peskypippi.comBecause I have a lot to say…

My son doesn’t really want to learn how to tie his shoes. He has put it off. I blame Velcro.

We practiced the bunny ears. We even did the one where you have one bunny ear and then you strangle the bunny with the other loop. I thought violence and a little humor might help.

I promised him a new pair of shoes (any color!) when he decides to learn to tie. But he seems to prefer simply slipping on his shoes. Even better with no socks!

He can totally do it. Dude! He just finished building the Lego Millennium Falcon in like three days. That’s 1,254 Lego pieces! If he can put together 1,254 pieces, he can put together two laces.

But, whatever. It’s a good thing that Velco shoes come in all sizes. Or, maybe there are Lego shoes?

My eight-year-old son wrote three reasons why he loves me:

1. She hugs me.
2. Cooks delecius spaggeti. [sic]
3. Signs me up for stuff like gymnastics.

Aw! I’m touched that he singled out three things I think mothering is all about:

1. Love.
2. Nourishment.
3. Support.

Happy Mother’s Day, y’all!

My daughter learned three life lessons this week.

And I was reminded that I often blurt things out without consulting The Proper Parenting Handbook.

Here’s what happened.

My daughter came home upset that she wasn’t invited to her friend’s upcoming birthday party.

• “What?!” I shrieked. “But you guys play all the time!”
• “Yeah,” she said sadly. “She just didn’t want to invite ME.”
• “What a little bitch!” I said.

Lesson one: Ten-year-old girls can be bitches too.

Another day after school, my daughter came home even more upset that her puka shell necklace–her prized $3 purchase from our trip to Hawaii–broke into 200 puka shell pieces. She was planning to wear it all year, to remember our wonderful family vacation. A boy had grabbed her necklace from her neck (!), sending puka shells scattering.

• “What an asshole!” I exclaimed. “Let’s get him to apologize.” That seemed to make her feel better.

Lesson two: Calling someone an asshole for asshole behavior automatically makes you feel better.

• And I offered, “Oh, Sweetie, I know that was special to you. I could buy you another one but it wouldn’t be the same, would it?”
• “No,” she lamented. “That was my special necklace.”

Lesson three: Some valuable things can’t be replaced, because the value is in the memories.

I may not say all the right things. I may say some very wrong things. But I always try to talk things out with my daughter. Even if an obscenity pops out from time to time.

How many plastic spider rings does it take to raise a child from toddler to teenager? In our case, 500.

I invested in a whopping bag of plastic spider rings, when my oldest son was about three. Five hundred of them. “These will come in handy to top cupcakes, to add to goody bags, and to play jokes on people,” I had thought. Whoa! So many fun times ahead!

Well. My oldest son just turned 14 years old this week. When it was time to decorate his cake, I rummaged through the bin where I keep cupcake papers, food coloring, sprinkles, birthday candles, and plastic spider rings.

There was only one spider ring left. What?!

We had finally exhausted our supply. I had baked an abundance of cupcakes over the years to deliver to school functions, added the rings to birthday goody bags, and distributed them at Halloween.

The rings marked milestones in my son’s life. They took him from toddler to teen. And now, the spiders are gone.

But the other day, as my son stood there in the kitchen–standing 6 ft. 1 in. tall–he tasted his mud pie birthday cake and giddily shrieked, “This is your best cake yet, Mom!”

His enthusiasm and kindness are reminders that despite age (and height), he is still the same on the inside.

Clean up on aisle three!

Actually it was the middle lane of the freeway, as we were cruising en route to the tulip fields.

Then, I heard the five words you don’t really want to hear when you’re cruising en route to the tulip fields.

Mom. I. Just. Threw. Up.

Quick. Time to use my Mom instincts. Otherwise known as vomit ninja instincts. I think my eight-year-old son was a little shocked at my lightning-fast skills. Especially, as I only had one baby wipe left and no “just-in-case outfit” packed. I was kinda done hauling around back-up clothes for my kids. Oops.

Here’s what transpired, in like 4 seconds:

1. We pulled off at the next exit and came to a screeching stop. Well, whaddya know. The next exit happened to be a rest stop.
2. I rolled down the windows before the warm stench filled the air, causing everyone to gag.
3. I lept out of the car and undid my son’s seatbelt–carefully and swiftly–so as not to propel bits of whatnot everywhere.
4. I used the one baby wipe to scoop off the excess and lifted him out of the car to remove his t-shirt (and promptly threw it in the trash).
5. We went to the bathroom to wash off with cold water, paper towels, and no soap.
6. Bought him a Sprite at the vending machine.
7. And bam. We were back on the freeway, with a stopover at Walmart, where we bought him a new t-shirt and shorts, hand sanitizer, and wipes.

With his tummy feeling better, we made it to the tulip field and ended up having a lovely afternoon.

My son scored a new outfit. And I scored a new title, Vomit Ninja, as he took this photo of me (looking a little bit powerful, I must say).

Mission accomplished.

It was just your typical Saturday night around here.

We cranked up some of my favorite dance songs from “way back when,” turned on the disco ball, and proceeded to have an impromptu dance party. That’s the best kind.

I taught my seven-year-old a thing or two about ’80s rap. And he taught me a thing or two about some crazy-cool dance moves.

Here are my top 13 favorite dance songs from long ago:

1. Baby Got Back
2. Can’t Touch This
3. Push It
4. Jump Around
5. The Humpty Dance
6. Walk This Way
7. Word Up Cameo
8. Rockit
9. Insane in the Membrane
10. Play That Funky Music
11. Bust A Move
12. Funky Cold Medina
13. Wild Thing

Each day, I look at the note that is pinned to my bulletin board. Written by my youngest son, who turns eight years old today.

I need to laminate this sucker. The note. Not the boy.

But maybe I should laminate him, too. So I can preserve this sweetness forever.

My 8th grade son was to participate in a debate at school. This was the culmination of a six-week project. Researching, reading, gathering talking points and facts. He was prepared. Except.

The final part was to dress the part.

Uh oh.

This is a young man who wears jeans, t-shirts, athletic shoes, and a hoodie. Daily.

So, we went shopping. What to wear. It was the great debate.

• Blue shirt or white shirt?
• Silky tie or cloth tie?
• Blue pants or black pants?
• Silver buckle or gold buckle?
• Oxfords or lace-ups?

Ultimately, I encouraged him to pick out what he would feel most confident in.

I think he won the confidence debate, don’t you?

Parenting children. It makes you do silly things. Especially if you’re kinda silly to begin with.

My seven-year-old son and I were playing in the snow. I pulled some moss off a tree and shoved it up my nose.

“Look, Hon! I’m The Lorax!”

He laughed heartily.

Exactly what I was hoping for.

I just love my toothless boy.

As soon as my seven-year-old son’s teeth showed an inkling of being loose, he worked and worked them until they were out. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 teeth are now gone. The Tooth Fairy has been busy.

As a result, I slice his apples for him. Yogurt and pudding are also popular choices. But I think he’s pulling my leg when he claims cherry Pop-Tarts make his teeth feel better.

My son has been sporting a jack-o-lantern grin for months now. There are no signs of grown-up teeth. And with a smile and charisma like that? That’s just fine with me.