Monthly Archives: April 2010

clipped tongue


The doll suffers from a speech impediment; she rolls her “r”s.  If she were to say to you, “the rabbit ran over the hill”, she would sound like,  the wabbit wan ova the hill”.  This little problem also contributes to her poor reading.  If she had it her way, she would never pronounce anything.  Unfortunately for her, reading only gets harder from here.

She has been seeing a speech therapist at school, since the beginning of the school year.  Though she has made some progress, she gets upset when we correct her.  “Who cares!!” she”ll yell.  Well, we do.  During one parent-teacher conference, the therapist suggested we look into having her tongue clipped, in an effort to lift that tongue to the right position in the mouth to make pronounciation easier.

While walking home from school the other day, a car on the road slowed down to a stop.  I thought someone was going to ask for directions, as I watched the window roll down.  Instead, the doll’s speech therapist stuck her head out the window and yelled, “Great job “Doll”.  Did you tell your Mom what a great improvement you’ve made with your speech?  Mom, she is awe imspiring with how much she has improved, in the last month alone!”

Smiling, I looked at the doll as I kinda pushed her shoulder with my left hand and said,  “You’re doing better huh? Way to go Doll, Way to go!”.  Laughing she swiped at me with her right hand and said, “Yeah Mom, she said I was getting better, and you know what else?”  “What?” I said  “I told her what Dr. Black said.  That I didn’t need to get my tongue clipped.  That I was just lazy with my “awes (r’s), that my tongue was long enough and all I needed to do was keep pwacticing!!”  Oh boy, was the attitude flying when she said that!  “What Mom?  That’s what the doctor said, I just told her what the doctor said!” Smiling back at her I agreed.  “Okay doll, as long as you keep practicing and not complaining….” I said as we continued to walk home.


three little hairs


“Mom, can I speak to you in private”, the boy asked.  We were running late, as usual, for school.  “No, we don’t have time, it’s almost 8:00 am” I said, while trying to close both backpacks.  “No, Mom, I really need to see you…”. Hearing the urgency in his voice, I started to believe this may be something more important than his usual morning queries and decided to take a minute and listen to what he had to say.

I entered his bedroom first, finding a seat at his desk.  He followed me in, closing the door behind himself then sat at the end of his bed. “Uh Mom,” he said, as a goofy grin began to form on his blushing face, “I, uh, found something….”  Looking at him, a little afraid where this conversation was going, I played dumb.  “Found something?….under your bed?  in your closet?  under all the clothes you have yet to put away?”  Laughing, he replied, “No, Mom, listen to me.  Uh, well, you see, um, well..” he stammered, looking back and forth as if afraid someone else were in the room, eavesdropping.  “I’m sorry, boy, go ahead, you found something…?” I began.

The look on his face was priceless.  His eyes grew very large, his face flush with a bit of excitement as he prepared to tell me his news.  “I, uh, I kinda found, well, I mean, I did find, um, three hairs in my right armpit”.  As he told me this, he put his left hand up his right sleeve, as if to touch the hairs for confirmation.  Stifling the chuckle bubbling up in my throat, I smiled back and said, “And so it begins.  You know, this is just the beginning.  Soon you’ll find hairs on your face, your genitals, your chest, and since you are related to your dad, most likely your back.”  Still happy with his discovery, he simply nodded.  “This is all quite normal, bud.  It just tells me my baby is growing up.  Now c’mon, you’re going to be late for school”.

As we stood up to leave his room, he rushed me with a hug.  “I’ll always be your baby Mom, I’ll just be a big and hairy one”  he added, with a laugh then left to grab his backpack for school.  As I walked the kids to the curb for my annual morning ritual of wishing them well on their day, I marveled that my son felt comfortable enough to let me in on his “big news”.  How blessed I am.  How blessed indeed.



Seems to me, the most popular subject on an 11 year old boy’s brain currently is “Puberty”.   Like “Juvey” sounds like a neat word to the doll, “puberty” seems to hold magical qualities for the boy.  He was extremely excited to talk with his doctor yesterday about all the current and upcoming changes to his body.  I sat there a bit mortified by what she had to say.

Before Dr. Black could utter the word, the boy told her “I already know all about the subject.  We had a speaker at school talk about making good choices”.  While agreeing that you need to think smartly during the next few years, she concentrated mainly on his overall change in apprearance  “Well it starts with your feet, they will grow extremely fast over a short period of time, then you’ll start growing hair in odd places, sweating and gaining odors…”

The doll sat there with a look of contempt on her face, while the boy thought all this information was cool.  Then Dr. Black scared me.  “Boys usually start changing around sixth grade and can last for quite a few years.  Girls on the other hand begin maturing much earlier from about fourth grade through eighth grade.  So there is a good chance they will both begin changing at about the same time”.

SAME TIME??? We can barely handle my hormonal days, how will we handle theirs?  Dear God, what have we gotten ourselves into?  Oh well, I guess we’ll have to wait and see.



Tuesday began with the annual trip to the doctor.  As we sat in the waiting room for the doctor to arrive, a family consisting of twin two year old’s entered the room.  One twin was a very active boy, while his sister happily played with the sensory toys in the room.  Another set of parents entered the room, bringing a newborn baby with them.  The twins father cautioned his son, “Stay away from the baby Jacob”,  a sentence he repeated a few times.  Hearing this, the doll began to giggle.  Looking over at her, I said, “does the little boy remind you of anyone?” Smiling she said, “Yes, my brother”.

As annual check-ups go, ours was average.  The boy it seems, is blind in one eye–so another doctor we must visit. Over the past year, he has grown three full inches while gaining a whopping 23 pounds.  As the doctor said, “We’ve always known he was going to be big, he’s just fulfilling our predictions.  Now if we could only get him interested in sports.

Meanwhile, the doll  has grown two full inches while gaining 14 pounds. Prior to the appointment she was excited to tell the doctor of her recent foray into ballet.  By the time the doctor entered the room however, she had completely forgotten how to speak.  This may have had something to do with her regular complaints of having  a sore throat for the last week.  Unhappily she was told she has allergies, a notion that had crossed our minds as well.  Honestly, I think, though she’d deny it, she was hoping to have some really bad reason for the sore throat.  Then at least she’d have something over on the boy.

As for me…I’m happy Zyrtec and ADD meds are working properly.

minute moments


There are different times during the month when parents need a break from their children.  Yesterday, the hubby took his.  Leaving early in the morning, he spent the day with his older brother, doing what they do best..hanging out.  This left the kids with me, much to their dismay: I’m not as easy going as their father.

Rainy days breed boring moments.  The kids, especially the doll, were bored beyond belief.  I offered many alternatives–drawing, writing stories, playing games; however all they were  interested in doing was to sit in front of the television and  eat.  At one point, as I walked into the kitchen, I found the boy, sitting at the table, still in his PJ’s, eating a bag of corn chips.  “Grabbing the chips from him I said, “No, junk.  We’ve got plenty of healthy snacks-apples, grapes, clementines, etc.”  But I’m hungry!” he said, as if junk food is the only cure for his hunger pains.

Grabbing the chips and placing them atop the refridgerator, I informed both children the time had arrived for them to get cleaned up–complete showers and dressed for the day.  Pouting the boy got up from the table and disappeared into his bedroom. A short time later, I walked into the kitchen to find the boy fully dressed, eating corn chips.  Grabbing the chips from him, I asked, “What part of  NO do you not understand?  What happened to the shower?  “But Mom, I’m hungry!” came his response.  “Fine, eat an apple!” came mine.

The doll and I began to clean up the dishes in the kitchen and collect the dirty clothes for a wash.  All this time the television continued to play in the living room.  When the boy finally finished with his shower, he came into the kitchen and once again grabbed the chips.  The straw had finally been broken.  Grabbing the chips and throwing them away,  I yelled, “That’s it.  What part of me saying No to chips are you not understanding?  Am I not making myself clear?  Well let’s make sure you understand me perfectly.  Since you were determined to disobey me, I feel compelled to turn the television off for the rest of the day.  Find an alternative to laying around eating  junk!  Get busy-clean your room, read a book, play a game!  Do anything other than what you’ve been doing.”

The boy, hurt by my yells, disappeared into his bedroom-imagination central.  The doll decided this was a good time for her to take her shower.  Both, no doubt wished their father had been home all day with them instead of me.  Oh well.

french toast


Mom, I’m hungry the boy said, as I came down the stairs this morning.  “Well, your 11 years old, do something about it”, I responded.  The doll, sitting on the opposite couch from him asked, “How do you make french toast?”  Looking at her I said “hmmm, three eggs, a splash of milk and bread on a hot pan.  Before I could finish, she was up, into the kitchen getting her supplies together to make her breakfast.

“All right, I have the eggs,” she said from the kitchen.  I could hear her rooting around in the pan drawer and asked to see what her mixing bowl looked like.  She brought out a large oval casserole dish.  I smiled, realizing the bowl was larger than necessary, but just right for her–keeping messes to a minimum.  Walking into the kitchen, I grabbed a whisk and handed it to her, then pulled out the milk.  “Doll, you just want a small splash of milk, so be careful when you add it”.  “Just a splash?”  “Yup, just a splash” I said, then exited the room.

A few minutes later, her father entered the kitchen to see what the doll was up to.  Seeing the eggs whipped into submission, he asked, “What are you gonna do now?”  “Daddy, I need you to turn on the stove for me.”Why?” “Cause, I’m making french toast.”  “Why?”  “Cause Mom said I could. “Why?  Daddy!.  Grabbing a fry pan, he placed it onto the stove, added some grease then helped her place the bread into her egg mixture then into the pan.  She pulled a chair over to the stove so she could flip the egg soaked bread at the appropriate time.

Smiling at her accomplishment, she fed not only herself, but her brother and father.   Me however was not so enthusiastic at seeing the dishes piled up in the sink.  Ugh, some things never change for mommies….mainly dirty dishes.



Have you ever tried to enter, say the bathroom, only to have the child on the other side block the door?  Makes you wonder what they might be up to?  I tried three times to enter our downstairs bathroom.  Each time I opened the door, the doll, would push the door closed.  If she were  actually going to the bathroom, I would have respected her privacy.  However the door is two feet away from the toilet.   Something must be up….

When I finally gained access, the sink was covered in a light peach colored substance.  Sitting amid this mess was one of her little pet shop animals, apparently taking a bath.  She immediately turned on the faucet and played dumb. “Why did you try to keep closing the door on me?”  “I was going to the bathroom Mom.”  Okay.  “How come the toilet isn’t running?  She looked at the toilet silently.  “Doll, what’s in the sink?”  “I don’t know.  It was there when I came in.” Hmm.  As I looked around the room, I realized the sink was covered in my foundation.  “Oh, I know what this is” I said, as I reached for the foundation container.  Looking back at the doll, her resolve beginning to fail, she was caught and knew it.

“Okay, what are you doing in here the truth this time please?”   Large tear drops began to  form then roll out of her eyes.  “Doll, the truth please?  I won’t be mad if you tell me the truth.  I’m only mad when you lie to me”. “I didn’t know what that stuff was, and I accidentally spilled it all over the sink…” “Really? Are you sure that’s how it happened?” I asked as she gave me a big hug–almost  hiding in the hug.  “No.” she said.  “I was experimenting.  I thought it was some kind of soap, so I thought I’d wash my “dog” in it”.

Isn’t it funny all the “plausible” answers they give you before the truth is finally wiggled out.

I opened the container,  pulling out the blending pad and said, “Doll, this is what is known as foundation.  Moms like me, use this makeup to hide blemishes and blend all the colors of our faces into one color.”  As I said this, I placed some foundation onto the pad then put the makeup onto her face.  “Makeup tries to  cover things up, but they are still there.  Lying never covers anything up because the more you lie, the worse things become, right?”  She nodded, wiping away the last few tears.  “If you are honest with me, I’ll never be angry with you.  Okay?  You just need to tell the truth.”   “Okay” she said, then added, “Can I take that  stuff off now? I don’t like it anymore.”  Smiling,  I said sure.