Mr. Pickle

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Posted by peskypippi | Posted in Adolescence, Celebrations, Daughters, Happiness, Humor, Kindness, Playing | Posted on 08-08-2016

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I am a winner!

Actually, my daughter is the winner. She won a Mr. Pickle. At the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk, she played skee ball with such accuracy that the dolphin leapt across the board into first place.

My daughter could be an Olympic skee baller.

She selected a Mr. Pickle as her prize and gifted him to me without prompting. OK, maybe a little. I could not resist his greenness, his glasses, his mustache, and his little shoes. And the fact that he was shaped like a…giggle…pickle. I gleefully accepted, squealing Thank You!

Mr. Pickle was promptly secured with a seatbelt in the back seat, as he quickly became the newest member of the family.

With a daughter like mine, I too, am a winner.

Mr. Pickles!

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I won a Mr. Pickle!

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Do You Like My Hat?

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Posted by peskypippi | Posted in Art, Attitude, Children, Children's Books, Confidence, Contest, Crafts, Encouragement, Life Lessons, Memories, Mothering, Mothers and Daughters | Posted on 16-10-2014

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It’s OK if you don’t. Because I love it!

Do you remember the children’s book, Go Dog Go!? One dog keeps asking the other dog, “Do you like my hat?” He’s a total dick and always says no, he does not. She continues to try so hard to seek his approval and validation.

Until the last hat, which is over-the-top amazing! And, he likes it. Finally.

My daughter and I made some over-the-top hats. Our plan was to wear them at opening day at the horse races.

We started working on the hats a month ago. On one of our trips to our favorite antique store, we scored my daughter a red hat. And lots of bags of junk treasure. We spent that whole afternoon, with glue guns in hand, decorating. That evening, she told me that she had the best day. Yeah, me too.

She transformed her hat into a half-fall-half-winter scene. It is amazing and joyful! But she already knows this.

Mine was half toys and 100 percent full of memories. I rummaged through my children’s toy bins. Plastic horses with no tails. Gold coins from St. Patrick’s Day. Legos. An army guy from a 4th of July parachute. Fake rotten teeth my youngest son loves to wear. A pink barrette my daughter wore when she was three. A Nerf gun bullet. A rubber frog. An alien prize from no cavities at the dentist. A few stray McDonald’s Happy Meal toys. A refrigerator alphabet magnet. A Polly Pocket. A monkey pencil topper. The wrestler that my oldest son played with when he was two. He’s 15 now. The wrestler lost his legs in a battle, so he now anchors the front of my hat. It’s his medal of honor, I guess.

So many wonderful, funny, happy memories are now all glued to my hat.

On opening day, my daughter and I confidently paraded around the horse races with the biggest grins and giggled the whole time. What silliness! What fun!

We entered the “best hat” contest.

We didn’t win. Not even third place. Not sure why we entered. We certainly don’t need external approval and validation to remind us that we are both winners.

Because we already know this.

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Two ladies wearing hats at the horse races.

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Win or Lose

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Posted by peskypippi | Posted in Dreams, Encouragement, Kids, Life, Love, Mother, Mothering, Mothers and Daughters, Mothers and Sons, Sports | Posted on 10-01-2014

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I love the Olympics. I love Moms. I love emotional commercials. I love Tide. And I love this P&G commercial about all that mothers do for their children to support them as they follow their dreams…picking them up when they teeter and totter as toddlers…driving them to all of their practices and events…tending to their wounds…and then cheering them on at the Olympics, and beaming when they win their medal.

Olympic medal?? Wait!

But what if they don’t win a medal? Or don’t make the Olympics? Or don’t make the varsity team? Or don’t make the team at all? Or are the worst player on the team? Or kinda suck at sports in general?

Do we love our children any less?

Do we love our children more when they win and are good athletes and are successful?

Do we love our children less when they lose or fail or fall below our expectations of them?

This commercial got me thinking about how I parent. And how I want to always support and love my children. Always and all ways. Unconditionally. When they dream big and achieve and are successful. When they fail or make mistakes. When they fall below my (high) expectations of them.

I am not a mother of an Olympic athlete in training. But we are heading to a soccer tournament this weekend. I’ll let you know if I love my daughter more or less, come Monday. Wink.

What form!

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Winning

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Posted by peskypippi | Posted in Attitude, Boys, Celebrations, Childhood, Childrearing, Children, Confidence, Contest, Life, Life Lessons, Memories | Posted on 09-08-2013

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Ah, carnival games.

My son looks at the prizes in awe. He has been talking about winning these games for days, in anticipation of our annual visit to the county fair.

Me: Those games are fixed. No one ever wins. 

To a child, carnival games are within reach. Whether it’s popping balloons with a dart, shooting hoops, tossing rings, or spraying water into a clown’s mouth. The games look so fun. The prizes look so enticing. Winning looks so easy.

But they are so rigged.

I usually support my children. You can doooo it! Go for it! I believe in you!

But carnival games are a different story. Me: It’s a waste of money. However. With $20 burning a hole in his pocket–the money was a gift from Nana–my eight-year-old son set out to win.

Me: OK. Take your money from Nana and spend it how you want.

Five dollars for two darts to pop two balloons. That son of mine, held that dart tightly, pursed his lips, and threw it hard. Pop!

His face lit up like a firecracker. I did it! My face lit up like a firecracker. He did it!

Second dart. Grip, throw, and pop! He did it again!

He won a giant gold medal, camouflaged as little stuffed orange dog. He unwadded another $5 bill. Two more darts. Well whaddya know? Two more balloons: popped!

A pair of stuffed dogs, with their cheap fabric and stitching, they may not last through Summer. But they will last forever in my son’s memory as proof.

Proof that on that glorious day at the county fair, he proved me wrong, but more importantly, he proved that he could win on his own.

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