Manipulation: a toddlers story

Dear Kiki,

Earlier today at the Lee House;
"Hi Mama!  I want marshmellows mama!" Syd says with a smile.  This is how I was greeted when I entered her room this morning. 
"No sweetie, breakfast first.  Let's get a new diaper on and head downstairs."  I pick her up out of bed and waltz her around the room to her changing station. 
"I don't want breakfast right now, I want marshmellows." She replies.  This is immediately followed by, "I do it, mama.  I put my big girl diapers on."  Pull-ups are pretty fun.  Except when the toddler poops in them.  Then they are no fun for the parents. 
"I know you would like some marshmellows.  But mama says no.  Breakfast first."   At this point we are done changing her diaper and she is standing next to me - I am still sitting on the floor gatherin my thigs to go downstairs...when she put her hand on my face and says, "in a sweet soft voice "mama, please can I have a marshmellow?  Then I will have breakfast."

Oh man, what could I do. 

We had marshmellows before breakfast. 

Love,
Popo

THE Slippers

Dear Popo:

I need a new pair of slippers.  I tried to write slippers, size 8 on my Christmas list, but every time my pencil touched paper I felt extreme sadness.  I don’t want to replace my slippers. I love these slippers.  Their just the right height (low-calf boots), just the right temperature (my feet don’t get sweaty when I wear them with socks) and have the perfect amount of sole (enough to keep my feet dry if I walk outside to take the garbage out, but not too much to make them uncomfortable to sleep in). 

These are not just normal slippers they must have been sprinkled with fair dust at some point during their creation, making them not just slippers but THE slippers.  I have been blessed to be the owner and wearer of THE slippers.  However, not even fairy dust can keep a pair of slippers from wearing out.

The past few months I’ve been trying to talk myself into getting rid of THE slippers. I liken my relationship with THE slippers to my relationship with my high school boyfriend.  The trajectory of the relationship is really the same.

1.      See slippers/boyfriend from across the room, think wow, slippers/boyfriend looks super cool. I bet we’d have a lot of fun together. 

2.      Acquire slippers/boyfriend.

3.      Realize awesomeness of acquired slippers/boyfriend has an expiration date due to wearing out and/or graduation.  Delay feeling of sadness for expiration date.

4.      Usefulness of slippers/boyfriend begins to wane, but small moments of awesomeness obscure the looming expiration date.

5.      Ignore the expiration of slippers/boyfriend even though usefulness of slippers/boyfriend is no longer apparent.  Thinking about replacing slippers/boyfriend only makes you want to cling to slippers/boyfriend, whispering we should stay together FOREVER!!!

6.      Begin to resent slippers/boyfriend and when alone find yourself searching the internet for new slippers/boyfriend.  Picturing yourself with different slippers/boyfriend uncovers the delayed feelings of sadness which are stronger than the desire to end the relationship.

Eventually you have to make the tough decision to end the relationship with slippers/boyfriend and embrace the feelings of sadness, or continue in a perpetual cycle of unhappiness and resentment until someone else, possibly slippers/boyfriend, does something to make the decision for you.

By now THE slippers have so many holes I have to wear socks with them in order to keep my feet warm.  This means that it’s really the socks, and not THE slippers, that are warming my feet.  Thus, I believe I have reached step 5 above.  I fully understand the usefulness of THE slippers have expired, but the thought of logging-in to Amazon to search for a similar pair makes me feel sadness and I only cling to THE slippers tighter.

Eventually I’ll get to stage 6 and then have to make the tough decision to end my relationship and take the scary step of searching for a new pair of slippers.  When this happens I hope THE slippers and I can still be friends. 

Love,

Kiki

We're Really Not That Bad

Dear Popo:

A few months ago when picking Rue up from preschool, a kid approached D and said “When my dad drinks beer his farts smell really bad.”  Such a benign thing, like hangover farts, made awkward by the truthfulness and innocence of a child.  

Since then I've been thinking about things Rue might say to others, which may reflect badly on me / us.  Examples I've come up with:

My mom poops in the downstairs bathroom because she likes her privacy.

If the television is on in my parent’s room I can’t go in there because they’re watching adult movies.  (We actually say "this is an adult movie and you can't watch." We are not actually watching porn.)

I’m supposed to poop at preschool because my parents don’t like to wipe my butt.

My mom’s farts are really loud, but they smell like roses.  My dad’s farts smell like poop.

Love,

Kiki

Roller coaster of WTF!

Dear Popo:

You probably experience this with Ni Ni more often than we do with Roo, but isn’t it crazy how quickly an attitude and an evening can decompensate?  I picked Roo up from preschool at 5:30.  He was in a good mood and excited about making homemade pizzas for dinner.  By the time we were done grocery shopping he was amped up as if he’d recently had a bag of sugar.  By 6:15 he was crying about not being able to watch television.  There was a bit of an improvement in mood while he was eating his dinner, but as soon as that was over he was crying in the shower.  He was passed out in bed by 7:30…

At least I now have a free evening!

Love, Kiki

Is this poop or chocolate?

Dear Popo

Posting about pink clothes and stargazing – you sure are raising one stereotypical girl! J 

Me, on the other hand, my child is an enigma.  He is afraid of spiders and biking at mildly-fast speeds.  He’s also convinced large worms are actually baby snakes, and he refuses to even touch one.  Though worms are off limits, dog poop and human poop are not.  Neither is eating off of the floor, or rubbing hands on the inside of the garbage bin.  Dirt is also awesome! Though the original Care Bears movie was a little too scary for him, Brave was not (I mean what’s scary about your mom turning into a bear and trying to eat you?)

He loves Justin Timberlake, but hates Justin Bieber.  He also thinks Adam Levine sings like a girl (I don’t care what he sounds like, as long as he sings with his shirt off).

Love, Kiki

Pink; exceptions to

Being the mother of a little girl presents many challenges; the biggest and most concerning being the color pink. 
Society has assigned the color pink as the official color of little girls everywhere.  This can be very concerning to those of us who are disinclined to cloth ourselves in pastel. 
I have always been a vocal in my distaste for pink, much to the dismay of many friends and co-workers when it was babyshower time.  I have since, however, discovered that there can be exceptions to buying and wearing the color pink when you are the mother of a toddler.
The exceptions are as follows:
- Elmo (enough said)
- Minnie or Mickey are involved
- the shorts are tie-dyed and super cheap
- references to Auntie* or Grandma*
     *references must be on a fuchia or similar color item (pastel will be vetoed) and cannot involve bears, kitties or puppies
- child will not let go of the item without causing a scene that will get you band from Target.

So as you can see there are perfectly good reasons for purchasing and wearing pink. 

Challenge accepted! 

Mr. Moon, Mr. Moon

Last Wednesday I kept Sydney up too late and she hit that wall were she was so tired she couldn't get to sleep.  So rather than spend an hour or more doing the crying, rock her, crying, rock her. I decided to try something new.  After the first round of crying I scooped her up out of her bed and we snuggled together on the chaise in her room.  We sang, pointed at the stars and moon on her ceiling and played with her stuffed animals.  It was so perfect; one of those moments I hope I never forget.