New Midlife Mommy

Cute Overload

DD went to the princess birthday party on Tuesday night.  Let me say at the start that I effing hate middle of the week birthday parties.  I don't get it -- is it cheaper on a weeknight?  I would be willing to chip in for the extra cost if we could please, please have these parties on a Friday night.  We skipped out on the last birthday party that one of DD's school friends had, because it started at 5:00 on a school night, which would have meant that DH or I would have had to take time off from work to attend.  DD has never let us forget that we didn't take her.  At least this party started at 6:00.

Anyway.  This was B's princess birthday party.  There were eight girls total, and probably ten adults.  We were directed to our own table, where we were served sweetened tea, which was really quite good.  In the space of a half an hour, they were able to get princess gowns on all eight girls, do their hair, put on glitter, bracelets, and necklaces, and practice a princess pose.  All of the girls were announced, and they all had a chance to show the mommies and daddies their princess pose.  Most had stage fright, and DD was one of them. 

They were seated and had a lesson on etiquette (princesses don't wipe their hands on their dresses, princesses don't chew with their mouths open, princesses always put their napkins on their laps, princesses always share, etc.).  Then they had cookies and pink lemonade (the adults were given cookies as well).  Later, they had ice cream and cake (and so did we).  They also had a fashion show, dancing, a visit from the fairy godmother, songs from the head princess, and present opening.  Finally, there was a dance with Prince Charming (B's daddy).  Very sweet.  DD had a wonderful time, and she was given a photo of all the girls together posing with the head princess (for some inexplicable reason, DD appeared to be screaming in the picture -- totally charming, I can assure you).  Unfortunately, it was past DD's bedtime by the time we got home.  DD was wound up, but mommy and daddy were exhausted.

We are going to have our annual 4th of July party tomorrow, but it is going to be smaller than usual.  Just my dad, possibly DD's godmother and daughter, and DH's nephew, wife, and their three kids.  Last year, it was a lot bigger, because it included my mom and my brother and his family (but, since we're not talking anymore, they're not coming).  We are on the parade route, and it is quite elaborate.  It lasts about an hour, and possibly more this year, since it's an election year and and all the politicians like to pass out things.  It is a great parade for the kids, because they can make out like bandits with candy and other things. 

Hopefully, the parade will start at the end of our street.  If not, then that means that we will be at the end of the parade, which means less goodies for the kids.  After the parade, I've got munchies and swimming planned, then lunch (take out -- you didn't think I would be cooking, did you?), and then everyone will likely go home late in the afternoon.  My father wants to spend the night, because DD's godmother is having a graduation party tomorrow for her eldest.  I don't quite understand why he wants to stay over here, because we are very north, and the graduation party is to the east and nowhere near our house, but whatever.  I told him that we plan on going to some fireworks in the evening, and the next day holds breakfast, swimming lessons, errands, and then we will go to the graduation party.  I worry that he will be bored, but it's up to him.  I honestly don't have time to entertain him and get everything done that I need to get done.  But he's certainly welcome to the TV and the guest room.  He would also have time for a nap, which is always nice (at least I think so).

And Monday is the big transfer day.  This morning, they told me that my lining is 11 mm (they look for at least 7 mm).  So, that's good, though I'm fat as a cow as a result (have I said how much I hate Estrace lately?).  The ultrasound technician was a little weird.  She claimed that she'd seen me before, but I don't think so.  Most of these visits with the dildo cam (as it is affectionately known by us stirrup queens) are only a few minutes long.  This took at least ten minutes, punctuated by "hold your breath.  OK, breathe."  Times 20.  WTF?  Maybe she is just exceptionally thorough, but now I totally understand why they were running late today.  We will get our embryo report on Monday morning before the transfer.  Ironically, I had the opportunity to meet the embryologist this morning, as she just happened to be in the office.  This was very unusual, because the office that she works in (the sister clinic) is about 45 minutes away.  She is not our normal embryologist, but she appeared to know what she was doing, and she understood our thawing instructions.  Bonus points there, I guess.

That's about it.  Sorry if I'm not commenting much.  I am so far behind on blog reading, it's not funny.  At one point, I zeroed everything out (I was around 800-900 unread posts, and I couldn't seem to catch up).  That was really a freeing feeling.  But, my counter is back up to over 100 again, and I'm starting to feel antsy about it.

Oh, I almost forgot.  Today was a historic day at our house.  The occasion?  DD's first skinned knee.  Really, you'd think that this would have happened by now, but it hasn't.  I bought her a pair of cute flip flops in response to her repeated pleas, but I also warned her about running in them.  Well, this evening, she tripped and fell while -- what else -- running.  Sigh.  This will be the first of many skinned knees, but I hope that she isn't such a wimp about it next time.  For all the drama, you'd have thought she'd broken her leg.

Ah well.  That's about all the news that is fit to print on our side of the world.  Have a great 4th of July!

A Visit To Lemon Land

I am very bad at keeping my blogroll up to date.  Once upon a time, it really did match my Bloglines.  But now, well, it doesn't.  If you're not on there, but you know that I read you from the comments I leave, my apologies.  Someday, I will catch up, or at least I'd like to think so.

One of the blogs that I read is Toddler Planet.  WhyMommy writes about her children, as well as her struggle with inflammatory breast cancer.  I must admit, I just started reading not too long ago, so I haven't been following her story for very long.  She's currently in remission, which is wonderful, wonderful news.

In her latest post, she linked to the World Wide Breast Cancer site.  They have a page on the site that discusses the twelve warning signs of breast cancer in a simple way -- with a picture of twelve lemons in an egg carton, each illustrating one of the symptoms. 

I'm such a bonehead about this stuff.  I don't do regular exams.  In part, it's because I'm lazy.  But, my breasts are lumpy anyway, so it's hard for me to tell if there's a problem.  One doctor, once upon a time, said that the sides of my breasts felt like a sacks of rice.  Charming, eh?  My current doctor, who I've been with for longer than I care to admit, has a hard time as well.  He encourages me to have annual mammograms, and I generally do.  I did skip a couple of years right after I had DD, because I didn't think that anyone would do a mammogram on a nursing mom.  Turns out, I was wrong, though I did have to call quite a number of places to find someone who was willing to do it.  Part of the problem, I guess, is that the milk makes the tissue look denser.  And, let's face it, I guess it could be messy, though it wasn't for me.

Anyway, if you have a moment, take a look at the picture -- it might just save your life.

Sermon over.  Back to our regularly scheduled programming.  Hope you are having a wonderful weekend.

Mish Mash

It was a banner day in our house yesterday.  The Christmas tree is down!  The Christmas tree is down!  At this point, since we are half-way to next Christmas, it almost seemed like a waste.  But, you know, there's that 4th of July party we are having, and we thought that people would talk.  So, I just thought I would tell the whole Internet how absolutely f*cking lazy we are that we can't even take down our tree within any reasonable time table after Christmas.  I don't know what we are going to do with the extra space.

Moving on.  I mentioned that we were going to do back-to-back cycles.  And we are.  I'm still taking Lupron, I've started the dreaded Estrace, and our transfer is set for July 7th.  We are going to start with our PNs (pronuclei).  Thaw one straw, and if one or both survive, then stop.  If neither survive, then on to next straw of two PNs.  Same instructions.  Then on to the next straw of two.  Same instructions.  If none survive, then on to the straw of three, and we will take whatever comes out of that.

I've told a couple of people that I'm not feeling very positive about this cycle.  It just seems like it's never going to work.  We've had two FETs (that's all we got from our seven frozen embryos), one fresh transfer with a new donor, and now we are back to FETs.  Though, honestly, I prefer FETs -- more laid back, less expensive.  But the other thing that has happened with all of my morose thoughts is that I have come to believe that even if this all fails, it will be OK.  DD is wonderful.  She gets better all the time, even though she can be a complete jackass sometimes (but then, can't we all).  So, I'm kind of in a peaceful place right now.  Of course, I'm sure that will change during the two week wait.  But for now, it's OK.  I've been trying to squeeze in all of my appointments that I want to take care of, presuming that the cycle might work -- mammogram, hair appointment, eye exam, etc.

And, I've been thinking about the election.  I know that I don't generally talk about politics here, because I have always been able to agree to disagree with people, I have friends of all stripes, and frankly, it is silly to fight about this stuff.  Because really, when you think about it, separation of powers keeps the President from doing much of anything; we give him way too much credit.  I think Congress can have much more of an influence on what happens in the country than the President.  But, reasonable minds can differ.

But anyway.  What brought this to mind was a conversation I had with DH.  DH and I had a date night on Saturday, and in the middle of a discussion we were having, he said "you know, you really are a Democrat."  But, actually, when you break it down by issue, I don't know what I am.  Some issues have me purely in the Democrat camp, while other issues have me in the Republican camp (and no, I won't say which ones are which).  Unfortunately, there isn't a candidate for me.  I'm not sure that I can live with either one.  And I'm certainly not excited by either candidate, though I can say that I do respect them both for running.  It takes a lot of courage and stamina to do that.  So, a bit of angst in this area.

Finally, I think I've finally committed to a day to go to put flowers on my mother's grave.  I didn't want to do it.  I am not ready to do it.  But my father wants to go.  The cemetery is three hours away from his house, and two hours from mine.  He isn't supposed to be driving long distances.  So, it was either let him put himself at risk, foist it on my brother (oh so tempting, except that my dad asked me for help), or just do it.  My mother always tried to guilt me into promising to decorate the graves, and I would never do it -- because I didn't want to have more things to feel guilty about when I fell short.  (Though now, I feel guilty that I didn't just go ahead and make the promise, even if I couldn't always keep it, because it would have made her feel better.)  I told her if she wanted to make sure that I would visit regularly, she should plant herself closer to home.  But, she wanted to be buried next to her parents, and so she is.  It will be a quick trip, if a four hour drive can be a quick trip.  Flowers on her grave, my grandparents' graves, and my great-grandparents' graves (grandfather's parents).  Maybe I can distance myself from what I'm doing, and it won't be so bad.  But I doubt it.  I still find myself not accepting the fact that my mother is really gone, so I imagine putting flowers on her grave might be a dose of reality that will be difficult for me to handle.  And, no wine when I get home, because I've tentatively scheduled this for 7/12, which will be in the middle of my two week wait.  Ugh.

I guess that's about it for now.  I have more thoughtful posts in mind, but no time to be thoughtful at the moment.  I'm trying to find a computer store who will install more memory for me while I wait.  Do you think such a place exists?  I just hate leaving my computer with anyone, I go through withdrawal when I don't have it around so that I can constantly check blogs, e-mail, etc., and I always wonder if they are snooping at my financial information (though I'm sure that's paranoid).  In the meantime, I have to wait FOREVER for my computer to do things, and if I have more than a couple of windows open, it takes longer than forever. 

And, as we all know, patience is not one of my virtues. 

It Does Happen, Just That Fast

We've started going to yet another place for DD's swimming lessons.  For the first set of lessons, we were at an athletic club (not as members), but they decided to drop group lessons.  In the process of doing that, they fired the swimming teacher and her assistant.  It was extremely callous, since they'd just hired them a few months earlier.  They fired them after they'd developed a whole program.  Needless to say, even though it's nice, we will not be going back there.  I don't think much of a place that treats its employees so badly.  And, even though the teachers were absolutely wonderful (two teachers to a six-child class), DD didn't pass the  first level.

So, we tried the local Y.  Even though the pool was wonderful, with a capital "W," they had a ratio of six kids to one teacher.  DD didn't pass the first level again.

Undaunted, we decided to go to another another athletic club that we'd heard good things about.  We did join this time, because they reduced the enrollment fee.  We were happy with the ratios in the introductory swimming class, which were 4 to 1.  And, I've had the chance to work with DD in our own pool, which I think has helped.  This class is actually 3 to 1 because they didn't get full enrollment.  There is a little girl, 2-1/2 years old, named G; she comes with her daddy only.  There is a little boy who appears to be over 4, and his name slips my mind at the moment; he comes with both parents.  And there is DD, who is going to be 4 in August, and DH and I come to her lessons.

Her teacher seems kind of spacey, though things were OK after the first lesson.  We are not allowed to sit near the children.  Instead, we have to go into an observation room.  We can see the kids, and they can see us, but the concern is that, at least with the smaller kids, a parent close by is too distracting.  There is some merit to that.

This Saturday, the teacher was five minutes late (lessons are only a half an hour).  All of the parents were by the kids in the pool, waiting for class to start.  She didn't apologize.  Instead, she got into the water, and started having a conversation with some other woman who was in the pool with a very small child (not in our class).  Another several minutes gone.  We were all pretty p*ssed off.  But, we trotted off to the observation room and didn't say anything.

Shortly before the lesson was scheduled to end (there was no makeup for the lost time), we all came back out.  DH and the other three parents were standing at the narrow end of the rectangular pool, waiting for the kids to come back, since that's where the steps are.  The children are supposed to move along the side of the pool, hand over hand (there's a wide rail that you can stand on).  Or, mom and dad can come over to the side of the pool and help the kids out.  I chose to sit on the long side of the pool on a bench not five feet away from the kids as they were finishing up the lesson.

The teacher dismissed the class.  The little boy started walking through the water over to his parents (he's tall enough to manage the three foot water level at the deepest part of this section).  G was standing right next to the teacher, not a foot away, on her right hand side.  DD had gotten out of the pool, and I was fumbling for the towel.  The teacher started telling me how good DD had done that day.  This exchange took only about a minute.  And, the next thing I knew, I heard G's father yell, "G!" as loudly as he could.  But the time I turned to see where the yelling had come from, he was right there (he was actually only about 20 feet away, and I don't know if he knew that the class had been dismissed).

To my horror, G was under the water.  And I never f*cking saw it happen.  Nor did her teacher.  G's father pulled her out, she started crying, and everything was OK.  I don't think she was under more than a couple of seconds.  But I was only five feet away, and the teacher was standing right next to her.  And we never saw a thing.  Neither did the two life guards who were directly across from where this happened, on the other side of the pool.  DH also didn't see it from where he was standing, because he also had his eyes on DD.  But he did ask me why I didn't do anything, not realizing that I just didn't see it happen.

In my heart, which was now in my stomach, I knew that G would not have drowned.  I would have seen her in a few seconds when I looked away from the teacher (we weren't having that deep of a discussion).  And the teacher certainly would have seen her when she turned to toward the steps to get out.  But how scary that was. 

It's true what they say you know.  They slip under, quietly, and sink like a stone.  There wasn't a struggle.  There wasn't a splash.  And now I know I understand why so many kids drown while an adult is right there watching.

Later, in the family locker room, I apologized to the father for not seeing what was right in front of me.  He was angry at the teacher, and I don't blame him.  She should have noticed. 

But, I will always hate myself a little bit for not noticing too.

Speechless

I am, as the title suggests, just speechless.  Why?  Because, during dinner, my three year old used the phrase "rectangular prism."  And then she told me what it meant.  And then she explained, without prompting, how a rectangular prism may be distinguished from a plain old rectangle.  And then she walked around the kitchen showing me examples.

"See mommy?  This is a rectangular prism." 

Damn.

Daddy's Day

DD has been soooo excited about today.  She had presents!  Presents for Daddy!  Presents that must be opened!  And secrets!  Secrets about the presents!  Secrets that were just bursting to get out!

Ahem.  With great struggle, DD did manage to keep the content of the presents a secret.  But she just couldn't resist telling him little things, immediately after she'd learned them.  Like, "Daddy, your card!  Your card!  Has a purple envelope!  But I can't tell you what's on the front!  And I can't tell you what's inside!  It's a secret -- shh."  She'd hidden all the presents under our bed so that she could easily get to them today, this very, very special day.

And finally, finally, FINALLY after waiting what seemed like an eternity ("mommy, is it Daddy's Day yet?  Is it?  Is it?"), this morning arrived.  DD was in heaven.  She ran to the side of the bed and pulled out all of the presents. 

"Daddy, your presents!  Your presents!  You could open them!  I could help!"

And so they did.  A card shaped like a tie, that DD's teacher had made, with a poem inside.  DD's card that I'd bought, which had a princess on the front and a sweet verse inside, with the letters of DD's name painstakingly traced at the bottom.  A small frisbee with her picture in the center and artwork on the side, courtesy of DD.  A "#1 Dad" hat that DD's teacher had made.  A coffee cup with her school picture on it.  And, my personal favorite, a picture frame that says, "My prince did come.  His name is Daddy.  Love, His Princess DD."  That was very fitting, because for all the hours that DD has played at being a princess, Daddy has always been her prince.  When they watch a video of a princess movie, whenever the princess receives her first kiss from the prince, DD leaps onto her Daddy's lap and sighs, "oh prince, my prince."  Just at the right moment.  Kind of corny, but very sweet.

But the best part, the very best part, came after the presents were opened.  DD was sitting on DH's knees, looking up at his face.  Not a word was said.  But the look on her face radiated pure love.  I can't help but think that if there are angels, this is the look that they have on their faces.  And in a fleeting moment, it was gone.  But I will remember it forever.

Late this afternoon, we will drive to my Dad's house and take him out to dinner.  He's getting kind of cantankerous in his old age.  I offered to pay to have his lawn cut this year, because it's just getting to much for him.  He thanked me and said that it could be my Father's Day present to him.  When I told him that I already had that taken care of, he started b*tching and complaining about how silly I was to get him anything, he doesn't need anything, blah, blah, blah.  Well, in fact I didn't get him any thing.  I just got him gift cards.  One to a restaurant that he always goes to, from DD.  And I bought him a gift card from a warehouse store that he always shops at, so he can get the things that he needs.  I didn't say anything while he was yelling at me, even though I wanted to.  And, I'm sure he doesn't remember doing it.  He's 78 now, and he does have some memory failure due to hardening of the arteries in his brain (no Alzheimer's, thank the Lord, though Alzheimer's drugs are a lifesaver for him).

I can't remember ever being as close to my Dad as DD is to hers.  I vaguely remember favoring him (as I was rejecting my Mother) as I was growing up and my Mom telling me, "Hey, kid, if it weren't for me, you wouldn't have anything."  And, you know, she was right.  Not to shortchange my Dad.  He worked at a job that he hated, counting the years toward retirement, just to provide for us.  (My Mom was a SAHM, having quit her job when she was seven months pregnant with me, never to return.)  We never lacked for anything, and if we needed something extra, my Father would work overtime.  I know now how hard it is go to in, day after day, to a job that you hate, with nothing but long years of the same stretching out before you.  Not a good life.  But a yoke that he put on willingly for us.  And I have made a point to specifically thank him for that.  Because it took becoming an adult, with a child of my own, to really understand that particular sacrifice.

That said, my Mom was the heart and soul of our house.  My Dad provided the capital, but my Mom made sure that everything else that mattered was there for us.  The special dress.  The costume for a school activity, the one that she stayed up all night putting the finishing touches on.  Cupcakes for school.  The cheese burger and sundae to mend a broken heart.  And on and on.  It was my Mom who was there, who kissed my tears away.  My Dad didn't know how (and not for lack of gentle prodding from my Mom -- she and her father were very, very close).  In fact, I don't much recall my Dad telling me that he loved me until I put a stop to that in my early 20's.  I simply insisted on a hug, a kiss, and and "I love you" every time I left their house.  Every time.  Now, he reaches out on his own to do that.  But still, we are not very close.  And we did have some knock down, drag out fights after my Mom died. 

I have spent more time with my Dad in the last several months than I ever have in all the years before.  You see, my Dad thought that fathers should spend time with sons, and mothers with daughters.  So, my brother got all of his attention, especially when they spent time together doing Boy Scout things.  My Mom was always there for me, but a girl just needs her daddy sometimes, you know?

But, we're working on it.  And that's all that we can do.  But, I would not be truthful if I didn't admit that I feel a hint of jealousy when I see the beautiful relationship that DD and DH have forged.  What makes this even more amazing is that DH lost his dad when DH was 17.  And, at that point, DH wasn't even living at home, since he was attending a seminarian high school in another state.  (Now, that's an interesting story, but it belongs to DH, so I won't share.)  So, I'm not sure exactly where DH learned how to be such a great dad.  But it doesn't matter.  He just is.

Anyway.  Enough said.  If you still have a dad, give him a hug for me.  And if you don't, hopefully, there are good things to remember.  And here is a link to something that I found on the web (through Kim Komando, if you must know).  Very, very nice.  And, even though I'm not a country music fan, I must admit that any country song with half-way decent words brings me to tears.  Here it is; enjoy.

(I don't suppose you noticed the time of this post -- it's only 9:00 in the morning, and I can't imagine that the day could possibly get any better.)

Another Meme

A meme, taken from Daisy:

TECHNOLOGY

Q. What is your wallpaper on your computer?
A: It changes daily; courtesy of the 10,000 images that I've downloaded from Webshots

Q. How many televisions you have in your house?
A: Two.

BIOLOGY

Q. Are you right-handed or left-handed?
A: Right.

Q. Have you ever had anything removed from your body?
A: A couple of teeth, some eggs, my tonsils and adenoids, and a spinal cord tumor

Q. What is the last heavy item you lifted?
A: The little bean (weighing in at just over 30 pounds).

Q. Have you ever been knocked out?
A: In addition to the surgeries, I fell through the floor of a barn loft, smack dab into about a foot of cow manure.  I woke up to some very frightened cows huddled in the corner of my cousin's barn.

BULLSHITOLOGY

Q. If it were possible, would you want to know the day you were going to die?
A: Nope.

Q. If you could change your name, what would you change it to?
A: When I was a kid, I hated my name.  Now, I wouldn't change it.

Q. What color do you think looks best on you?
A: Navy blue or black.

Q. Have you ever swallowed a non-food item?
A: A quarter (daughter, do as I say, not as I do -- I used to put money in my mouth -- yuck!)

DAREOLOGY

Q. Would you kiss a member of the same sex for $100?
A: I'm not much of a kisser of either gender, sad to say.

Q. Would you allow one of your little fingers to be cut off for $200,000?
A: Nope.

Q. Would you never blog again for $50,000?
A: Maybe.

Q. Would you pose naked in a magazine for $250,000?
A: Nope, not even with my totally awesome 20's body.

Q. Would you drink an entire bottle of hot sauce for $1000?
A: Nope.

Q. Would you, without fear of punishment, take a human life for $1,000,000?
A: Nope.

DUMBOLOGY

Q: What is in your left pocket?
A: Nothing right now, though I did have a small rock in it for awhile, courtesy of my daughter.

Q: Is Napoleon Dynamite actually a good movie?
A: Never saw it.

Q: Do you have hardwood or carpet in your house?
A: Carpet and tile.

Q: Do you sit or stand in the shower?
A: Stand.  No place to sit.

Q: How many pairs of flip flops do you own?
A: One.

LASTOLOGY

Q: Last person who texted you?
A: T-Mobile, thanking me for my payment.  Come to think of it, they are usually the only people who text me.  Such a sorry life I lead.

Q: Last person who called you?
A: My boss.

Q: Person you hugged?
A: My daughter.

FAVORITOLOGY

Q: Number?
A: Two.

Q: Season?
A: Summer!  But spring is a close second.

Q: Color?
A: Red.

CURRENTOLOGY

Q: Missing someone?
A: My mom.

Q: Mood?

A: None, really.  Physically tired though.

Q: Listening to?
A: Croaking toads through the open window.  I do love summer.

Q: Watching?
A: My monitor.

Q: Worrying about?
A: The economy.  My daughter growing up too fast.  Whether my next cycle will work.  Whether the pregnancy will go well.

Q: Wearing?
A: Jogging suit.

RANDOMOLOGY

Q: First place you went this morning?
A: To my car, then the bakery for coffee, then the dry cleaners, and then work.

Q: What can you not wait to do?
A: Snuggle with my husband and daughter.

Q: Do you smile often?
A: Yes.

Q: Are you a friendly person?
A: Yes.

If you'd like to play along, consider yourself tagged.

And May The Fastest Candidate Win

I've mentioned before that DD and I watch Fox and Friends in the morning.  And she is with DH and I in the evenings.  We watch a little television as she's winding down for the night.  Everything is fair game -- CNN, MSNBC, and Fox.  The election coverage has been fascinating.  And yes, we are news junkies.  DD likes to point at the TV and say, "hey, the talking heads are on!"  Which actually sounds kind of strange coming out of her mouth.

DD has asked a lot of questions about the presidential race.  Not too long ago, she could tell you all the candidate's names (after the lesser knowns had dropped out -- she's only three, you know) -- Obama, Clinton, Huckabee, McCain, and Romney.  She knows when they have dropped out and reduces her list accordingly, though she was kind of sad that she couldn't say "Huckabee!!!" any more.  That was always good for a laugh for some reason.

There is one candidate (who shall remain nameless) that I've never really liked.  And I made the mistake of mentioning that to DD at some point.  And, since that time, whenever DD has seen that person on television, she tells me who the candidate is, and then she has added "but we don't like [that person]."  That really made me feel bad, and I've pointed out that just because I might not like someone's politics doesn't mean that person is not a good person; I just disagree with that person's positions on certain things.  And, then I tell her to look at all the supporters.  And to look at that person's family standing nearby.  See?  There are lots and lots of people who like that person. I've also pointed out that DD can't just take my opinions and make them her own.  She is going to have to decide for herself.  It's sunk in a little bit.  Now, she will say, "there's [candidate name].  But you don't like [that person].  But lots of other people do."  I guess it's a start.

Yes.  We are very in the moment parents.  Very up to date.  I was just breaking my arm patting myself on the back, as my mom used to say, because all of these things presented so many teaching moments.  Democracy in action.  Agreeing to disagree.  Etc.  Etc.  Etc.

And then, the other day, DD asked:  "Mommy, when are they going to run?"

Blink.

Blink.

Ah, yes.  The presidential race.

I think that we lost something in the translation.

My Future Teenager

I always look forward to picking DD up from school on Fridays.  We make a game out of it.  We get in the car, pump our arms, and yell, "It's Friday night!!"  This means the start of the weekend, more time together, and the best part (from DD's perspective) is a Happy Meal with ice cream for dessert.  Corny, yes.  But it is our tradition, and McDonald's once a week won't kill anyone.

Everything seemed fine when I went into DD's classroom on Friday.  She ran up to me and hugged me.  I picked her up and carried her around for awhile.  I received a lot of kisses and hugs.  DD showed me her art projects from the day.  We gathered her sheets for washing, her daily report, and other miscellaneous materials and got ready to leave. 

As we started to turn for the door, a mom that I'd never met before approached me and said that her daughter, B, is having a birthday soon.  B is a new girl in the room; I think she's only been with the school for about a month.  The mom explained that she'd planned a party for B and invited family members.  Two cousins were unable to come, so B's mom told her she could invite any two friends she wanted. 

The mom is so excited about this party.  It really is probably quite an expensive endeavor.  It is a princess party, but everything is provided for the little girls -- the party center provides costumes, hair styling, and a bit of make up.  Then, the girls make their entrance into a ballroom, where they are announced, and they enjoy "tea" and cookies.  All in all, something that DD would just love. 

B's mom said that when B was offered the choice of who to bring, she said that she wanted to bring the only two girls that she has been talking about, non-stop -- DD and another girl, W.  B's mom said that she wanted to give me a heads up about the date and time (it's on a weeknight).  B's eyes just danced, and she looked so happy to invite DD to the party.  I looked over at my daughter and said, "DD, what do you think?  It sounds like fun!"

And what did my ungrateful little monster do?  She pouted and said in her most whiny, b*tchy voice, "I don't wanna go!"  And then she repeated it a couple of times for good measure and scuffed the floor with her shoe.  B looked sad, her mother looked a little confused, and I was really, really embarrassed.  B's mom said something about it being the end of the day, and DD was probably just tired.

When we got in the car, I told DD that I was so ashamed of her.  What she'd done was the wrong thing.  She kicked the back of my car seat.  I turned the rear view mirror up so that I couldn't see her, the only way that I could really withdraw attention while driving, and we didn't speak for awhile.

After a little while, I asked DD if she could tell me why what she'd done was not a "good choice."  She wouldn't answer.  So, I started talking to her about we can hurt someone's feelings by not being very nice.  And, I pointed out examples where she'd had her feelings hurt so that she would understand.

And do you know what she said?

(Wait for it)

"Whatever."  (With perfect 16 year old inflection.)

Whatever??  Whatever?? 

That did it.  I had been transported ten years into the future, and I didn't like it.  No, not one little bit.  Another lecture followed about how she was not entitled to talk to me that way.  (She's been experimenting with other little gems, like calling me "poopy head," etc. -- you know, the three year old equivalent of something far worse.  And, since she knows that will get her in trouble, she usually tells me that she was calling the wall a poppy head, or the light a poopy head, or the mirror a poopy head.  As if I would actually buy that.)

Needless to say, there was neither a Happy Meal nor an ice cream sundae.  Much wailing and gnashing of teeth ensued.  But, hopefully, we are moving past this abominable behavior.  I've really reached the end of my tolerance for it.  She has started acting like "that child" at restaurants, and she throws a fit at the drop of a hat.  I'm tired of it.  DH is tired of it.  She's just had many, many little brat moments lately, and sometimes, it seems like it is getting more and more frequent.  (Though honestly, please know that there are more moments where she makes me glad to be alive, and glad to be her mom.  What kills me is that she knows damned well how to be courteous, and nice.  Which is what makes this stuff all the more exasperating.) 

Later that night, over a dinner that did not include chicken McNuggets, DD admitted that she really did want to go to the party.  She loves the princesses.  She wants to dress up as Snow White.  She is very excited about going.  And she was able to articulate what went wrong.  If I had a black heart, I would have told her that she didn't deserve to go, not after the way that she treated B.  But, I didn't.  And I will apologize to B's mother -- again.  I'm guessing that B and DD will easily forget this and move on, or at least I hope so.

I hear that four is so much better.  At least I hope that it is.

Another Shining Mother Moment

You know, one of the fallacies about becoming a parent at an "advanced" age (ahem) is that people believe that you come equipped with more patience, more tolerance.  For the most part, that is true, I think.  I would have been a terrible mom in my 20's and my 30's.  I was very self-absorbed, a forever night student (always having a full-time job), and just not well-grounded.  But sometimes, even now, I think I really lack in the patience department.  (Shut up, DH, I know that you're reading this and making a snarky comment to yourself.)

DD is stubborn.  Well, I don't think stubborn really describes her.  She is the most bull-headed child you ever want to meet.  And, honestly, if we were genetically related, I would likely admit that it came from me.  But, we're not, and I don't know where this came from.

One of the things that DD is really stubborn about is trying new things.  She has a limited repertoire of food and drink.  She will NOT try PB & J.  She will NOT try pizza.  Seriously.  All of the great food of childhood -- none of it will pass her lips.  At school, they serve a main course, a vegetable, and a fruit for lunch.  If DD doesn't like any of them, she will sit there with her water and not eat a thing until she's dismissed from the table.  She won't drink milk, because she claims she only likes mommy's milk.  (However, she will drink chocolate milk; I guess everyone has a price.)  It took me no less than twenty tries to get her to try a strawberry and banana smoothie -- and she likes strawberries (if they're freeze dried or in a whipped yogurt), and she likes bananas.  Once she tried the smoothie, she loved it.  Which has been the case with most things that I've finally gotten her to try.  So, having read on someone's blog that V8 Infusion comes in strawberry and banana flavor, and that it is a great way to sneak in a vegetable (DD will only eat corn), I bought a bottle. 

Last Sunday was a beautiful day.  It has been along time in coming in these parts.  The weather has just been unseasonably cold.  But, since it was such a great day, DD talked quite a bit about going outside to play in her sandbox.  She has been looking forward to it all winter.

For some reason, I decided that this was the time that she just had to have some of this juice.  Do you think that she would try it?  Not a chance.

But this time, I decided that she was going to try it, damn it.  We struggled for a little while, with me saying you ARE going to try this and her saying no and holding her mouth closed.  Then, a little bit spilled on her arm.  I set the cup down (we were in the living room for some reason), and I went into the kitchen to get a damp towel to wipe off her sleeve.  When I came back, that little sh*t had dumped the cup of juice all over the carpet.

I lost it.  I was so angry with her.  And I called her, oh, just wait for it -- an a**hole.  I can't believe it, but yes, I did.  It just came out.  And then I told her that she wasn't allowed to go outside at all, all day, and if the carpet had been stained, she was going to receive another punishment. 

Fortunately, whenever I'm having a crazy moment, usually DH is not.  He understood completely why I was so angry, but he asked if there was a way for DD to redeem herself.  I decided that yes, there was.  She could go outside IF she tried the juice.  But she was not going to play in the sandbox that day as a punishment for spilling the juice.  Everyone thought that was reasonable.

She finally tried it.  And guess what?  She liked it.  As I knew she would.  And, at least she's honest.  She did admit to pouring the juice on the carpet -- because she "wanted to do it herself," whatever that means.

I can't believe that I lost it, but I did.  Sometimes, I am the a**hole.  I guess I won't be receiving that mother of the year award after all.