Kids Say 2

On Sunday, August 15, while at a local CJ’s for lunch I almost choked. Rapunzel asked me a question and it totally took me by surprise. I know that she thinks and acts like a teenager some times, but it still takes me by surprise when she does. After all she is only six.

In the middle of our meal she tells me something I wasn’t prepared for:

R: “Mommy, I want to know the F word.”

M: “Why?”

R: “Because I do.”

M: “Fun, that starts with F.”

R: ” No, not that F word.”

M: “Family, that starts with F.”

R: “No, not that one either.”

M: “I know, free, that’s a really good F word. It’s my favorite.”

R: “No, Mommy. I want to know the bad word that you’re not supposed to say.”

M: “You don’t need to know that word.”

R: “But I want to know it.”

M: “No. You don’t need to know it. I don’t say it. Neither does Daddy or Grandma.”

R: “Yeah, but you know what it is.”

M: “And I wish I didn’t.”

That was the end of our conversation on that subject. I was later informed by my mother-in-law that Rapunzel had been asking her that question all week, and she would tell her to wait and ask me when I got here.

Rapunzel is too smart sometimes. When she was 2 1/2 she asked me where babies came from. My answer, from the mommy’s tummy. When she was 3 1/2 she asked how it got in the mommy’s tummy. My answer, the daddy puts it there. When she was 4 she asked how the daddy put it there. My answer, very carefully. That worked until she was about 5. Then she wanted more information. All I could tell her was that I would tell her more when she was older. She came back 5 minutes later and said, “I’m older now.” What do you say to that? I told her she had to wait a few more birthdays. (That’s how she keeps track of years). So far she’s been okay with that.

I don’t know about other parents, but I try not to tell her lies about things like that. She went into kindergarten knowing the correct name for the male and female genatalia. She accepted the name for the men’s, and the name for the women’s chest, but she didn’t believe the rest. I told her that was fine, but that I wasn’t going to lie to her about it.

I’m dreading the call from the school that I know is coming one day soon. You know, the one that starts, “You have an appoinment with the principal to discuss your daughter’s language in class.” How are you supposed to respond to something like that? Unless she’s cussing, she didn’t say anything wrong. True, maybe it was an inappropriate time, but it wasn’t inappropriate language.

I was told things straight up when I was young, and that’s how I intend to be with my kids. If you don’t like it that’s your problem. If you want to tell your kids that it’s called something else because the other words are to adult, that’s your perogative, not mine.

It is pretty funny to hear her say to someone that she needs to wear a bra under her shirt because her “breasts’” were showing. I tell her she doesn’t need to tell other people that, but kids will be kids.

Spa Treatment

Super Chunk was treated to a complimentary mud bath yesterday. Given to her lovingly by her sister Rapunzel. She recieved the deluxe bath which covers everything from head to toe. It was followed by a light misting shower to gently cleanse the skin.

The treatment started in the kitchen where the mud was carefully mixed with only the best Hemet dirt available. It was then applied in a new sling shot like fashion. Super Chunk ran back and forth while Rapunzel applied the treatment as quickly as she could. Taking care not to get it all over herself, just her target, uh, I mean client. When all available areas were thoroughly covered it was then time for a little run to help release some built up energy.

Then it was time to strip down for the cool, lightly misting shower to cleanse the skin. The shower was thoroughly enjoyed. They must have been in it for more than an hour.

ORD to LAX

We started out for the airport at 4:30 a.m. on Wednesday with Super Chunk screaming her head off in the car. Not a good start.

Then it’s time to check in and they change my seat. I’m now in row seven instead of 20 and they blocked out a seat for Super Chunk so she doesn’t have to sit in my lap. For some reason I thought this was a good thing. It wasn’t.

Super Chunk did remarkably well while we were waiting at the terminal. We were there early enough to get a seat by the window where she could roam a little without bothering anyone. Just about the time she got bored a seven year old little girl and her grandmother sat near us. I couldn’t have planned it better if I had known them. Within a few minutes of them leaving it was time to board.

Luckily for me the lady in front of us in line grabbed my “bistro” bag and handed it to me. Saving me the troubel of having to shufflethings around yet again. Then it was down the tunnel and onto the plane. I managed to carry Super Chunk all the way since she wanted nothing to do with the stroler. But when I put her down in first class she immediately sat down in the aisle.

Great. Now I have to try to bend over and pick her up with a 25 lb. backpack on my back, plus my opurse (which is another small backpack), and the diaper bag. All of this couldn’t be hard enough right? Nope. TRhen she has to cry. Not a loud scream, but enough that everyone I walked past looked at me. They were probably thinking the same thing I was, “Please don’t let her scream during the flight.”

I get to my seat and find out that row seven is directly behind first class and there is practically no way to stowe your carry-on under the seat. I was barely able to get the diaper bag under there and it’s fairly small. So the backpack with all of Super Chunk’s toys and snacks had to get stored overhead.

The good news. My seat was next to a grandmother traveling with her daughter and two grandsons. We had the center and window seats. I set Super Chunk down in the window seat with her dog and blanket (nreither of which was supposed to make the trip). Before I was able to get anything stowed away she was asleep We were also informed that our 4 hour 7 minute flight should only take 3 hours and 40 minutes. Super Chunk slept until we were about and hour and a half out.

Our decent was not easy for either of us. Super Chunk fussed most of the way down because her ears hurt. She did well while we had to wait to get off of the plane. But once we were off she didn’t want to wait for the stroller. So she cried for the whole ten minutes we had to wait.

Waliking out into the terminal was liked being swallowed whole. There were so many people I actually stopped walking and just stared for a second. I looked for the most direct way though but there wasn’t one. I start my way across and no one willmove out of the way. I don’t know how many people I had to go around because they wouldn’t take even a single step to the side. If we had known it would be that bad I wouldn’t have flown into this airport.

The baggage claim seemed like it was miles away. We had to go down two levels on the escalator. A stroller on an escalator is no fun, and of course there weren’t any signs for the nearest elevator. Then it was on to the longest hallway I have ever seen. There were two moving sidewalks which I avoided. I had enough motion sicknes for one day. Luckily for me the revolving doors at the end had a rainbow on the other side. I could see Rapunzel sitting on Josephine’s shoulders waiting about as patiently as she could. Once she saw us we started waving madly to each other. Then it happened Rapunzel yells “MOMMY!” loud enough I can hear her through the doors. This made Super Chunk smile instantly. The girls haven’t seen each other in two and half months. Their reunion was good for both of them.

Birthday Blues

It’s here, 30, the big three-oh.

Not for me but for S. He’s completely paranoid. He now thinks he’s “old.”

Now that he’s 30 and I’m still 25 it’s a BIG difference in our ages. Is it any more of a difference than when we got married? No. I was 18 and he was 23. It’s only 4 1/2 years.

I keep teasing him and referring to him as “an older man.” In a good way though. As in “I’m seeing an older man.” You know that mysterious thing you hear about in all the movies. Meaning an experienced man. But all he hears is “old man.”

They say you’re only as old as you feel. For S it should be about 25. He still likes to play in the mud, and go out with his buddies, but he knows when to be responsible also. Like if you find an abandoned car with keys in it you report it; you don’t destroy other’s property; and you don’t do anything to get yourself arrested. Some people just don’t understand those things. Particularly those who are only 21.

I found him a shirt for his birthday. I normally wouldn’t have bought it but it was just to fitting. Here is what it says, ” Let me drop everything and work on your problem.” He completely appreciated the humor in it, and it made him smile.

Today is his day. Super Chunk went to a friend’s house and we pick her up “whenever” as my friend put it. I’m making pork kabobs with fresh pineapple and bell peppers, served over a bed of white rice. We’re going to have a dinner with just the two of us, watch a movie, and then go get Super Chunk. I’m not sure what we’ll watch out of our collection, but it really doesn’t matter to me. All I want is to lay on the couch with his arms around me. I need to get in as much cuddling as I can since it has to last me two weeks. (I know I will have two very bouncy kids to cuddle with when I get to California, but it’s just not the same.)

Our evening is being shortened due to the fact that we leave for the airport at 4:30 a.m. It’s a time I’m dreading and looking forward to at the same time. It means two weeks away from S, but it also means I get to see Rapunzel, who I haven’t seen in nine weeks and four days. That’s right almost ten long weeks without seeing the happy, giggling, smiling face of my six year old. I wonder who she’ll hug first me, her Mommy, or Super Chunk, her sister? It doesn’t really matter, does it?

I leave S with a lot of love and a two freezers full of food. That’s right two. He has enough food to feed himself for five weeks, or himself and a friend for about two and a half weeks, and that’s not counting the cheap frozen burritos, hamburgers, hot dogs, or 40 sandwiches. He told me to make whatever I felt like and he’d just ration what he had. What kind of a wife would I be if I did that? So I made enough for him to have company too.

What can I say, but I love him. I love him with everything I have in me and then some. I love that’s he mine and no one else’s. His mom had him for the first 23 years, and I plan on having him for the next 80. Yes, that would make him 103, but as they say, some things only get better with age.

Two Little Troopers

Rapunzel and Super Chunk are the best kids in the world, really.

What six year old would could spend 10 weeks away from home, and not cry about it? Rapunzel, that’s who. She left for Hemet on June 5 by way of an her Papa’s 18 wheeler and she hasn’t looked back since.

They went all the way to Florida before finally making their way to California. They didn’t see any gators in Florida but they did see the tigers in Texas, her favorite state when she was little. The day after they got to Hemet they went to the San Diego Zoo and then too the Spaghetti Factory. The next week they were at a Christian retreat called Lassen Pines. Then on to Secret Agent Josephine’s for a few weeks at the beach. Then it’s off to the high desert for a week with my parents.

Yesterday they went to the mountains and had a blast. She made a “new friend” and had fun fishing with him and my uncle’s family. (Her new friend is my six year old step-cousin, that she hasn’t seen in two years). They each caught a rainbow trout and brought them back to take pictures with them. My dad said she caught it all by herself, but that she wouldn’t touch the fish or the bait. They’re working on that part today when they go fishing at the local lake.

Rapunzel is supposed to go back down to Hemet on Monday but I think she wants to stay a little longer. When I told her that I would be flying in on Wednesday she was very excited. This is what she told my mom, “My Mommy’s going to come on Wednesday, so you’ll have to take me back on that day so I can get her.” I don’t know how S’ mom will take her being gone a few extra days, but I’m not going to worry about it. She was here in May and has had Rapunzel all summer and my parents haven’t seen Rapunzel since Christmas.

Wednesday, only four short days away, yet it seems like an eternity. I feel like a little kid waiting for Christmas to come. I will be flying with Super Chunk to go pick up Rapunzel and bring her home just in time for school. We get to visit for two weeks which seems like such a long time but really isn’t. Two weeks to spend time with S’ family and mine. How do you squeeze visits with eight different families in just ten days? Luckily six of them live in the same town, Hemet, and the other two are only 15 minutes apart in the High desert.

This will be Super Chunk’s first flight and my third. I’m not sure how fun it’s going to be. Super Chunk is suffering from seasonal allergies. This has her little round nose all plugged up so everything is just going straight to her stomach. She spent most of the day with dry heaves trying to vomit up all the phlegm. This means that every time she has a dry heave she has to wait another hour before she can have anything to drink, let alone eat. The amazing thing is she doesn’t even cry about it. She calls for me to come and hold her up while she gets sick but that’s it. She didn’t shed one single tear at all today, and it was 3 p.m. before she was able to drink anything. (She slept until 11 am then put herself back to bed at 12:30, and woke up again at 2:30. I don’t want you to think I let her go all day without anything to drink while she was awake).

My girls are definitely two good little troopers. They’ll follow you anywhere and be good, as long as they’re not too tired. What more can I ask for?

Freaky!!!

Just a quick update then on to what’s on my mind today.

S’ job is going well. Chris wants to send him out to a few more sites by himself to see how he does before he makes a final decision. No problem.

The local Midas shop is still waiting for corporate to hire someone. It’s now been about six weeks since S turned in an application and resume. His was the last one they accepted. The manager said there were only three guys that were qualified, S being one of the three. We were told that he is still waiting on corporate to hire someone. When he calls they tell him that they are conducting interviews but they still haven’t contacted S. He told us Monday that S is the only one who is still contacting him about the job. He also said that he has given them S’ number, twice! Lord willing he’ll get the job. I mean, how many guys can wait six weeks to hear about a job and still not know?

Now, what’s really on my mind.

Have you ever read something or heard something about someone and thought, “Wow, we have a lot in common.”? That’s what happened to me last night, and then again this morning. I mean it’s one thing when you’re hearing information second hand, but when you’re “hearing” it straight from the source it is a little freaky.

I went to visit the Queen of Rambles and it was completely freaky. I don’t mean to say that we’re exactly alike or anything, but there does seem to be a lot of common ground. She’s close to my age, is a teacher, likes country music, her family could be their own soap on daytime TV, and we seem to have the same opinion on things, to name a few.

Let me elaborate a little with out making this too long.

• The family thing with as few words as possible. “As the Brown World Turns.” That is the title S has given my conversations with my family.
• I want to go back to school to become a kindergarten teacher.
• Country is what I listen to 99% of the time.
• My best friend in high school called me the “grunge prep.” Let’s just say I dressed how I felt, not according to what was cool/in. I was never one for cliques.

I wish I could just sit down and talk with her face to face. I mean we would probably completely hate each other, isn’t that what always happens when you have so much in common? But it would be interesting to swap “war stories” and see how we each handled them.

For now it’s back to the archives to see what else she has to say.

The Carrot, the Egg, & the Coffee

A carrot, an egg, and a cup of coffee… Believe me, you will never look at a cup of coffee the same way again.

A young woman went to her mother and told her about her life, and how things were so hard for her. She said she did not know how she was going to make it, and felt like she just wanted to give up. She was tired of fighting and struggling… It seemed as if when one problem was solved, a new one arose.

Her mother calmly took her into the kitchen. She filled three pots with water, and placed each on a high fire. Soon the pots came to a boil. In the first pot, her mother placed carrots; in the second she placed eggs; and in the last she placed ground coffee beans. She let them sit and boil, without saying a word.

In about 20 minutes, she turned off the burners. She then fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. She pulled the eggs out and placed them into a bowl. Then she ladled the coffee out and placed it in a bowl.

Turning to her daughter, she asked, “Tell me, what do you see?”

“Carrots, eggs, and coffee,” she replied.

Her mother brought her over closer and asked her to feel the carrots. She did and noted that they were soft. The mother then asked the daughter to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, she observed the hard boiled egg. Finally, the mother asked the daughter to sip the coffee… The daughter smiled as she tasted its rich aroma.

The daughter then asked, “What does it mean, mother?”

Her mother explained that each of these objects had faced the exact same adversity … boiling water . And each reacted differently. The carrot went in strong, hard, and unrelenting. However after being subjected to the boiling water, it softened and became weak, more pliable. The egg had been fragile. Its thin outer shell had protected its liquid-like interior, but after sitting in the boiling water, its inside became hardened. The ground coffee beans were unique, however. After they were in the boiling water, they had changed the water.

“Which are you?”, she asked her daughter. “When adversity knocks on your door, how do you respond? Are you a carrot, an egg, or a coffee bean?”

Think of this: ‘Which am I?’

Am I the carrot that seems strong… but with pain and adversity do I wilt and become soft and lose my strength? Am I the egg that starts with a malleable heart, but changes with the heat? Did I have a fluid spirit… but after a death, a breakup, a financial hardship, or some other trial, have I become hardened and stiff? Does my shell look the same… but on the inside am I bitter and tough, with a stiff spirit and hardened heart? Or am I like the coffee bean? The bean actually changes the hot water… the very circumstance that brings the pain. When the water gets hot, it releases the fragrance and flavor.

If you ARE like the bean… when things are at their worst, you get better and change the situation around you. When the hour is the darkest and trials are their greatest… do you elevate yourself to another level? How do you handle adversity?

Are you a carrot, an egg, or a coffee bean?

Count your blessings, not your problems……

THINK ABOUT THIS WHEN YOU ARE HAVING A ROUGH TIME “CARROT, EGG, COFFEE.”

I recieved this as an email today and I thought that it was fitting.