Last night as I was trying to figure out the web camera and Skype, I heard Truong tell Kael "Go ask Mom that question." It's 7:30pm so I figure it's got something to do with a request for a particular bedtime story or maybe one more show on TV, or perhaps wanting a trip Disneyland. I wasn't paying much attention.
Kael walks into the study in his PJ's and in my periphery vision, I see Truong behind him. I turn in my seat and give Kael my full attention though a small part of my mind is still on setting up the camera.
Me: Yes, honey?
He's a little embarrassed, which is strange. Usually he's pretty upfront about his questions.
Kael: umm... Mom, what's that thing hanging behind my penis?
Whaaat?! What did he say??
With my eyes wide open, refusing to look at Truong because from the corner of my eye, I could tell that he's hunched over, probably laughing his ass off, I ask Kael (hoping that I heard wrong): What did you say?
Kael rolled his eyes like I'm the Queen of Idiots and asks again, a little annoyed at having to repeat himself: What's that thing -- that sacky thing -- behind my penis?!
And for good measure, to make sure the Idiot Queen got it, he grabbed himself and shook it.
By now, Truong is practically prostrate on the ground, trying not to laugh, clutching his stomach, looking like he's having a seizure. Luckily Kael doesn't see him. And that's when I did something I swore I'd never do when any of my children asks me a serious question.
I started laughing.
Not just laughing, but laughing. My eyes are shut tight, my shoulders shake uncontrollably, and there's no noise coming from my mouth because I'm laughing so hard. I can't help it. I try to compose myself but I can't. The more I try, the more I laugh because as I look at Kael's face to try to answer him, I could see that he's getting pissed off.
Kael: What's so funny? Why are you laughing? What are you laughing at?! Well? What's the sacky thing??
He's getting steamed.
I still can't answer him because I'm trying to hold my head together between my hands while attempting to control my laughter. Truong finally saves the situation and tells Kael: They're called your testicles.
By now I've got some control, though my hands are still clutched on my head. I could see with some dread that Kael's practicing his new word: Tes-tic-culs. Tes-tic-culs.
Great. I can't wait for him to show off that new word at school.
Then he drops the bomb:
What do testicles do?
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Passport photos
I took the kids to get their passport photos taken for our trip to Cancun in August. I find it funny that kids' passports are good for 10 years despite knowing how much they change in a small amount of time.
Take my kids' photos. The first set were taken September 2007 (Malia was 1.5 years old and Kael 4 years old.). The second set February 2009 (Malia 2.5 years old and Kael 5.5 years old). What a difference for Malia. Now imagine Taede.
Take my kids' photos. The first set were taken September 2007 (Malia was 1.5 years old and Kael 4 years old.). The second set February 2009 (Malia 2.5 years old and Kael 5.5 years old). What a difference for Malia. Now imagine Taede.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Stop bothering me.
On Tuesday as I got out of the car in the parking lot to pick up Malia, Mrs. Lerma saw me and walked towards the fence to chat with me.
Now, I won't kid you, but my first thought was: "Oh crap. What did she do now?"
In my defense, what else could a parent think when their child's teacher walks towards them, before the parent is even in the pick-up area, with the intent to chat clearly showing on her face? And that's what I asked Mrs. Lerma. Laughing, Mrs. Lerma assured me that everything was fine and Malia had a great day. She then continued to tell me a funny story that occurred over lunch:
As Malia was eating, another teacher (Mrs. Mancini) came over and played with her. I can't remember if Mrs. Mancini played with Malia's pigtails or what, but she apparently was touching Malia in some fashion.
** Now, if you remember, one of the reasons I was nervous about Malia going to school was that I felt she was too young. I feared she wouldn't be able to communicate clearly and effectively if something was wrong. **
So Malia's eating lunch. Mrs. Mancini is fiddling with her in a playful manner. Malia turns around, looks at Mrs. Mancini (who is a very wonderful, fun, loving teacher) dead in the eyes and says: "Stop that. You're bothering me. Please go away."
Erg!
I didn't know whether to laugh or be embarrassed, or if I should march over and apologize to Mrs. Mancini. Luckily the teachers all thought it was hilarious. According to Mrs. Lerma, they don't expect something so intelligible coming from one so small. I wanted to tell her "You should hear what she says to Kael at home..." but I figured I'll let them think she's cute for a little while longer.
Then she tells me story #2.
Ever since Christmas 2007 (thanks to my 19 year old niece Jackie), one of Malia's favorite sayings is: "No way!" and alternatively but to a lesser degree "Yes way!" Last week she No Way'ed Mrs. Lerma a lot, especially as it pertained to doing school work. It was funny and cute for a very short time. On Tuesday, at the fence, Mrs. Lerma told me that she had to deep-six the "No Way" from Malia's vocabulary.
Why? you wonder.
Because Malia got the entire class to say No Way to Mrs. Lerma whenever she asked the class to do something. So she had to institute a No "No Way" policy.
That's right. At the tender age of 2.5 years old, my daughter led her very first rebellion against the system.
Now, I won't kid you, but my first thought was: "Oh crap. What did she do now?"
In my defense, what else could a parent think when their child's teacher walks towards them, before the parent is even in the pick-up area, with the intent to chat clearly showing on her face? And that's what I asked Mrs. Lerma. Laughing, Mrs. Lerma assured me that everything was fine and Malia had a great day. She then continued to tell me a funny story that occurred over lunch:
As Malia was eating, another teacher (Mrs. Mancini) came over and played with her. I can't remember if Mrs. Mancini played with Malia's pigtails or what, but she apparently was touching Malia in some fashion.
** Now, if you remember, one of the reasons I was nervous about Malia going to school was that I felt she was too young. I feared she wouldn't be able to communicate clearly and effectively if something was wrong. **
So Malia's eating lunch. Mrs. Mancini is fiddling with her in a playful manner. Malia turns around, looks at Mrs. Mancini (who is a very wonderful, fun, loving teacher) dead in the eyes and says: "Stop that. You're bothering me. Please go away."
Erg!
I didn't know whether to laugh or be embarrassed, or if I should march over and apologize to Mrs. Mancini. Luckily the teachers all thought it was hilarious. According to Mrs. Lerma, they don't expect something so intelligible coming from one so small. I wanted to tell her "You should hear what she says to Kael at home..." but I figured I'll let them think she's cute for a little while longer.
Then she tells me story #2.
Ever since Christmas 2007 (thanks to my 19 year old niece Jackie), one of Malia's favorite sayings is: "No way!" and alternatively but to a lesser degree "Yes way!" Last week she No Way'ed Mrs. Lerma a lot, especially as it pertained to doing school work. It was funny and cute for a very short time. On Tuesday, at the fence, Mrs. Lerma told me that she had to deep-six the "No Way" from Malia's vocabulary.
Why? you wonder.
Because Malia got the entire class to say No Way to Mrs. Lerma whenever she asked the class to do something. So she had to institute a No "No Way" policy.
That's right. At the tender age of 2.5 years old, my daughter led her very first rebellion against the system.
Friday, February 20, 2009
The Beetle Shirt
It's funny how children who come from the same womb and raised in the same household can be so different in their interests and personality.
Kael is the science nerd. He loves watching the "science channel" on TV. Given a choice between doing a sports activity and a science activity, he'll inevitably head for the lab. Bugs, planets, robots, animal life, Planet Earth -- that's his cup of tea.
Malia is the ultimate girl. She wakes up in the morning and the first thing she pulls on is the Princess Dress. She's hands-on involved in what she wears and has very specific ideas as to what color will be next to her skin (much to my dismay). There is an order to what her princess figures wear and woe to that unfortunate parent who tries to change the princess' outfit without permission.
With the kids constantly in each other's company, you'd figure one's interest would rub off a little on the other, right?
Wrong.
Today in my madness, we headed off to the mall. Kael had the day off from school so it was me and all three kids. By myself. At the mall. One stroller. I know. Crazy.
Anyway, we're on the road driving to the mall. We're close, about 2 blocks away. I'm talking on the phone with a girlfriend when all of a sudden Malia starts crying. Sobbing. What the....?! I look back to see what the heck was going on. Her left arm was up by her head and it looked like she was frozen. What caught me was the look on her face: terror? pain? fear? I couldn't tell. It was all that mixed in. I asked her what's wrong?
Malia: (crying) something... something... beetle shirt.
Me: What?!
Malia: (crying some more) something... something... beetle shirt.
This gets repeated several more times. I'm getting frustrated, she's getting even more upset. I think maybe her finger got caught in her hair? In the back of the seat? She was stuck? But what was that about a beetle shirt?! Is she saying beetle shirt? What could she be saying that might sound like beetle shirt? But even Kael thought she said something about a beetle shirt.
WTF is a beetle shirt?!
I finally get her to calm down a little bit. Take a deep breath, and another deep breath. OK, not too many - you're hypervenilating. Slowly now. Tell me slowly.
Malia: Momma! (sob) Get that. (sob, sob, heavy breathing). BEETLE OFF MY SHIRT! (shrieking in terror)
At the exact moment, I see it. A brown beetle. She unloaded another scream.
And then it ran across her chest belt to sit on her shoulder harness. By now, Malia is so freaked out, her screams are silent. She's utterly petrified. I just see her wide open mouth, eyes bugged out in terror (hehe - "bugged out" - get it?) but she's frozen in fear lest the beetle jump at her. Poor poor Malia.
And then Kael perks up: Beetle? Really? Where? I want to see!
This is when I wanted to slap my forehead.
I can't reach her so I tell her to sit still and I'll get it off when I stop the car. She immediately screams "NO NO! GET THE BEETLE OFF MY SHIRT NOW! NOW MOMMA, NOW!!"
I feel for the girl. She's obviously terrified so I ask Kael to get it for me. Except the boy is like... you can't verbally direct him to look for something to save his life. It's on her shoulder and I don't know what the hell he's looking at but he can't see it. It's not a small beetle - a little bigger than a pencil eraser -- so the fact that he can't see it is beyond comprehension. So I take Taede's wash cloth and throw it at her, hoping to dislodge it. I miss. She immediately throws it back at me for a second attempt. We do this unsuccessfully a few times and then I tell Kael to do it; I need to focus on driving.
He finally sees the beetle and he thinks it's way cool. Forgets to take a swipe at the beetle and instead starts asking questions about the damn thing: what kind of beetle is it? How did it get there? What does it eat?
And then (and I totally think he did this on purpose to get back at Malia for all the rotten things she's done to him) he says: Do you think it's mean? Do you think it'll bite Malia?
I whip my head around to shush him but the damage is already done. Malia's eyes all but fall out of their socket and she starts screaming: GET THE MEAN BEETLE OFF ME! GET THE MEAN BEETLE OFF ME!
Holy cow. Just when I think there are limits to her level of terror, it gets ratcheted up another few notches.
I immediately tell her of course it's not mean! It likes you that's why it's sitting there.
Kael: How do you know, Mom? How do you know it's not mean? How do you know it doesn't want to bite her? Won't it hurt if it bites her? Hurt real bad, right?
Me: KAEL KEEP QUIET! STOP TALKING RIGHT NOW! Malia, the beetle won't bite you. It's just sitting there. It's not moving at all. NO KAEL, NO MORE TALKING FROM YOU!
Mercifully we pull into a parking spot and I run out to get Malia. I brush the beetle off and she flies into my arms, shaking. Kael in the meantime is looking for the beetle and says that he can't find it. It must still be in her seat.
Ugh. Talk about two totally different kids.
Kael is the science nerd. He loves watching the "science channel" on TV. Given a choice between doing a sports activity and a science activity, he'll inevitably head for the lab. Bugs, planets, robots, animal life, Planet Earth -- that's his cup of tea.
Malia is the ultimate girl. She wakes up in the morning and the first thing she pulls on is the Princess Dress. She's hands-on involved in what she wears and has very specific ideas as to what color will be next to her skin (much to my dismay). There is an order to what her princess figures wear and woe to that unfortunate parent who tries to change the princess' outfit without permission.
With the kids constantly in each other's company, you'd figure one's interest would rub off a little on the other, right?
Wrong.
Today in my madness, we headed off to the mall. Kael had the day off from school so it was me and all three kids. By myself. At the mall. One stroller. I know. Crazy.
Anyway, we're on the road driving to the mall. We're close, about 2 blocks away. I'm talking on the phone with a girlfriend when all of a sudden Malia starts crying. Sobbing. What the....?! I look back to see what the heck was going on. Her left arm was up by her head and it looked like she was frozen. What caught me was the look on her face: terror? pain? fear? I couldn't tell. It was all that mixed in. I asked her what's wrong?
Malia: (crying) something... something... beetle shirt.
Me: What?!
Malia: (crying some more) something... something... beetle shirt.
This gets repeated several more times. I'm getting frustrated, she's getting even more upset. I think maybe her finger got caught in her hair? In the back of the seat? She was stuck? But what was that about a beetle shirt?! Is she saying beetle shirt? What could she be saying that might sound like beetle shirt? But even Kael thought she said something about a beetle shirt.
WTF is a beetle shirt?!
I finally get her to calm down a little bit. Take a deep breath, and another deep breath. OK, not too many - you're hypervenilating. Slowly now. Tell me slowly.
Malia: Momma! (sob) Get that. (sob, sob, heavy breathing). BEETLE OFF MY SHIRT! (shrieking in terror)
At the exact moment, I see it. A brown beetle. She unloaded another scream.
And then it ran across her chest belt to sit on her shoulder harness. By now, Malia is so freaked out, her screams are silent. She's utterly petrified. I just see her wide open mouth, eyes bugged out in terror (hehe - "bugged out" - get it?) but she's frozen in fear lest the beetle jump at her. Poor poor Malia.
And then Kael perks up: Beetle? Really? Where? I want to see!
This is when I wanted to slap my forehead.
I can't reach her so I tell her to sit still and I'll get it off when I stop the car. She immediately screams "NO NO! GET THE BEETLE OFF MY SHIRT NOW! NOW MOMMA, NOW!!"
I feel for the girl. She's obviously terrified so I ask Kael to get it for me. Except the boy is like... you can't verbally direct him to look for something to save his life. It's on her shoulder and I don't know what the hell he's looking at but he can't see it. It's not a small beetle - a little bigger than a pencil eraser -- so the fact that he can't see it is beyond comprehension. So I take Taede's wash cloth and throw it at her, hoping to dislodge it. I miss. She immediately throws it back at me for a second attempt. We do this unsuccessfully a few times and then I tell Kael to do it; I need to focus on driving.
He finally sees the beetle and he thinks it's way cool. Forgets to take a swipe at the beetle and instead starts asking questions about the damn thing: what kind of beetle is it? How did it get there? What does it eat?
And then (and I totally think he did this on purpose to get back at Malia for all the rotten things she's done to him) he says: Do you think it's mean? Do you think it'll bite Malia?
I whip my head around to shush him but the damage is already done. Malia's eyes all but fall out of their socket and she starts screaming: GET THE MEAN BEETLE OFF ME! GET THE MEAN BEETLE OFF ME!
Holy cow. Just when I think there are limits to her level of terror, it gets ratcheted up another few notches.
I immediately tell her of course it's not mean! It likes you that's why it's sitting there.
Kael: How do you know, Mom? How do you know it's not mean? How do you know it doesn't want to bite her? Won't it hurt if it bites her? Hurt real bad, right?
Me: KAEL KEEP QUIET! STOP TALKING RIGHT NOW! Malia, the beetle won't bite you. It's just sitting there. It's not moving at all. NO KAEL, NO MORE TALKING FROM YOU!
Mercifully we pull into a parking spot and I run out to get Malia. I brush the beetle off and she flies into my arms, shaking. Kael in the meantime is looking for the beetle and says that he can't find it. It must still be in her seat.
Ugh. Talk about two totally different kids.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Bathtime with Taede
--
Posted from iPhone
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
The Scorned Woman
Tuesday was literally my day from hell. It started first thing in the morning and rode me hard until I locked the kids in their room at bedtime.
I mean... until I gently closed their door at bedtime.
I'm just posting the highlights. It will span a couple of posts. No need to rehash everything. It'll just give me hives to relive it.
The theme is: Malia.
Get used to reading about her. There will be many posts about her. She's coming into her own and she's hell on wheels. The first thing I want to say is I can't wait for springtime. Our first morning battle always center around her wardrobe. She can pick something to wear but it must be appropriate for the weather. Meaning: rain = long sleeves and pants. Not a tank top and skirt. Not a tee shirt and shorts. You can wear a tee with another long sleeve shirt over or under AND pants. And definitely NO PRINCESS GOWN TO SCHOOL!
After wrestling her to the ground, pinning her down and forcing her arms and legs into appropriate clothing, we move onto the next battle: breakfast. She gets choices: cereal (and there are choices within this), waffles or pancakes.
What does she ask for? Eggs.
Me: I didn't offer eggs. I offered cereal, waffles or pancakes.
Malia: Scrambled eggs with bacon.
Me: Cereal. Waffles. Or. Pancakes.
Malia: Easy up eggs and bacon and buttered toast, Momma.
Me: OK. Bowl of cereal it is!
She sees the bowl of cereal and of course starts picking at it. 30 minutes later, it's still there. I go upstairs to take care of Taede and get myself ready. When I come back down, ready to load up the kids in the car, the bowl of cereal is empty. Not because she ate it. No. It's empty because she took out the soggy cereal and hand painted the table with it.
Cereal chunks and milk were smeared on the table, her chair, the ground, and of course on the weather appropriate, long sleeved outfit she's wearing.
She was punished. No need to get into what sort of punishment was doled out. Just know that she was mad at me for the entire car ride to the school. And I leave her there, mad.
Fast forward 3 hours later. I pick her up, hoping that she had a better day, but knowing that she probably held onto her mad like a mother holding onto her baby. And I was right. Mrs. Lerma said that she was mad all day but still had a good day. Malia sees me and runs over. She tells me that she's not having a good day, that she's sad. I ask her why. She tells me she's sad because Aman (her favorite boy) didn't want to play with her. He didn't want to play with me, Momma! And the look on her face: eyes wide open, brows pinched up, downturned lips. Indeed, it was very sad. Her first heartbreak. Aman saw her leaving so he came over and said good bye.
And what did she do? She tipped her head up and looked at him down her nose. I don't know how she managed it since Aman's taller than her, but she did. He said bye again and she turned her head, refusing to acknowledge him and gave him her patented F--off cold shoulder, while doing the nose up in the air move.
He said good bye for the 3rd time, and this time he added a hand wave. Just in case she didn't see him since her head was turned to the side. And Malia simply tossed her head to the other side, nose up in the air, still ignoring him.
It's scary that at 2.5 years old, she's got all the moves down. I feel sorry for all future boyfriends. She's going to totally work them over.
I mean... until I gently closed their door at bedtime.
I'm just posting the highlights. It will span a couple of posts. No need to rehash everything. It'll just give me hives to relive it.
The theme is: Malia.
Get used to reading about her. There will be many posts about her. She's coming into her own and she's hell on wheels. The first thing I want to say is I can't wait for springtime. Our first morning battle always center around her wardrobe. She can pick something to wear but it must be appropriate for the weather. Meaning: rain = long sleeves and pants. Not a tank top and skirt. Not a tee shirt and shorts. You can wear a tee with another long sleeve shirt over or under AND pants. And definitely NO PRINCESS GOWN TO SCHOOL!
After wrestling her to the ground, pinning her down and forcing her arms and legs into appropriate clothing, we move onto the next battle: breakfast. She gets choices: cereal (and there are choices within this), waffles or pancakes.
What does she ask for? Eggs.
Me: I didn't offer eggs. I offered cereal, waffles or pancakes.
Malia: Scrambled eggs with bacon.
Me: Cereal. Waffles. Or. Pancakes.
Malia: Easy up eggs and bacon and buttered toast, Momma.
Me: OK. Bowl of cereal it is!
She sees the bowl of cereal and of course starts picking at it. 30 minutes later, it's still there. I go upstairs to take care of Taede and get myself ready. When I come back down, ready to load up the kids in the car, the bowl of cereal is empty. Not because she ate it. No. It's empty because she took out the soggy cereal and hand painted the table with it.
Cereal chunks and milk were smeared on the table, her chair, the ground, and of course on the weather appropriate, long sleeved outfit she's wearing.
She was punished. No need to get into what sort of punishment was doled out. Just know that she was mad at me for the entire car ride to the school. And I leave her there, mad.
Fast forward 3 hours later. I pick her up, hoping that she had a better day, but knowing that she probably held onto her mad like a mother holding onto her baby. And I was right. Mrs. Lerma said that she was mad all day but still had a good day. Malia sees me and runs over. She tells me that she's not having a good day, that she's sad. I ask her why. She tells me she's sad because Aman (her favorite boy) didn't want to play with her. He didn't want to play with me, Momma! And the look on her face: eyes wide open, brows pinched up, downturned lips. Indeed, it was very sad. Her first heartbreak. Aman saw her leaving so he came over and said good bye.
And what did she do? She tipped her head up and looked at him down her nose. I don't know how she managed it since Aman's taller than her, but she did. He said bye again and she turned her head, refusing to acknowledge him and gave him her patented F--off cold shoulder, while doing the nose up in the air move.
He said good bye for the 3rd time, and this time he added a hand wave. Just in case she didn't see him since her head was turned to the side. And Malia simply tossed her head to the other side, nose up in the air, still ignoring him.
It's scary that at 2.5 years old, she's got all the moves down. I feel sorry for all future boyfriends. She's going to totally work them over.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
A typical Saturday
With the addition of Taede to the household, our weekends are pretty mellow. He takes 2.5 naps a day so we're pretty limited on time to do stuff. Since the weekdays are filled with shuttling the older kids to one thing or another and thus disrupting any kind of nap continuity for the little dude, I like the weekends to be about Taede. Meaning we're slaves to his nap schedule.
So this weekend was the same-o, same-o.
Taede snoozing away most of the day:
OK, so this obviously wasn't him snoozing, but I had to include a current picture of him for your enjoyment.
Kael playing with his Star Wars legos:
Those little suckers are tiny. Half of me is hoping that he'll lose them before Taede starts crawling (can we say choking hazard?!) and the other half will be impressed if he doesn't lose them at all.
Dad catching up on his reading: Golf Digest.
While getting his hair done.
Due to the crappy economy, even Princesses need to get a job.
I'm just glad she's doing Dad's hair and not mine. Since those play-doh scissors don't cut, Malia makes due with the crimp and pull method of cutting hair.
Ouch!
So this weekend was the same-o, same-o.
Taede snoozing away most of the day:
OK, so this obviously wasn't him snoozing, but I had to include a current picture of him for your enjoyment.
Kael playing with his Star Wars legos:
Those little suckers are tiny. Half of me is hoping that he'll lose them before Taede starts crawling (can we say choking hazard?!) and the other half will be impressed if he doesn't lose them at all.
Dad catching up on his reading: Golf Digest.
While getting his hair done.
Due to the crappy economy, even Princesses need to get a job.
I'm just glad she's doing Dad's hair and not mine. Since those play-doh scissors don't cut, Malia makes due with the crimp and pull method of cutting hair.
Ouch!
Saturday, February 14, 2009
My ranking as a Mom
At dinner today, I asked Malia if she loved her brother Kael, fully expecting her to say yes, like she always does. That's what she used to say, before The Change. But since The Change, she's been one of those kids who you want to lock in a dark closet for a major attitude adjustment.
Anyway, with an evil look in her eye, she looked squarely at Kael and said: "NO. I love Taede. I love Mommy. I love Daddy. I don't love Kael."
I was shocked. Not only was she being mean, she was purposefully being mean. It wasn't one of those "she doesn't know any better so please excuse what's coming out of her mouth" moments. What a brat! Kael was crushed and then got mad, as expected. He gave her the hairy eyeball and proceeded to renounce his brotherly love for her as well.
I attempted to diffuse the situation and boost Kael's morale by saying that I loved him. That started our game of "I love you as big as...". And from there I started questioning his love for me.
Me: Do you me more than your legos?
Kael: Yes.
giggles
Me: Do you love me more than candy?!
Kael: YES!
laughs
Me: Do you love me more than your bike?
Kael: Yes, Mom!
laughs hysterically
Me: Do you love me more than... silk worms?
Kael: Y--
then silence
He chokes on his yes as he realizes what I just asked.
He has to think about it.
He ponders the thought:
Mom. Silk worms.
Mom.... Silk worms....
Mom.
Silk. Worms.
hmmm....
Finally, he says yes, he loves me more than silk worms. But his yes is sort of a question, like he's not 100% sure.
Did you get that?! My son has to think about whether or not he loves me, his mother, more than those disgusting silk worms!!
Stupid worms.
Anyway, with an evil look in her eye, she looked squarely at Kael and said: "NO. I love Taede. I love Mommy. I love Daddy. I don't love Kael."
I was shocked. Not only was she being mean, she was purposefully being mean. It wasn't one of those "she doesn't know any better so please excuse what's coming out of her mouth" moments. What a brat! Kael was crushed and then got mad, as expected. He gave her the hairy eyeball and proceeded to renounce his brotherly love for her as well.
I attempted to diffuse the situation and boost Kael's morale by saying that I loved him. That started our game of "I love you as big as...". And from there I started questioning his love for me.
Me: Do you me more than your legos?
Kael: Yes.
giggles
Me: Do you love me more than candy?!
Kael: YES!
laughs
Me: Do you love me more than your bike?
Kael: Yes, Mom!
laughs hysterically
Me: Do you love me more than... silk worms?
Kael: Y--
then silence
He chokes on his yes as he realizes what I just asked.
He has to think about it.
He ponders the thought:
Mom. Silk worms.
Mom.... Silk worms....
Mom.
Silk. Worms.
hmmm....
Finally, he says yes, he loves me more than silk worms. But his yes is sort of a question, like he's not 100% sure.
Did you get that?! My son has to think about whether or not he loves me, his mother, more than those disgusting silk worms!!
Stupid worms.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
A picture is worth a thousand words.
If a picture is worth a thousand words, then how many words do you think a look is worth?
50? 100? 200?
In Malia's case, one of her looks is worth... two words.
That's right.
Two words:
F-- off.
I wish I could take a picture of that look to show you. Then you'd all think "ahh, that's what Sonya's talking about. She's right; Malia did just silently say F-- off!"
She's been shooting me a look for a while now (not The Look, just a look). It's been pretty mild and I've interpreted it as an annoying how-far-can-I-push-my-mother look. Malia's on a roll lately, slowly building up speed and pressure. Her reluctance to comply with rules and verbal requests is becoming more common than I'd like. Actually, it's less a "reluctance" and more like a "refusal" and then some. Not only will she not do what I ask her, but she'll do exactly what I told her not to do. So it's like I'm dealing with negative bad behavior.
This morning I asked her to clean up her toys, it's time to take Kael to school. She threw me a look and threw everything off the table, onto the ground. Grrr!
I made her pick them up. Got another look.
I ignored it and told her to please get her shoes on, it's time to go to school. Got a sideways look as she grabbed Shiloh her huge stuffed pony, completely ignoring the request to put on her shoes.
No, Malia, Shiloh stays home. Please get in the garage to put your shoes on.
[Some of you are wondering: what's the problem with Shiloh, just let her bring him. The problem is Shiloh is about 3 feet long! Too big for the car. And quite frankly, no toys would have been permitted at this point because I'm getting irritated with her attitude.]
She stands still by Shiloh. I can see the internal debate going on in her head: what to do? what to do? Listen or ignore? Listen or ignore? Her decision is made when I see her grab Shiloh's tail and start dragging him across the floor. With her looking at me from under her lashes. Fully comprehending her actions. Daring me to take action.
I see red. I snatch Shiloh back and firmly place him on the sofa. OK OK, I admit it: I threw Shiloh like a missile at the sofa because I'm so angry with her. I say very loudly, very firmly, almost bellowing at her: "MALIA! I asked you to get in the garage and get your shoes on! NOW!"
And that's when I got The Look.
She threw it at me as she walked by. Walked by very slowly. More like a slow shuffle. Just to get my goat.
F-- Off.
Ugh.
50? 100? 200?
In Malia's case, one of her looks is worth... two words.
That's right.
Two words:
F-- off.
I wish I could take a picture of that look to show you. Then you'd all think "ahh, that's what Sonya's talking about. She's right; Malia did just silently say F-- off!"
She's been shooting me a look for a while now (not The Look, just a look). It's been pretty mild and I've interpreted it as an annoying how-far-can-I-push-my-mother look. Malia's on a roll lately, slowly building up speed and pressure. Her reluctance to comply with rules and verbal requests is becoming more common than I'd like. Actually, it's less a "reluctance" and more like a "refusal" and then some. Not only will she not do what I ask her, but she'll do exactly what I told her not to do. So it's like I'm dealing with negative bad behavior.
This morning I asked her to clean up her toys, it's time to take Kael to school. She threw me a look and threw everything off the table, onto the ground. Grrr!
I made her pick them up. Got another look.
I ignored it and told her to please get her shoes on, it's time to go to school. Got a sideways look as she grabbed Shiloh her huge stuffed pony, completely ignoring the request to put on her shoes.
No, Malia, Shiloh stays home. Please get in the garage to put your shoes on.
[Some of you are wondering: what's the problem with Shiloh, just let her bring him. The problem is Shiloh is about 3 feet long! Too big for the car. And quite frankly, no toys would have been permitted at this point because I'm getting irritated with her attitude.]
She stands still by Shiloh. I can see the internal debate going on in her head: what to do? what to do? Listen or ignore? Listen or ignore? Her decision is made when I see her grab Shiloh's tail and start dragging him across the floor. With her looking at me from under her lashes. Fully comprehending her actions. Daring me to take action.
I see red. I snatch Shiloh back and firmly place him on the sofa. OK OK, I admit it: I threw Shiloh like a missile at the sofa because I'm so angry with her. I say very loudly, very firmly, almost bellowing at her: "MALIA! I asked you to get in the garage and get your shoes on! NOW!"
And that's when I got The Look.
She threw it at me as she walked by. Walked by very slowly. More like a slow shuffle. Just to get my goat.
F-- Off.
Ugh.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
iphone
Truong got me an iphone yesterday. When I saw the price, I wanted to return it (despite the cool factor) but he ripped everything open and said it's already paid for and couldn't be returned.
I don't believe that for a second, but I did cave in and started playing with it. I have to say: it's pretty cool. Truong played with it last night and he has a serious case of phone envy.
The problem is I have to figure out how the darn thing works. I unknowingly merged my email contacts with my phone contacts so I have double entries for everyone I know. It's very irritating. I could of course read instructions but patience has never been (nor will it be in the future) my strong point.
I totally get why people text in the car. With this thing it's so easy to do. I really need to stick it in my bag, in the back. Someplace where I'm not tempted with chat with Erin and Shana on the drive to school. Like I did this morning. With 3 kids in the car...
Yikes!
I don't believe that for a second, but I did cave in and started playing with it. I have to say: it's pretty cool. Truong played with it last night and he has a serious case of phone envy.
The problem is I have to figure out how the darn thing works. I unknowingly merged my email contacts with my phone contacts so I have double entries for everyone I know. It's very irritating. I could of course read instructions but patience has never been (nor will it be in the future) my strong point.
I totally get why people text in the car. With this thing it's so easy to do. I really need to stick it in my bag, in the back. Someplace where I'm not tempted with chat with Erin and Shana on the drive to school. Like I did this morning. With 3 kids in the car...
Yikes!
Boys boys boys...
You all know my routine when picking up Malia: I spy on her for a bit and then say hello through the fence before heading into school to pick her up. Last week I saw her playing with 3 other kids: Gina, Aman and Emma. They were running around and though I could not hear what they were saying, I could tell there was some sort of running commentary going on from the way their mouths were moving.
The kids see me and run up to say hi. That is, the kids minus Malia. She was still in her game. They call her over and she ran over the say hi. But before I could give her a hug, she said "Mommy, I don't want to go home yet. I'm still playing!" Then she takes a few steps away, turns around and with her arm, beckons her friends with a "Come on guys! Follow me! Let's play some more!"
So they all leave me, with Malia in the lead. It was such a bittersweet moment. Sweet because she obviously enjoys school and making friends. Bitter because she's so much more independent now, not needing me as much. I'm going to be a wreck when she takes her first bus field trip.
In my chat with Mrs. Lerma, I tell her that Malia seems to have gotten over her "Boys are bad" mentality. Aside from Gina, Malia's best friend at school is... Aman! The same little boy that scared her to tears just a couple of weeks ago. Aman Aman Aman is all she talks about. Mrs. Lerma then tells me that at writing time, she sat Malia next to 2 girls. However, Malia didn't want to sit there. Instead, she (and this is a direct quote from Malia) wanted to "sit next to boys."
Yeah. I can tell the teen years are going to be fun.
The kids see me and run up to say hi. That is, the kids minus Malia. She was still in her game. They call her over and she ran over the say hi. But before I could give her a hug, she said "Mommy, I don't want to go home yet. I'm still playing!" Then she takes a few steps away, turns around and with her arm, beckons her friends with a "Come on guys! Follow me! Let's play some more!"
So they all leave me, with Malia in the lead. It was such a bittersweet moment. Sweet because she obviously enjoys school and making friends. Bitter because she's so much more independent now, not needing me as much. I'm going to be a wreck when she takes her first bus field trip.
In my chat with Mrs. Lerma, I tell her that Malia seems to have gotten over her "Boys are bad" mentality. Aside from Gina, Malia's best friend at school is... Aman! The same little boy that scared her to tears just a couple of weeks ago. Aman Aman Aman is all she talks about. Mrs. Lerma then tells me that at writing time, she sat Malia next to 2 girls. However, Malia didn't want to sit there. Instead, she (and this is a direct quote from Malia) wanted to "sit next to boys."
Yeah. I can tell the teen years are going to be fun.
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