The One with the Little Mermaid

Tonight the Little Lady was pretending to be a mermaid.  This, of course, meant that she had to use a fork to brush her hair.  This is a scene from 'The Little Mermaid' for those of you not familiar with one of the worst princess stories to date. 

As she sat there, running a fork through her hair, I turned to look at our Little Guy.  He was staring at her, his eyes as big as quarters, and then I saw his head literally turn into a sponge as he just soaked it all in. 

Hide your forks, people.

The One with the Bad Guys

As I've mentioned here and there, we live in a tiny house.  Although the tiny house tends to be a sore subject around here, it definitely has its pros.  What it lacks in square footage, it makes up for in that it can be cleaned very quickly.  And I'm not talking about a mere straightening up; I'm talking about dusting, mopping, scrubbing--the works.  We have learned not to keep so much stuff, really any stuff.  We don't buy it, collect it or hoard it simply because we have nowhere to keep it. 

Recently, I found another use for the tiny house:  to put the Little Lady's head to rest. 

Lately, she's been waking up in the middle of the night screaming.  I know, I know.  Bless her heart, right?  Wrong.  I've heard this child scream in terror because she's having nightmares, and this is not it.  This is more of a slight whimper that turns into fake sobbing that eventually evolves into full-blown screams until somebody gives her the middle of the night attention she's after.  It has led us to having to keep the bathroom light on all night.  I know this isn't very energy-efficient but neither am I after a night of being kept awake by a 4-year-old pretending to cry. 

We came to this solution because in my prodding to find out why she was giving this performance every night, she decided that she was scared.  This is how the tiny house became an advantage. 

She said she "might be" scared of bad guys.  I told her she had nothing to worry about because our house is so tiny, bad guys simply cannot fit in it.  In true Little Lady fashion, she tried to argue with me about the size of bad guys and their ability to fit into our house.  But I was able to overcome these obstacles and assure her that there was no space left for even the smallest of bad guys. 

Another point for the tiny house! 

That point, however, is negated because as you can imagine, keeping a bathroom light on all night in a tiny house illuminates the entire second floor. 

The One with the Alter Ego

The Little Lady has an alter ego that comes out after dinner--the Zigzag Super Hero.  A few months ago when Zigzag Super Hero first appeared, she was so helpful.  Loud, but helpful.  She would fly into the kitchen announcing that she was the Zigzag Super Hero, wondering if anyone needed her help.  It was awesome because I always got her to clear the table and clean up the living room. 

Zigzag Super Hero disappeared for a few months but has resurfaced within the last few weeks with a whole new disposition that is whole lot less helpful.  Last week, she flew into the kitchen as I was cleaning the dinner dishes asking if anyone needed help.  I told her that the Little Lady needed help picking up all of the toys.  To this, she quickly replied that if the Little Lady played with her toys, then the Little Lady needs to pick up after herself but that the Little Lady was unable to do that at the moment because she was asleep.  It seems that I had been outsmarted.

And now, the Zigzag Super Hero is just plain mean--throwing pretend milk "in your baby's face," putting sugar all over your skirt and "it won't be pretty," and carrying a "mean hawk" around in the crook of her outstretched arm.  Zigzag Super Hero is still loud, but now she speaks with a furrowed brow. 

I'm not sure what the Zigzag Super Hero is cooking up on that "evil computer" of hers, but I have a feeling it definitely won't be pretty.

The One with the Cooking

I am so not confident in the kitchen that sometimes when my sweet little family sits down to dinner, I convince myself that the meat is undercooked.  Then I panic and secretly don't eat much of mine so that I'll be okay to take care of everyone else in the event that my cooking makes them all sick. 

 

The One with the Summertime Fantasy

Today marks the beginning of the Little Lady's summer break.  That's right, I have decided to take her out of daycare, or "preschool" as they like to call it these days, in order to keep her home for a lazy, laid-back summer vacation. 

This might not seem like that big of a deal seeing as how she only attends school two days a week, but believe me...it is a very big deal.  I will spend an entire summer with two kids lying by the pool, building sand castles at the beach, swinging at the parks, picnicking in the grass, coloring with sidewalk chalk, applying sunscreen, dodging a constant barrage of questions that starts at 7:00am, being told to look at this or that every 22 seconds, speaking through clenched teeth, praying for extra patience, fixing snacks every 30 minutes or so--this will be the stuff of my summer. 

I know everyday won't be as dreamy as I imagine it to be, but I think this is what is best for us at this time.  I'm not sure how much longer I'll be able to gallivant around town as a stay-at-home-mom and since my ultimate goal is to become a teacher, I figured we should go ahead and start perfecting our summer vacations now. 

The One Where I Rehash, Reuse & Recycle

I realize that I keep taking extended hiatuses from blogging, but it happens. I have no excuses to offer you.

Now that the Little Guy is 13 months old and eating what we eat, I'm reminded of just how gross mealtimes can be at this stage. No plates, no utensils, avocado and sweet potatoes in the hair. Food and drink flung all over the place. The high chair--the nastiest place on the planet--a wasteland for discarded food.

Memories of the Little Lady come flooding back, and I'm reminded of this post (see below). When I wrote it, she was just shy of being 2 years old, much older than the Little Guy is now. So it offers me no hope that his table manners will improve anytime in the near future, if at all...

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

The One where I join the Little Lady.

You know that old saying, "You can't beat your kids, so join them"? I decided to join the little lady tonight in her usual dinnertime antics.

Before dinner was ready, I cried off and on for one straight hour while eating raisins and chugging chocolate milk. I would stop periodically to stand 3 inches in front of the tv screen.

Dinner was delicious--meatloaf, macaroni and cheese and broccoli. I took a few bites with my fork before I decided that utensils were for suckers and flung it across the room. I was happy as a clam eating fistful after fistful of macaroni and cheese. I only ate the broccoli when Keith got in my face and served it to me piece by piece.

I thought I'd had enough, but I wasn't quite sure yet. So, I lifted my shirt and rubbed macaroni all over my belly. Yep! I was done. So I tossed my plate on the floor with one swift carefree motion, downed the rest of my chocolate milk and yelled "All done!"

The One with My Replacement

As we were shopping yesterday, I heard the Little Lady's voice behind me.

"Katherine," she said. I turned around just as she was slipping her little hand into the hand of a headless mannequin. "This is my new mama."

She probably thought a headless mannequin mama wouldn't fuss at her so much being that she doesn't have a mouth.

But I bet even a headless mannequin mama would find a way.