, Her Majesty WILLINGLY started picking up toys without being asked.  Again, it’s really late and she needs to be in bed, but what am I supposed to say?  Quit cleaning your room? I think not.  I have prayed for this day.  I had not, however, prayed she would be singing Rick Astley as she cleaned.  (If you haven’t seen Beaker as Rick Astley, you really must) Just as I get her settled into bed, the Hobbit emerges wearing nothing but a towel and shouting “To-ga party! To-ga! To-ga! To-ga!”  I have to chase him from the room amidst Her Majesty’s giggles.  In retrospect, I probably should have at least paused to complement him on his creative over-the-shoulder fastening of said toga/towel, but I guess I’m just not a good mother.

By that point, I knew I needed to write all of this down so I came in and started to type.  I realized it was quiet.  Too quiet.  I went to turn off The Hobbit’s light, and he asks oh-so politely, “Can I please finish the last chapter?”  Foiled again!  Not only am I sucker for reading, but he’s reading a classic—The Time Machine—and he knows I know he needs to take more AR tests at school.  So here I am typing while he is finishing his chapter.  Here I go to hopefully put the last Dawdlekid to bed….

And, miraculously, he has finished the book and is ready for bed.  It’s 9:08, at least 30 minutes later than when the two of them should be in bed.  If anyone had told me having children would be, at times, akin to living in an episode of The Muppet Show, I would have laughed in her face.  But I would have been wrong.

And if you think this is some kind of elaborate April Fool’s joke, you, too, are wrong.  I’m a writer, and I can’t make this sh*t up.

And She Turned into Her Mother...

Anybody else see the skit where Julia Sweeney is getting ready to go out and starts lapsing into her mother?  I was hoping to be ultra cool and put a video of the skit here, but it's not on YouTube.  I'm going to stop and let that sink in for a moment.  Yep, I'm so old I'm referencing a 1992 SNL skit that is NOT on You Tube.

Anyhoo, the episode includes Sweeney lapsing into a voice reminiscent of "Pat" about needing "a nice pant suit."  Her husband looks at her askance, and they play the dramatic music followed by, "And she turned into her mother..."

Earlier this week, I was trying to psyche myself up to clean the house.  I actually changed into workout clothes and stopped to put on my tennis shoes.  I paused at the foot of the bed and muttered to myself, "And she turned into her mother!"

Oh well, if I had to turn into someone else, I think I would pick her. 

Motherhood Makes it Better

Last week I wrote about 5 of the killjoys of motherhood. Today I'm going to tackle 5 things that are better with kids:

5. The Zoo. Nothing makes the zoo more fun than having little ones of any age point and smile or even talk to the animals. And, oh, all the pictures you can take!
4. Ice Cream. Going out for ice cream by yourself is fun, but sharing your ice cream with your kids is even better. Especially when the oldest gets a dollop of bright green sherbet on the tip of his nose.
3. Defrosting the freezer and washing the car. Both of these chores become a game with kids. They see the joy in throwing chunks of ice, not the drudgery of moving the freezer. They squeal with delight when you spray them with the hose, not grunt as they bend to scrub the undercarriage.
2. Reading. I still love reading on my own, but there is nothing better than having a little one nestle into your lap or sit beside you with a downy head just under your chin.
1. Christmas. It really is better to give than to receive.

Those are just 5 of the millions of things that kids make better. Have any more you want to offer?

The Killjoy of Motherhood

You know, motherhood sucks the joy out of some things. Here are five things that are no longer fun:

5. Play-Doh. I don't like picking up little pieces of Play-Doh off the floor. And Silly Putty has been permanently banned from this house thanks to the damage it can do.
4. Water rides. I can't entirely explain this one, but I think it has something to due with adulthood's increased likelihood of chafing.
3. Chewing gum. It gets into hair, the carpet of the car floorboard, ends up in stomachs. Being a teacher didn't help my disdain for gum--my apologies to everyone who's had to suffer my coffee breath due to my chewing gum embargo.
2. Markers. Oh, how I loved markers. I would use markers until they were completely out of ink. Now, I cringe at the sight of them because it usually means Lorelai has found the stash and decorated herself a la Goldie Hawn on Laugh-In.
1. Swimming. Okay, so this one is really the killjoy of womanhood. Swimming was so much more fun when it involved putting on a bathing suit and heading out the door. I don't even mind collecting the towels and accouterments, but I HATE, HATE the landscaping required. I hate that more than the thought of all my extra pounds showing.

So, what about you? What has motherhood taken the joy out of? Kool-Aid? Water balloons? Frog catching?