My Belly Means I Love You!

We recently engaged the services of a dog trainer, as LuLu needed some instruction. (And apparently Dan a little bit too.)  To our credit, the trainer only recommended four sessions for Lu (and Co.), so we excitedly commenced with training.

As you can imagine, it was both hilarious and enlightening, as we learned what pitfalls “we” had been encouraging, and also how to harness this dog’s ridiculous drive to please.  Even the trainer was impressed with how fast she learned (um, that girl likes her treats), and some of the new commands only took a day to teach.  

One of the things he explained to us was that when she would flop over and show us her belly mid-way through a lesson, it was her way of derailing instruction and focus by saying, “let’s just stop all of this noise this BECAUSE I LOOOOOOOOVE YOU.”

Hmmm, seems to me that someone else that I know uses this tactic.

A bun up top

After I shower I twist my hair into a high bun to let my frizz-prone spots dry a little (hopefully) straight, and then I eventually do...something...with it.  I never really gave it much thought before Sydney came around.

Sydney has SO MUCH HAIR.  So much gorgeous, shiny, Pantene-commercial-dont’t-hate-me-because-I’m-beautiful hair.  It’s brown with streaks of gold and copper and just enough silky wave to be disgustingly ideal.  She doesn’t like to wear it in a pony tail or up, but insists on keeping it down, hanging around her tiny face like a warm shroud with just her giant, aqua eyes peeping out.

When she washes it, after having it swinging around during her normal 9-year old life (trampolines, blanket forts, various goofy hats, GUM, sweaty races down the street, and never-ending costumed skits), it is often an insurmountable collection of knots and teased bits.  Combing it out has become a ritual involving patience and loads of detangling spray, but she only trusts me to do it.  Over the years we’ve had frustrated arguments mid-tangle, and have tried all of the conditioners, wet brushes, tears, and methods.  Finally, we have a system where she can calmly sit in front of me as I slowly start at the bottom of her long locks and gently unravel the knots of her busy life.  She no longer fusses at me, and I no longer lose patience, and over the course of 10 minutes, I have cajoled her tresses into order.  It is one of my favorite rituals with her, and after I am finished, she always requests “a bun up top like you wear.”  I’ll twist all of that clean, sweet-smelling, beautiful hair into a giant top-knot on the crown of her tiny head, and she looks like a prima ballerina, ready to take the stage.  It will maybe last through the night, and in the morning it’s back down, swirling and ready to tangle the world, just like she is. Man, I love that kid.

What is REAL?

The spirit never ages...

(This is one of my more grumpily written lists.)

HOW I KNOW THAT I'M GETTING OLD... (or more "growned-up")

• I actually choose to eat soup (sometimes)
• I like watching birds and critters in my backyard, and may film them from time to time and then possibly force people to watch the videos
• My question for every ailment starts with "have you pooped today?" 
• My solution for every ailment, short of first aid, is hot tea (as a base...)
• I know which foods will give me gas
• At times I actually catch myself trying to avoid those foods
• The heating pad that never gets unplugged near my bed (and that I take on vacation)
• I trim other people's nails on an unsolicited basis (although never a stranger's...yet)
• I no longer like candy (but I sure still do love cookies!)
• Dan and I have those, "What is the word that means, you know...it starts with an 'a'?" conversations more often. i.e.,
• "...that show that you like, you know 'Under the Boat'?" 
• "...that place that is like...an Emergency Room-Lite, you know?  WAIT, if you know don't tell me, I want to figure it out on my own."
• "...that baseball player who's nickname was about a meal...you know, like 'Big Dinner,' but not Trudy"
• "...that guy who is not Lou Ferrigno but looks like him and is also a wrestler"
• I always know what the weather prediction for the day is, and not only do I verbally broadcast it myself to people WHO HAVE NOT ASKED, I also check maybe more than once a day to see if I was indeed disseminating correct info.  (I totally apologize when my weather report ends up being inaccurate.)
• Don't even get my started on lightning maps (future post)
• I laugh at myself instead of getting embarrassed (Oh, how I wish I could go back and teach younger-Lauren this trick...and it's not like she didn't have pllllllllenty of opportunities to practice.  I would say that I can instead teach Sydney, but she pretty much taught me, so thanks, younger-Lauren, for having such a rad kid!  You're welcome, CURRENT SELF WHO OVERSHARES!)

Swearage

Now that video games have become an integral part of everyone in this family's daily life (mine by default), there is a heightened level of supervision that I maintain to a) ensure that in-game communications are not unhealthy or gross, b) no one is being harassed (or being a harasser), and c) that I can marvel and laugh at the language shortcuts that these kids use.  Sydney is especially well versed in acronyms, to my delight.

Jack plays a lot of games with friends in the same room, so I overhear the mostly friendly pre-teen trash talk, which is in of itself nothing short of hilarious.  Sometimes, with his older friend, Dan and I hear some swearing, which is nipped in the bud...but not without my giggles.

Outside of these situations, I really don't have to correct them about using undesirable language, but occasionally it does happen, and I've chosen to let it go when it is genuinely merited.  After all, Dan could not be considered PG by any stretch of the imagination, so they understand when it's appropriate to swear.

Cut to the other night, when I noticed from downstairs that Sydney's light was still on in her room, despite it being past her bedtime.  I called up to her, asking why it was still on, and she responded that she was "getting situated for bedtime." 

A few minutes later I saw that it was still on, so I called up again, and told her that she definitely needed to turn the light OFF.  She did, and after a minute I heard her mutter to herself, "Great, now I can't see SHIT."

I ran around the corner to regale Dan with how well his teachings were taking hold.  Now whenever we turn off the lights for bed, one of us will observe that now, we cannot indeed see SHIT.

I wish I could permanently turn the lights off in the play room.

Mouth of the South

The best part about having kids is laughing at the stuff they come up with.  I love the mispronunciations most because I still to-this-day have problems with it.  I will correct grammar, I will correct behavior, but the nuances of pronunciation?  NEVER.

• Tangerine=tambourine
• Wardrobe=bathrobe
• Bathetism=baptism
• Yogrit=yogurt
• Hubbo=HBO

CV

Seriously considering updating my resume to read "Professional Frisbee Thrower."

This dog is indefatigable.