Scene: Living room. The Cat in the Hat Knows A Lot About That playing in the background. Coffee mugs and hot milk cups strewn about haphazardly, pajamas still in place. It must be Saturday.
Zoey: (playing with the cord that connects her wee little mouse to her wee little Barbie laptop) Pew-pew-pew-pew-pew!
Me: What are you doing?
Zoey: (all too casual for my liking) Killing people.
Me: EXCUSE ME? Why?
Zoey: (Apparently put off by my tone of voice, she casts the cord aside) I dunno.
And, just like that, she was back to her markers and firefighter coloring book while watching cartoons.
So, here is my question: do ALL children go through a phase where playing with guns seems like a cool thing? Even those who have never been encouraged by their parents to do so? I feel like I have had the standard gun conversations with my daughter, on the rare occasions when she has come home from preschool and aimed her tiny pointer finger at me and proclaimed 'bang, bang, you're dead!' because that's how Donavin plays at school. You know, the 'guns are dangereous, they are NOT toys, and in this house we do not even pretend like we are playing with them'...so I don't know. Just a phase, maybe? Just freaky to see a kiddo who prizes her art box and dress up clothing more than anything suddenly turn in to a miniature killing machine with her computer cord?
Curious to hear your thoughts...
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Sunday mornings
Sunday mornings are for coffee and lounging on the couch in your pajamas. At least, until the babysitter gets here...then it's time to stuff yourself in your running clothes and head out in to the gorgeous cold, where you will force yourself to run 2.5 miles even though you helped your sister and brother-in-law move yesterday and every muscle and bone in your body is screaming at you. Sunday morning runs are for slower paces and listening to Wait, Wait...Don't Tell Me. And not caring that your pace has dropped from twelve minutes to fifteen.
Sunday mornings are for watching Super Why and painstakingly copying down the letters they discover with your Crayola markers, on the scratch paper Mommy brought home for you from work. They are for two cups of hot milk and Frosted Mini Wheats in a small plastic bowl, after you 'slept in' until 7:45.
Sunday mornings mean the washing machine is humming, you are halfway through this week's edition of The New Yorker (Tina Fey!), and you are debating what to cook for dinner. Because Sunday means you actually have time to prepare something, not rush home from work and merely throw something frozen in the oven.
Sunday mornings are for perusing your blog roll and catching up on everything you haven't read this week. They are for reassuring your daughter that it's okay to not color perfectly within the lines all the time. They are for playing 'if you were a dinosaur, which one would you be?'. They are for letting your child 'help' start the dishwasher and put clothes in the dryer, even though it takes ten times longer than it would if you did it yourself.
Happy Sunday morning, everyone.
Sunday mornings are for watching Super Why and painstakingly copying down the letters they discover with your Crayola markers, on the scratch paper Mommy brought home for you from work. They are for two cups of hot milk and Frosted Mini Wheats in a small plastic bowl, after you 'slept in' until 7:45.
Sunday mornings mean the washing machine is humming, you are halfway through this week's edition of The New Yorker (Tina Fey!), and you are debating what to cook for dinner. Because Sunday means you actually have time to prepare something, not rush home from work and merely throw something frozen in the oven.
Sunday mornings are for perusing your blog roll and catching up on everything you haven't read this week. They are for reassuring your daughter that it's okay to not color perfectly within the lines all the time. They are for playing 'if you were a dinosaur, which one would you be?'. They are for letting your child 'help' start the dishwasher and put clothes in the dryer, even though it takes ten times longer than it would if you did it yourself.
Happy Sunday morning, everyone.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Watching TV shouldn't require this much effort
I need a TV show.
At least, that's what I told myself last week. A grown-up show. Something that makes me fairly excited for a mundane weekday, because I can tell myself 'ooh, it's X day and that means I get to watch X show tonight!'
I picked the show Parenthood for several reasons. Abby got me semi-hooked on it last year when we visited her in Colorado, and it's actually pretty funny. The characters are just believable enough, and seeing Lauren Graham star yet again as a slightly-screwy mom makes me a little less homesick for the days when Gilmore Girls was still on the air.
The 10 pm time slot, however, seemed daunting. Remember, we're talking about a girl who is routinely in bed by 9 pm. How on earth do people stay up until 11 pm watching TV?? I sternly reminded myself that if I wanted to become less lame in the year 2011, I'd better learn to stay up longer than my daughter. Because nobody wants to date a girl who has to hurry through dinner so she can get home to bed, am I right?
As a bonus, I started taking a hot yoga class again on Tuesday evenings, something I thought would help me stay up a bit later in the evening. I typically feel pretty energized after class, and last Tuesday worked out perfectly. By the time I got home and showered, it was time for the show to start. I felt like such a grown-up! Staying up so late! Watching a TV show that didn't star furry animals or focus on the alphabet!
So. Last night, I picked Zoey up at my sister's house after yoga class with the same resolve to come home, shower, get the munchkin down for bed, and curl up on the couch. Jon Corbett was going to star on Parenthood and I didn't want to miss it! (See? A movie star I can actually recognize? I am SO moving up in the world.)
I remember showering. I distinctly remember ushering the grumpiest preschooler in the world off to bed. I recall laying down next to her to rub her head as she drifted off to sleep.
And then I remember it being somewhere around 4 am.
SHIT.
Maybe I can watch the episode I missed online tonight. That is, if I can stay up longer than Zoey. Clearly, I have a ways to go in my efforts to become more hip this year.
At least, that's what I told myself last week. A grown-up show. Something that makes me fairly excited for a mundane weekday, because I can tell myself 'ooh, it's X day and that means I get to watch X show tonight!'
I picked the show Parenthood for several reasons. Abby got me semi-hooked on it last year when we visited her in Colorado, and it's actually pretty funny. The characters are just believable enough, and seeing Lauren Graham star yet again as a slightly-screwy mom makes me a little less homesick for the days when Gilmore Girls was still on the air.
The 10 pm time slot, however, seemed daunting. Remember, we're talking about a girl who is routinely in bed by 9 pm. How on earth do people stay up until 11 pm watching TV?? I sternly reminded myself that if I wanted to become less lame in the year 2011, I'd better learn to stay up longer than my daughter. Because nobody wants to date a girl who has to hurry through dinner so she can get home to bed, am I right?
As a bonus, I started taking a hot yoga class again on Tuesday evenings, something I thought would help me stay up a bit later in the evening. I typically feel pretty energized after class, and last Tuesday worked out perfectly. By the time I got home and showered, it was time for the show to start. I felt like such a grown-up! Staying up so late! Watching a TV show that didn't star furry animals or focus on the alphabet!
So. Last night, I picked Zoey up at my sister's house after yoga class with the same resolve to come home, shower, get the munchkin down for bed, and curl up on the couch. Jon Corbett was going to star on Parenthood and I didn't want to miss it! (See? A movie star I can actually recognize? I am SO moving up in the world.)
I remember showering. I distinctly remember ushering the grumpiest preschooler in the world off to bed. I recall laying down next to her to rub her head as she drifted off to sleep.
And then I remember it being somewhere around 4 am.
SHIT.
Maybe I can watch the episode I missed online tonight. That is, if I can stay up longer than Zoey. Clearly, I have a ways to go in my efforts to become more hip this year.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
You may now resume your normal levels of caffeination
I have spent a groggy, hazy week trying hard to cut down my caffeine intake, with unimpressive results.
And guess what? Turns out, according to my own un-scientific research, caffeine does not impact my bladder's lack of control quite as much as I had previously thought. By a magical stroke of luck, I secured babysitters each morning this weekend and set out to jog early as opposed to my normal late-afternoon, after-work routine. And the effects of gravity and pavement seemed far kinder in the morning, even post-two-cups-of-coffee, then they were late in the day. Maybe the cumulative effects of my daily intake render my bladder useless after 4 p.m. And while I have discovered I can typically survive an afternoon at work without a second Diet Coke, my level of fuzziness in the morning without that second (or...third...) cup of coffee just makes life seem not worth living.
I am finding an added benefit to running, one I hadn't anticipated when I first picked up the habit...problem solving. Running has presented all sorts of challenges in my life, and instead of giving up, it's interesting to find ways to work around them. Shin splints? Stretch before you run. Babysitters? Plan for them, lots of them. Two miles takes a half hour away from your child and makes you a better mother, so ditch the guilt. Chronic pants-wetting? Work in progress, but we're getting there.
It feels good to have a healthy challenge in my life this year, as opposed to 2010's disastrous set of problems. The further I run, the more I push my body, the more I feel like I am in control of my life.
And that feels good.
And guess what? Turns out, according to my own un-scientific research, caffeine does not impact my bladder's lack of control quite as much as I had previously thought. By a magical stroke of luck, I secured babysitters each morning this weekend and set out to jog early as opposed to my normal late-afternoon, after-work routine. And the effects of gravity and pavement seemed far kinder in the morning, even post-two-cups-of-coffee, then they were late in the day. Maybe the cumulative effects of my daily intake render my bladder useless after 4 p.m. And while I have discovered I can typically survive an afternoon at work without a second Diet Coke, my level of fuzziness in the morning without that second (or...third...) cup of coffee just makes life seem not worth living.
I am finding an added benefit to running, one I hadn't anticipated when I first picked up the habit...problem solving. Running has presented all sorts of challenges in my life, and instead of giving up, it's interesting to find ways to work around them. Shin splints? Stretch before you run. Babysitters? Plan for them, lots of them. Two miles takes a half hour away from your child and makes you a better mother, so ditch the guilt. Chronic pants-wetting? Work in progress, but we're getting there.
It feels good to have a healthy challenge in my life this year, as opposed to 2010's disastrous set of problems. The further I run, the more I push my body, the more I feel like I am in control of my life.
And that feels good.
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