Wednesday, October 20, 2010

I Made a Friend!

The lobby at Delaney's dance class is full of three different kinds of moms: there are the ones that sit together on one side of the room, talk loudly and avoid eye contact with anyone not in their yoga pant, designer purse-clad group. There are the moms that drop their kids off and make to the nearest exit as fast as they can. Then, there's the lepers. The moms that scrounge for whatever chair is leftover, or they sit on the floor at the back of the studio in their jeans and dole out goldfish crackers from non-designer diaper bags. The moms that are always late with the payment. The moms that never seem to "fit in".  You know, like me. Maybe it's because I'm always drunk. Hmm.

But anyway, today, I made a friend with a fellow leper.

When you stay at home with your children full time, meeting a new person with whom you might actually have something in common with is an event. A celebration. It's like a freakin' date. Do you ask for her phone number? Or does that make you sound too desperate? Will she think you're a stalker if you find her on Facebook and friend her? Should you follow her home, get her address and send her flowers? I just don't know...This friendship thing is hard.

Not that I'm completely anti-social. I do have friends. Just because no one can see them doesn't mean they aren't real. But believe it or not, I have real ones, too. I have several acquaintances and a few very close friends with whom I cannot imagine not having in my life. Friends who forgive me, no matter how bad of a friend I am. And I love them to pieces...but I've discovered that as an adult, for me anyway, making a true friend is really, really tricky. I don't know how to do it.

But today, I managed to control myself and after class, I resisted following my fellow leper home. Only because I know a restraining order would make it difficult to take Delaney to dance class. Maybe next week I'll just bring her a small a life-sized portrait of her, done in macaroni noodles. I'm sure I could get Delaney to help.

Monday, October 18, 2010

It starts early...

This is my daughter's bed. Yes. The one she sleeps in. If I try to take anything off of it, she screams and cries until I put it back. Exactly where it was, or she gets angry, stomps over and puts it in it's proper place. As disorganized as this looks, apparently, there is a system. The books are sorted to her books by her head, a select few rotating books propped against the wall. The stuffed animals and babies all have their own place, and God forbid I move one. I accidentally uprooted "Baby Koala" from his place in the covers once and it was another ten minutes before she would go to sleep because she had to get him comfortable again.

She has several different blankets, that are only to be used for certain dolls. She has an assortment of crayons and paper, in case she feels like drawing in the middle of the night. She keeps her plastic rings and bracelets next to her, right beside her barrettes in the pink, plastic bedside bucket that we once brought home from the hospital. She has a place for all the junk mail that I tried to throw away but she thought she had to keep; the flier from the dentist with the tooth fairy on it, a princess picture from the Disney movie club advert...very important things. All close at hand. Two different water bottles. In case she gets very thirsty. Birthday cards, pennies, a squirt gun...

I'm afraid that one day she will be featured on Hoarders...

Friday, October 8, 2010

Midnight snacks

I was rocking Sam a few nights ago, trying to get him to go to sleep. He as being very stubborn. He kept looking up at me and asking for a cracker.

"Cracker?" he'd ask.
He decided on a different approach.
"String cheese?"
"No, Sam. Go. To. Sleep."
"String cheese?"
He was quiet for a few seconds.
"Hangbooger?" he asks.

Sure, kid. It's almost 11:00 pm. You can't have a cracker, but I will run right downstairs and grill you up a hamburger.

I guess it was worth a shot.

Saturday, October 2, 2010


Delaney came in crying and screaming that Nick kicked her in the face.

"Nick! Get in here!" I shouted. "Did you kick Delaney?"

"Yes," he says, sadly.

"Was it an accident?" I ask.

"No. It was on purpose."

"Then you need to get to your room right now! We do not kick each other."

"No, no...wait! Wait!" he pleads. "What exactly does "on purpose" mean?"


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