March 27, 2009

A letter to my daughter

Filed under: The Toddler — Tags: , — denise @ 3:26 pm



My sweet girl,

I try to act as if it doesn’t bother me that you won’t let me read you a bedtime story.  Or that when I open my arms to you, you look me dead in the eye and say, “NO MOMMY. DADDY!”  Or that when you wake up in the middle of the night or at the start of the day, you stand up in your crib and you yell, “Daddddddy! Daaaaaaddy” even though, it’s me – the lowly Mommy, who has picked you up from your crib every single morning of every single day you have been alive.

Your father tries to protest… tells you to let Mommy pick you up… let Mommy read you a story… oh, but it’s too much.  It’s like asking someone why you weren’t invited to the party that everyone else was invited to. It’s too painful to question.  Best to just pretend that you had better things to do that night away, right? That your heart isn’t cracking into a million pieces, while you try to smile as say, “No, no. It’s ok. You read to her tonight.”

Frankly, I mostly understand. I mean, I prefer Daddy to myself right now too. Reading a book with mommy isn’t comfortable because due to my belly, you have to sit all sideways and half off my lap. And when you move around I’m forever telling you to “be careful of the baby” and admonishing you to “be easy with Mommy”. I can’t hold you for very long before I have to pass you off to Daddy or your brother because you weigh 32 pounds and I’m not supposed to lift or carry things over 25 pounds.  I still do it. I pick you up every single time you lift your arms to me because it’s such a surprise gift that you actually want me to hold you that I don’t care what abdominal muscles I pull… it’s worth it.

On weekends, I sleep alot.  You have far more one-on-one time with Daddy because Mommy is sleeping… always sleeping… but honey, if I don’t sleep and rest on the weekends I won’t be able to get through the work weeks and in this economy, it’s really, really important that Mommy keeps working… as long as she can.  I wish I wasn’t so tired.  I wish I wasn’t having you and your brother in my late 30s and was all young and springy – but I’m not.  I’m TIRED.  And I’m sure that really bums you out.  All the resting and the putting my feet up.  You have been a good helper to me, picking things up that I drop (endlessly) and throwing your own diapers away.

So, you may not like me very much right now… and you may like me even less in May when I have your little brother and he eats up most of my attention each day.  But know this, I like you VERY much.  And I don’t mean love you- because I do with all my heart – but I really LIKE who you are.

You are so smart and funny.  I love that you refuse to walk normally and lurch around like a zombie one minute and then tippy toe like a ballerina until you tire of that and start hopping everywhere you go.

I love that you laugh hysterically when the ugly duckling turns into the splashing swan and that you cram all your left-over food you don’t want into your juice or milk (to your father’s endless dismay).  I love that you always look for the moon and stars and when we are outside at dusk… and that you love to cook with me in the kitchen, whether it’s bread or cookies or cupcakes or pizza.

I’m amazed that at just 2 years and 4 months, you already can count. Not just memorizing your numbers up to 12, but actually look at something and count how many there are.  That you recognize all your numbers, even if they are mixed up – well, sometimes you mix up 7 and 9, but damn – who doesn’t?  You know all your animals and the sounds they make and all your colors and shapes.  We are working the alphabet and I can’t wait until you can read – and not only because your father and I read you at least 10 books a day, but because it will BLOW YOUR MIND how amazing reading is…. I can’t wait for you to read the books I loved as a little girl…

I love that you sing “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” and “ABCs” and “Itsy Bitsy Spider” and when you get in trouble, you yell at your dolls. “No! NO! NO!”, you tell them – pointing your little toddler finger at them, brow furrowed.

I wish I knew what “farn” and “bumber” were. You refer to them a lot and it’s a complete mystery to me… but all girls need their secrets and I’d rather you kept this from me than secretly going on The Pill some day because you don’t want to tell me.  I tell myself you will tell me those things… because I will foster that kind of open relationship with you.. the kind where we tell each other things like that.  But probably, my mom thought that, too — and oh, the things my mom didn’t know about me….

You look like your Dad, but you act like me… and that give me hope that we’ll get one another some day. Or else we’ll be too alike and be at each others throats.  My Memere and I are too alike to get along, sometimes… but we love each other fiercely because of it.

You say your sorry over and over and over again when it’s not your fault and refuse to apologize when it is.  You love completely and loyally, but you like to keep people guessing. You are so stubborn, you’d rather lose what you want than give in to anyone.  You hate to see anyone sad or crying and will console them with hugs and kisses. Like me, you love music and poetry and art – and like your father, you love computers and numbers and being outside.

What I’m trying to tell you is that you are the only daughter I will ever have and I’m the only Mom you will have and I know how the mother-daughter dynamic is alternately wonderful and horrible…  and it’s ok if you don’t like me right now.  I understand.

I love you anyway – and I like you anyway… and one of these days, you’ll like me back.

Even when I don’t have jellybeans.



March 6, 2009

Friday. We’ll leave it at that.

Filed under: Blogging — Tags: , , , , — denise @ 11:53 am


Setting:  Kitchen, our house, 7:15am.

[Enter Wife, who busies herself with making coffee and opening the donut holes she purchased at Target the night before.  Husband is leaning against counter. Eating what appears to be a cookie.]

Scene 1

Wife: You want coffee?  [her back to him, while she shuffles things on the counter around to reach the coffeemaker]

Husband: Yeah. I need to get an early start today.

Wife: [whirls around, fists in the air]  OH YEAH?!!!  (challenging)

Husband: [leaps into fighting stance]   Are you challenging me to a Dance Off?!

Wife: Prepare to meet your doom, sucka.

Husband weaves around in a circle in a half limbo stance.  Wife, encumbered by large pregnant belly, busts out a complicated plethora of arm dance moves that embraces both the beauty of “The Vogue” and the historical preclivities of Cleopatra.  Both are intensely staring threateningly at one another.

Husband: [knowing he is bested]  I’d say that’s a tie.

Wife: We both know I just wiped the floor with you with my bad-ass sweet moves.

Husband: It was almost a tie…

Wife: You got served.

Scene 2

Wife hands Husband cup of coffee. Gestures toward open container of powdered donut holes.

Wife: Hole?

Husband: [opens mouth]

Wife puts donut hole in Husband’s mouth. Husband unwisely decides to pull entire hole into his mouth, instead of just taking a bite.

Husband: MMPPPH!

Wife: [smirking]  Got a little situation now, do we?

Husband:  MMMMPH! RRRRRLGGG!  [looking wildly around the kitchen]

Wife: Dude. What are you looking for?


Wife: That little glob of dough has turned to spackle, eh?

Husband: EEEEEERRRRRRRBB.  [reaches in fridge for a Diet Mountain Dew, pops it open and slams it]

Husband: Jesus Christ.  That was terrible.

Wife: It certainly didn’t look recommended.

[Wife pauses, then turns around, powered donut hole in hand]

Wife: Hole?


Setting: At work, in cubicle. Talking over the wall to coworker.

Wife: What is that noise?

Coworker: What noise?

Wife: [pauses]  There! That noise.

Coworker: I don’t hear it.

[they both pause to listen]

Wife: Never mind. My nose is whistling. It’s my right nostril.

March 2, 2009

Idol Postcards… yeah, I’m still writing them.

First and foremost–  A GIANT THANK YOU to my friend Chad (who did not get a perm) for pointing me in EXACTLY the right direction with regard to a certain problem that my brain had been noodling over for a few weeks now.  You are the BEST!

Headband Boy Who Won’t Stop Crying and Jason Hervey from The Wonder Years!

Chad’s opinion is that “even if Headband Boy does the best performance the world has ever seen of “Let’s Get Physical” this week, he still should not go on!”

You should know, Chad is a man of strong opinions.

There has been a strange trend of dudes doing girl songs… and not just semi-girl songs, but really, really girls songs.  Mariah, Cher, JoDee Messina, Christina…. it’s…. odd.

I’m pretty pleased with the results from last week.  I think Nate‘s performance of “Satisfaction” was my favorite performance of his so far.  For the first 30 seconds, I was really worried when he was doing all those weird Steve Martin pretending to be sexy lip moves – but the end was really amazing.

I like Alison (aka, the new Kelly Clarkson who somehow looks both like a 16 year old and a 43 year old housewife and the same time…) so I was happy to see her go through.. and Kris… well, I feel like Kris and I just met.  I’m not a fan of the Michael Jackson tunes, particularly, and there’s something strange about his jaw.  It’s… you know… jutty.   But I’m willing to give the guy a shot.

I thought I really liked Kai, but instead of looking/sounding all laid back and Mraz-y and looking like a Hawaiian Spiccoli, he was sort of swarthy and weird.  I liked Stevie in Hollywood and was sad to see her sing for the entire alloted time in key totally different than the music.  And friends, I am TICKLED PINK that Megan, Miss I Have One Tattoo’d Arm.. Miss Hair Down To My Toes… Miss Dislocated Shoulders Shimmy Shimmy did not make it through.

A conversation I had during her performance:

Me: What the hell is she doing with her shoulders?  Why are her arms wagging around?

Kory: That’s so weird.

Me: DAAAAAOOOOOWN   DAAAAOOOOWWNNNNN  Why is she saying “down” like that?

Me: Seriously, what is wrong with her mouth?  Why is she singing like English is her second language?

Kory:  She’s just a little , “Aren’t I too precious” for me.

Exactly!  I was worried the judges comments would sway the SWAYABLES, but thankfully not. Of course, she could be brought back as a wild card…. at which time I will have apoplectic fits.

Postcards to the last batch:

Dear Von,

Darlin’, you are cute as a bug in a rug.  You have a good voice…. a likability.

However, you have stop trying to take down cement walls with your voice.  You are not an X-Men.  We do not need to hear you from across a football field.  You have a microphone, dear.  It means, you can sing like you would to someone sitting just a few feet away from you and we will all hear it.  No need to make the paint peel.  You dig?

Your friend,



Dear Kendall,

You know… and I know…. and the judges know… and your momma knows….  you are going to pick the wrong song.  It will be too old.  Or too young.  Too upbeat.  Too soulful.  It won’t showcase your voice.  Or it will have too many runs.  No matter what you have done, they judges have always told you what you are doing is WRONG.   I know you are confused.  I know it doesn’t seem fair.

But like a break up that NEEDS to happen with a person you really don’t want to hurt…. sometimes, it’s just easier to keep picking apart the little stuff until that person just sort of leaves on their own, defeated in their realization that nothing they do will ever be good enough.   It’s cowardly, but shit happens.

Bet you a dollar.

Your friend,



Dear Jorge,

I…um….  don’t get it.

Your pal,



Dear Lil,

I’m pullin’ for you this week.  I’d still like Kristen to get top female, but I’d love to see you take the 3rd seat.  I love your voice, your quiet determination… and your life story?  You and your hubs and kids living in a hotel room?  Man… that kills me.

Kory is flumoxed by your name… Lil Rounds…. because he thinks it’s all Lil’Kim-esque.  You have to admit, it’s got a touch of the Stripper about it… but for now, I’m determined that it’s your real name — maybe short for Lily or Lilleth.   And that Rounds is your birth or married name and not a notable quotable about your anatomy…

Please do not do anything by Whitney. That is all.

Your friend, Deeples

Other fun things to watch for:

  • The roughneck trying to perch on his tiny silver scoop on stage for the results show — AGAIN!
  • Ryan and Simon’s simmering bromance of double entendre !
  • Paula telling someone they can sing the phonebook!  Because it’s so clever!

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