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Stripper Barbie

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I have recently instituted a reward system for Aubrey and Emma which requires a chart. There is a list of responsibilities and at the end of the day if they have satisfactorily completed each task they get a sticker. At the end of the week, they cash in their stickers for dimes.

Last week Aubrey received a grand total of $3.35 and Emma racked up a whopping $3.55. I paid them in dimes and quarters so they could get the whole Scrooge McDuck experience and explained to them the importance of tithing. They each gave their 10% (Aubrey much more willing than Emma.) And whisked them off to the dollar store to spend some of their hard earned cash.

It didn’t take them long to discover exactly what they wanted…she was there in all of her glory…it was Stripper Barbie. She had bad hair extensions, pink highlights and clear stripper heels, and she was going home with me- times two.

We walked to the register and each of the girls counted out their money to pay for their private dancers and we went next door to get Aubrey’s hair cut. For 20 minutes, Emma attempted to get her stripper’s shoes to stay on. She threw up her hands after the first 10 minutes and yelled in disgust, “I KEEP GIBIN UP!”

The problem, you see, was that the skank’s feet and the shoes were not the same shape or size. There was no way those shoes were ever going to stay on, unless we went back to the dollar store for superglue, but I guess that’s what happens when you pay a buck and a half for a generic Barbie.

I was talking to Aubrey for a moment and looked away from Emma just long enough for her to solve her stripper shoe dilemma. “MOMMA! WOOK! WOOK! Dey stay on wike dis!” Emma yelled excitedly. I turned back to Emma, to see her Barbie’s legs extended above her head- her stripper heels dangling perilously on her feet. Not exactly the wholesome picture of responsibility and pride in ownership I was looking for…but whatever.

We were home for less than 5 minutes when Emma approached me with her doll in one hand and her doll’s arm in the other. I guess we are also learning a lesson in quality craftsmanship. This afternoon, I had to dig Stripper Barbie’s butt out of Sadie’s mouth. Next week, we will be going to Target, even if we have to stick to the dollar bins.

Double Trouble

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Another day, another round of timeouts. I told you yesterday about Emma crying while Aubrey sat in timeout totally unimpressed. This morning I walked in on a heated argument over a Barbie doll, just in time to see Aubrey shove Emma. She looked up and saw me and said, “Oops! I’m sorry Momma, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it!” I didn’t say a word, but simply pointed to the timeout corner.

She assumed the position and as I was setting the kitchen timer, Emma marched up to her sister, stepped on her foot and FLEXED in her face…a la Hulk Hogan. WHAT the?

I sighed and assigned Emma a different corner.

Double Trouble

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We went to play in our yard this afternoon. The big girls were having a blast making a pot of “soup” until Aubrey (4) picked up the ginormous lid to the pot and bashed Emma’s (3) head with it like she was crashing cymbals together. The attack was totally unprovoked, I witnessed the entire thing as I sat on a bench feeding Sadie her bottle.

Aubrey was immediately exiled to timeout. I set the kitchen timer for five minutes and told her I didn’t want to hear ONE word out of her until the timer went off or we would start over. After approximately 45 seconds Emma came into the den crying and said, “Momma, can my sister come pway wif me? Her is sooo sobby.”
Me: Honey, she is in timeout for hitting you.
(Still complete silence from the timeout corner.)
Emma: (begins crying) But Momma, I wub her, and I want to pway wif her….

WHAT is wrong with this picture?

Stupid Cookie

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The girls woke up as I was starting to watch Oprah today. I normally don’t watch “grown up” shows with my kids. Aubrey(4) recently started talking about Hannah Montana and I told her to forget about it, that was for grown ups and she would have to settle for Dora the Explorer for a few more years. WE are not ready for Miley! The following conversation took place after my kids saw approximately 60 seconds of the intro into Oprah.

Apparently Steve Harvey was on, promoting his new book, “Act Like a Lady, Think Like a Man”, in which he explains to single women that they need to value themselves for a man to value them and I quote “stop giving ‘the cookie’ away…that’s just stupid.”

Emma(2): OOOOOOO, he said stupid. That not nice, Momma.
Me: (changing the channel)
Emma: Momma, why he say stupid? Why, Momma? Why? That not nice…
Me: (going to the kitchen to do laundry)
Aubrey: I fink… because… her giving the cookie away…huh, Momma? (nervous giggle) Maybe, or… maybe not.

I think avoidance is the best policy for this particular subject at this particular time, so I just kept on walking!!

It’s A Sister Thing

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Sisters share a special bond. My sister is absolutely, hands down, my best friend in the whole ENTIRE world. She just gets me. If we are watching the same TV show at the same time, I can tell you from 3 states away when she is laughing or crying…because that’s what I’m doing too. We can laugh hysterically for no reason AT ALL. Seriously, we can look at each other and bust a gut laughing like a couple of idiots.

On occasion, our sweet, precious, wonderfully fabulous, rock star of a mother will be talking to us about something….anything (subject matter is truly irrelevant), and we will both simultaneously, spontaneously AND hysterically burst into laughter. Not pretty giggles. I’m talking snorting, snot bubbles, tears flowing, side splitting laughter.

Rachel’s response is always the same, “WHAT?”

“NOTHING!” We’ll scream in unison.

Which only adds to her theory that we are hiding something, and to our hysteria because we KNOW it’s nothing, and the fact the we both said it in stereo makes it funnier, somehow. Rachel usually sighs and leaves the room.

Zeb was out of town one night, so at bath time, I put Aubrey(4) and Emma(2) in our bathtub, and put Sadie(3 mos) in her stroller beside the shower. I turned the shower on and went into my bedroom to undress, I put all my clothes in the laundry hamper and walked back to the shower. As soon as I walked back in the bathroom, naked, my 2 year old and my 4 year old LOST IT. They started laughing like a couple of hyenas. I realize I’ve just had a baby, crying at the site of me naked I could understand…but laughing, this was NOT good for Mommy’s self esteem!

“WHAT? What is so funny?”

Oh, that just did it. They really lost it then, simultaneous, spontaneous AND hysterical laughter. (Here’s another a-ha moment for Mommy, Oprah would be SO proud.) I sighed as I realized how my mother has felt all these years, and got in the shower.