Riding in Cars with Girls

On the way to Jersey the other day, I had my Princess as a copilot as we trekked along the 76 to go pick up Grammie and her cousin, my niece. We sang loudly to random tunes playing through the speaker from Pandora Streaming; taking moments to giggle and be girls. About an hour goes by and she begins to chatter about nothing in particular.

We  near our destination and she says, “My stomach doesn’t feel well.”

When I ask her why, she informs me that if she finds that if she doesn’t eat breakfast, her stomach turns into an upset mess. Carrying on, with a further explanation, she says, “I could never be Anorexic.”

I asked her what she meant by that, my interest peaked, as I once suffered from the deadly combination of Anorexia and Bulimia just a few years older than she is currently.

Straight-faced, she looks at me, “I like to eat. I don’t like to be hungry.”

Ahh, I get it. Too darn funny.

Then a few minutes go by and she says, “I don’t understand why women would want gel in their boobs. What if it pops. And they are all squishy then anyway. Why can’t people just be happy with what they have?”

I found that last remark amusing. I explained that some women just don’t have breasts or after kids, their breasts aren’t the same and they use a saline now, which is like water instead of gel. You know, all medical and serious in my definitions.

She nods that she understands but says, “I hope that I will be happy with whatever I have.”



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A Gem From the Husband :)

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Narcotics – the opposite effect

When one of your children hurts in a way that a mother cannot soothe, it is beyond frustrating. Our littlest sprite, the most agile of all, decided that she would take a tumble and fracture her wrist. I knew the minute I saw the X-ray that this was beyond a simple cast! Either way, I figured a little sedation would be required to set her back to normal. And – of course, today, we found out that she indeed requires a bit more than a lick of plaster and an ace wrap.

She is a small ball of nerves but brave none the less – 4 days and only 5 doses of narcotics. I expect the same after she recovers from surgery. Just a few more seams to iron out with the insurance company and hopefully she will spend a small spell under sleeping gas and emerge with a reset bone and a pin.

In the mean time I will continue to play the safety police with Daddy: NO, YOU CANNOT FLIP ONE-HANDED. NO, YOU CANNOT CLIMB ON THE COUNTER WITH YOUR GOOD HAND TO SUPPORT YOU! NO. NO. NO!! I nearly lost my marbles last night when I saw her doing one-handed walk overs in the kitchen! OYE!!!

By the way –  I was expecting the Queen of Compliance from the Narcotic Heaven – you know the sleep that soothes the savage beast. I, instead, received a chatty, chatter box that is wound up tighter than a spring without a lick of sleepy whenever I give her a dose of the white stuff. I feel like this is a completely unfair advantage to prescribing drugs to kids.

And to add to it – the oldest child asked, as we were headed into the restaurant for supper tonight, “Is she on drugs?” Then laughed at his question and said, “Any other time that would be completely inappropriate to ask.

We both smiled.

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Orange is the new black, move over black …

Tonight a big rain storm blew through and turned the usual serene sky into shades of purple, orange and yellow with tints of blue. The sun shined in such a divine brightness that it forced my pre-teen to ponder, “What if that was the sun hurtling to the earth?” The sheer force of the brilliant glow blinded us both as I drove home 5 miles.

Mother nature cast a rainbow among clouds that looked like they were splattered white paint strokes with a deliberate intention to turn into clouds while in other moments as the wind blew in, it looked as if someone has stretched cotton balls and glued them to the sky. 






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It is no secret that I am less than a morning person – the polar opposite of sunshine when the hours are before noon. It is quite an irony in that I’ve been in the same career field which requires early rising for the past 20 years and yet, I’ve never really adapted. Yesterday, our princess had her birthday. I slept in a bit; work not a part of my agenda for the day. As I was sipping my delightful morning cup of Joe, the sprite child awoke and came clamoring down the stairs infused with “birthday” energy.

Normally, I shun these notions of happiness and chatter first thing in the morning, however, I was determined to be as understanding as possible. I stood still as stone leaning against the counter as she spilled strings of words out of her mouth – like she hadn’t spoken to a single soul in forever. I kept silently telling myself – it’s her birthday, let her go. She was breaking every rule I had in place about unnecessary yapping first thing in the morning.

At one point, I had to relocate to the computer in a white flag retreat – I simply couldn’t take it anymore. She had gone to find something to eat so I had deemed it safe and appropriate if I silently excused myself. Not much time had passed before her beacon honed in on my location and she came to find me. She started in on her mile-a-minute talk-athon when I told her I hadn’t finished my first cup of coffee yet and to please tone it down a notch. I wasn’t mean; I wasn’t spiteful. It was a single polite request spoken in an even tone (utter control for even me).

She looked me square in the face and said, “Well, how much coffee do you have in your cup?” I must have stared at her because she looked to my coffee cup and peered inside. Satisfied with whatever curiosity she sought, she then walked away and came back a short bit later, leaving me to awaken in a more natural way – without noise :)

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