Stacia: Why is she copying me all the time?
Me: That’s what little sisters do. She knows you’re a grown-up girl, so she tries to learn by following you.
Stacia: So if I say fuck, she’ll say fuck, right?
Probably.
The girls and I were making cupcakes for this Friday’s Fall Festival (check me out not procrastinating!) They looked adorably sweet working so hard together to work the lumps out of the cake mix. I decided to take some pictures. As soon as that camera was in my hands, Stacia looks up with her “picture grin.” The following conversation ensued:
Mom: You don’t have to pose every time. I can take some action shots too.
Stacia (to me): I won’t look up this time. (looks down at cake mix with “picture grin” in place) Action shot me.
Stacia (to Brenia): Pretend to stir this cake mix again so Mom can action us.
Brenia: hey-yah (that’s okay for those of you who don’t speak toddler)
Stacia: Remember when Brenia broke her leg?
Me: yeah…?
Stacia: How did that happen again?
Me: She and Mommy fell down the stairs together, remember?
Stacia: And you landed on her, right?
Me (trying not to let the guilt hit, again): Unfortunately, yes.
Stacia: And you’re huge!
(Mommy looks very hurt here)
Stacia: What?! I don’t mean you’re fat! But you are huge.
Thanks for clearing that up, baby girl.
I loved Lauren’s game (if you knew me in real life, what do you think you would know?), but since I have something like two readers I didn’t quite think I could pull it off. Instead, I decide to play True Confession a la genuine:
- I actually love the days when I don’t get anything done because little one insists on being held all day.
- If you ask me to bring snacks, I will never say no.
- I take a nap at least twice a week.
- If you say 69—in any context—I will giggle uncontrollably.
- If you think I don’t like you, you’re probably right.
- I didn’t forget what you asked me to buy; it just wasn’t on sale.
- We have enough food in this house to last at least 2 months; I will go shopping anyway.
- I am fashion illiterate.
- Sometimes, when I call “not it” as hubby gets home, I really did know she was dirty before he walked in the door.
- I do, in fact, think my kid is smarter than your kid.
The Tooth Fairy almost completely missed our house last night. When she finally did stumble into Stacia’s room this morning, she was apparently unable to locate the tooth since it had been moved to a different pillow (again). She did, however, leave a dollar anyway.
Conversation overheard during our nightly bedtime struggle:
Hubby: That doesn’t sound like brushing your teeth.
Daughter: I’M POTTYING!
Hubby: Then why are you singing?
Daughter: You can sing on the potty if you want to.
It’s official—I’m a soccer mom! I guess I kind of knew that, seeing as how my daughter is in her second season of soccer, but it’s still kind of weird. You would really think I’d get it—after all I did quit my job, drop out of college, and make a conscious decision to be a stay-at-home mom.
It wasn’t until tonight—at a PTO meeting—when I was surrounded by my fellow soccer moms that it hit me. I’m an official card-carrying member of the soccer mom club! When did that happen?!
This was never the picture I had in my head of where I would be at 27. I don’t know what, exactly, I thought I’d be doing. I just know that toting a toddler to my first grader’s Brownie meetings where I’m the troop leader, cheering sideline at soccer games where my husband is the coach, and munching on snacks with fellow moms at a PTO meeting was just not where I ever pictured myself.
Love is a funny thing.