peskypippi.comBecause I have a lot to say…

One recent Saturday morning, our two youngest children greeted us for some snuggling and giggling. This is one of my favorite weekend rituals.

Enjoy some of our silliness:

I’ve watched these over and over and can’t help but giggle and smile.

Some people take a walk in nature to find peace, quiet, and serenity

Some people. But not me.

When I bring my kids on a hike, it’s more like:

• Can acid blow up snow?
• What if I attached a rocket pack to a port-a-potty?
• Are there piranhas in the lake?
• Where do they mine emeralds?
• Who would win, a python or a bear?

And then:

“Can we stop and get Dairy Queen on our way home?”

But I wouldn’t have it any other way.

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.

“Este es el murciélago. El murciélago come las frutas.”

Animal facts, at the zoo, about the fruit bat in Spanish. It doesn’t matter if my kids really care (or understand) what the voice inside the box says. Spanish or English. Facts about the fruit bat, the brown bear, the salmon, the mandrill…at boxes scattered around the zoo.

It’s about who. Gets. To. The. Box. First.

The $3 plastic zoo key turns into the magical zoo key. The beholder of the key holds the power.

I have bought and rebought these zoo keys about 20 times. If we show up without a key, I have witnessed whining and pouting: “We need our key!”

And it’s true. We cannot visit the zoo without a key. My two youngest children need their own keys, apparently.

It’s become a tradition. We listen to the same old “Este es el murciélago. El murciélago come las frutas.”

It’s not about the money I have spent. It’s not about the animal facts they learn or don’t learn.

It’s all about childhood and magic. The magic that only a magical zoo key can unlock.

Chocolate-chip cookies…again?

No way!

Do you want to be the coolest Mom ever? How about making one giant cookie…with giant impact. What ’til your kids see this! They will be stunned and awed, just like in Uncle Buck. Remember the giant pancake?

Click here for my best chocolate-chip-cookies-on-Earth recipe.

So, instead of plopping the dough as you would for individual cookies, make one giant plop onto a parchment paper-lined cookie sheet and smash down and smooth out with a spatula. Bake at 350 degrees about 12 minutes and keep an eye on it. Take it out just before you think it’s done (the one in the pic is a little overcooked…my bad…I was on Twitter).

Once cooled, you can frost it to make a smiley face, as in my birthday “cake” last year. Click here to see that beauty. Or you can cut into a heart. Brilliant…just in time for Valentine’s Day!

C is for Cookie. Or for “Crap, I just ate too much damn cookie.”

“It takes a village to raise a child…”

So true. But in this case, it took a tribe.

My daughter had a little not-so-little school project. She was to write her own Pacific Northwest Native American-style myth, with symbolism. Her symbol was the raven. Her myth was How the Raven Stole Straw.

In Pacific Northwest Native American culture, the raven is a creature of metamorphosis, and symbolizes change and transformation. Often honored among holy men of tribes for its shape-shifting qualities, the raven was often called upon in ritual so that visions could be clarified. Foremost, the raven is the Native American bearer of magic.

So far so good. Her myth was written. Part two of her project was to create a visual to accompany her myth. It was about 9:00 p.m. on a school night and this project was due. The. Next. Day.

We needed a little raven magic.

My daughter had visions of creating a Native American blanket. A blanket?? Dude. It’s 9:00 p.m.

“How about drawing a raven, sweetie?” When faced with a challenge, I sometimes try to find a quick solution. It was now 9:18 p.m.

But my daughter was determined to make a blanket. My husband jumped in, ready to help his daughter clarify and realize her vision. He’s great like that.

The three of us formed our own sewing pow wow. Cutting. Sewing. Gluing. Laughing.

I’m not sure what time it was when the final button was attached, but the raven spirit came through that night to transform a piece of felt into…an A.

I have heard people say parents shouldn’t help their children with homework. Whatever. Sometimes, I think, it requires teamwork and relying on the elders in the community. Sometimes, it takes a tribe.

I’m linking up with the Yeah Write “moonshine” folks. Check them out!

Yeah, yeah. We’re trying to eat healthier as a family. Blah, blah.

I’ve been buying whole wheat hamburger buns for years. The kids don’t like them. They end up eating the burger but leaving the bun. Another bun bites the dust.

Then, I tried the not-so-wheaty buns. Alas, they were also neglected. My attempts at healthier eating weren’t going so well.

Next, we tried the super thin (tortilla-thin), multi-grain buns. Gag. The kids hated them. Damn. I bought a ginormous bag of them at Costco.

So tonight, we went back to the old school, fluffy, white buns with sesame seeds. I don’t think they have an ounce of wheat in them. And tonight, the hamburgers–and their accompanying buns–were eaten. Every last seed.

Nice buns.

Ringtones. They are brilliant.

My boss has her own ringtone. It’s Boom Boom Pow by The Black-Eyed Peas.

And whenever my phone rings–Gotta get-get, gotta get-get–my kids know they had better: Shut. The. Front. Door.

I work out of my home office most of the time.

I also have loud children.

So, it’s been kinda like Pavlov’s “classical conditioning” and his dogs.

Ivan Pavlov was a Russian physiologist who was known for his famous experiments. He presented dogs with a ringing bell followed by food. Every time a bell would ring, the dogs would salivate and then they would get fed. After much conditioning, the dogs learned to respond with saliva every time they heard the bell.

Pavlov = Pippi

Dogs = kids

Bell = Boom Boom Pow ringtone

Salivating dogs = quiet kids

Treat = treat

…and it worked.

Running late (as always).

Trying to get my daughter to her basketball game on time. The kids shoved down sandwiches and milk.

Quick! Grab the water bottle!

“Did you remember your jersey?” I yelled to her in the backseat…being that we were already halfway there. I was hopeful.

“Yes.”

Whew.

It was Friday night, after a hard week of all of us getting back “into the swing of things” post-holidays. I was feeling. Very. Grumpy.

Then on the radio blasts K.C. and The Sunshine Band….That’s The Way I like It. Uh huh. Uh huh.

And then. My seven-year-old starts to sing along. Word for word. Booyah!

It was exactly what I needed to get me out of my grumpies. Uh huh. Uh huh. I laughed out loud.

And we got to the game. With. Three minutes to spare.

I took my kids ice skating at the local ice rink.

This outing was different. I think I have changed. For the better.

I realize that my two sillies are teaching me a bunch as we go. A bunch about just enjoying the moment.

I used to obsess that we get our money’s worth. “Let’s get out there and skate! Hurry! No resting!”

It took us like 11 minutes to get our skates laced, coats zipped, gloves on. Then, hobbling. Teetering. Onto the slippery ice.

Only two laps around and I needed to rest my ankles. The throbbing!

It took my seven year old precisely 14 minutes to skate one lap.

Then. He asked for nachos and root beer. Normally I would say, “You’re hungry already?” And encourage him to skate more because “We didn’t come here to eat.”

But not this time. I pulled out my wallet. The three of us sat around the little table laughing, eating nachos, watching the zaboni.

A few more laps. More resting. More giggling. A few falls. Some hand-holding. More resting. More giggling.

With all the hobbling, teetering, laughing, resting, snacking, and sillying, we probably only got in 40 minutes of skating. But who cares? It’s probably the non-skating moments that we’ll remember more.

As we unlaced and ditched the skates, my kids said to me, “we had the best time ever.”

Yeah, me too.