Monthly Archives: October 2012

Wishin’ and Hopin’

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At breakfast this morning Piper announced that she’d be honeymooning in California. We’re used to declarations like this daily. We take them seriously and always play along. You might wonder where this one came from; we know Piper well enough not to ask. Why ask why? is our motto.

“Hmm,” I said, sipping coffee, “how will you get there?”

“By carriage.”

“Like horse drawn carriage?” I asked. “That will take awhile.”

“Then I’ll go to Paris,” Piper said.

“You can’t go to Paris by horse drawn carriage, P,” Sissy informed her. “Unless, of course, your horses can swim.” I think she snorted then at her own joke.

“You could ride your horse drawn carriage onto a ship and take that to Paris,” Daddy offered. He never wants to crush Piper’s dreams.

“Can I take a ship to California?” P asked.

We all looked at each other. “Yes,” I nodded, “you can, I suppose. It will take a long time because you’ll have to go through the Panama Canal or the Northwest Passage. Or you can take a boat and carry it across the Rockies.”

“Who are you going to marry, anyway?” Sissy asked.

Piper shrugged. “I haven’t worked out that detail yet.”

A Contrarian Doesn’t Smell the Rose Garden

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Yesterday Piper went to the White House. Again. She hated it just as much.

Her first visit was last year during the holidays. She almost got us kicked out and I blogged about it in “Is Obama on the Naughty List?” and “Ikea vs. The White House.”

Remember she is the contrarian. Read “A Contrarian Smells the Roses” for proof.

Still, we went back for the White House Garden Tour. My dear friend Jen scored us tickets. Piper brought her favorite stuffed animals along. At least a contrarian knows how to occupy themselves.

Then Piper mapped out her route. She was really just looking for Bo, the Obama’s dog.

Jen tried to help with the map reading. Piper continued to look for Bo.

She didn’t find Bo, but she did find the playground on the White House lawn. She wasn’t allowed to play on it, though. Here’s what she thought of that:

We also found the Bee Hive and the White House Kitchen Garden. Both looked yummy.

Piper wasn’t impressed with either. “Yuck,” she said. “I don’t like eggplant.”

So we had to rely on the one thing that always makes the contrarian smile: Sissy.

Echo Echo Echo

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We bought Piper a microphone yesterday. It is the final accessory that she desperately needs to complete her Paty Kerry costume for Halloween. Really what’s a rock star without amplification? We gave Piper a lot choices in her microphone selection. She fell for Magic Mic:

Translucent Magic Mic (Colors May Vary)

Piper’s has a black handle with a shiny silver microphone. It’s for the glamorous fake rockstar variety. It’s kid-powered; no batteries required. And when you sing into Magic Mic-or spit all over it with huffy breaths-as Piper does, your voice sounds like an echo. It’s completely addictive. I’m warning you. If Piper hadn’t already stamped this one owned with her germs, I’d be stealing it after she goes to bed and putting on my own concert. Trust me. You don’t share Magic Mic.

Piper is now speaking to us only through Magic Mic. Every response requires amplification. Even dinner conversations.

“Piper, do you want peppers or carrots?”

“CARRRROTTTSSS!” she echoed.

“Use your napkin. It’s in your lap.”

“I WIIIILLLL!”

“Did you clear your plate?”

“I’MMMM GOOOING TOOOOOO!”

Magic Mic adds an element of drama to every response. And we needed a lot more drama around here.

Being a Mom is Hard

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We have a family tradition on birthdays that we tell you our favorite thing about you and give you a dollar. The favorite thing thing is a blast. The dollar is just a bonus.

Just for fun, here’s Piper getting her favorite things present in “Happy Fake Birthday to You.”

And here’s Piper telling me her favorite thing in “Happy Birthday to Me.”

Yesterday was Grandma’s birthday so Piper and Sissy called her to share the tradition. Sissy said her favorite thing was that Grandma was so crafty. Grandma taught Sissy to sew and needlepoint and other domestic arts that I have zero skill in. Then Piper grabbed the phone:

My favorite thing about you is that you are my mom’s mom. Being a mom is hard. I know. You’re a good mom and you were nice to my mom. That’s my favorite thing, Grandma. 

And here’s my favorite picture of Grandma and Piper:

Hot Noodle Soup With a Side of Snap

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When Piper woke up this morning with a raging fever and a sore throat, I wanted to cry. But I can’t. I’m the mom. So I gave her a dose of ibuprofen, stripped off her sweat soaked pajamas, and brought her to our bed. We cuddled and talked about how stinky it is to feel sick. “I know what would make me feel better,” Piper said.

“Anything, baby. What?” I asked.

“Hot noodle soup.”

“But you ate all the noodle soup yesterday,” I reminded her. “We’re all out.”

Tears welled in Piper’s eyes. Okay. Okay. I can make a fresh batch. From scratch. Before 6 a.m. Fine. I diced and simmered the broth. I boiled the noodles. I buttered a fresh slice of bread. Then I fed it to Piper with a spoon. She said her throat felt better. She said it would feel even better if she could watch Word Girl on the couch. I’m a sucker, I know.

A few hours later, after the fever broke and some of Piper’s energy returned, after the negative strep throat test and doctor’s visit, I brought her another bowl of hot noodle soup. Piper peered into the bowl at her beloved carrots and celery floating in a fragrant bath of broth and noodles and said, “Mom, I don’t do leftovers.”

Dear Paty Kerry

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Dear Paty Kerry,

My daughter, Piper, wants to be you. She’s five-years-old and is one of your biggest fans. In fact, for Halloween, Piper wants to wear a costume that she’s designed to be Paty Kerry.

It’s not just your blue hair that she adores. She understands your love of all things glitter. She feels that you are a kindred spirit. Piper likes to dress in costumes every day, just like you. She loves singing and dancing, just like you. And she believes in magical places, like the kind of that you invent on stage. When Piper sings “Firework,” she channels your energy and believes she really can go Boom, Boom, Boom. In fact, Piper’s birthday is just a few days past July 4th and she thinks that song was written just for its occasion.

I do steer Piper away, though, from some of your more mature lyrics. But mostly I just manage to keep them contained to our home. She’s in kindergarten after all and far from her first teenage dream, if you know what I mean. She hasn’t started kissing anyone yet, let alone girls and liking it. I’d love more G rated material from you by the way. It would really make my job easier. Piper doesn’t get most of what your lyrics say, but it’s a bit disarming to see her belt out Baby, let’s go all the way tonight on her walk to school. Fortunately, Piper thinks in your skin tight jeans is in your skim milk jeans, which is much more nutritious and probably explains why you can get into those jeans anyway.

And here’s Piper’s country version:

So if you decide you need a five-year-old back up singer on your next tour, Piper’s ready and waiting.

Sincerely,

Piper’s Mom

P.S. I do realize your name is actually Katy Perry but not according to Piper. Sorry.

Thumbs Up for Rice Krispies

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A Piper doesn’t do blue jeans. They’re too stiff. She refuses to unbutton and zip. Tutus don’t easily slip over blue jeans and dancing is inhibited. So there.

Yet the leaves are changing and it’s starting to get cool. Blue jeans keep you warm. So yesterday we hauled out the hand-me-downs to add some layers to Piper’s tutu collection. Sissy made it into a fashion show. We blasted Lady Gaga and assessed new outfits with thumbs up and thumbs down. It was fun. At first. Piper gave everything a thumbs down. Too many blue jeans. Too many plain turtlenecks (Sissy was a bit more practical in her kindergarten fashion). Piper agreed to a few knit pants but only the ones with flowers, Eiffel Tower prints, and rainbows. The shirts were boring. The blue jeans were impossible. Piper was grumpy. So was I. Then she turned on Sissy. “Why couldn’t you like dresses and skirts?” she accused. “Now look what I have to deal with!” Sissy just rolled her eyes at her sister’s fussiness.

“Mom, you know what we need?” Sissy said.

“A shopping spree paid for by someone else?” In my mind I was trying to come up with a compromise between all the free hand-me-downs I’d laundered and stored and Piper’s fashion demands.

“Rice krispie treats.”

“Okay. A break would be good.” We pulled on fall jackets and walked to the store for the essentials. Along the way Piper was a little chilled. Bare legs in brisk fall weather will do that to you.

We made the rice krispies. We ate the rice krispies. Piper told us that marshmallows are harvested from the clouds. Sissy said, “Boy is she going to be disappointed when she learns about the water cycle.”

With bellies full of rice krispies we went back to abandoned clothes piles. Piper was more agreeable. I was more patient. Piper picked one pair of hot pink blue jeans with an elastic waist. She picked long sleeve t-shirts and tights that she could wear with her tutus. I showed her how we could layer all of her favorite rainbow t-shirts over the turtlenecks. Then we went back to finish off the rice krispie pan.

If I Had a Million Dollars

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The dinner table conversation last night turned quickly from “What are you grateful for?” (our standard) to “If you could have a super power, what would it be?” (the inevitable) to “What would you do with a million dollars?” Piper’s answer was quick. She’s a bit impulsive. I’m hoping she never actually has a million dollars.

“I would SPEND, SPEND, SPEND,” she said, dancing around the table with what must have been her fairy spending wand.

“I’d buy us a house,” Dad said. Real estate is a bit pricey in our neck of the woods. A million dollars may get us a nice detached three bedroom.

“I think I’d give some away,” Sissy said. “We’re pretty lucky. A lot of people aren’t.”

Everyone looked down at their full dinner plates. Then Piper said, “That’s what I meant. I’d SPEND it on someone else.”