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Through a strange series of questions and topics while snuggling in bed with Ty last night, he informed Dave and me that he plans on marrying his little sister, Emme.
This doesn’t alarm me at all — I know that this is totally normal as kids grow up and explore family relationships and love. Often times a kindergartener will want to marry the parent of the opposite sex. Ty used to want to marry me, but I have been ousted for the new and improved model…little sister.
“Oh, Ty, I am so glad you love Emme so much.” Even as I say this I am envisioning the torment she put him through only hours before. How no matter what he wanted to play with, she snatched it out of his hands and ran off with it. Not really an inaccurate foreshadowing to marriage, but still…
But just to be silly I ask Ty, “Why don’t you want to marry Lily?” One of his older sister-cousins.
“Because, Mommy, she. wants. to. be. a. dentist!!!”
Of course, this makes perfect sense to me.
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Click here to learn more about why I don’t like the dentist.
When it came time to graduate from Grad school, we needed a host or two for the program that my cohort was putting on to celebrate getting our Master in Teaching degrees. So, my friend Sarah and I decided, heck, we can host this thing — and so we took on the MC duties . We introduced the skits, the speakers, you get the idea. We were awesome. Professionals, really. But we were left out of one key piece to the puzzle. A small group of fellow grads wanted to give out awards — you know, “Most Inspirational” “Most Improved” things like that. We were not allowed to know the awards as we were included on the awards list.
But that didn’t sit well with us at all. So, we cheated. We went out for drinks one night at this wonderful place right on Puget Sound (Ray’s Boathouse Cafe for those of you in the area). And as the sun was setting over the water we were able to hold up the sealed envelope and read what we had been awarded. I didn’t like what I found. Probably because I am a cheater.
I was awarded “Most Effecient.” Seriously? That is about as sexy as a lump of coal. Especially in light of the fact that the man whom I would later marry was awarded “Most Charismatic.” Bah humbug. Efficient. Hey there, if you need something accomplished with a minimum of effort? With the fewest possible resources consumed? In a well-organized way? CALL ME…here is my number. Like I said, sexy as coal.
But it wasn’t long until I decided to embrace my efficiency. I think I came to realize that others saw something in me that I had yet to see in myself. When I was growing up I would loathe it when I was carrying groceries in from the car and my mom would say, “you may need to take two trips…” Uh, no, I do not take two trips, I would think to myself and shake my head at the ridiculous nature of that suggestion. Two trips? Whatever. Instead, I would load up 7 bags on each arm, creating red welts in my skin. But I only took one trip. So, maybe I did deserve the award.
Nowadays my efficiency looks more like getting all 7 of us to a location on time and with the required equipment. It means buying Christmas gifts in February. It means figuring out the fastest driving route to any location I may need to visit. Afterall, I only have so much energy and so I must use it very wisely.
My gift has grown with me, one could argue.
So, today I took it one step farther. I received a special notice in the mail from our local energy utility. They wrote me to inform me that I am WAY more efficient than my most efficient neighbors. I got two – count them — two smiley faces and was awarded the title of GREAT at being energy efficient. That my most efficient neighbors consume 1,593 something-rathers and my household of SEVEN only consumes 1,163. And I am even more energy efficient than I was last year.
Snap. Take that. No one who was awarded “Most Charismatic” ever got a letter from Puget Sound Energy.
Look who is sexy now….
Oh, and turn off your lights, why don’t ya?
My son is obsessed with Hot Chocolate. He has not had any since last winter and when he saw me come home with a box of Swiss Miss and a bag of marshmellows, he became focused on having that first yummy mug of cholately goodness.
It is a well known fact that Ty can negotiate just about anything. A friend and neighbor announced recently that he planned on having Ty — age five — negotiate the re-fi’s on his mortgage. I have to have nerves of steel and a heckofa line in the sand when Ty sets his sights on something. And recently he set his sights on that box of Swiss Miss and that bag of marshmellows.
For days now he has been asking me about the weather report. It took me a while to figure out why. His angle? Rainy, wet, or even snowy weather equals….Hot Chocolate. But I once I was onto him I could tell him, hey, it is not quite cold enough yet! He then turned to the “others” he figured would cave in or at least didn’t know the rules. He asked babysitters and friends for hot chocolate. Nope. No luck.
Driving home from school Monday afternoon he told me, Ah Mommy, I am soooooooooo cold.
I was distracted by a garbage truck and the rain. Ah honey, I am so sorry. What can we do to warm you up?
You see it coming, don’t you? Well, I didn’t. Moment of weakness, I guess.
I need Hot Chocolate. He says in his sweetest, I love you mommy, voice. So, I answered with the good ol’ mother standby. Let me think about it.
He smilled and then actually cackled. Because, basically, he knew he had me at “I’ll think about it.”
An hour later, out came the tea kettle. Out came the mashmellows. Out came the Swiss Miss. I even got out the whole milk.
Okay, bud, I said. You can have the hot chocolate on one condition. You have to let me take your picture while you drink it.
I am pretty sure that his internal dialoge goes something like this… “SUCKAAHHHH!”
I am doomed, aren’t I???
So, I have enrolled Emme in a baby movement class. It is a class designed to let one-year-olds move around on mats, jump over things, and crawl around. She loves it.
So, during our last class the instructor — who is young and skinny and way way too into this class — asked us what we hoped our kids would get out of it. What did we want from this class? The first mom talked about how she wants her daughter to experience peer interaction. The next mom mentioned a sense of structure. The next socialization. And so on. It sounded like a John Gottman seminar. As I listening, I realized that all the mom’s had only one kid — the kid in the class.
When it got to me. I looked the instructor right in the eye and said, “I just want her to be tired when we’re done.”
And that is what happens with number five.
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