Monthly Archives: January 2012

Hold On. We’re Going Gaga.

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It may be a mixed blessing that Piper misunderstands Lady Gaga lyrics, especially since she likes to belt them out on the playground and teach her peers Gaga like dance moves. First, a disclaimer.  I do not endorse nor recommend that young impressionable children listen to inappropriate music intended for adults’ ears.  But if you’ve heard a Lady Gaga song and didn’t bust a move, more power to you.  Piper writes her own lyrics anyway, so I haven’t yet had to explain that love can be fun and healthy even if it’s not rough and that you don’t have to get your guy high just to show him what you got.  I do lecture at length about the Gaga’s grammar errors, but that’s a post for another day.  So, in case you were wondering, here is what the Gaga is really saying.  Feel free to sing along.

“Pokerface” Curry my, curry my (Who doesn’t love a little curry, right?). Pucker face. (Cue fish lips).  Ma ma ma ma pucker face.  My pucker face.  Wait..is it Piper face, mom?  Is that what the Gaga is singing? (Piper calls her “the” Gaga out of respect).

“Bad Romance” Ra ah ra ah ah ah. Bad RoNancy. (That Nancy has terrible luck in love).

“Monster” That boy is a monster. Stop! Can’t touch this! (MC Hammer often interrupts and totally should if you’re dating a monster).

“Telephone” Stop calling. Stop calling. I don’t want to walk anymore.  I’m kind of dancing. Kind of dancing. (Here’s a video of what Piper means by “kind of dancing.” You may want to put down your drink):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LVRJGDaqYD4

Those voices you hear in the background are my parents, who took Piper out to dinner that night, cheering her antics on.

Raising Star Wars Girls

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It’s no secret that my partner is mildly obsessed with Star Wars.  I’m sure it’s the Death Star and not Princess Leia in a metal bikini that began his adolescent obsession.  So when our local library decided to host a Star Wars Day, we signed up. Piper and her sister made their own light sabers, trained with Yoda, and fought the Dark Side.  Piper did her steamy breath rendition of “Luke…I am your fah-ver,” which she’d been perfecting for weeks in a mirror. But they were among a small minority of girls in attendance. People were surprised we’d sent them.  Star Wars is for boys, right?  Just like colors have genders? Not in Piper’s world.  As we were patting ourselves on the back for raising strong Star Wars Girls, my partner found this:

To Piper, even Master Yoda transcends gender boundaries.

Sometimes You Get What You Need

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“Mommy, I’m going to tell you a story.  Close your eyes so you can see it.  Ready? Once upon a time there was a lion.  He had these lines on his lion forehead.  Like yours, see?”  Piper reaches over to trace my furrowed brow, gently running each finger along a crease I didn’t know I had. “But the lion became a mouse and mice have tiny little foreheads.  So, the lines went away.  See?  Yours are gone now, too.”  She smoothes her hand over my calm face and pats my cheek. “The end.”

Words You Didn’t Know You Needed

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When Piper doesn’t know a word she does what most of us academics do; she makes it up.  Then she pretends to consult an authority, like leftover marker scribblings on her palm, and confirms that her fake definition is correct.  Soon, we’ve all adopted the word into our own vernacular, and we can’t remember if it’s a piperism or if we’re just blazing new vocabulary trails.  Here are a few words you didn’t know you needed and their proper usage, according to Piper:

Mulgated.  This seems to be an adjective and mostly the negative kind.  As  “This magic wand is so mulgated.  The broccoli didn’t change into chocolate at all.”

Bedrazzled. I assumed incorrectly that when Piper declared me bedrazzled at breakfast it was a compliment somewhere near the awesome Midwestern talent of bedazzling.  Granted I didn’t have my makeup on, but I didn’t think I looked that haggard.  Turns out this one is an attempt at the proper use of “bedraggled” and I didn’t look so pretty after all.

Peanut. You may think you already know this one but you’re probably wrong.  It’s sort of a combo word, a two-for-one special.  Piper says, “Boys stand up when they use the bathroom because of their peanuts.” We’re not sure to which male body part she’s referring and we really don’t want to know.

Tomcats.  According to Piper these require a warning.  As in “Augie, don’t be scared if you see my mom poking her fingers into her eyeballs.  She’s just putting in her tomcats so she can see.”  Meow.

Serleal.  If Piper catches us laughing at her, she demands we stop with a whiney “I’m being serleal!”  We can’t tell if she’s ordering cereal for breakfast or wanting us to take her antics seriously. Either way we can’t stop cracking up.  Hope you can’t either.

Ikea Vs. The White House

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My favorite piperisms are delivered when I least expect them and need them the most.  Today I was whining about a $99 delivery fee Ikea wants to charge even though they are only twelve miles from my house.  Don’t they understand that twelve miles in traffic on the beltway could take hours?  And that’s only if I drive it between 2 a.m. and 4 a.m. Poor me.  From the backseat Piper said, “Ikea is so much better than the White House.  Wanta know why?  Because Ikea lets you sit on their stuff.  You can climb all over the furniture and they don’t care.  That White House is stingy.” True.  That does put it all in perspective.

Baby Jesus Rides the Metrobus

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This is what happens when you move a Piper to the city.  Public transportation becomes her norm.  And, really, why wouldn’t the Holy Family utilize the convenience of the Metrobus? She’s almost got the whole nativity scene safely buckled and ready to cruise downtown.  Jesus is properly positioned in the back seats where children belong.  Mary seems to be upfront supervising the wise men, which I’m sure those rascals need. When I asked Piper where she was going to sit, the answer was obvious. “Duh, Mom.  I’ll be driving.” Of course she will.

An Apple a Day

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Why do fevers strike at midnight?  You’re sound asleep one second and the next you’re kneeling by the side of the bed while your child sweats through the sheets.  It’s terrifying.  I know. I know. Fevers are healthy.  Fevers are helpful.  They are useful to fight illness.  None of that comforts me when I’m simultaneously watching the numbers on the thermometer climb and counting down the minutes until the ibuprofen kicks in.  Morning brings another doctor’s visit, another strep test, another run to the pharmacy.  Even in a screaming fit, Piper delivers comic relief.  After a thermometer reading this morning, she lifted her weepy head off my shoulder and assigned blame where only the logic of a four-year-old can go.  “Wait!” she cried. “Nana said if I ate my apple I wouldn’t have to go to the doctor.  An apple a day keeps the doctor away.  She said so!” Such betrayal. And from her grandmother nonetheless.  “That’s it,” Piper declared, “I’m never eating fruit again!” That should definitely solve the problem.

The Same Mother

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We stayed at the beach until the bitter end, stuffed our suitcases with dirty clothes, and hopped a midnight flight home. At a sleepy breakfast the next morning I saw the difference between my two children.  I don’t know how two such varying people come from the same mother. The older sister spoke the voice of reason; she recommended that next year we come home a day earlier from our two week rockstar vacation to rest, to unpack, to catch up on laundry, and to buy groceries. She seeks civilization and order. Her baby sister embraces chaos and adventure. The uncertainty seems to fuel her spirit. Struggling to hold up her face from her cereal bowl, Piper asked, “How come we didn’t go to New York City, too?”

New Year’s Resolution

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Piper greeted the new year at 6:10 a.m., as children often do when we really need them to sleep. Morning in our house announces itself with a quiet rattle.   The rattle is buried in Piper’s lovey, a well-worn pale pink teddy bear named  Pinky that miraculously turns into a blanket from the waist down.  Piper stirs awake, searches her sheets for Pinky, and drags the bear down the hallway.  As the rattle grows louder, thumping against the floor, my morning begins. Piper crawls in bed next to me and shoves Pinky, rattle and all, in my sleepy face. Pinky kisses me first to measure my mood. This morning, the first of 2012, I smiled and Piper declared her first new year’s Piperism:  “Mom, when I go really fast, I miss some fun. I’m going to go slow from now on.”  So, here’s to a slower 2012 filled with simple fun and a daily dose of joy.