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Honey Baby

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I was sitting on the bed checking my email on my iPhone when Sadie, my two-year-old, grabbed the comforter with both hands and pulled herself up beside me.

“MOH-MA, you be da baby.” She ordered.

Sadie likes to make me be “her baby.” She makes me Pretend Food, kisses Pretend Boo-Boos and makes me go Pretend Potty.

She says things like, “OH! Honey BABEE! Whassa matter? Oh shhh-shhh-shhh! Eeet’s okay!” (Which makes me feel great about my parenting skills.) Then she says things like, “IF YOU DON’T EAT DIS DINNUR WIGHT NOW YOU IS IN BIG TWOUBLE!” (Which makes me think maybe I could do better.)

I like to blow her mind by yelling at her in my Baby Voice when she makes me go to Pretend Sleep.

“Cwose you wittle eyes, honey baby,” she croons.

I close my eyes for two seconds, pop them open then yell, “WAHHHH! I meed to poo-poo! I’m thirsty! I want a song!”

She starts to sing and I interrupt her, “NOT THAT SONG! SING ANOTHER ONE!!” I wail in my baby voice. She grins and giggles and knows she’s being teased. It’s a game we play well.

“MOH-MA!! BE DA BABY, I SAID!” She insisted again. I dropped my phone on the bed, curled up in the fetal position and threw myself into my character. (I make an awesome baby.)

“Wahhh!” I begin our routine.

“Oh, honey baby! You can’t sweep wif Mommy’s phone!” She said, simultaneously snatching up my iPhone and sliding off the end of the bed and out of my room.

Well played, Honey Baby, well played. 

Sadie Sings: (Brace yourselves) My Ding-A-Ling

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Can someone PUH-LEEZE tell me how I ended up with three daughters and yet STILL we have to discusses male parts on an almost weekly basis? It is, pardon the pun, nuts.

Zeb was out of town a few nights last week and every night when I put Sadie to bed she asked me to sing, “Da Ding-A-Wing song.” And I was all, “Whaaaaaaaa?”

So when Zeb came home, I was about to put Sadie to bed and I called him into the room and said, “What is she talking about? What is the Ding-A-Wing song?”

Zeb laughed. “You don’t have to sing it. She’s knows the whole song. Sadie, sing for Momma, ‘When I was a little bitty boy…'” Sadie didn’t miss a beat. She sang the first two verses of Chuck Berry’s “My Ding-A-Ling.”


When she finished I shook my head with tears streaming down my face (from shame or utter hilarity, I’m not yet sure) and asked him, “So are you proud of yourself?”

THIS is why men need a chaperone almost all of the time. I’m not sure if this was a ploy to get me to stop asking for help at bedtime, or what he considered appropriate lullaby material for his two-year-old daughter. This may explain why my five-year-old was trying to download T-Pain to my iPhone.

What has your husband done lately that made you question leaving him unsupervised with the kids?

(Men, I’m joking. Sort of. If my husband didn’t help me at bedtime, my kids and I would be UP a creek. Vive la Ding-A-Ling.)

Sadie Said: ‘TOP WOOKIN’ AT ME!

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We are on vacation. My kids are in overdrive. This afternoon Aubrey and Emma screamed, “STOP LOOKING AT ME!” 467 times. Each. At the grocery store, at the pool, in the car.

Emma even yelled it once in her sleep. She passed out in the car on the way to the store and apparently the burning weight of her sister’s gaze was enough to wake her and she screamed, “STOP LOOKING AT ME AUUUUUBREY!!”

I whittled away at all of their evening plans until all they had left to do was eat dinner and go to bed. No fun after dinner swim. No vacation dessert. Just dinner and sleep. They were so tired they didn’t even care.

Sadie, my two-year-old, on the other hand, was so tired she couldn’t see straight. Sadie potty trained herself about a month ago. I take no credit for this. I would much rather change a dirty diaper than pick that mess up off of the floor or scrub it out of my rugs. But at any rate, she has been in her Big Gull Pants for awhile now. And everyday at nap-time and bedtime, when I go to put her diaper on, she flips the flip out.

“I DON’T WANNA WEAR A DI-PAH!! I’S A BIG GULL MOMMA! I WEARS MY PANTIES!!” She yells.

Tonight was bad. Not only did Sadie not want to wear her diaper but she took it off in the bed, put her pajamas back on, and pooped. Good times.

I cleaned her up and put her back to bed, then she climbed out. I rocked her. I sang to her. I cajoled.

I finally took her out to the balcony overlooking the beach to rock her in a chair. The moon was shining right above our heads and in an attempt to distract her from her wailing, “DON’T PUT ME BACK IN DA BED MOMMA!” I pointed up to the sky and said, “LOOK, Sadie! It’s the moon!”

She stopped crying and lifted her head. “Dat’s da moon wight dere, Momma?”

“It is!”

She howled, “NOOOOOOOO! I NOT WANT DAT MOON TO WOOK AT ME MOMMA!! ‘TOP WOOKIN’ AT ME!”

The nerve of the moon. To hang there in the sky… mocking my child.

Somebody make it stop. The moon or my kid. I’m not picky.

What are your kids screaming at each other this summer?

 

Here Comes the Sun

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I am ridiculously happy.

My backyard smells like honeysuckle and there is nothing, save the smell of my children after a bath, that smells as delicious as honeysuckle. My husband cut the grass this weekend. Our yard looks tidy and smells like heaven. This afternoon Aubrey, my six-year-old, made snacks for her two younger sisters and took them outside to play while I folded clothes in the laundry room that overlooks their playhouse.

I have clean, crisp sheets on my bed.

Hubs did our taxes last night and we are getting money back. (WOOT!)

I sent my edited manuscript to my agent yesterday and all of my freelance assignments are up to date.

And I just spent 45 minutes, okay fine, a full hour, rocking my two-year-old to sleep. Sadie is the squishiest, sweetest baby on the planet. She curled up against me while we listened to Allison Krauss via Pandora on my iPhone and I sang along. Every once in awhile she would sing with me, or lean up to kiss me or say, “Dat’s MY mommy,” and pat me on the shoulder.

“Here Comes the Sun” by The Beatles starting playing on my phone and Sadie said, “OH! Dat’s my pay-bor-it song, Momma!”

Sometimes, it’s the little things in life that make you happy and I’m thankful to have so many little things piling up around me at once.

Tonight I’ll be sleeping in clean sheets with a fresh sprig of honeysuckle on my night table and this makes me ridiculously happy.

What is something simple that makes you ridiculously happy?


 

 

Bad Mommy/Sadie Sings

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The girls love to take my iPhone into their bedroom for Dance Parties and for this very reason I have downloaded two albums of KidzBop songs from iTunes. But apparently, on more than one occasion, they have chosen to listen to my work out mix instead.
While changing Sadie’s diaper tonight and preparing to tuck the chunky monkey into bed… she sang:
When I collapsed in laughter on her bedroom floor she yelled, “DOP WAPPIN’ AT ME! EE NAH PUNNY!”
Oh, I beg to differ.
If me and my chicks make you LOL, please take LITERALLY 5 seconds and vote for me as one of Circle of Moms Top 25 Funniest Moms!
(And to save some of you an e-mail that was The Black-Eyed Peas “My Humps.” And yes, I realize this speaks volumes about my parenting skillz.)

Sadie Speaks- I Laugh

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Sadie is a little over two-years-old and a lot funny. The child speaks in complete sentences and has a sense of humor.

When I asked her tonight if she wanted to go to bed she said, “NO Wobin, I’m not weady yet.”
Mmm-kay.
When I tried to put her down for a nap yesterday she said, “I not get in my bed. I wanna go in da wibbin woom.” (Living room.)
When she pointed to a mole on my leg tonight and asked me, “What’s dat Momma?”
I said, “A mole.”
She pretended to gag.
I almost peed my pants.
Tonight, I was brushing her teeth and as soon as I put her Elmo toothbrush in her mouth she grimaced. “Ewwww, dat toofpaste tastes wike poo-poo.”
I didn’t almost pee my pants.
What’s the last thing one of your kids said that made you remember you could use a bladder tack?

Driving Miss Sadie

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Sadie thinks she can drive. She’s two. It is simultaneously annoying and like everything else she does, hilarious and precious.
Me: *Stops at yellow light.* (Because my kids are in the car so I don’t floor it. Aubrey told me once, “Green means go. Red means stop and yellow means stop, too. If you’re a boy. But yellow means go if you’re a girl.” Oopsie.)
Sadie: GOOOO! Momma! Go!
Me: We can’t go, the light is red.
Sadie: Okay, Mom.
Me: *Stops in the middle of the road, hits blinker and waits to turn across traffic.*
Sadie: GOOOOOO! MOMMA! GOOOOO!
Me: Do you want me to total my car?? I can’t GOOOOOOO.
Sadie: Okay, Mom.
Me: *Stops in traffic to avoid rear-ending the car in front of me.*
Sadie: (at full volume) GOOOOOOOOO! MOMMA! GOOOOOO!
Me: You are TWO, you don’t know how to drive. Be quiet and watch Elmo.
Sadie: Okay, Mom.
She is bossy. And impatient.
(No, I have no idea from whence this behavior came.)
Got any funny car stories about your kids?