Today many wedding-related items arrived in the mail. (Again with the wedding? Sheesh, could I shut up about the wedding already? No, apparently I cannot. But in about a week and a half I’ll stop, I promise.)
First I found Otto’s wedding ring flung to the side of my steps by my alert and caring FedEx delivery man. I was here at the house all day, so I can say with some certainty that he drove up, threw the package out of the truck, and drove away as quickly as possible. I’m sure his failure to ring the doorbell and HAND the package to me was out of concern for my well-being. He probably figured I was busy and didn’t want to disturb me.
Anyway, the ring is perfect and so I forgive my idiot FedEx man. (Now I just have to have it engraved and—assuming Otto shows up when he’s supposed to—we officially have all the wedding essentials.)
On the OTHER side of my steps I found Monkey and Chickadee’s Fancy New Wedding Shoes, which Chickadee had been asking about just yesterday. (“When are our shoes coming??” “Good question.”) When I brought the package inside and opened it up, of course they needed to try them on and admire them.
You know, all the fashionable little girls are wearing gold glitter sandals with their cargo pants and peasant blouses. And the most dapper young boys are pairing faded jeans and t-shirts with faux crocodile dress shoes. I’m sure of it. They pranced around the playroom asking me to tell them how good they looked.
[Monkey: I’m so handsome!
Chickade: I’m handsome, too!
Me: Wait. No. HE’s handsome. YOU’re pretty. Or you two could switch shoes. That’d be fun.]
The mail also brought a twee little pair of clip-on earrings I bought for Chickadee. I think I’ll save those to spring on her the day of the wedding. (I am the Meanest Mama In The World, you know, which is why she’s not allowed to get her ears pierced even though she will DIE FROM THE TRAGEDY what with EVERYONE ELSE’S MOM SAYING YES when I persist in my heartless refusal to let her poke holes in her head.) I’m trying to think of something that would be a good equivalent little something for Monkey, and I’m coming up empty.
[Me: I made our appointments for manicures today, Chickie.
Chickade: Yay!
Me: I’m really proud of how you’ve not been biting on your nails. You’re going to look beautiful.
Monkey: What are Grandpa and Otto and I gonna do when you go get your nails fixed?
Me: I haven’t decided yet, sweetie. We’re still figuring that out.
Chickadee: I know! They could all go get one ear pierced!
Me: Yes, I think Grandpa would LOVE that. Or! Maybe they could go golfing.
Monkey: Would you LET me get my ear pierced?
Me: No. But I would let you go to Hooters.
Monkey: Where?
Me: Nevermind. Oh! Look! Something shiny!]
I think it’s safe to say that all three of us have the whole wedding thing on the brain.
While Chickadee showered tonight, I trimmed Monkey’s hair again. Just the front! Because he is growing it out! But I would like to be able to see his eyes, you know, so he allowed me to snip a little bit until I could see his face again. Chickadee finished her shower and Monkey hopped in for his. I guess she passed him and noticed I’d cut his hair.
Chickadee: So you trimmed Monkey’s hair.
Me: Yep.
Chickadee: For the wedding, right?
Me: Well… sure. I mean, he’s still going to look like a muppet died on his head, but at least this way we can see his eyes.
Chickadee: What are we going to do to MY hair?
Me: Oh. Hmmm. Well, what did you have in mind?
Chickadee: I want it curly.
Me: Okay. Oh! We could put it in little twists while it’s wet and I bet it’d be curly in the morning. Wanna try that?
Chickadee: Yes!
Me: Okay, let’s try it tonight and see if it works.
Chickadee: What if it doesn’t work?
Me: Then we go to Plan B.
Chickadee: What’s Plan B?
Me: I’m not sure yet. Think positive!
She stood perfectly still while I twisted her hair into little knots and secured them with bobby pins. She watched my progress in the mirror and kept reaching up to touch the finished twists while I pushed her hand out of the way.
“Beware the alien girl from PLANET KNOBULA!” I finally declared, finished at last. She was very pleased with her new look.
Incidentally, don’t you love the trusting innocence of children? I have NO IDEA if this will make her hair suitably curly. I have curly hair that I’ve spent most of my life trying to make straight. I don’t know from making hair MORE CURLY. (Yet, telling her “oh, just wait for puberty, I bet your hair will get a lot more curly then!” seemed meaner than forcing her to sleep on a head covered with hair lumps and bobby pins.)
At tuck-in time Chickadee began insisting that I “KISS THE LUMPS!” I obliged with a kiss to the nearest knot (located just above her left temple), thinking this would placate her. But no. She wanted me to kiss EACH AND EVERY knob of hair. I kissed a few more (“Mmmm, wet! Mmmmmm, hairy!”) and that was still not enough. After some back and and forth I decided that I couldn’t reason with a child who was screaming “KISS! MY! LUMPS!!” So I bid her goodnight and moved on to Monkey’s room.
“I’m thirsty,” Monkey announced as soon as I walked in.
“Buddy, no drinking at bedtime. You’re fine.” It’s been a long time since Monkey wet the bed, but paranoia springs eternal when it comes to changing sheets at three in the morning.
“But, but, I’m SO THIRSTY. You should just get me a LITTLE water. In a dixie cup!” He had the perfect solution for me, you see. When I repeated that he would be okay and didn’t need any water, he began chanting “I want a dixie cup” louder and louder. Except, to illustrate the urgency of his dire thirst, he did so with his parched tongue hanging out of his mouth, so it sounded more like “I AHNNA DITHIE CUH!”
I tried not to laugh. Truly. I tried. I left his room, even. I stood at the head of the stairs, between my children’s rooms, while they traded declarations.
“KISS! MY! LUMPS!!”
“I AHNNA DITHIE CUH!”
“KISS! MY! LUMPS!!”
“I AHNNA DITHIE CUH!”
I finished laughing, went into the bathroom, put about half an ounce of water in a dixie cup for Monkey, and took it to him. Before I gave it to him I told him that I would only give it to him if he stopped yelling. He did and I handed him the cup. He gulped down the water, thanked me, and lay down. I went into Chickadee’s room and told her I would give her another kiss, but only if she stopped yelling. She did and I did.
And then I went downstairs and decided that from now on I’m going to say “kiss my lumps” much as Flo used to say “kiss my grits.”
Such sweet kids. For Monkey’s wedding day surprise, didn’t you say Otto had lined up a tie clip that matched his? That seems like a natural partner to the earrings.
Otherwise a nice looking but inexpensive watch might be nice, but then you have the gauranteed result of him checking his wrist every 1.3 seconds. How about a funny pair of socks that look ok from ankle to heel for photos but have something silly around the top? Probably very hard to find, but thinking a boy his age may like the “hey, I have a secret, wanna see my socks? they’re covered in lizards” thing.
Kiss my lumps.
Mir, I currently hold the title of Meanest Mom in The Whole World, so Chickadee must be confused. My Princess is currently lobbying (unsuccessfully for 2 years running) to bore a whole in her abdomen. Okay, so she refers to it as belly button piercing, matter of perspective I say.
Your future holds more heartless refusals when she is 16.
Never fear though, glittery sandals will distract them even as a teenager. Still distracts me in fact.
Ha! Sounds like a pretty good night. And, I’m fairly certain that Otto will show up when he’s supposed to. Just a hunch.
I’ve told my three girls they can get their ears pierced any time they like, as long as they don’t ask for my help if/when they get infected. (Seeing I haven’t ever had mine done through pure squeamishness and pragmatism, I’ve no inclination whatsoever to be pushing bits of metal through my kids’ ear lobes, or worse, dab antiseptic on pus-filled holes.)
For some strange reason they seem to have no desire to get their ears pierced. And thankfully have shown no interest in boring holes in any other part of their anatomies.
(Read your blog every day, love following your love story!)
I love it when you link to previous posts you’ve written, and then THOSE posts have links to even more previous posts, and then THOSE… well, you get the point.
It’s kinda like those “choose your own adventure” novels I loved when I was a kid. “If Jane and Jill choose to go down the dark and dusty mine shaft, turn to page 139. If they choose to err on the side of caution like their Meanest Mommy In the World told them to, keep reading.”
And I would have laughed at the top of the stairs, too… Gotta love kids for their tension-breaking abilities. :)
From “perfect stereo delinquincy” to “perfect stereo adorableness” — your kids are funny, sweet and wonderful! And so are you, Mir. And pretty. I cannot wait to read about the wedding and reception! So, no honeymoon, okay? Just start typing as soon as it’s over.
;)
Maybe Monkey and Otto and Grandpa can go play a round of putt-putt while you’re getting manicures? You can tell him that lots of grooms and groomsmen go play golf on a wedding weekend (as far as I’ve seen), so that’s his grown-up, groomsmen treat. And I like the idea of the special tie clip. I figured I’d tell you because, well, my opinion about your wedding counts, huh?
I did let my daughters get their ears pierced after they begged and begged. My oldest had to take hers out for softball while I was in the hospital and no one forced her to put them back in so they closed up. She now refuses to get them pierced again. Too bad that won’t work for you to avoid getting them done in the first place!
I have braided a million tiny braids in my daughters hair at night when it is wet and it comes out really wild. Not necessarily curly, but definitely crazy. Hope the twisting thing works!
I’d let him get an earring before condoning Hooters but that’s just me.
Dying to here if the hair lumps achieved desired curl.
Golf? I have to play golf on my wedding day? Ugh … maybe we can find a go-kart track …
If the twisting hair thing doesn’t work, try those foam rollers. My mom used them on us as kids and they always did the job. Nothing like teaching pain for beauty at an early age! I do think Monkey would dig the socks.
Limited Too has a small selection of clip-on earrings (says another mean mom).
Whenever Sweet Pea wanted her hair “all curly-like” I would take a pair of pantyhose, cut the legs into strips, use each strip to roll small sections of her wet hair, then tie the ends (this keeps them from unrolling while the fish out of water – I mean child – sleeps). For added entertainment, you can always take the top part of the pantyhose and put it over her head like a cap to make SURE that they don’t unroll!!
All I could think of for Monkey was maybe an old-time barber who will be kindly enough to not mention Monkey’s hair, but will give him a full, fancied-up, old time “shave” (though even if Grandpa and Otto found such a thing, Monkey’s constant movement may necessitate a fake razor).
I want to see Chickadee’s curls!!!
And also, I’m glad to hear Otto’s ring came in ONE box instead of two.
MY mom used to wet-hair-twist-and-bobby my hair at night for curls, it will work, or did work as I type this at 8:30 Pacific time… and I have fine thin stick straight hair.
um but it might need some touch up…
I think your kids just wrote the Black-eyed Peas newest song. The royalties might pay for therapy!!! xxxxx kisses for the lumps.
Y’know, Kiss My Lumps has a whole different meaning in the house when the children aren’t around ::she says during school hours::
Golf takes too long.
Maybe it is time to introduce Monkey to Hooters!
Or not.
LMAO – Mir, I’m in love with both you dad AND Otto – are you sure you need them? Couldn’t you, like, rent them out?!
I’m with Zuska–glad to hear the ring arrived in one package.
So Dad and Otto–not up for the ear piercing, eh?
Kiss my lumps! …let’s hope she doesn’t still say that when she’s older.
Hooters has EXCELLENT hamburgers.
What??? They do!
I scared my munchkins by suddenly letting out a peal of LOUD laughter in response to the Hooters comment.
Mir, you are too clever. ^_^
This was priceless……kiss my lumps, OMG this cracked me up. This will be a wonderful memory in years to come and for telling the grandkids how silly their parents were.
monkey needs no introduction to hooters, we eat there every weekend, it’s so close to my house.
;-)
or not.
bigbad
Mir, DON’T SHUT UP ABOUT THE WEDDING. How else will we (your anxious readers) know what is going on??? Hell, if you REALLY love us, you’ll liveblog the ceremony itself! Okay, no, it’s a sacrament, that’d be tacky. But the reception!
Seriously – I am DEPENDING on knowing all the details, as long as you can stand to post them, and THEN a METRIC TON (that’s more than an English ton, isn’t it?) of photos. From everyone.
PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE. I’m not even kidding. Your writing is scrumptious and your love affair with Otto is scrumptious and I want all the details you are willing to vouchsafe!!! (Okay, ew, no, not THAT kind. I DO have an imagination, thank you.)
How else am I gonna pray for the right things for you???
I totally think they should all get one ear pierced or wedding tattoos. Possibly a tanning session?
Earrings! Almost missed the bit about needing earrings! Harry Mason Designer Jewelers makes lovely “ear pins” which can be used in pierced or on non-pierced ears. They are pretty!
When Lil Daughter was little, and worried about me dieing, I used to tell her, not to worry ’cause if I died I would be an angel and ride around on her left shoulder, watching over her, whispering in her ear.
All through her teenaged-ness, as she dyed her blonde hair red, then black & pink, then black & blue, red & blonde, red, black with a little purple. I teased her about her “artsy wisteria brain” and kept saying, “As long as she doesn’t get a tattoo…”
Then, at 18 she got a tiny tattoo. On her left shoulder. Of. My. Name. Two years later she had the 5 small letters surrounded by wisteria vines with beautiful purple flowers trailing down her back.
In the end, she’s still my babygirl, and her tattoo didn’t kill either one of us.
This is what came to mind listening to you young ones worrying about pierced ears;)
[Thinking about you, Becky, and your child-to-be]
And, best wishes to you and your’s, Mir. I love your blog.
I so am in love with the fact that your family is getting married. My second husband made sure my daughter was a part of our wedding, that she was married too.
You guys will do great, deep breath.
If the pincurls don’t work, you could try rags. My mum used those to make my wavy hair turn into lovely long corkscrew curls. (I’ll give the lesson over email, if you’re interested.) They’re also much softer to sleep on.
What does ‘twee’ mean to you? I’ve Brit in my heritage, and to me it means ‘tacky’. Going on the assumption that you’re not aiming for Trailer Chic for your wedding style, I figure the word has to mean something a little different to you…
D’you think that’s what Fergie meant when she sang about her lumps?? As for the pierced ears – my nephew wanted his ear pierced when he was Chick’s age… until a girl in his school had an unfortunate accident. A friend somehow got caught in her earring and he was so grossed out by the blood, he decided he’d never have it pierced LOL. He got a tattoo at 18 instead!
Oh, Other Jen, I keep thinking about Fergie’s song too! LOL!
Your blog never fails to lift my spirits, Mir. I am very good at controlling laughter at work, but here, NEVER. Happy wedding to you all.