This and That

Interesting things were heard in the Friedman household this morning.

Exhibit A: (Sayde)
"I don't want to brush my teeth. The toothpaste stings my eyes!"

Exhibit B: (Connor and I)

Me: "When the bottom half of the Earth tilts away from the sun, it becomes winter there. Penguins live on the bottom half of the Earth. Do you know who else lives there?"

Connor: "Uncle Seth?"

Me: "Um, no. Uncle Seth lives in Brooklyn."

In other news, here are some paintings I've been doing lately.

Psst...that last one is me. Wow. Look at how skinny I am! I love my paint brush. It's like Harry Potter's wand, "Flabulous Repairo!"

It's ALIVE

In the unannounced and unplanned month long hiatus I took from blogging, you will be happy to know that I didn't squander my life away eating ice cream on the couch in my PJs. Ok, well I didn't ONLY do that. Just one hour each night to eat ice cream and watch Ghost Hunters, but I label that "Sanity Preservation," not "Life Squanderization." Instead I took a week long, 14 hour a day, painting workshop. During this workshop, I began the portrait of Sayde you see above. Next step, color - and that's where it all goes wrong for me. But I'll post it up anyway when it's done, good, bad or mediocre.

I also took my portrait model up to Massachusetts for the2nd annual "Girls' Weekend!" Whoo HOO! My mom, my daughter, and my 3 younger sisters, and one almost 2 year old nephew, all get together to engage in the distinctly female social gathering behaviors that include:
pedicures
ice cream
Smirnoff Ice
prowling the mall for sales
group mothering (it takes a village sometimes, people)

Relaxing? No. Not really. But fun, heartwarming, and much needed? You betcha hot doggie.

Just for the record, I'm not planning any month long blogging breaks in the near future, but you just never know. It's part of the excitement, right?

After a Little Questioning...

It turns out 'The Fairy House' isn't as demonic as I originally thought. What a relief.

You see this charming fellow? It isn't Satan after all, it's just a guy in a scary mask and a waist-down bull costume. He's just trying to scare her as a joke. Ha. Ha. Ha?
The thing going across his chest isn't a saw, it's his arm. And he's got a bull tail going up. See? Whew. I'm so glad it's all resolved...except for that knife he's holding in his hand aiming at the crying girl fairy.



On to the next page:

It's not a severed head, it's just the bull costume. That clears it all up, right?

Thank goodness. The next talk we have will be about jokes. What's "Funny, Ha Ha" and what's "Funny, you're worrying Mommy, please don't kill me in my sleep, for the love of God."

As Sayde says, "You're freaking me out," kid.

The Fairy House

by Sayde Friedman, 6 years old

The cover:


Aww, this is going to be cute, I can tell. Just look at that happy little fairy, the butterfly and the flower. How sweet and precious!









Page 1:


Wait a second, that dude is freaky. Is he holding a saw?
She's crying! He has cloved hooves!
Oh my God. What the hell?



Page 2:


Phew, here comes the hero to rescue her. What the frig? Is he holding a severed head?
Oh dear.

Page 3:

And, they lived happily ever after and had a smiling baby. Well, she looks happy, the Dad looks kind of angry. I guess raging, head severing brutality can do that to a fairy.

Well, I hope all of you out there are enjoying your so called "normal " children.

Jerks.

As we drive by a graveyard...

Sayde: "Connor, did you know a little kid died?"

Connor: "Really?"

Sayde: "Yeah! A little kid! Do you want to know why he died?"

Connor: "From old age?"

If only I had a dungeon.

Yesterday afternoon while straightening up the house, I noticed my new leather bench has been 'claimed'. Apparently, it now belongs to Sayde. At least it is now the territory of a female. If Connor had wanted the bench for his very own, he would be likely to pee on it.



But, we have never really confronted this problem with Sayde before. Connor has a recent history of coloring the white carpet with red crayon - his last creation was a 3 foot long pirate ship on the floor next to his bed, but Sayde is usually fairly trustworthy. So I wasn't really sure what to do about this. Waterboarding doesn't seem to be in vogue anymore. Thanks a lot, Obama.
So, what's a mother to do? I asked a good friend, and followed her advice.

It's good to know that Sayde, "will not dmagefurbve" ever again. I wish I could think of another way to hit it home that it's not cool to destroy the house. Having her pay for a new bench seemed like the rational thing to do for a split second, and then I realized she only makes one dollar every few weeks (and she has to rip a wiggly tooth out of her head to get that dollar). That could take a while. Any other ideas?

You can lead a horse to water...

As a mother of girls, I try to instill a sense of empowerment in my daughters. I want them to know that they're smart, capable, and strong. While it's true Sayde has boxes filled with pink tu-tus and princess crowns, she always claims to be a "Warrior Princess" like Mulan. Or, Zena if you want to be a jerk about it.





In our house, we don't really encourage Barbie Dolls. While better than the loathely Bratz, they are still kind of stupid. As a kid, I spent hours and hours just setting up the furniture in the Barbie mansion. Sure sure, it's imaginative play, but what was I imagining? Whether the plastic couch would look better over here, or over there? What ball gown should Barbie wear today? It's not exactly akin to dreaming up the law of gravity. I'm hoping my girls will spend their imaginations creating art, playing outside, and most importantly: reading. To encourage the reading, Lennie takes them to the library almost every weekend. They love it. In fact, Sayde loves it so much, she picked out 7 books this time. Here they are:









Awesome.

I count to ten a lot

I let Sayde and Connor watch 'Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone' this weekend (with a few parts fast forwarded), and of course they were awed and amazed and completely loved it. But, all I can think about is this: remember the scene where Harry, Ron and Hermoine were in Hagrid's hut and his dragon egg was hatching?


Me: "Sayde, what's that coming out of the egg?"


Sayde: "A teradactyl."


Sometimes I wish I could bottle the cuteness...so that later when she rolls her eyes, stomps up the stairs and slams her bedroom door, I can sneak in and sprinkle her with the cuteness and *Presto Chango*



Crabwatch 2009: The hermit crabs are amazingly still alive. Although, I have to take total care of them since they still have no legs whatsoever. This includes, putting them in their water so they can drink, making little nests in the gravel for them to rest, massaging their feet...just checking to see if you're paying attention.

Earn 2 Bucks, the hard way

For the last few years, Sayde has had this pitiful looking small grey tooth taking up real estate in the front center of her mouth. I think the "grey" part had something to do with an overly enthusiastic Jake chasing a tennis ball on the driveway, and deciding that rather than run around the toddler, it's quicker to just go straight through, thereby causing the unfortunate toddler to land tooth-first on the driveway. And, we won't make mention of whom the tennis ball thrower was, okay, Lennie?

But, I'm on a tangent. So, thank God, on Friday night, the shabby little tooth was finally loose enough for me to yank out of Sayde's mouth. I was not sad to see it go, and apparently, neither was she. She held out hope that the Tooth Fairy was going to leave her one hundred dollars, and to ensure it, she placed a bribe underneath her pillow. In addition to the tooth, she left a plastic baggie with a heart colored in red crayon, with an Ariel eraser and a ginormous plastic ruby ring. I guess the Tooth Fairy would have rather had a bottle of wine, some chocolate and a new pair of heels though, because all Sayde got was a dollar wrapped in a little paper heart.


Friday night



Fast forward to last night, when the kids were in the bathtub and I was folding laundry a few feet away. One minute, they're splashing around having fun, the next, Sayde is frantically shrieking, "MOMMY! MOMMY!"

I looked over to see Sayde holding her face, her hands dripping with blood.

The hell?

"Mommy, Connor kicked my other tooth out!" She was hysterically giggling - to the point of psychosis. On the contrary, Connor was speckled in blood, and trying to submerge himself in order to hide from what from his point of view, was likely a very very bad scenario. Since there was only about 4 inches of water however, he wasn't going anywhere. But, luck was on his side last night. I mean, how often do you kick someone's tooth right out of their friggin head, and they're deliriously thrilled about it? Wrath of Mommy avoided in one bloody toothless smile.

Oh the curious relationship that is Siblings:

You kick the tooth from my head
Bathwater churning, swirling red
Thank you, brother.

Sunday night

PS
Sayde tried to up the ante last night by leaving a Dora the Explorer Doll, driedel, coloring book, and a snake stamp underneath her pillow. The tooth fairy left her a stiff neck and one crisp dollar bill.

Blog Slacker Says What.

What?
Exactly.

Some random mid-week thoughts:

I started a garden this week. It's something I've wanted to do for years, but we've never been settled enough to put some roots down (hey, did you get that? Sorry I had to). But now that we are home for good because, as Connor likes to say, Lennie's job is "nothing," I am finally able to make it happen. Just 2 days ago, I started the seedlings, and already I have lettuce sprouts. The motherly feeling of watching those little seeds spring to life is akin to giving birth, only with less screaming. Plus, the dirt doesn't need to be sewn back together after the lettuce pops out. Oh well.

What's up with the octuplets mom's lips? Inject much? No money for food, surviving off of student loans & website donations, but lip collagen galore. Come on. Who am I to judge though? I just spent two hours scaring the crap out of myself by watching Ghost Hunters International on the Sci Fi channel, instead of solving the mystery of why Sayde "can only breathe out of one of(her) noses." Also Connor wanted to know why "one of the Star Wars cut off the other Star War's hand," and again, I was unavailable for answers. What kind of mother am I?

A tired and grouchy one. And one with a throbbing jaw because dentists are sadistic.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot. That peanut president who knowingly sent putrid food into the marketplace, is a total Scumbag. Why are there people like this walking the earth?

Insane, got no brain.

As Sayde and I were walking out the door last night to go to Tae Kwon Do, I yelled to Lennie, "Peace Out, Yo!" Here is the conversation that followed:

Sayde: "Yeah! Peace Out, HO!"

Me: "No! Not Peace Out, HO. Peace Out, YO!"

Sayde: "Peace Out. YO HO!"

Me: "Close enough. You're insane in the membrane."

Sayde: "Yeah. I'm insane in the breadbrain."

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This morning, on the way to Connor's preschool, I "jokingly" told Lennie he put too much Splenda in my coffee. This joke is only funny to me, since the day before, I "jokingly" told him he didn't put enough Splenda in my coffee. So, he "jokingly" told me that he was going to kill me. As I laughed and said, "That's not nice," a curious wee voice drifted towards us from the backseat, "Daddy? Why are you going to kill Mommy?"

Great. Good job, Lennie. I can only imagine what he told his teachers today at school.

The obvious solution? From now on, I'll just make my own damn coffee.

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Me: "Hey Sayde, what's the Spanish word for beach?"

Sayde: "I don't know."

Me: "La Playa."

Sayde: "La Playa."

Me: "Connor," (who was standing next to me during the above conversation) "What's the Spanish word for beach?"

Connor: "Beacho."

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Dr. Zibbs wrote a list of his favorite (and not so favorite) comedians, which got me thinking about this skit about Nursery Rhymes from Ricky Gervais. Everytime I start giggling, Lennie shakes his head in pity. I swear, if you laugh, I will not judge you.

Advice from Dr. Connor

Believe it or not, I actually do participate in some textbook parenting now and then. For example, this morning the kids and I were having a discussion on the dangers of smoking, and all the reasons why it's bad for your body. When the topic moved on to brains, Connor wanted to know exactly what a brain was. After I told him it was something in your head that made your body work and helps you think, we moved onto how we can take good care of our brains. Sayde said, "Don't smoke and eat healthy foods."
"Good one," I said.

And then there's my other child...

Here's a useful tip from Connor about how to take care of your brain:
"Keep it in your head!"

That sounds like the keystone of a good life to me.

Once Upon a Medieval Times...

There was a little princess who lived in a castle far far away in Lyndhurst, New Jersey. The princess was the fairest in the land and many brave knights battled to win her favor. However, the Red Knight, Sir Gregorio, fought the most fiercely and skillfully. After he defeated the obnoxious villain, the Green Knight, he presented the princess with a scarf of his colors and threw her a flower. The princess's heart swooned. Alas, though it was not to be (because Sir Greorio is my sister's boyfriend's older brother and Sayde is 6 years old) the little princess still waits in her tower for the brave Red Knight to rescue her from the evil Queen who forces her to make her bed every day.

The young Sir Connor, on the other hand is busy eating roasted chicken without the aid of a fork, and testing his skills with battle axes and swords. After the Red Knight gifted him with his own sword, Sir Connor proudly announced, "Hey, I didn't even kill anybody, right?". Well done, sir, well done.

If you were a tiny baby still inside an egg, I'd eat you up

How could it be possible to eat so much food on Thanksgiving that a person is "Beyond stuffed", and then day after, to eat so many leftovers that a person feels "Like I'm going to explode" and still lose 5 pounds in 3 days?

A while back I told you that Lennie was on a mission to drop his football weight now that his playing days are supposedly in the past. (If I was a more attentive blogger, I'd provide a link.)

Ok, I caved. Here's the link. I was complaining that he lost something like 18 pounds in a week and a half or something like that. Yeah, well stretch that out a bit longer, and dude has lost 75 pounds in 2 1/2 months. What the hell?

Now, he is a totally different man, and I sort of feel (at certain not-to-be-mentioned times) like I am cheating on old Lennie with new Lennie. Granted, he worked his ass off, literally. But to lose 5 pounds over Thanksgiving weekend? I'm going with tapeworm on this one.

Here's a side by side comparison of the transformation:

Football days Lennie (9/08)............... Nowadays Lennie (11/08)

And, no he did not decide to change careers and become a Scottish golfer. He just looks cute in that hat. And while I miss those arms, there is a bright spot in this new deal: six pack abs.

If you were wondering about me by the way - aww how sweet, thanks for asking - I'm racing along at a speedy 2 pounds a month since Ella's arrival. Don't be jealous.

Oh yes, you may be wondering what's with the title of this post? These are the things my children tell each other while playing board games. We should totally not play board games anymore.

Things One and Two

Ok so this doesn't count as a real post, I realize, but I'm in the middle of cooking dinner so you get what you get and you don't throw a fit.

Things that my kids said in the last 24 hours:

"My Indian name is Goldfish." (Sayde)

"Cool! I just found gum in my neck." (Connor)

Caution: Don't read this post while eating.

The following conversation took place at the dinner table over chicken sandwiches last night:

Sayde: "Mom, when the doctor made the cut to take Ella out, did it go all the way around your back?"

Me: "No baby, it was just a small cut on my tummy, remember?"

Connor: "Yeah, I came out of your cut too. Right, Mom? Because I needed help to get out"

Me: "That's right."

Connor, continuing: "Yeah, because I was a big giant baby. But not Sayde, she was a little tiny baby. She climbed out all by herself. She was little. Like a poop. Mom, did you poop Sayde out?"

Sayde, crying: "CONNOR! I'm not a poop. Mom, did you poop me?"

Me: cleaning up my dinner plate and walking away.
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PS The hook was a birthday present to Connor, obviously.

Remember that time I almost killed you?

So this week, Ella taught herself how to suck her thumb and OH MY GOD. Why didn't she figure this out as a fetus? What a difference it has made now that she has a way to calm herself down. She is an all-natural child who hates pacifiers and is enraged by bottles, so the discovery of her thumb fits in perfectly with her organic preferences. This, combined with the little bit of baby food she is eating now, and retirement is on the horizon for my poor tired boobs. They're so excited, they're already heading South for winter.

Anyway, in the car on the way home from Aunt La La's house last night, Ella did not appreciate being in her carseat. And, by unappreciative, I mean she was red faced, toes pointed, fists out, eyes clenched, SCREAMING. Rolling down the windows and driving at high speeds did nothing, and for some reason she could not find her thumb. This prompted back seat Mommy Sayde to shout "SUCK IT, ELLA, SUCK IT! SUCK IT, ELLA, SUCK IT!"

On a totally unrelated topic, I've been "shushed". Yesterday, for the first time ever, we had a photographer come to the house to take a family picture. And while we were discussing what options we might want, Lennie said we were not interested in Christmas cards. As I began to interject that yes, we are interested in Christmas cards, he gave me the old shusharoo gesture with his hands...twice. Fuck. Now I have to go to prision for murder.

Today if you asked Lenie why I have matching zits on each side of my forehead, he'd say they are Devil Horns.

In other news, it is my birthday today.

Time for Some New Tricks

The last few days, Sayde has been complaining about various ailments: my arm is broken, my tummy hurts, my forehead hurts, my ear, floods, plagues, locusts. I think secretly, she is pissed that Connor had a birthday party and got a lot of attention, and her birthday isn't for another month.
So, last night after she sat up in bed *SCREAMING* that her tummy hurt, again, I went up. Without saying a word I got into bed right behind her, put her little head on my lap and stroked her hair. She immediately quieted down, and closed her eyes. (I remember an evening in my childhood where my Grandma sat by my bed and stroked my hair, I kept dreading the moment she would inevitably stop, but she never did. I must have fallen asleep first.) So we stayed that way for a long long time until finally I eased myself out of her bed, kissed her forehead, and quietly slipped out of her room, and right into Ella's to give her one last nighttime meal before going to bed myself.

Not even one minute later, she burst out of the room *SCREAMING* that her ear hurt. This time Lennie went up and I could hear him giving the Calm-Down Spiel that works oh so well with both Sayde and I. "Take a deep breath! You're being ridiculous! Sayde, this is not how we behave! Calm down!" Shockingly, the screaming continued.

As soon as I was done feeding Ella, I went to the medicine cabinet, got the Children's Tylenol and found Sayde sitting up in bed, alone. At that same moment that she was sipping her Tylenol, Lennie walked in with a little cup of Children's Motrin. Except, his cup was filled with water. He was trying to trick an almost 6 year old into believing that a cup of water was cherry-flavored Motrin. We locked eyes, and for a moment, it was extremely hard not to burst into laughter.

When we left Sayde's room, all I could do was poke him in the ribs and say, "Really?"

As it turned out, neither the Tylenol nor the faux Motrin worked because shortly after this, Sayde climbed into bed with us. But I just had to laugh at the Stupid Parent Tricks that Daddy resorted to last night.

Keep the Crazy to a drip

I have never been much of a planner. I trust that eventually, most of the important things I need to do will get done, and the ones that slip through the cracks usually stay forgotten (at least by me). It doesn't matter to me if the grocery shopping gets done today or tomorrow, as long as we have food for tonight. Lennie is my polar opposite when it comes to this, however. He craves a plan. He starts forming mental to do lists the moment his eyes crack open in the morning, which he will then revise 4,000 times during the course of the day.

For example, we were out running errands the other afternoon, ahem, early voting was included *cough* OBAMA *cough*. Lennie started verbally hemorrhaging plans while we were in the car.

"OK, we could do the voting now, then we could do a quick grocery shopping, then pick up Connor, and be back in time for Sayde's bus. Then you can cook dinner and I'll talk her to Tae Kwon Do. Or, we could vote now, I'll drop you off to do the grocery shopping and I'll go get Connor by myself and meet you back at the store, and then we could go back, wait for the bus and go to the State Fair tonight. Or, we could do the State Fair tomorrow night because Sayde really needs to go to Tae Kwon Do one more time this week. Or, you could go get Connor, and I'll do the shopping. And you could take Sayde and I'll cook. What are we having?"

After the words, "OK," my eyes glaze over and I start to drool. Thankfully, he never notices that my head is lolling around on top of my neck as long as I occasionally mutter, "Whatever, doesn't matter to me."

I really think that this type of tuning out tolerance is a major key to a successful marriage. You've got to let your spouse get their crazy out bit by bit before it explodes all over the place. Kind of like when the phone rings and I'm closer to it but don't make any motions to pick it up. Lennie just rolls his eyes and answers it. A little drip of crazy is easier to mop up than the whole freaking vat dumped out at once.

This has nothing to do with my story, but Friday was a milestone for Sayde. It was the first time I ever heard her say she ever said, "Crap". I'm so proud. I told her to put her Tae Kwon Do uniform on inside the house rather than in the yard and she snapped, "Well that's a lot of crap." So we had the talk about what words are not OK to say (which is kind of funny coming from me, but someday when she goes to college, I'll tell her she's not allowed to toke up either so the hypocrisy will at least be consistent) Proudly, I made it until first grade before I told my mom that the "School lunch tasted like shit."

Mountain Cabin

I have to preface this post by saying that I am a suburbanite through and through. I was raised in the suburbs of New York City, and have been living in suburbs ever since. This lifestyle has prepared me for one thing and one thing only: living in suburbs. So, I had to laugh at Lennie when he began packing things like compasses, pocket knives, a year's supply of food, a crank radio (just in case there is a nuclear war, he says. Right, because if all the TV stations get blown up, I'm suuure the radio stations will still be on air). My log cabin essentials? An ipod, smores ingredients, and a bottle of wine; and my only regret about this weekend is that I only brought one bottle of wine.

So, this soft suburbanite didn't start her trip off on a very good note when the minivan crushed a squirrel as we were pulling out of our subdivision. :( This is the first animal I've ever hit with a car (I don't count suicidal toads). This squirrel obviously was not suicidal because it was carrying an acorn during it's ill-fated road crossing. Searching for food=desire to live. I flinched as I looked in the rear view mirror and saw the acorn rolling across the street and the poor squirrel flopping around.
Me: "IT'S STILL ALIVE! IT'S SUFFERING"
Lennie: "Hit it again! You have to put it out of it's misery!"
Me, bursting into tears: "I can't."

So I climbed out of the car and stood on the side of the road while Lennie backed the minivan over the dying squirrel, twice.

When I got back in, Sayde was frantic. "What did we hit?" She demanded to know. "Daddy says it was a rock, but I KNOW it was an animal. Why is Mommy crying?"
"It was a rock," I mumbled.
"YOU'RE LYING!" She screamed.

I handled that well, don't you think? And so our vacation began.
We later parlayed this little experience into a lesson with the moral being: see what happens when you don't look both ways before you cross the street?


After a few hours in the car, we arrived in Blowing Rock, NC. "Beautiful" is the best word to describe it. It is a gorgeous little mountain town with a great Main Street. There was a huge public park with a playground for the kids to burn off some energy, and lots of cute coffee shops for Lennie and I to get some energy. We had a really peaceful afternoon exploring the shops and galleries.

As evening begin to set it, we figured we'd better start heading to the cabin so we'd have plenty of time to find it while there was still daylight. We punched the address into the trusty navigator and headed off. As we drove further and further from Blowing Rock, the sun sank lower in the sky, and my anxiety crept up. "How far away is this cabin?" I wondered. We spent a good amount of time slowing winding our way up a mountain on narrow roads with no guard rails, and then even higher up the mountain, on dirt roads. At the top of the mountain our navigation system said in her honey sweet voice, "Turn Right." Only there was no right turn to be found. "Where the fuck are we?" I asked politely.
"Don't get ridiculous." Lennie said. You would think after 7 seven years of marriage, that Lennie would know that this statement only increases my ridiculousness tenfold. We whipped out the printed version of the directions that the leasing company gave us, and it turns out we were on the wrong fucking mountain. So, I eased the minivan back down the mountain, now in complete darkness, and that utterly biting silence that comes after you and your spouse both realize at the same time that the other one is a total moron.

A half an hour later, on top of a different mountain, and through more white-knuckle dirt roads, we pulled into the gravel driveway. Lennie went in first to make sure there were no bears, squatters, or mental patients with hook for hands waiting inside to eat us, and then the kids and I followed. We walked in and I was very relieved to see this:







A quaint and cozy cabin in the woods. Although, the kids were pretty pissed off about the deer head above the fireplace, the turkey tail next to the fireplace, the quail-type bird on the other side of the fireplace, and the trout over the door. "Mean people live here" I think was the quote. I was so happy to be in a house, there could have been a baby seal mounted on the wall and I would have thought, "How cute."

The next morning, we woke up and walked out onto the deck to see this:






Completely gorgeous. We decided to explore and went for a walk up the dirt road, when several large dogs began barking and running towards us. So we high-tailed our asses back down the dirt road and went for a drive instead. Crossing over one of the dirt roads, was a large black animal which I at first glance thought was a bear, and then it turned and I realized by it's tail and the way it moved, that it was a very very large cat. Are mountain lions black? I have no fucking clue, but I remember telling Lennie that instead of a compass and a radio, he should have brought a gun.




We ended up having a really fun couple of days and the best part is we're still alive.

These are the wildflowers Lennie gathered on his morning walk. Awwww.