They Just Keep Getting Younger

Have I mentioned that my kid spends her days with a fetus? Sure, she's a very well-educated and smart and completely competent fetus, but still. FETUS. Apparently they let fetuses graduate from college these days and they even hand them teaching certificates as they walk out of the door.

So today was Alexis' first Parent Teacher Conference, which means I had to fully face the fetus and talk about my kid without yelling "GET OFF MY LAWN." I should probably admit that the teacher isn't so much young as I am old. Is this what happens when people you used to consider "old" are suddenly younger than you? I'm talking about teachers and police officers and actors and musicians and the like. I woke up one day and POOF! They're all younger than me. HOW DID THAT HAPPEN?

I digress. Or something.

In case you hadn't figured it out by now, Alexis' kindergarten teacher is younger than me. Did I mention that yet? I did? Oh.

I might have mentioned it a time or two for one simple reason: it's really awkward when you sit down to talk to a person and you suddenly realize that you have tapes, er . . . I mean CDs (SHUT UP. At least I didn't say "records.") that are older than her. I sat there frozen for a long moment, totally unsure of whether I should start the conversation or not. Who's in charge in situations like that? Do I just read the report card and avoid conversation? Can I bury my nose in my phone? Is that dirt on my jeans? Oh, she's going to start? HOORAY!

I wasn't expecting any surprises during the actual review of the kid's progress. Expectations were met. Alexis continues to live that double-life she's been living for eons. At home? Mouthy. At school? Totally compliant and sweet. I suppose it's good that she wastes all of her best behavior on fetuses and classmates. I like a challenge, so it's totally OK that once she steps off of the bus, she goes into Mouthy Mode.

Not really. I'd rather she dish out a tiny dose of the mouthy to people who are paid to be with her so that I can have a few extra daily doses of the sweet version. Is that wrong? Wait. Don't answer that. I don't like being wrong.

All-in-all, the super-adorable fetus confirmed that the kid is doing well and blah, blah, blah. She's a good kid. We knew that. She's smart. We knew that. She has her teacher fooled into thinking she isn't capable of talking back. We knew she would and that it's all a lie.

So far, so good with this whole school thing.

A Post That Is Not About That Thing

So much ugly in the world right now.

So much.

I'm pretty much at the point where I want to crawl under a rock and not hear anything about anybody from that town that is a bit east of Pittsburgh for a veeeeeeeerrrrrrry long time. I have my opinions and you have your opinions and we all agree that the whole thing shouldn't have ever happened in the first place and . . . yeah. I'm so over it. Really. I can't take much more.

So . . . uh . . . SQUIRREL!

(If you don't get that, I weep for you. WEEP. FOR. YOU. Go find Up! and watch it right this second.)

How about I just shut up and counter all the ugly with a little bit of cute? Alexis and I had so much fun putting life on hold for a bit while we stomped around a playground the other day that we decided to do it again.

SQUIRREL!

Why, yes, the sunglasses are bigger than her head. I think that's why she likes them.

Can we talk about how those shorts were too big at the beginning of the summer? How about how they now look like they were painted on the kid? I probably should have stashed them in the "too small" clothes pile weeks ago, but who would have thought we'd have a shorts and flip-flops sort of day in November? Not me. Oh, and who told the kid she was allowed to have legs THAT long? Gah! It looks like she's sporting Daisy Dukes, but really she just has legs that go on for miles.

Static electricity makes the kid happy. It's a fact.

It's too bad the kid is always so miserable. 

Gimme your SQUIRREL! stuff, folks. I need some more happy distracting things until the whole Ugly Thing blows over a bit.

Giggles Earned The Painful Way

"Jump in the car, please," I told Alexis as she stepped off of the school bus. "We need to run some errands real quick."

I wanted to run to the grocery store and bank as quickly as possibly. Ideally, we would manage to pick up eggs, deposit a check, and return home before Mr. Husband had a chance to pull into the driveway. I feel like we are perpetually over-scheduled these days, so I really wanted to enjoy an evening at home on a night when we didn't have any events.

"Hurry! Hurry!" I urged Alexis. She buckles her own seatbelt these days, despite the fact that she's still in a five-point harness. I'm that evil parent that hasn't let the kid move to a true booster seat yet. For as long as she fits in that car seat and isn't complaining, she's stuck with it. Actually, complaining probably won't get her out of my Overly Cautious About Car Safety hell. So, I silently sit impatiently as it takes her FOREVER to buckle up.

"Ready!" she called out as the third click echoed through the car. I backed out of the driveway and quickly but carefully navigated the shortest route through our neighborhood.

As we were driving down the road, I began to mentally plan all of the things that needed done that evening. Lunches needed to be made, dinner needed to happen, Alexis needed a bath, homework needed completed, and then there is that pile of white picture frames that has been sitting in the dining room for months. THAT really needed to be cleaned up.

Then I glanced down at my dashboard.

64 degrees.

I looked back up and smiled at the rays of sunshine that were pouring into the car. 

"Hey, do you want to stop at the playground?" I asked Alexis. 64-degree days don't happen in November. For once, I wanted to forget all of the mundane tasks that make up our daily lives. It's been a long time since I spontaneously created a moment of fun and it was a perfect chance.

"Yes, please!" Alexis called back.

As we pulled into the parking lot, the cheerful sprite in the back seat suddenly became surrounded by a cloud of grump. "But, moooommmmma! I didn't change clothes!" she cried.

It was true. In my rush to run the errands and immediately return home, I hadn't let the kid go into the house and change out of her school uniform. It was an intentional move, but I realized it was about to backfire on me. The kid HATES to wear her uniform anywhere that someone may see her. (I know it's dumb. I can't convince her of that fact no matter how hard I try.)

She refused to get out of the car. REFUSED. She re-buckled her seat belt and folded her arms over her chest so that I couldn't reach the buckle.

I shoved her hands out of the way and unbuckled her anyway. I'm mean. So what?

As I reached into the car to grab the kid, she lunged over to the other side of the car, just out of my reach. I walked around to the other side and opened the door. She lunged out of my reach again. Over and over we played an annoying game of keep-away.

I'm bigger. I eventually won.

I drug the kid literally kicking and screaming to the park. How's that for "enjoying" an afternoon of good weather? It's probably worthy of a Worst Parent of the Year Award, but at the moment, I didn't care. I had decided we were going to have fun and dammit, we were going to have fun.

And we did.

It turns out that I still have the ability to make the kid laugh so hard tears come to her eyes.

I can make her giggle so furiously that she snorts.

I can make her gasp for air in between chuckles.

I can make her cry, "Momma, you're making my belly hurt!"

And I can make her declare, "Stop making me laugh! You're going to make me pee my pants!"

Even when she is wearing her stupid school uniform.

All I have to do is go down the slide and get shocked so badly that it sounds like a lightening strike just before I scream, "Ooooooouch!"

The girl sure does think it's funny when I get hurt.

And it's totally worth it.