May I take a moment…

The doll, one of the nicest girls around, is a great help around the house…

“Mom really?” The doll said while reading over my shoulder. “What?” I asked and quickly attempted to switch off the screen I was reading. “The dictator?” “What? Don’t you like the little pet names your brother gives you?” “If this was your brother Danny calling you that would you?” Smiling at her use of my younger brother I said “Naw, I’d have probably slugged him” Laughing at my response she added, “You see, I’ve used much restraint…” “That and your brother is bigger and stronger.” I added.

She maneuvered herself from behind me to the front; her clear design to sit on my lap. This has been one of the doll’s signature moves for years. As her weight came to rest on my legs, she turned her upper torso, looked directly at me and said “Mom how come none of your blogs ever start out with something nice about me and the boy?” Taken aback I briefly lost my ability to speak without a stammer
“Wha wha…ttt …Are…You woo woo ….Talking…About??” “Well I mean…” She began to back track. “Go on spit it out…” I said. “It’s just lately you’ve been mean.”

Letting the words sink in for a moment I eventually replied “Isn’t that what my blog implies?” “Mom you know what I mean…” “Hmmm well let’s see, in the last week I wrote about a funeral for a wild animal we held…and um…about how well organized you are. Hmmm…not too mean there” I replied with a sarcastic ring in my voice. “What about the one about my pants not staying up?” She asked. “Oh well that was more about you having a flat bottom more than anything else…” I said. “I hate having a flat butt” the doll added. “If its any consolation, you come by it naturally” I replied. Swatting me on the arm she said “It doesn’t”.

“So where were we?” I asked. “I just think you could be a little nicer when writing about me…” “..and your brother? I asked. Shrugging her shoulders she said “I suppose–though I bet that’s really hard” she giggled. Seizing the opportunity to tickle her I replied “Harder than you can imagine…” After a few moments of her twisting and leaning on me to stop I did just that. She then leaned down to give me a hug and asked “Mommy can I write the first line of your new blog?” Finding it difficult to say “No” while embraced in a hug I said “Sure”.

“The doll, one of the nicest girls around, is a great help around the house…” She typed. Turning to look back at me she said, now be nice and finish the sentence” “…she makes sure the chore lists are equally divided between the boy and herself; giving the boy the harder…..” “Mom!!” she yelled and swatted at my arms. Laughing I said “Just goes to show…once a mean mom always a mean mom” and proceeded to laugh and tickle her some more.

When all was said and done I said “You know doll this blog really does make you look pretty good and someday you’ll understand that more”. Getting up from my lap she said in feigned disgust “Well someday is too far away!”
and walked out of the room. Smiling at her exit I said to myself “Patience is a virtue…” Then returned to editing the days blog.

the dictator….

This morning at work I received a telephone from my doll that went much like this:

Me: Hello?

Doll: Hi Mom!

Hi doll…How are you?

Horrible.

Horrible? Why horrible (must have seen the chore list I left behind for them to accomplish)?

First of all, the boy woke me up!

Well  that doesn’t surprise me…

And the chore list…I told him I’d do everything on it except for three things…three little things he had to do…and he’s refusing to do them.

Well if I recall, I attached both your names to the chore list…so you both have to do them.

But mom, I told him all he had to do was the laundry and run the dishwasher and clean off the top of the entertainment center and I’d do the rest!! That’s like five jobs to three.

Doll, listen, I wrote both your names to those specific tasks, because it will take two people to do them. So stop arguing.

Plus mom I was going to dedicate this day to getting my hamster ready for Felicia to watch him; which means labeling all the food and writing out the instructions and cleaning two cages for Brownie.

That’s your business, not mine. You still are on the hook for doing  your house chores.

But Mom that’s not fair.

Doll if I had a nickel for every time I’ve heard you and the boy tell me that…or for every time I said it to MY MOM, I’d be rich. Get over it…nothing in life is fair…so BOTH of you get to do the jobs together.

Mom, the boy just called me a dictator and is threatening to go on strike!

(laughing to myself I said)

I’ll be home for lunch in about fifteen minutes. I suggest you set aside your differences and get busy…or you may find the next few days a bit unbearable.

FINE. BOY SHE SAID TO GET BUSY!!

****

To clarify the above conversation, let me add, the last chore list I wrote out, the doll spotted  first and assigned the boy all the crappy jobs–leaving herself the easy very little to do jobs. Thus I attached both their names to the harder jobs. While she may not be able to wiggle out of them as easily this time…I’m sure she’ll figure out a way to make him do more of the work than her…she is after all, the dictator…..

 

the to do list….

We’ve arrived at that time of year again…vacation. Though our plans to leave are still some time away, the doll informed me yesterday of her schedule for the week ahead, in preparation of our leaving.

“Monday I’m going to clean out my underwear/sock drawer; not like when I’m trying to sort them out because I’ve outgrown them, but more because the drawer has gotten kinda messed up. So don’t be surprised when you come home from work to find the living room filled with my underwear and socks. Then on Tuesday, I’m going to clean the hamster cage. On Wednesday I’m going to begin to pack.” The doll rolled out until I interrupted her. “Um, wait…you’re going to spend that whole day cleaning out a sock drawer or cleaning a hamster cage?” “Well, not the WHOLE day, just most of it”. She replied. “So you won’t have time to call your friends to play…because you’ll be holed up cleaning out a drawer?”

Before she could answer I asked “And just how long does it take to clean out a hamster cage?  All day?” “Mom! This isn’t my itinerary for the whole day…just what I want to get done on those particular days.” She explained. “Oh I see… and what about the rest of the day? What do you have planned?” “I haven’t figured that out yet…” “Well sitting in front of the television frying your brain is not one of them…” I said. “MOM! give me more credit. I’ll probably be playing on my Kindle…” “Frying your brain on Disney clips…?” “MOM!”

“Okay so what’s on the agenda for Thursday and Friday?” I asked. “Thursday is going to be tough…I have to sit down with all my stuffed animals and figure out which two I can take with me…that is, unless…” “Nope, two is the maximum number” I informed. “Well then…” And Friday?” I asked again. “That’s my day of rest.” “What? a day of rest?” I asked incredulously. “Well, you see what I’m doing all week…”

Boy I wish I had her work week…

slices….

If you live in my area of the country then you are aware that every major street and thoroughfare are under construction; making travel a short distance seem like a cross country jog. Such was the case yesterday when I drove the doll over to her Grandmother’s to spend the night. Our usual ten minute ride took almost an hour; due to backed up, stop and go traffic all caused by road construction.

Though the ride was not without fun; as you have come to know, when the doll is in the car with me we tend to talk…about private things. ”Doll” I said as I looked over and ran my hand across her crossed right leg, “You’re at about the right age to begin shaving your legs”. Acting mortified she swatted me on the arm she said, “Shhh that’s another step toward growing up and I don’t want to!!” “What, you want  behave like a  boy?” I asked with a wink. “What does that mean?” she replied. “Nothing. I was being facetious. Boys tend to take forever to grow up…” I informed.

“Well mom, I want to grow up, just not right now. I don’t want any responsibilities except to myself. I want to hang out with my friends and do what I want to do. But I don’t want to shave my legs or arms yet. I don’t want to succumb to my hormones”. Laughing I said, “Wow, there’s a lot of “I’s” in that statement. As for your hormones, you can’t run away from them. They is what they is.” “Girl hormones are stupid!” the doll announced. “Oh but boy hormones aren’t any kinder to them. But in order for you to advance through life, you need them. Then when you reach my age and older, you wish you still had the hormones that controlled stuff…” “Like your facial hair?” she asked. “Shhh.” I replied with a smile.

“Mom? Were there many girls in your class in sixth grade who had started their period?” “Yes. Barb, Becky, two Julie’s and another girl who I don’t remember.” “How old were you?” she wondered, though she’s asked this question in the past. “I was 13″. “The doctor said I would probably start soon…” she said in a matter of fact tone of voice. “Yes, but you can’t rely simply on what the doctor says. There are other contributing factors. You may start later like me.” We sat there silent for minute before she added, “My friend Stephanie already started”. “Well darlin’ don’t be in a hurry to start. Because once you do…it won’t stop for at least 40 years.”  40 YEARS!!!” she shouted. “How can you stand it?” she added. “You just do.”

I was thankful when we arrived at our destination; which put an end to our conversation. Sometimes  our “sex” talks can become tedious. Lord knows having a period is hard enough without slicing it up for dissection…and yet, I believe when all was said and done I had efficiently disgusted the doll with all the information too.

Another job well done by her mean mother.

the drama of housework…

When I was a kid I was the master at getting out of doing chores. Today my siblings have been enjoying poking fun; reminding me of my lousy chore responsibilities whenever I complain about my lazy children. “You spent every dish washing hour in the upstairs bathroom hiding” my sister Terri reminded me last night. “So that explains why my children don’t know how to load the dishwasher?” I said with a laugh. “You know what they say Marsh.. Payback or Karma is a bitch!” She said with a laugh.

Yep and UGH!

Who knew life was going to show me the error of my childhood ways through my own children’s lack of desire to help? Case in point yesterday… “Boy the back yard needs to be mowed…” I said. For a brief moment I thought the boy may have become deaf until I realized I was being ignored. “Hello? C’mon get up and cut the grass before it rains so your dad won’t have to…” “Mom you know those things are raging death traps!” He argued. “Hmmm only if you run over your feet..” I replied. “No they can and will kill you given the opportunity” “As opposed to me?” I asked. He sat down on the side of his bed looking back at me like a deer caught in the headlights. “Let’s go… C’mon before your dad gets home…” I said. Not moving from his bed he replied ” I haven’t agreed to do that.” “You don’t have to; I’ve agreed for you-now let’s go!” I said, my voice rising to match his disdain. A short time later his dad arrived home and together they took turns mowing the lawn.

The doll meanwhile is the queen of entitlement syndrome; often ignoring me whenever a simple task is given to her. “Doll I need you to fold that basket of whites” I told her Monday before I left for work. When I arrived home and found the basket had yet to be folded I asked her why they weren’t done. She replied “I don’t like to fold whites”. Shaking my head I replied, “There are a million things I don’t like to do either, yet I still do them. Get off your high horse and fold those clothes.”

When they still were not folded an hour later, I informed her “If you want to have friends over to swim or spend the nights this summer, those clothes better get folded ASAP. Otherwise you’re going to have a very lonely summer! Do you understand?”

She finally folded the basket…yet made heavy sigh noises the ENTIRE time. Oh the drama of it all.

Surely I was never this bad….

a funeral for a…..friend?

I was out working in my front garden, removing the weeds I thought the boy had pulled for me last week. But I came to realize, he simply buried them in an attempt to end his “torturous” afternoon of work. After a few minutes I realized my dog was barking madly in the back yard, wanting to come in. Walking over to the fence post I began calling her over-which turned out to be a big mistake. Hiding in the brush was an injured chipmunk which the dog spotted and attempted to eat.

Naturally I screamed; which startled the dog and the poor chipmunk tried its best to hide.

I finagled the dog through the fence and brought her around to the front of the house to let her in. The doll greeted us and asked, “Why were you screaming in the back yard?” The dog almost caught a chipmunk back there…I think the darn thing is dying.” Both boy and doll immediately asked where the creature was and made a beeline for it. Meanwhile, I lifted our dog and checked out her face, teeth and mouth to make sure she didn’t actually get animal blood on her. The last thing this family needs is a case of Rabies.

The doll came back in and said, “Mom, the chipmunk’s leg is really hurt, he’s bleeding. We have to get it to the vet.” “Doll, I’m sorry, survival of the fittest” I replied. “Mom, I don’t want the chipmunk to die..” she said as water began to spring from her eyes. “Doll, first off, he’s a wild animal. Second of all, we don’t have the money and thirdly, I don’t even know where to take the animal if we could.” She shook her head in agreement; sad that we couldn’t save the creature, but understanding why as well. A moment later her brother came in and announced the animal had died. The doll looked at me and asked, “Can we at least have a funeral for him?” “Yes, we can plant him deeply in my front garden…which…. will um, help him…um…carry out….um…God’s divine plan….of continued nourishment to our flowers and stuff” I replied a bit grossed out by the whole thing, but stuck with the chore of getting rid of the rodent.

The boy pulled out the post hole digger and began turning out a hole. I returned with another shovel and together we dug a fairly deep hole. Yet before we could place the chipmunk in the “grave”, the doll brought her hamster “Brownie” (kindred souls?) out to be present at the funeral as well. (I wasn’t sure why the hamster needed to be present but the boy theorized by asking the doll if she were showing Brownie his future….final resting space. As you might imagine she slugged him in reply.) I placed the dead animal into the hole, but before we covered it with dirt; we asked God to look out for all animals, so their short lives held meaning. This seemed to go over well with the kids. A minute later they were looking for a grave stone, which the boy found and the doll wrote upon before decorating the gravesite.

A better solution for me would have been to simply dispose of the dead creature. Then again how would we ever remember the poor chipmunk our dog tried to eat?

Blech!

….the tweenaged look…

The doll has a way about her…a way of wearing her jeans or Capri pants so that a large portion of her butt crack is showing. I usually get her to raise those pants by saying something childish like, “Hey, I didn’t realize you wanted to be a plumber when you grew up” which usually solicits a mean and dirty look with daggers shooting from her eyes. Nevertheless, she pulls her pants up and moves on. At least she hasn’t learned to give the finger yet.

We have tried to get her to wear a belt but was told, “Mom, this isn’t fashionable”. So it came as no surprise the other day when my sister Ann Marie and sister in law Kim noticed the doll’s pants hanging too far down for their comfort, while at the church festival and said something to the doll. “Marsha, ooh, your daughter is mad at me…” Aunt Ann told me. “Why?” I replied. “Well her pants are hanging too low off her hips and I said something to her about that. What I got in return was the killer dirty cannon look–you know the one where she’s shooting cannons off at you. She’s good at shooting those looks too!” I laughed saying, “You’re preaching to the choir here…I’ve been told belts aren’t fashionable.. The kid fashions these days are ridiculous..” I began, “The girls don’t like to wear belts so their butt crack is showing and the boys don’t like to wear their pants unless their underwear is showing and the pants themselves are hanging off the hips.”  ”Well at least the boy’s underwear is visible” My husband added, “On the girls, their underwear is cut too low to do any good.” We all laughed and sighed in disgust at the same time.

Later when the doll and I were alone, I asked, ‘Why did you get so mad at Aunt Ann? Giving me that same cannon look she said, ‘MOM SHE SAID IT OUT LOUD IN FRONT OF EVERYONE!!” “Did you at least pull up your pants then?” I asked slightly amused. “NO!!” “Doll, listen, I’m sure it wasn’t her intention to embarrass you, however even though it’s very fashionable right now for your pants to be hanging off your hips, you need to wear your belt. The message that butt crack is sending out is not a nice one. Seriously, wear the belt from now on.”

Again I was given a dirty look, along with a swat for good measure…but she did promise to wear the belt with her pants.  Cross your fingers!!