Dan: Jack, tell your baby sister a story.
Jack: ABCDeezEFGHRJKMNMOPQRessyTUVWXYandZ!
Dan: She likes it.
Jack: I know. This is a crazy family.
Dan: ...OK.
Jack: Dad, I have to tell you sumpin. I like apple pie, pumpkin pie, but NOT peach pie. The baby doesn't like peach pie either.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Conversation
Sydney's...girth, for lack of a better word, is the #1 topic of conversation whenever we're out in public. North Carolina is famous for it's relentless friendliness, and add a baby to that mix and you have a recipe for hours of conversations with strangers about your enormous infant. I have had the following conversation approximately 500 times in the last 2 months...and today it got a little ugly.
Scene: At the pediatrician's office, in the waiting room, two cranky ladies sit waiting for over 40 minutes.
Sydney: Waaahhh! (loosely translated to "What the f*ck is taking so long!?!?")
Receptionist, who has watched us sitting here for 40 minutes: Wow, she is mad!
Me: Yep.
Receptionist: She sure is big!
Me: Mmmhmm.
Receptionist: How old is she?
Me: 10 weeks.
Receptionist: Holy cow! What do you feed her?
Me: Plutonium.
Receptionist: Oh.
Scene: At the pediatrician's office, in the waiting room, two cranky ladies sit waiting for over 40 minutes.
Sydney: Waaahhh! (loosely translated to "What the f*ck is taking so long!?!?")
Receptionist, who has watched us sitting here for 40 minutes: Wow, she is mad!
Me: Yep.
Receptionist: She sure is big!
Me: Mmmhmm.
Receptionist: How old is she?
Me: 10 weeks.
Receptionist: Holy cow! What do you feed her?
Me: Plutonium.
Receptionist: Oh.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
They call me the YES man.
We're continually trying to instill some respect for elders into Jack (which is pretty laughable coming from me, but I do try). This includes using "Yes Sir" and "Yes Ma'am." Today after dinner he asked politely to be excused. As I was talking to Dan, I didn't answer him right away, so he continued, a little louder. "Wessman! Can I please get down now?" I replied in the affirmative, but I was a little puzzled over why he was calling me Wessman...do I have some Swedish heritage that I was unaware of?
I finally figured out that he hasn't been saying, "ma'am," but "man." So coupled with his trouble with Y sounds, he thinks he is supposed to call me "Wessman." How confusing (and stupid) life in this house must seem to a 4-year old.
I finally figured out that he hasn't been saying, "ma'am," but "man." So coupled with his trouble with Y sounds, he thinks he is supposed to call me "Wessman." How confusing (and stupid) life in this house must seem to a 4-year old.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
The cries, THE CRIES
We have settled in to parenting another being quite well, despite my increasing gray hairs. They are multiplying faster than Dan's video-game collection. But I digress...
Sydney the Giant has developed a sophisticated system of conveying her feelings non-verbally. She has three distinct cries. Allow me to elaborate in the form of a list!
Sydney the Giant has developed a sophisticated system of conveying her feelings non-verbally. She has three distinct cries. Allow me to elaborate in the form of a list!
- Cry #1: I'm very tired from not napping ALL DAY. Please take pity on me and walk around carrying my huge body until I fall asleep.
- Cry #2: (the most frequently heard cry) I'm starving! This is not melodrama! I am clearly dying of hunger! I am about to expire!!! Put something, anything, in my mouth, pronto!
- Cry #3: (mostly heard in the evening, and in the tone of Cruella DeVille) OK, I understand that you guys have forgotten EVERYTHING you know about being parents, but I clearly have an unidentified problem and you need to solve it...IMMEDIATELY!!! YOU IDIOTS!!!! YOU IMBECILES!!! FIX ME!!! I HATE YOU!!!
So This is Christmas
Tonight I asked an obedient Jack to let Dinah (the dog) outside. As he watched her scamper across the yard, he noticed that the stars were out in the prematurely dark sky (don't get me started on Daylight Savings).
"Oooh, a star! The only star in the sky!" he crooned.
"Make a wish!" I urged.
What followed can only be described as the most precious and simultaneously weird Christmas sentiment ever.
"Star, star, I wish on you ("woo")," he sang. "Please give a Merry Christmas to me and my sister."
At this point my eyes were tearing up...mostly because of his innocent sweetness and partly because I was holding a hulking 20-lb. baby over my shoulder.
"...andalsopleaseasnowshovel." He added under his breath.
I guess my Christmas wish should be for some snow for this child. PLEASE LET IT SNOW.
"Oooh, a star! The only star in the sky!" he crooned.
"Make a wish!" I urged.
What followed can only be described as the most precious and simultaneously weird Christmas sentiment ever.
"Star, star, I wish on you ("woo")," he sang. "Please give a Merry Christmas to me and my sister."
At this point my eyes were tearing up...mostly because of his innocent sweetness and partly because I was holding a hulking 20-lb. baby over my shoulder.
"...andalsopleaseasnowshovel." He added under his breath.
I guess my Christmas wish should be for some snow for this child. PLEASE LET IT SNOW.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Daily Drama
As Dan is on a business trip this week, I am... what can only be described as SADDLED, with two small bamas. ("Small" only when compared to the size of the sun.)
So I have to hoist/cart/haul Sydney around in her carrier (don't get me started on how THAT word is all wrong for the torturous device that she rides in) when taking Jack to and from school. Jack loves this because he can show off his sister to his friends, who are not allowed to touch the baby (his rule). He preens over her like a proud parent in front of his friends, daring them with his baby-cheek pinches and prideful boasting to just try to touch her. (Do not doubt that he will dole out smacks accordingly.)
This afternoon when I went to retrieve him, some of the children in his class were (smartly) still inside listening to stories told by Ms. Emily (quite possibly the cutest human being ever to live), so she told me, "Jack is playing outside, but you can leave the baby in here!" Before she had a chance to reconsider that statement, I ran through the classroom to exit to the playground at the rear. Quickly I plucked Jack from the screaming mass of 4-year olds playing "volcano" and we went to go back to the classroom.
But the door was locked.
And I could hear screaming.
So could Jack.
We watched through the window in the door, me with pity, Jack with debilitating consternation, as Ms. Emily was attempting to comfort the Nugget of Terror while 8 four-year-olds covered their ears.
I rapped on the window, but Sydney is just THAT deafening, and our attempts to get Ms. Emily's attention went unnoticed.
It starts to rain.
Jack throws himself against the door, screaming "MY BABY!!!"
I start to laugh.
He looks at me, prostrate with anxiety, and not a little hysterical, and screams, "OUR BABY IS IN THERE!" (He will make an excellent mother.)
Finally Ms. Emily notices us at the door and runs over to let us in, and Jack immediately rushes to Sydney's side to inspect her.
"SHE'S OK!" he exclaims with evident relief. (I wonder if he suspected that maybe someone took a bite out of her. She is very fat and juicy.)
Crisis averted, we make a hasty exit, and of course Sydney is fine once I am lugging her down the long hall of the school; this child's happiness is directly proportionate to my discomfort.
So I have to hoist/cart/haul Sydney around in her carrier (don't get me started on how THAT word is all wrong for the torturous device that she rides in) when taking Jack to and from school. Jack loves this because he can show off his sister to his friends, who are not allowed to touch the baby (his rule). He preens over her like a proud parent in front of his friends, daring them with his baby-cheek pinches and prideful boasting to just try to touch her. (Do not doubt that he will dole out smacks accordingly.)
This afternoon when I went to retrieve him, some of the children in his class were (smartly) still inside listening to stories told by Ms. Emily (quite possibly the cutest human being ever to live), so she told me, "Jack is playing outside, but you can leave the baby in here!" Before she had a chance to reconsider that statement, I ran through the classroom to exit to the playground at the rear. Quickly I plucked Jack from the screaming mass of 4-year olds playing "volcano" and we went to go back to the classroom.
But the door was locked.
And I could hear screaming.
So could Jack.
We watched through the window in the door, me with pity, Jack with debilitating consternation, as Ms. Emily was attempting to comfort the Nugget of Terror while 8 four-year-olds covered their ears.
I rapped on the window, but Sydney is just THAT deafening, and our attempts to get Ms. Emily's attention went unnoticed.
It starts to rain.
Jack throws himself against the door, screaming "MY BABY!!!"
I start to laugh.
He looks at me, prostrate with anxiety, and not a little hysterical, and screams, "OUR BABY IS IN THERE!" (He will make an excellent mother.)
Finally Ms. Emily notices us at the door and runs over to let us in, and Jack immediately rushes to Sydney's side to inspect her.
"SHE'S OK!" he exclaims with evident relief. (I wonder if he suspected that maybe someone took a bite out of her. She is very fat and juicy.)
Crisis averted, we make a hasty exit, and of course Sydney is fine once I am lugging her down the long hall of the school; this child's happiness is directly proportionate to my discomfort.
Friday, December 4, 2009
Conversations...
In a rare moment of grace and understanding, Dan took me to see the new Twilight: New Moon movie on a rainy afternoon a few weeks ago. Now, Dan has seen bits and pieces of the first movie and they always make him laugh, so it was quite a feat for him to sit through this movie after promising not to make nasty comments or laugh inappropriately. I'm sure the huge bag of popcorn helped, and the movie provided lots of new fodder for my derision.
Since we saw the movie, there has been a lot of conversation in our house about it. Apparently some aspect of it sparked his curiosity, albeit he still does not miss a chance to make jokes, especially about the sparkles.
Dan: Did something happen to you as a teenager to make you love all of this Twilight junk?
Me: Yes.
Dan, after a long pause, and a little more seriously: Did you have those dreams where you woke up screaming like Bella did?
Me: Not until I got married.
Since we saw the movie, there has been a lot of conversation in our house about it. Apparently some aspect of it sparked his curiosity, albeit he still does not miss a chance to make jokes, especially about the sparkles.
Dan: Did something happen to you as a teenager to make you love all of this Twilight junk?
Me: Yes.
Dan, after a long pause, and a little more seriously: Did you have those dreams where you woke up screaming like Bella did?
Me: Not until I got married.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
