Things I’ve said in the car… many times

standard March 30, 2011 7 responses

I’ve mentioned before how much time I spend in the car with the kids. Between the hour in the morning and the hour in the evening, you’d think that my kids would by now know what I can and can’t do while driving the car. After all, we’ve been doing this for over 5 years now.

And yet, here is a sampling of the things I still have to repeat each and every day.

  • No, I can’t reach that, my arm isn’t long enough.
  • No, I cannot read that book, I’m driving the car. 
  • No, I cannot look at your funny face, I’m driving the car. 
  • No, we cannot listen to “I’m a Little Teapot for the 16millionth time. 
  • No, I cannot read that book, I’m driving the car.
  • I’m sure your picture is beautiful, but I can’t look now, I’m driving the car. 
  • Please stop fighting over that baby doll.
  • If you don’t stop fighting over that baby doll I’m going to get mad.
  • Seriously, that baby doll is about to fly out the window. 
  • No, I cannot read that book, I’m driving the car.
  • No, I can’t reach your book, my arm isn’t long enough. 
  • Yes, I see where your doll fell, but again, my arm just doesn’t reach that far. 
  • I’m happy to read you that book when we get home, but right now I’m driving the car. See? My hands are on the wheel and the trees are flying by.
  • You cannot have noodles for dinner if you had noodles for lunch. Did you have noodles for lunch?
  • No, I cannot read that book, I’m driving the car.

One day C will be able to read for real. That day will be amazing; I’ll only have to explain the issue with the length of my arm. Trust me, it’ll be a relief. 

My husband is picking up college girls again

standard November 15, 2010 6 responses

Last weekend my husband told me that he really wanted to go to the Seymour Marine Biology Center. It was pouring, we were at the beach, and the Seymour Center is always a great way to kill an hour or two. There’s always something new to learn or something to rediscover. Since they opened the shark petting tank the girls have been begging to go every weekend so I quickly agreed.

Little did I know that he had an ulterior motive for our visit.

While C, Little L, and I moseyed around petting shark and starfish, watching fish swim around, and learning more about the Monterey Bay marine life. He was checking out the college students who staff the Center.

“That one looks nice, don’t you think?” He murmured as we played with the star fish.

I glanced over and saw a pretty, blond girl chatting with her friend. She looked nice enough so I shrugged. He smiled and walked over to the two of them.

Completely unwilling to have any part of what he was doing I turned my attention back to the kids and focused on keeping Little L from killing the star fish she was observing. Moments later he walked back, beaming.

“I got her number! She’s even CPR certified!”

And that’s how we went home from the Seymour Center armed with the phone number of a new sitter.

She watched the girls on Friday night and turned out to be perfectly lovely. As responsible as we had assumed from her position at the center, as sweet as she had appeared on the day M met her. C and Little L were enamored from the get go and she texted M the next day to ask if she could babysit again soon.

If these are the kinds of girls my husband is picking up, I’ve got no issue letting him go out and to get a few more numbers.

Hedging her bets

standard April 16, 2010 1 response

It started with an innocent request to go to McDonald’s for dinner. I said no, because we’d been there the day before, causing C to melt down completely.

I let her wail for a moment. Some evenings she needs to cry for a moment to let all the stressors and angst of the day out of her system. But when she started kicking my seat I decided it was time to put a stop to the drama.

“Babe? You’ve just lost your desert privileges.” I kept my voice completely calm, letting the words sink in. “You can get them back if you change your attitude and become pleasant again. It’s up to you, you can keep screaming and stay grumpy without desert, or you can stop, cheer up, and have desert again.”

The kicking stopped, but a quick glance in the rear view mirror showed a still thunderous looking little four-year-old.

“So? What do you chose? Let me know when you’re ready.”

She mumbled something that I missed. I turned down the radio and asked her to repeat herself.

Her question rang through the quiet car loud and clear, laced with skepticism, making me snort back a laugh.

“What’s for desert?”

She’s definitely her daddy’s daughter – always knows the important questions to ask.

Because they give meaning to our lives

standard December 9, 2009 Leave a response

I haven’t mentioned it much, but the Kindergarten situation is still very much in the forefront of my mind as I go about my busy days. We have not found the perfect school for C, nor do we have much of an idea about how we’re going to go about finding said school. It’s actually much more of an issue now than it was back in September when I first blogged about the issue.

We met with the preschool director last Thursday in the hopes that she might have some helpful insights for us. She’s an amazing woman with years and years of experience. She’s been in the area for a long time and she knows most of the schools in the vicinity. Plus, by now she knows C pretty well so we figured she wouldn’t steer us in the wrong direction.

In the end though she didn’t tell us anything we didn’t know. The public school we are zoned to really is sub-par. The private schools that would work for us are insanely expensive. Parochial school is not a good choice for us. And if we’re going to sink a ton of cash into tuition we might as well move to a better school district and put the money towards a mortgage.

We started looking at home listings this past weekend and realized that to move to a better school district we would have to pay more for a similarly sized or smaller house. Which we knew, but hadn’t really admitted until we traipsed through an open house late Sunday.

The place had one more bedroom than our current home, but was smaller by a good 600sq feet and had no yard. The bedrooms were tiny. The living room, dining room, and kitchen were essentially one small room that could have easily fit into our current living room. It was classy, cute, and compact. It would have been perfect for us before we had kids.

“Why…” M started, eying the two little devils that were trying hard to destroy the zen decor of the model home.

“Because they give meaning to our lives.” I replied quickly to squelch the thought that was forming. “More so than any of the romantic dinners we used to have, or long walks along the Seine, last minute getaways to exotic locations, artsy movies…” I trailed off and watched C and Little L fight over a potentially fragile ornament they had snagged from a side table. “They give meaning to our lives. Some days it’s just harder than others to remember what that meaning might be.”