As I sit here eating my not-good-for-me-at-all lunch (of cheeseburger, onion rings and chocolate shake), and as I think back to my struggle last night between going to the gym versus sitting on my butt with a pint of icecream, I couldn't help but laugh about the conversation that Brooklyn and I had on our way to school this morning.
She told me that one of the boys called her a "poopy head" yesterday. And she was giggling about it. Oh, the wonder of boys and girls and what happens when they play together. Someday, she'll learn that when boys avoid her, it's not a good thing. Someday she will learn that when they say you are bothering them, that means that you are, and for some reason, they want their space. Someday, she will learn that when they run screaming in the opposite direction, you really don't want to chase them, lest you run up against a restraining order. Someday.
But for now, she is innocent, and has no clue what it means to be called a poopy head. This same boy was upset last week when his mom and I happened to be talking on our way out, the 4 of us walking together. He his behind her and said that we (Brooklyn and I) were "bothering" him because we were all walking together as we were talking. I had to laugh because just a few minutes later, he was shouting to B from the car (they were parked next to us), as we were getting ready to drive away. Ah, the fickleness of men's attentions.
I love that Brooklyn doesn't see gender, and that she sees everyone as her friend because she plays with them or they share a book. (That's not to say that it isn't hard to watch the boys reject her when they don't want to play with a girl.) But I hope that her open view of the world remains open, and innocent, at least for now. We can wait at least 2 or 3 years before they start breaking her heart and daddy has to start beating guys up, right?
Disneyland Family 5K -2014
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Friday, October 10, 2008
Playing Dress Up
Our little Cinderella is making quite the scene. She loves to dress up and play "princess" so of course we had to buy her the Cinderella costume (complete with tiara and shoes) when we saw them a Wal-Mart. (I know, I'm a bad mom for not sewing them by hand, but it was cheaper in time and money to buy them, and I'd rather spend the time dancing with her.)
The giggle is infectious and some days it is difficult to get her to focus on anything else besides the crown or the shoes. Sometimes the first words out of her mouth when I pick her up from school are "when we get home, I'm going to play dress up."
Too darn cute. But you be the judge.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Does this dress make me look fat?
ARGH!
Seriously. When is it ever appropriate to ask someone when they are due? Is it o.k. when they already have a child running around at their heels? Is it o.k. when they are 6 months pregnant and shopping at Babies R Us for a stroller? Is it o.k. when they are laying on the table in the OR, pushing and gripping their husband around the neck, screaming at him for putting them there? Is it ever o.k.? Somehow, I don't think so. Having never before been on the receiving end of that question, I never considered it. Until Wednesday.
We got to the temple early, Rob and B and I, to help Dad get set up for services. Our Temple holds High Holidays services at the local VA Chapel, where we share space and have our regular services. Sometimes the Veterans who hang out at the VA come to our services, especially at High Holidays. A woman came early and was hanging out watching everyone set everything up. She made comments about Brooklyn and about us and about Dad and about alot of things. Harmless comments that we answered, and responded to, making conversation.
When the service started, Rob was reading, and she began to ask (quite loudly) what page we were on. She was having trouble keeping up, and that's o.k. But this gets better.
Wait... let me put this in context... I weight 160 pounds... on a bad day! After services were over, Brooklyn and I headed to the bathroom (for what seemed like the 10th time.) This woman was coming out of the stall as we were heading in. She asked me something about Brooklyn, and then said "when are you due?" I stopped, and said "excuse me?" She replied, "When are you having your baby?" WHAT?!?!?!?!?!?!?
Please, tell me I do not look fat in that outfit. Tell me that you did not just shatter my opinion of myself on a day when I thought I might have an extra pound showing. Tell me that you did not just make me feel bad about the fact that the zipper was just a little more difficult to pull all of the way up that morning. And tell me, please, tell me that I do NOT look pregnant!
On her defense, the shirt has an empire waist. Oh wait, there is no defense. You seriously cannot ask that. Seriously.
On that note, I have to go write about the little Cinderella that was dancing around my living room earlier today, complete with tiarra and little slippers.
Seriously. When is it ever appropriate to ask someone when they are due? Is it o.k. when they already have a child running around at their heels? Is it o.k. when they are 6 months pregnant and shopping at Babies R Us for a stroller? Is it o.k. when they are laying on the table in the OR, pushing and gripping their husband around the neck, screaming at him for putting them there? Is it ever o.k.? Somehow, I don't think so. Having never before been on the receiving end of that question, I never considered it. Until Wednesday.
We got to the temple early, Rob and B and I, to help Dad get set up for services. Our Temple holds High Holidays services at the local VA Chapel, where we share space and have our regular services. Sometimes the Veterans who hang out at the VA come to our services, especially at High Holidays. A woman came early and was hanging out watching everyone set everything up. She made comments about Brooklyn and about us and about Dad and about alot of things. Harmless comments that we answered, and responded to, making conversation.
When the service started, Rob was reading, and she began to ask (quite loudly) what page we were on. She was having trouble keeping up, and that's o.k. But this gets better.
Wait... let me put this in context... I weight 160 pounds... on a bad day! After services were over, Brooklyn and I headed to the bathroom (for what seemed like the 10th time.) This woman was coming out of the stall as we were heading in. She asked me something about Brooklyn, and then said "when are you due?" I stopped, and said "excuse me?" She replied, "When are you having your baby?" WHAT?!?!?!?!?!?!?
Please, tell me I do not look fat in that outfit. Tell me that you did not just shatter my opinion of myself on a day when I thought I might have an extra pound showing. Tell me that you did not just make me feel bad about the fact that the zipper was just a little more difficult to pull all of the way up that morning. And tell me, please, tell me that I do NOT look pregnant!
On her defense, the shirt has an empire waist. Oh wait, there is no defense. You seriously cannot ask that. Seriously.
On that note, I have to go write about the little Cinderella that was dancing around my living room earlier today, complete with tiarra and little slippers.
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