Goonies Never Say Die

We introduced Piper to the Goonies last night. It may not have been our best parenting move, but we were too far in by the time we realized what was a classic from our own childhoods was inappropriate by today’s childhood standards. Don’t get me wrong. I love the Goonies. But I remember watching it about 50 times one summer when I was Sissy and Piper’s ages unsupervised. I still quote from the Goonies on a daily basis. I had forgotten the cursing, which my kids aren’t accustomed to. I had forgotten the sexism (“Oh, let HER mother worry about it,” Brand’s mother says of his make out session with Andy. Gulp.) The good of the Goonies still outweighs the not so good, but I just didn’t remember. My childhood lens was so much less innocent than my children’s. Gulp again.

Piper found the good, though. She fell hard for Sloth. Every time he came on the screen, Piper fell into a puddle of giggles on the couch. She couldn’t catch her breath she was laughing so hard. “I just love Sloth!” she said. “He’s cracks me up.”

The most shocking part of the Goonies, though, was Sloth’s mother. “Why is she so grumpy? Doesn’t she love her Sloth? How could you not love him?” Piper asked. She was genuinely angry that Sloth, her new best friend, was mistreated by his family and especially by his own mom. “But how come she got kids if she’s so mean?”

“Maybe she’s not really that mean, P. She’s one of the bad guys, you know. Maybe it’s just for the movie,” Sissy explained. Piper examined Sissy with suspicion. She was so far into the Goonies that she’d momentarily forgotten that these were actors on a screen. That’s when you know it’s a good movie.

“Sloth’s a good guy,” Piper declared. “He deserves a good mommy. Like me.”

Then Sloth yelled “Heeeyy Youuuuu Guysssss!” and Piper squealed with delight.

Santa the Bearded Pirate

Piper has been mixing up her holidays lately. She keeps asking people “What are you going to dress up as for Christmas?” when she means “What are you going to be for Halloween?” Most roll with it or seem not to notice. We’re all in the fall holiday spirit. We’re planning costumes. The leaves are starting to turn in D.C. We’ve got a big fat pumpkin on our kitchen table.

Today Piper announced that she’s decided to be a pirate for Christmas, which is actually hilarious if you think about it. Wouldn’t that liven up the Secret Santa exchange? We can all wear eye patches when we go caroling? Although the combination of swords and wassail may be dangerous.

“Yes! A pirate,” Piper declared, “instead of ho ho ho I’ll say argh argh argh!”

I Love You Illustrated

 

 

Piper made me this for my birthday. It’s her first written ‘I Love You.’ And it’s a collage, too.

 

Piper put the crown on me because it’s my birthday and she says I’m royalty. I’m the one in the yellow dress; yellow is my favorite color. The big black thing is the same in all of Piper’s pictures. It’s Junie, her stuffed dog that she takes everywhere because her parents won’t buy her a real dog. Poor thing. Piper is the red stick figure. And that shovel thing she’s holding is an award she’s presenting me with for being Queen of the Universe. Of course.

The Middle Way

I’m sad is one of Piper’s favorite new phrases. It’s both a declaration of emotion and a conversation starter. It’s also startling for a Piper to be bouncing about in a rainbow tutu, smiling her bright smile, and declare her sadness. You have to brace yourself.

The morning after my birthday, Piper declared her latest sadness.

“I’m sad.”

“Why, honey?”

“I’m sad because of your birthday.”

“My birthday? We had a nice time on my birthday.”

“It made me sad. You’re getting old.”

“Well, I’m not that old. I feel pretty good. We all get older. It’s part of life.”

“Yes, but I’m sad because you’re old and you’ll die.”

“True. Someday. But not anytime soon. I don’t think we have to worry about it for awhile.”

“Okay. I’ll save my sadness until then.”

And on that cheery note, Piper skipped out of the room.

An Oreo Autopsy

Grandma and Grandpa are visiting Piper and Sissy this week. We caregivers (my partner and I) are entirely optional. Piper and Sissy are the stars of the show. That’s means our norms and fancy rules hardly apply. And that’s why Piper gets to eat this for dessert:

halloween oreos

I know, right? Piper is a fiend with a Halloween Oreo. Who could resist their five Boo-rific shapes? Most people fall into the eat them whole vs. deconstruction category. Piper has developed her own Oreo eating method. I call it the autopsy.

She dissects it piece by piece until she discovers it’s true orange dye and chocolate mystery. Then it disappears.

Halloween Oreos fall into the the grandparent’s prerogative category. And Piper never wants the grandparents or the Oreos to leave.

Bling and More Bling

In addition to rainbows, Piper enjoys her bling. She’s always been a bit of a girlie girl. Thus the tutus, sparkly shoes, and glittery headbands. Every morning she stands at the mirror with me and dabs on some blush while I’m getting ready for work. Then she walks to the jewelry box, looks me up and down, and selects the perfect accessory. More is always more. If it were up to Piper, I’d wear three necklaces and six bracelets every day. And if earrings don’t dangle, what’s the point? Bling is just another way Piper expresses her big personality and her fashionista style.

On my recent trip for work I skipped the toy store when I was souvenir shopping. It was a first. Instead I perused clothing boutiques in downtown Savannah and jewelry carts along the way. It was a touch job, but I suffered through the fun. I found a purple scarf with peace signs for Sissy and this for Piper:

I know, right? It’s rainbow. It’s made of wooden beads. It wraps around P’s little wrist perfectly. It’s a more is more kind of bracelet that’s easy to wear. She LOVES it. It was a risk to forego the obligatory plastic toy, but Piper jumped up and down when she saw it. The bracelet hasn’t left her wrist since.

Yesterday Piper wore her new rainbow bracelet to school. “It’s five bracelets in one!” she told her friends. They didn’t believe her, so she had to demo how to accessorize again and again. Her classmates were in awe. “It’s hard for them to understand” Piper said, “because most of them aren’t as fashionable as me.” Touche.

Happy Birthday to Me

I’m back. I was missed. It’s always nice to come home even if you’ve only been away a few days. Piper and Sissy greeted me with a birthday party. More details to follow (Sissy’s blogging again soon!)

For now I wanted to share with you our family’s birthday tradition. On your birthday everyone gives you a dollar and tells you their favorite thing about you. Here’s a blog video demonstration of Piper on her birthday: Happy Fake Birthday to You.

I don’t know why we give the dollar, but the sincere compliments make you feel like a million bucks. Here’s Piper doling out mine:

See? I’m fashionable! Who needs a dollar when you’ve got gold?

Do You Ever Sound Like a Broken Record?

You know how you say a hundred things a day and your kids aren’t listening? Me, too. Most times I feel like a broken record doling out champion advice that is lost on the masses. Last week, though, for one glorious moment, all of my parenting of the Piper for the last five years was validated.

Piper got lost at school. Her elementary school is massive. Brace yourself. 1000 kids in K-5 in an overcrowded building. But. The staff is amazing. The principal is always present. The school runs well. It’s a positive environment. Sissy and Piper love the place, but still you lose a kid every now and then in the 1000 person shuffle. Piper was the one that day. She was in the lunch room. There was classical music playing that she said she was enjoying. She lost her place in line and her class went to the playground without her. She looked around and didn’t recognize a single face.

“So what did you do, P?” I asked when she told us at dinner. My heart was pounding in my ears. My baby got lost at school. Why was no one helping her? Why was she all alone? In my head I was in full ranting mommy mode ready to call the principal at his home. He really should have known better than giving a woman like me his cell number. Rookie move. I held my breath.

“At first I cried,” Piper said, “just a little inside. Then I remembered that you said that if I don’t make things happen nothing will happen, so I asked a big kid for help and they took me to the playground.”

Big exhale. My work here is done.

Unforgettable

Piper was worried I’d forget her while I was  traveling for work so she packed a little something special in my suitcase. Here’s what I found while hanging up my suits in my hotel last night.

 

I’m not sure if the purse is going to match, but surely I can slip a little jewel in my pocket during my presentation. It looks like I may have scored the Hope diamond.

How could I forget a Piper? Impossible.

In Search of Mom

I’m leaving today for a conference. I spend 363 days per year with the Piper. I’ll be gone for two whole days. And yet Piper stalked me all night. Every hour her little face was at the side of the bed. “Are you still here?” She crawled in bed and cuddled like her baby self used to. We snuggled and snoozed. Then I put her back in her bed, but she found me again.

“You’ll be in here in the morning, right?” She opted to keep me in her sight. I opted to add layers and layers of mommy guilt. It’s hard to leave. We’re still umbilically connected.

“I’ll be back, P. Mommies always come back. Grandma and Grandpa and Daddy will be here. You’ll have so much fun you won’t even know I’m gone.” I said all the right stuff. I’ve made all the right arrangements. This shouldn’t be so hard, this leaving thing, but it is.

“But when will you be back?” Piper asked.

“Two days. That’s it. I’ll be back Sunday.”

“Why do you have to go?”

“For work, honey. I’m presenting research at a conference. It’s part of my teaching. It’s an exciting opportunity for me. Aren’t you proud of me?”

Piper nodded. “I just wish you didn’t have to go,” she said with big, sad eyes. I looked at the clock. 2:34 a.m. And I let her stay.