Lady Gaga is in the Kitchen

Posted on January 31, 2012 by melissa.scholes.young

What do you get when you mix the Beatles’ “I’ve Just Seen a Face” with Tom Petty’s “Free Fallin'” and Fleetwood Mac’s “Landslide”?

A perfect Piper mash up. Try it. Sing along. It goes like this: Now I’m freeeeee, freeeeeee fallin’ down the landslide brings you down to where I’ve just seen a face I can’t forget. La da da dee da da. It almost works. It’s mighty contagious.

Piper can simultaneously switch melodies and provide running commentary on her misinterpretations of lyrics. The girl has talent. We’re not sure how to market said talent yet, but you can’t deny it’s there. (See Hold On. We’re Going Gaga for more evidence.)

She truly wants to understand how it all works together, thus the mash up. There’s a clear path of ping-pong ball logic if you’re fast enough to follow it. On the way to preschool this morning, moments after the above musical mash up, Piper was singing Gaga’s “Telephone” and suddenly realized the true reason Gaga wants you to stop calling. Stop calling. Stop calling. I’m kind of Kanani. Kind of Kanani. (Kanani is the coveted American Girl Doll of 2011):

Kanani American Girl Doll of The Year 2011 Paperback Book

“Of course Gaga wants Kanani, but she can’t buy her anymore. She’s 2011. That’s why you should stop calling, right, Mom?” I agreed. Why keep calling if it’s clear that they are artificially controlling the supply of Kanani so they can drive up the prices? Geez. Stop calling, Gaga, or check EBay.

We finally decided that Gaga should really just stick to what she’s good at. Baking, of course. Piper sang, “I’ll get him pie. Show him what I got.” Then she interrupted her own self, which is no small task, to try to understand Gaga’s real mission. “Wonder if he likes strawberry pie? I really like peach, don’t you, Mom? Wonder what kind of pie Gaga likes?” These are rhetorical questions. Piper doesn’t wait for answers. “Pokerface” continues to play in the background. “See! She said muffin! Cause I’m baking with my muffin. Did you hear that? She’s just like you, Mom. She loves to bake.” It’s true. I do make a mean blueberry muffin. The Gaga and I have so much in common. I think Gaga would get a girl like Piper.

I’ll Raise You a Lalaloopsy Part Two: Guest Blogger, Grandpa

Posted on January 30, 2012 by melissa.scholes.young

Introducing today’s guest blogger: Piper’s grandpa. He wrote in response to the post I’ll Raise You a Lalaloopsy in which Piper almost successfully negotiated a $400 weekly allowance so she could get one of these:

Here’s what my dad had to say on the chores, allowances, and the lalaloopsy issue:

Dear Piper’s Keeper,

As a seasoned negotiator both in capitalism and with children and allowances (also in getting grandchildren to do chores for next to nothing by offering to teach them a lesson), I’m freely offering my services to settle this lalaloopsy conflict.

First, I think everyone should get allowances, adults as well as children.

I propose the following for consideration:

List all chores to be done.
List all possible participants. (It would appear the General Manager has successfully done these items based on the chart)
Give each chore an amount. Here I would suggest using Lalaloopsy currency since it seems understood by all participants.
Let all participants “bid” on each chore.

For instance, consider the following Lalaloopsy schedule:

Cleaning the bathroom is a tough chore if done right: 50 Lalaloopsy
Vacuuming is easy stuff, at least I thought so until I learned you had to vacuum the wood floors, too (according to your mom): 20 Lalaloopsy
Taking out the trash: It’s a no brainer, except for remembering to put a new trash bag in the kitchen can before you dump the coffee grounds into it: 5 Lalaloopsy
Making school lunches should not be on the chore schedule. If you want to eat, you should make your lunch. I have to make my own lunch when I go fishing. I want to eat when I go fishing. After all, listening to the radio and eating are mainly the reasons I go fishing. Consider applying the same reasoning to dinner.
Laundry: What could be easier? It’s not like we have to go down to the stream and beat the underwear clean on a rock. The machines do everything. Three loads, white, dark, and other. Ironing? That is what they make jackets and dry cleaners for. Folding laundry and sorting? That’s what they make dressers for. Besides, you cannot be responsible for the way your children look in public. Look around you. Clearly parents are not. 2 Lalaloopsy
Cleaning your room: Unless you are selling your home, the cleanliness of your room should be up to you. That is what they make doors for. Sissy has clearly figured out the chore of keeping her room clean. She sleeps and plays in Piper’s room while leaving hers set up as a picture session for Modern Decorating Magazine. She’s also cleverly convinced Piper that she sleeps in her room to make Piper more comfortable. Lalaloopsy value? Priceless.

Now, here is the important part. Have everyone bid on each chore for the amount of Lalaloopsys they think it’s worth. For example, I love to buy groceries. I would bid 1 Lalaloopsy on that chore in order to hopefully win it. Consider that there are only two of you who can drive to the store so it will come down to you and Joe to get this bid. Joe is not a good shopper. He is a good list buyer. You, as the General Manager, can easily make a case for this chore.

Have open bidding, auction style. I would suggest you watch Storage Wars to get the idea. If you want help setting my proposal and/or the auction up, let me know. I will be happy to bid on it.

With love,

A content grandpa, dad, and husband

I’ll Raise You a Lalaloopsy

Posted on January 29, 2012 by melissa.scholes.young

Saturday morning in our house means chores. I’m known as the general manager, which is a kind of chore, right? Sure it is. The negotiation of chores in our house is one effective way to avoid the actual doing of chores. It goes something like this:

Magnets get moved until there is shalom in the home. Or until the general manager declares the negotiations over and begins shouting about doing the actual chores. This week, though, the girls brought an old grievance to the family meeting: allowances. I’m not opposed to allowances. Kids can learn a lot from money management. I just can’t remember to give them regularly and I never have actual cash in my purse. I’ve asked, but these kids won’t let me swipe my debit card. So, we asked how much allowance they thought was fair.

Piper opened the negotiations. “$400 sounds reasonable.”

Laughing all around. “How about $1 per week?” Her dad countered.

Piper let out a loud sigh. “$100 is enough. That’s fine.”

“I’m willing to raise my offer to $2 per week.”

“No.”

Dad tried to rationalize. “We don’t seem to be getting anywhere. You’re supposed to suggest a number closer to ours.”

“No.”

“So, you don’t want an allowance?” I asked.

“Wait,” Piper said, “how much does a Lalaloopsy cost? That’s how much I want.”

I shook my head. “I don’t even know what that is.”

“I think $5 is a good amount for me,” Sissy suggested. Ever the voice of reason. “Or maybe we should get $1 for our ages.” Did she just up her own offer?

Piper, who claims she doesn’t know her numbers, did the math and came up immediately with the difference. “That’s $4 more. Why does she get more than me? What’s up with that?”

“I do more chores,” Sissy said. “I get more money. I’m older. That’s fair.”

“Fair? What’s up with that? How many Lalaloopsies does she get?” Suddenly, Lalaloopsy became our currency and we were stuck in a Seinfeld episode.

Clearly, the general manager is going to need a raise.

Hoarding for Beginners

Posted on January 28, 2012 by melissa.scholes.young

Please send help. Call one of those hoarding shows. We have a problem. During a perfectly lovely playdate this afternoon my friend’s baby pulled himself up on the ottoman in our living room and moved the lid ever so slightly. Just enough for me to discover what Piper had been hiding inside:

Yes, those are dirty socks hoarded away in the ottoman. And a few pairs of underwear for good measure. The culprit is clear. The rainbow puppy paw prints on the size 4T undies really gave it away. Apparently, when you’re watching TV on the couch in our house and feeling…shall we say…constricted… you strip off the offending clothing and stuff it in our ottoman. For weeks. You can put your leftover cereal in there, too, rather than walk the ten feet to the kitchen. Do I need to tell you about the smell? I couldn’t help myself. I had to ask. “Piper, why did you stuff your dirty clothes and leftover food in there?”

“I’m saving it.”

“For what?”

“Later.”

I understand that kids hoard. They collect stuff, like trash. Some even do so for a useful purpose. Maybe even like this:

This is what Piper’s big sister does with her own hoarding. She creates sockfits, which is a full line of Barbie clothing made out of mismatched socks. She designs and sews them herself. Somehow, this hobby has moved my response from reproachful disdain to admirable frugality. Our friends now save the orphaned socks from their laundry and bring them over to our house for fashionable recycling. Piper’s hoarding, though, hasn’t yet evolved. She’s still in the denial phase. She doesn’t have a problem. Isn’t it normal to sleep in a bed with 34 stuffed animals? And doesn’t everyone need seven baby blankets to keep warm at night? There’s hardly a spare inch in the bed for the little hoarder. And that’s exactly as she likes it.

A Rainbow of Fruit Flavors

Posted on January 27, 2012 by melissa.scholes.young

Guest Blogger, Sissy, Age 9:

When Piper was still just an idea, my mom, dad and I were thinking up all sorts of names for the soon-to-be little sibling. Since I was only five I was picking lots of very unusual names for this new child. My favorite was Rainbow. I pushed and pushed for that name and in the end we came to a compromise; the name Iris meaning goddess of the rainbow. Obviously the name did not stick. I’m sort of sad it didn’t, for now it really does suit her, though not as much as Piper. The reason such a strange name would fit? Her wardrobe. You name the clothing article, she has it in rainbow. A rainbow dress, pants, nightgown, bathing suit, and hair accessories. She’s been wearing rainbow this and that since she was little:

I wouldn’t be surprised if she had rainbow underwear. It’s actually grown to be her favorite color. And when I (or anyone else) tried to tell her that rainbow is not in fact a color, but multiple colors, she does not take it very well. “Rainbow is too a color, Sissy! Don’t you know anything? Hey, first one to touch Sandy wins!” This is Piper’s way of changing the subject. She sure is a colorful one.

In case you missed my other guest blog on doing puzzles with Piper, click here.

Sometimes You Get What You Need Part Two

Posted on January 26, 2012 by melissa.scholes.young

I didn’t know I needed a Piper until I got one. For those readers who know Piper’s older sister, you won’t be surprised when I admit to being a Superior Parent. That’s someone who has such an easy, well-mannered, logical first born that they assume everyone else is just doing it wrong. Piper’s older sister was potty trained in about two minutes. I just sat her down and explained the process and how we could spend more money on adult beverages and toys if we didn’t have to buy diapers. It made complete sense. Potty training was complete. I think she’s disobeyed me exactly once in her lifetime. I’m hoping she’ll do more. We were a happy family of three type A overachievers living in an ordered world and along comes a Piper.

In her defense I had fair warning. My entire pregnancy was like that scene from the movie Alien where you can make out the body parts through the stomach skin. My midwife once stood back in awe and said, “Well. I’ve never seen that before.” I’m pretty sure baby Piper was break dancing in there. She intended to make a mess of my world. And she did. And I’m glad every hilarious, sometimes frustrating minute. Snuggling on the couch this afternoon, Piper asked, “Mommy, what did you laugh about before you had me?” I honestly can’t remember. She teaches me every day how little control you can have over a force like love.

In case you missed it, here’s Sometimes You Get What You Need Part One.

Obvious Treasures: Stinky Butts

Posted on January 25, 2012 by melissa.scholes.young

Piper begins ballet class this week and as cute as wearing the one ballet shoe is, she really needed a mate. After a successful shopping trip (and let me be clear that I define “success” as we actually bought the necessary shoes, Piper didn’t shout anything too inappropriate, and she only broke one thing) we were trudging back to our car, struggling not to pick up every piece of trash along the way, when a homeless man approached. Now, nobody loves the homeless like Piper. I’m generalizing, of course, but she appreciates their often mismatched clothes and the shopping carts of obvious treasures. They, too, share Piper’s thriftiness and adoration for found objects. I was attempting to steer Piper toward the car (think herding cats in a parking lot) when the homeless guy begins shouting “Stinky Butts! Stinky Butts! Stinky Butts!” I don’t know if he was searching for discarded cigarettes or not, but Piper appreciates all things potty humor so this sends her into a fit of giggles, which, in turn, cracks me up, too. We’re dry heave laughing in the middle of the parking lot, appreciating the homeless guy’s random proclamation when Piper shouts back, “My dad says that, too!” The homeless guy turns to Piper and gives her a thumbs up.

The Feel of Trash

Posted on January 24, 2012 by melissa.scholes.young

Piper may very well grow up to be a trash collector or a professional recycler or a bag lady. The jury is still out. The kid will pick up anything, anywhere. Chewed gum. Discarded napkins if they are shiny in any way. Rocks. She hoards trash in her closet in baskets. And tonight, she picked up this in a parking lot.

It’s plastic. It’s dirty. It’s broken on the back. To Piper, all of that equals perfection. It’s not as if we don’t buy this kid plenty of real toys. She doesn’t really need to troll the parking lot looking for things to play with. But this thing she just couldn’t resist. As I tried to wrestle the filthy football from her hand, Piper protested, “It’s sure dirty but it doesn’t feel like trash.” I didn’t ask what that meant. I don’t think her explanation would have been convincing. I did what any semi-rational mom would do. I took her newly coveted trash to the bathroom to sanitize it. For the rest of the night, the broken plastic football was her best friend. He (yes, the football declared its gender) talked to her in the backseat. She introduced him to Pinky, her lovey. And when her sister climbed into the car Piper used her best manners. “Sissy,” she said, “I’d like you to meet my new friend. Football. He’s in my shoe. With my foot.”

Is Obama on the Naughty List?

Posted on January 23, 2012 by melissa.scholes.young

When you live in DC, you just have to see the White House. Especially when it’s all gussied up for the holidays. We waited months for our background checks to clear and to be assigned a date in December. It was a magical morning. There was a choir singing Christmas carols as we toured the decorated rooms and peered over the velvet ropes into history.

Except that Piper almost got us kicked out. She couldn’t resist all the holiday versions of the First Family’s dog, Bo. She kept leaning over the barriers trying to do this (note her arm caught in action):

As we came around the corner to the last room, Piper broke loose and scrambled under a Christmas tree for a closer inspection. I dragged her out by her silver tights and black patent leather shoes, but she’d already discovered that there was nothing under the Obama’s tree. In a voice much too loud for the occasion, she asked, “How come the President doesn’t have any presents under his tree? Poor guy!”

piperism

a simple life of joy

Monthly Archives: January 2012