What I'll be when I'm a grown-up

This is Monkey's list of what she'll do when she's a grown-up, she just gave it to me in a sing-songy voice:

"I'm going to go to space, and build things, and fix things.  And do ballet.  And art.  And be an old woman."

This came after Turtle's announcement (she was mad at me) that when she was a teenager she was going to go a whole week without talking to me.

I'm pretty sure both girls' statements are true.

Discussions

In the past week, Monkey has all of a sudden started saying, "Oh. My. Gawwd" like a 1980s teenager, and pretty much using it in the proper context.  I asked her today, "Monkey, where did you hear someone say that?"  "From you," she replied.  You know, like in those commercials about smoking pot? "I learned it from YOU."  Anyway, I thought that was the case but wanted to make sure I was right to be feeling so mortified by my vocabulary.  

This morning I was taking the girls to a bouncy house (!) playdate, and we'd been in the car about 2 minutes when Turtle popped out with, "Mommy, does God live in space?"  So after I struggled through that answer, she immediately asked, "Mommy, which one is your sweet tooth?"  I burst out laughing, but was able to give a shorter and less tortured answer to that.

 

Conversation and Pink baseball gloves

This morning on the way to school one of the girls asked, "Mommy, when will I be 4 and 3/4?"  This turned into a conversation about birthday parties.  I asked, "Where do you want to have your birthday party?"  They replied, in unison, "Pump It Up!"  I have been to approximately ten thousand birthday parties at Pump It Up and was chagrined to hear this.  They then suggested another bouncy house place where I've only been to five thousand birthday parties.  I suggested a few non-bouncy places that they seemed to think were ok, so we kind of tabled the location discussion as this conversation ensued in the back seat:

Turtle: "Sissy, want to have a Cinderella birthday party?"  [cut to Mom in front seat, closing her eyes and shuddering.]  Turtle continues: "I mean, a Princess party?"

Monkey: "Sissy, I don't want to have anything nice.  I want to have a Star Wars party."  [Mom grins.]

Turtle: "Well, how about a Wizard of Oz Party?"

Monkey: "Maybe."

Turtle: "I could have a Dorothy cake and you could have a tin man or scarecrow or whatever."

Monkey:  "I want a Yoda cake.  And a Pin the something on the something Game.  Pin the sword on Luke."

Turtle:  "Pin the light saber on Yoda!"

Monkey: "Yeah!"

We were at school at that point, so the discussion is on hold.  We always get two cakes, but I think we may have two themes this year, too . . . .

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On a side note, I'd like to report a follow up to my long ago post "No More Pink Baseball Gloves." (May 2009).   I drew a line in the sand in that post, and while I have had to give up many, many of my preconceived notions about what I would and would not do as a mother to girls, I am happy to report that this one has stuck.  Twin Daddy took the girls to get baseball gloves at Academy a couple weeks ago, but before they left, he gave them (Turtle) a talk about what color glove was acceptable (brown or black) and what was not (pink, blue, purple), no matter what was at the store or what our neighbor had.  They returned from Academy with respectable baseball gloves and happily played catch in the backyard.  Turtle may play catch in a pink dress with sparkly silver dress shoes, but at least she's got a decent glove (and a decent throwing arm to boot!).  

On Being 40

The kids are with their Mimi a few days this week.  Before they left I fantasized about all the sorting and general organizing I would do to get the house in shape and how I would exercise every day and do a food cleanse and generally be perfect.  Now that they are gone, I find myself puttering around and sleeping a lot, and I have done only about 1/10 of what I expected to do.  Which may be ok, since my to-do list had over 20 items on it, plus I'm working some during the day and having a couple of movie nights with Twin Daddy.

Nonetheless, I didn't expect that I would do so little.  It has reminded me of what life was like before the kids.  I didn't exercise every day, and I was a slob, and I never got everything on my to-do list done.  Setting a good example for the kids is what got me back into physical shape and doing triathlons.  Raising my children in a sanitary, orderly environment got me to clean up and wipe countertops now and then.   And the kids' needs forced to me keep my personal to-do list trim and manageable.  This time at home without them has helped me to see that the kids aren't keeping me from doing anything I want to do with my life.  They are just keeping me busy and loving me with their whole hearts when I would otherwise be sleeping or dawdling or berating myself for being unproductive, so that's pretty good.

So that brings me to my main subject, turning 40 a few weeks ago.  I was pretty happy to welcome my 40s decade.  I see it as a chance to start fresh, wipe away the mistakes and insecurities and anxieties of my 30s, and generally settle into my authority as a mature, wise woman.  And why do I think I'm so wise and mature?  Well, let me tell you what I've learned so far about life.

First, I've learned that I don't really know all that much. This is a very different attitude than I had when I turned 30, pre-kids.  Now I realize that not only do I not know everything, I barely even know my own stuff.  Everything I think or think I know today may change by next year.  I know that most everyone is doing the best they can to manage the harsh reality of life, and I'm a lot less judgmental about pretty much everything.  At the same time, I know I may be embarrassed next year that I said I was wise and mature today, and may get humbled by even more examples of how judgmental I still am.  That brings me to my next point:

Who cares?  My petty thoughts don't matter that much.  I don't mean this in a sad and depressing way.  I just mean, who cares if I turn out to be wrong about something?  So what if I'm a little fat?  Who cares if I forgot to send a thank you note?  Who cares if my husband/friend/family member is in the wrong and I am right?  I'm a tiny speck on a tiny speck in the universe, and every person on this tiny speck has a thousand petty grievances about their lives.  I almost get bored of being annoyed by human stuff, because it's just so lame and pointless.  We all are really going to die some day, for real, so I don't have time to waste in negative emotions.  This is also VERY different from when I was 30, when I liked to spend large amounts of time dwelling on all the wrongs that were being done to me and that had been done to me since time began.

So there you have it.  My wisdom is, I don't know anything, I'll probably embarrass myself a hundred more times but who cares, and I spend as little time as possible dwelling in negativity.  These thoughts are very freeing and give me a lot of peace as I look forward to what the next decade has in store for me.

A Clean Room

I've stumbled upon a wonderful way to get my kids to clean a room, and want to share it with you.

1. Get your kids obsessively hooked on the musical Annie.
2. Suggest the game, "Hard Knock Life," where you will be Ms. Hannigan and they "get" to be the orphans.
3. Yell out all the things you want put away: "I better see all these books on the floor stacked in those baskets and every toy put away in the playroom.  And I mean, start NOW."
5. Play the song, "Hard Knock Life" on your iPod player and stomp out of the room.
6. Enjoy a cup of coffee in the other room while your kids happily clean up.
7. Sweetly suggest that they can "play again" when the song runs out.
8. Repeat.

Sweetness

On my birthday last week, Turtle leaned in close to my face and murmured, "Happy Birthday Mommy, and all your wishes come true."

This morning she said, "I love you so much that when I see your face my heart fills with joy."

Now that is some special love.

Breakfast

The other morning at breakfast, Turtle was poking around at her boiled egg when she asked, "Mommy, WHY do we have to eat baby chicks?"

Then before bed that night, Monkey said, "I want to be a vegetarian Mommy."

I'm handling this by ignoring it and hoping it goes away.

Just now, Monkey was working on getting her breakfast and I asked her why she did something.  She said, "cause I want to.  duuuh"   Sounded exactly like a 14 year old.