Woulda Coulda Shoulda

I am a youngest child. I grew up forever feeling persecuted that my brother got to… stay up later/go places I wasn’t allowed/watch movies that were forbidden/fill in the blank with any other life-or-death-desirable activity in a kid’s mind. I never saw him with more responsibilities than I had—therefore earning those special privileges—though that, too, is probably a perception heavily shaped by its passage through tween/teen Not-Fair-Colored glasses.

Of course, there were also rules in our family that were shaped by “because he’s a boy” or “because you’re a girl.” Different time, different place. There are no such gender rules for my kids, but I am sensitive to the siren song of But He/She Doesn’t Have To (or Gets To) And That’s Not Fair, so I try REALLY REALLY HARD to explain any such apparent unfairness in a way that will make the complainant understand that maybe it’s not as awful as they think.

For all his rigidity, Monkey is actually a pretty easy sell on the “here’s why she gets to and you don’t” party train. He protests, I explain, he either backs down or sort of harumphs his way out of the conversation, saying that he SUPPOSES I know best. No, it’s Chickadee who is the frequent recipient of the Let Me Tell You With Very Many Words Why You Are Being A Spoiled Brat Right Now lecture. (more…)

Chickadee is dying for me to cut off all my hair. She says she thinks it will be “cute.” Then again, she also says she thinks I should dye my gray bright pink once I do, and she currently has plans to streak her hair purple, so I’m not sure I’m relying on her for reliable hair advice.

Monkey has no opinions on hair, not really. He dislikes the actual act of having his hair cut—the sitting still! the scratchy little pieces of hair tickling his neck and nose!—but has reached a place where having scraggly hair hanging in his eyes bothers him more, so we generally keep his hair fairly short. I can’t quite get on board with that oh-so-southern thing of just buzzing your boychild’s head as soon as the weather warms up, though, so I kind of hedge my style bets and give him that floppy skater-boy cut that’s longer on top and shorter beneath.

The problem is that I tend to become hyperfocused on minor, inconsequential things because they are slightly less scary to me than larger, actually-important skills. And so we have a Hair Issue. (more…)

I tried really hard not to burst out into mournful song during my post at Off Our Chests this week, but I have to warn you that my girl is growing up and it’s making me a little sentimental. Okay, a lot sentimental. Okay, FINE; I’m a gibbering mess. (I keep telling her to just please be UGLIER and LESS AWESOME, but she refuses to listen.)

In addition to that craziness, y’all know I’m insanely proud to be involved with The Thinking Person’s Guide to Autism, and as part of their “Slice of Life” series for Autism Acceptance Month, today they’re featuring an interview with Monkey. (I may have had to bribe him with pie to get his cooperation.)

As for me, it turns out I am far less interesting than my kids, so that’s all I have for you today.

First: A health update! Thank you so much to everyone who had such kind words and thoughts for my sweet mother-in-law; once again, she fooled us all. She’s out of the ICU and doing much better. This is good news because we love her, but excellent news because I don’t think Otto could’ve taken it if things had gone differently. (Although I didn’t mention this in the last post, while waiting on updates on my mother-in-law, we unfortunately lost two other magnificent folks—their deaths weren’t unexpected, but were still way too soon. “They” say bad things come in threes, and for once I was VERY VERY GLAD that they are dirty stinking liars.)

So. What could POSSIBLY be better than sickness and death? I MEAN REALLY? We started off the year with a real bang in the stressors department, and by any measure of stress and “life challenges” one would probably think this was enough, no? I certainly would’ve checked the “FULL UP ON ANGST, THANKS” box, had I been polled on the matter.

[Sidebar: I WAS NOT POLLED. Still bitter, frankly.]

Well, death and sickness was not to be the entire story for this, my VERY FAVORITE January. Nope! I picked Monkey and Mario up from Hippie School one day and Teresa asked me to call her “when I had a sec” after I got home. (more…)

My current earworm:

Because, yes, today my Monkey is (sing it with me!) 1 2 3 4 5, 6 7 8 9 10 11 12! (Remember when they only ever counted up to 12 on Sesame Street? It was like numbers higher than that just didn’t matter, or even exist.) (more…)