Oh, hi there. Remember when I kept a riveting, timely, unique blog that was intellectually stimulating and incomparably entertaining? No? Me neither. Get in line.
I just had to reset the forgotten password on my WordPress account. It was only then that I recalled my last two posts were in May and, before that, January. Based on my inconsistent updates, I’ll address the elephant over in that there corner and admit I am the worst blog writer ever. I know, I know. Luckily, I write this blog only for my own selfish reasons, to aid my prematurely failing memory of our childrens’ milestones and shenanigans, and to potentially humiliate and/or entertain our offspring in the future.
With the elephant out of the way, I should entice you with the fact I have TONS of great material. By tons of material, I mean I am constantly thinking, “Oh, geez, I need to write this down!” every time one of our kids does something remotely cute or humorous. I succeed in actually recording these things just shy of 0.5% of the time. It is hardly novel to think one’s own children are the cutest and smartest and funniest and naughtiest of beings, so I welcome and understand any murmurings of “who cares,” by the unfortunate souls who are forced to absorb my unwelcome updates. By writing a blog, however, one is NOT forced to nod and smile at my obnoxious quantity of kid stories/photographs/woes, so if you’re still reading this garbage, prepare to be BLOWN AWAY! Or, more likely, minimally distracted for a few minutes…
One of many disappointments in myself as a young (in experience, not age) mother is that I have failed to stay away from the dreaded ‘mom talk.’ I swore I would never participate in such cliché, mundane, repetitive quips. Nope. I would not partake in the parental mantras, “when I was a kid…” or “life’s not fair,” or “because I said so,” to name a few.
Our sweet babies are far from the approaching thunderstorm that is adolescence and puberty, so these phrases might just spew from my vocal cords like a repressed volcano when the time arrives, BUT so far I have avoided these favorite catch-phrases of parenthood. However, with our chatty and engaging toddler, who is developing a greater sense of independence (a burden/blessing to parents of toddlers everywhere) whilst learning the ways of the world around her, I have said so, SO many things I could never have predicted to avoid. Often, I don’t even notice or realize what I am saying. Not until minutes or hours later do I recall a particular episode and wonder if a particular conversation REALLY took place. Did I REALLY just say that? Did we REALLY just have a lengthy discussion about the volume and attitude of “Seal,” her beloved stuffed animal/person/best friend that accompanies her everywhere and seems to have an innately annoying voice and vocabulary?
A few examples of Hazel bringing out the best in me:
“If you ask the same question too many times, Mommy’s ears stop working.”
“No, I don’t think your turds get scared before you flush them.”
“I know you weren’t tickling him with your feet. Stop trying to kick your brother.”
“Please don’t eat with ‘sock hands’. That’s gross. Put your socks back on your feet and use your utensils.”
“Well, when you put it that way, I suppose robots might need to go to the grocery store.”
“Yes, you can see Olaver’s poopy diaper. Just don’t touch it.”
“Please be a quieter dinosaur.”
“Yes, that does stink and yes, we know you farted.”
“I’m sorry you are ‘so frustrated,’ but I can’t make the bath fill any faster.”
Often times I also find myself using the contractions, “let’s.” For example: “Let’s not do that.” It’s been a while since I took an English class, but if memory serves me correctly, “let’s” is equivalent to “let us” which would imply WE are doing things we shouldn’t be doing. Ummm…no. Why must I drag myself into a situation? Am I trying to convey camaradarie? Emotional support? Am I being a giant softie and leveling a potentially upsetting situation by suggesting that I, too, am doing something wrong or equivalent to her behavior? Dumb, dumb, dumb. To highlight my poor choice of wording:
“Let’s not pick our nose.” Wrong. I was not picking my nose.
“Let’s put our pants on.” Correction: YOU put pants on. I wear pants every time I leave the house. And contrary to your beliefs, your butt gets plenty of fresh air.
“Let’s think about what happened.” Actually, I don’t need to think hard. You do. At least pretend you’re thinking about it so I’ll be duped into assuming it will never happen again. I know what took place because I have two functioning eyeballs and a hint of common sense.
As always, my list could go on and on and on, but I’ll share one more for the road and consider it a meager success that I managed to throw together one blog post over the past four months:
“Yes! You look JUST like a lighthouse!”
Have a good one.