Sprite's Keeper

List I may, List I might

Ugh, I hate email forwards. Hate them, hate them, hate them. I got ANOTHER forward of a list in which you have to answer the questions. Hopefully, this will dissuade certain people (yes, you, you know who you are...hang your head in shame....and keep reading! Love ya.) from sending me more forwards. I'm letting Sprite take this one. Enjoy.

1. Do you like blue cheese?

Cheese can be blue? I must see this blue cheese. Bring it to me...

2. What do you think of hot dogs?

They should know better than to stay outside when it's warm. We have air conditioning, you know..

3. Favorite Christmas movie?

Movies do not give me presents, therefore I do not have a favorite.

4. What do you prefer to drink in the morning?

Milk, duh!

5. Can you do push ups?

Push ups? What are those? Well, Mommy and Daddy say I can do anything, so I guess that would apply to these push ups you speak of. So, yes.

6. What is your favorite hobby?

Making Airee and Blue do my bidding.

7. Do you have A.D.D.?

Yes, I have A Doting Daddy, how did you know?

8. What's one trait you hate about yourself?

Not one thing. Everyone says everything I do is cute, so there's your proof!

9. Name 3 thoughts at this exact moment.

Mine, Mine, Elmo (not in that order, no, wait, the order is fine)

10. Current worry?

I'm a toddler! I only worry if the batteries in my Aquarium don't work!

11. Favorite place to be?

Wherever Mommy and Daddy are so I can keep an eye on them.

12. How did you bring in the New Year?

Is this a riddle? Like why is a raisin like a writing desk? Has ANYONE figured that one out?

13. Where would you like to go?

Sesame Street. Can you tell me how to get there?

14. Do you own slippers?

Helloo, my name is not Cinderella!

15. What shirt are you wearing?

I'm wearing a dress today. You sure don't know much, do you?

16. Favorite color?

Green. It's the only color I can say right now, so it wins by default.

17. Would you be a pirate?

Pirate? Does that have to do with pie? I like pie. Apple and banana pie. Oh, and strawberry pie! I want pie!

18. What songs do you sing in the shower?

I don't sing. I make Mommy and Daddy sing, like they think if they just keep singing the ABC's to me, I'll sing it back....the fools.

19. What's in your pocket right now?

Instructions on taking over the world in 10 days and instructions on how to play nice and share. Guess which one I'm reading?

20. Last thing that made you laugh?

Mommy hitting her head on the cabinet and saying some funny words.

21. Worst injury you ever had?

What's worse, a boo-boo, ouchie, or owie? I've had a couple of each.

22. Do you love where you live?

Free drinks whenever I want, free room service, cookies on demand, diaper changes at my disposal, Elmo on demand, what's not to love?

23. How many TVs do you have in your house?

You mean the box with the buttons on the bottom which sometimes shows Elmo? If you mean that, we have that. If you're asking how many, um, I can't count yet!

24. Who is your loudest friend?

No one is louder than me. And whatever Mommy says, that IS something to be proud of!

25. How many dogs do you have?

Again with the counting! I have a Airee and a Blue. How many is that?

26. Does anyone have a crush on you?

You do, obviously. You keep asking me questions!

27. Favorite candy?

Candy? What is this candy? Have Mommy and Daddy kept something from me?

28. What is your favorite book?

If I can step on it and still turn the page, it's a favorite. Otherwise, I really like "Bunny and Me". The way the tone captured the two friends at a crossroads in life really spoke to me. Oh, yeah, and the bunny had a fuzzy tail. I laughed. I cried. I chewed the pages. Very well-rounded.

29. Favorite sports team?

Mommy likes the Patriots. Daddy likes the Dolphins. I like the Lions because they go "Roar!"

30. What were you doing at 12 AM last night?

Why? Who were you talking to? WHAT DO YOU KNOW?!

I am so done with this. No wonder Mommy doesn't like these things. I can definitely go for some pie right now though..

I swear, she WANTED to do it...

And Mommy says if I do a good job, I'll get a cookie. Man, this treadmill is dirty.

"Sprite, you missed a spot."

This better be a BIG cookie...

Fighting like Sprites and dogs..

Controversy abrewing...

Sprite: Airee, I already talked to Blue. I'm trying this out for a bed. There's only room here for one, and it's me. Okay?

Harry: You take something of ours, I'll take something of yours.... Oh, yes. Uppence is coming.

(2 hours later, right after a tired Sprite retires...in Blue and Harry's bed...)

Harry: Yes, this will do quite nicely. It's soft, cushy, and has Elmo, therefore she likes it. I'm not so sure about the chick with the wings, but if I close my eyes, I can live with it. Yes, yes, this will be quite adequate...the child will learn...

She has a very strong grip, this one..

"Sprite, give Mommy kisses!"

She starts leaning in to buzz me a good one when I notice her mouth is wet. Yuck. I present my cheek to avoid making direct contact with whatever it is coating her lower face.

Her hand grabs my chin (ouch?) and turns me to face her full on and smashes her lips to mine.

Then her hand releases my face and she goes on about her play.

I sit and watch her. I should be thinking, wow, she was determined. Instead, all I can think is, when did she have peaches?

Secrets to a Successful Marriage

A cell phone conversation between man and wife:

"What are we having for dinner tonight?"

"Beef tips and salad."

"Fish?"

"No, beef tips and salad."

"Fish?"

Pause. "Yes, fish."

"Wow, I was just thinking I would love fish for dinner."

John knows me so well.

Life in the Spin Cycle

John has been dealing with a persistent sore throat and I finally coaxed him into going to the doctor yesterday after work, so it was me and the kid on our own for the evening.

After dinner, we ambled into her room where she proceeded to destroy the precious balance of cleanliness and clutter to create a plastic monsoon. (Those poor Weebles never knew what hit them.)

In the midst of all this Fisher Price Frisbee (Yes, I tried to stop it) (Well, I tried to discourage it) (Okay, a beagle may have been hurt in the midst of Sprite's madness, but I was lying down on the floor covering my face with an Elmo doll so my nose would not be targeted and did not see the actual incident and only heard Blue yelp once and she's known for being a drama queen anyway, so I would not make a good character witness since I have a biased opinion, and that's all I have to say about that.), Sprite started to twirl, looking like a dog chasing the ever elusive tail. She turned until she got dizzy and started to giggle.

"Sprite, you can twirl!" I waited for her eyes to stop moving as she regained her equilibrium and then asked her for a repeat performance. She performed on command, eliciting hand clapping from me and a steady arm to stop to her from falling flat on her face.

She tried to add water ballet to her repertoire in the bathtub as I was getting her settled into her nightly soaking. Sprite would stand up as I reached over for the cup to rinse her hair and then start to turn as she giggled. "Honey, sit down." She kept turning. "Sprite, Mommy doesn't like that." Turn, turn, turn. "Sprite, sit DOWN!" I pushed her (gently, of course) into a sitting position and finished the bath.

I finally got her rinsed and repeated and out of the tub. As I put her towel around her, turn, turn, turn. (In her defense, she did dry off a lot faster in spin cycle than standing still would have accomplished.)

Maybe ballet is in her future.

I dropped her off in her classroom this morning and sat with her for a while. As she showed her friends what she could do, turn, turn, turn, she tripped over her feet and went spiraling into a book case.

Eh, ballet would have been expensive anyway.

Cry Me a River

I hate it when I'm caught in a situation where the actual outcome is different than what I expected. I expect to handle the situation with aplomb and even some really good big words meant to impress people. Instead, the mood stability car drives off the road and my emotions take over.

And all I think is, don't cry. Turn off the waterworks. Oh no. It's building up...Crap, where's the Kleenex?

Am I alone in this? I had a situation at work yesterday where someone rolled their eyes at me while we were disagreeing on something work related ( I won't go into specifics, because my job is really not that exciting). Normally, I would smirk and say something snarky and move on. This time, I sat down in my seat, stared at my computer, and cried silently, more pissed off at myself than anything (well, maybe a little pissed off at the person who triggered the tears) that I was having this reaction. The entire time I cried, again, very silently since I did not want to draw attention to myself more than the sniffles and tissues already did, I was telling myself to stop. Stop crying! He's not worth it! The whole matter is NOT worth it! This is stupid! Why aren't you strong?

And yet, I continued to cry. I couldn't turn it off.

I want to say the crying was cathartic. It wasn't. It blew my entire afternoon to smithereens and I spent the remainder of my work day staring between my computer and the clock wishing I could go home and scream into a pillow. On top of that, I went to pick up Sprite, who spent the entire ride home composing a song about how her teeth were hurting her.

This morning, we had a meeting with a manager to try to resolve the interpersonal issue (this meeting was actually recommended by me since I like to beat dead horses until they're glue) (yeah, even I think that's a bit too snarky, sorry) and I feel we did. But guess what? I freakin' cried again! Please tell me it's hormones. Please tell me it's that time of the month. Give me a reason to cry. ("Yes, we're all agreed on how to move forward, so did you hear about the fire last night that claimed the lives of 28 kittens who were supposed to be given to orphans?" Hand me a tissue.) I just don't want to be labeled as the hair trigger in the office. "Ooh, don't say anything mean to Jen. She'll burst into tears."

I usually am a strong person. I can usually handle myself with dignity even in the face of adversity, but when a small issue like what happened yesterday (which was so minute, I'm still shocked about how I reacted to it) reduces me to tears, I doubt myself. I doubt my confidence and I doubt another person's confidence in me.

An escape hatch would be really useful in a situation like this. Instead of falling apart, I can flee really quickly without having to explain myself and let myself fall apart in private. I would love to say, "Oh, I need to use the restroom. Please be patient." and be able to walk out of the room with my head held high instead of looking to the ceiling and trying to keep the tears from falling and my chin from trembling too fiercely.

Now, I'm going to go home and hug my dogs to make up some karma for the horse and kitten comments...

Can Snark Be Inherited?

There's a quilt that hangs on the wall behind my 16 month old's crib. My mom made it for her and had the guests at my baby shower sign little messages and greetings to her which were very special. Sprite has been looking at that quilt since her eyes could focus. If there was anything in her room I would rescue in a fire (Sprite already being out of the house of course), I would make a bee line for that quilt.
In the middle of the very large quilt is a patch which John and I wrote in for our little daughter-to-be. John, of course, wrote about how much he already loved her and couldn't wait to meet her and play with her and try to be the best daddy for her. (Aww.) My message, in a nutshell, was "I really hope you get your daddy's personality." (Oh yes, I did.)
Ever since she has started to walk and talk and assert her personality, comments about how she acts like me are becoming common. I swear, if I could change it, I would. (But she probably wouldn't be as fun as she is now, though, so I'll keep her anyway.)
Last night, as I was loading up the dishwasher, she evidently thought her new pink play shoes needed to be cleaned as well and tried to load them into the bottom tray.
"No," I said, taking the shoes out of the tray and handing them back to her. She tried again. "No," I repeated, again extricating the shoes from the tray and placing them on the floor beside the dishwasher.
Sprite, who has recently elected herself the official door closer in the house (there was a vote, but she basically ran un-opposed), tried to close the dishwasher door by lifting it up. I helped her, by now tired of defending the dishes from further attack by her shoes.
"Thanks," I said, a little sarcastically. Okay, a lot sarcastically, but I figured a 16 month old doesn't understand inflection and I SAID thank you, so I was still trying to teach manners, right?
Sprite looked up with a bored look. "Welcome," she replied, lowering her eyelids. She then picked up her shoes and walked off.
I stared at her back as she walked away from me. My kid has snark. It's official.
Poor John. He knew what he was in for with me. He had (plenty of) warning.
Just think of the possible snark when she hits puberty...

(Editor's Note: this post was created for www.Blogher.com this morning, but I thought you might like it. You're welcome.) (Yes, I know, she gets it from me...)

My Turn!

Omigod! Omigod! Omigod!

The one year old room has a play kitchen! It is SO FREAKIN' COOL!

Sprite, move over. My turn!

I remember playing with the plastic fruits and vegetables when I was kid, popping them into a pretend pot to put them on the pretend stove (I believe this is how Apples Brown Betty was created... so I've heard.) and then pretend they had magically transformed into whatever recipe I thought of, of course they still looked like their original forms, but hey, I was pretending. (My imagination was a lot better and a lot cheaper than most toys.)

Obviously, the kitchen now installed in the one year old room is a lot better than the kitchens of yesteryear. (Oh, my word, am I THAT old that yesteryear applies to ME? I feel faint...) The kitchen now has a four burner stove with the burner stickers glowing permanently red to show that the burners have been left on all night (wow, I hope this isn't a gas burning stove)(see? That's my imagination at work!) and an oven underneath with just enough room for a wayward toddler to hide (so THAT's why there's some cutouts in the back of it... smart people avoiding lawsuits).

Anyway, the best play kitchen ever invented also has a microwave, a pantry, lots of storage space for all the plastic pots and pans and bananas and apples and a cookie and mac n cheese... I think I'm gonna call in to work.

I walked in with Sprite this morning and saw it set up against the near wall. 2 other children were already compiled in front of it, turning on the faucet (or were they turning it off...?) and putting food on plates.

We made a beeline and gently eased into the group (i.e. shoved them aside and distracted them- "Look, there's Elmo!") and I started to explore this wondrous make believe we're making food and making me late for work contraption. Wow, it even has a kitschy back splash! I'm in love.

"Apple," Sprite said, leaning down and grabbing an plastic apple.

"Yes, love, that is an apple," I replied, my eyes drawn to the various accessories. Hmm, mixing bowls and spoons. Hours of pretend mixing? Be still my beating heart...

"Nana!" Sprite exclaimed and picked up a miniature bunch of bananas.

"That would be right, Sprite," I responded, still distracted. The pots have lids! How cool would some dry ice be right now to create an actual boiling pot?!

I noticed the teacher was watching me with a spiked eyebrow, but I didn't care. My money went towards it. Shouldn't I get to play with it? That's reasonable, right?

I started rummaging through the various drawers and cabinetry to discover more secrets about this play kitchen when my cell phone chirped. I looked at the clock and realized I had 15 minutes before I was officially late.

Sprite had taken her apple and banana and moved on to another activity already, not even noticing as I tip-toed out of the room, a little embarrassed for my excitement over a play set.

I realized later that my child was showing me that she knows object association. She correctly identified and located two fruits on her own. She just didn't identify the fruit roll-up sitting next to her and ignoring her.

I am hanging my head in shame.

From this day forward, I am only going to buy toys for Sprite that I think are boring or have no interest in. (Or I will at least wait until she's sleeping before I mess with them...)

Was I cut out for this?

I am a regular visitor to Momformation on babycenter.com. (I mean, how else am I going to spend my work days? Working? Pshaw!)

Anyway, if you can check out the site, there's some interesting articles which pop up throughout the day written by various parenting experts and other moms.

My favorite author, Betsy Shaw, wrote a very interesting article today which touched on a thought that has weaseled into my brain now and again, every time I have a problem with Sprite, either getting through to her, or trying to make her get through to me.

She discussed being cut out to be a mother. She referenced a poll which had been taken for the site asking if people every worry if they were cut out to be a mom and was surprised to see how many other people were in the same boat.

We all have those moments of What was I thinking? when our kids drive us up the never-ending wall. I have only 16 months experience in the subject myself, but Sprite knows what buttons to push when she wants to.

I made a comment on Betsy Shaw's post which I want to share with you:

I doubt my mothering skills every time my toddler:
Falls off my bed (only happened once, but yikes!)
Falls off anything for that matter
Wants Daddy instead of Mommy
Refuses to kiss me
Refuses to listen
Makes me lose my patience
Makes me lose my temper
Makes me lose both patience and temper
Is left at daycare so I can go to work (makes me very sad to leave her there!)
I remember exactly why I wanted to be a mother when:
I hold her in my arms and she is safe, warm, and happy
She is excited to see me when I pick her up from daycare
She lets me know with kisses and hugs how glad she is that I'm her mommy.
Motherhood has never been perfect for me, but the fact that I AM a mother is perfection TO me.