Bath Time

Posted on December 19, 2012 by melissa.scholes.young

Piper’s dad has always been in charge of bath time. It’s not a soothing, calming, get ready for sleep ritual. It’s a play, splash, dump water on the kids time. Dad has a big plastic cup which he empties all over Piper’s head without warning. Much of the water ends up on the floor. We don’t have tear free shampoo nor bubble bath. Piper and Sissy grew up this way. When other kids timidly blew bubbles at swim class, our girls dove in. For better or for worse, this is bath time in our house. Last night I overheard Piper inquiring about his techniques.

“Dad, where did you learn how to give baths?”

“Well, you just kind of figure it out. Also, we took a childbirth class before Sissy was born. They teach you stuff like baths and diapers.”

“This is how they told you to bathe us?”

“I think so.”

“Dad, you might need a refresher course.”

Ahoy, Mate

Posted on December 17, 2012 by melissa.scholes.young

Piper likes a good pirate. Who doesn’t? So last weekend when we saw a pirate at our favorite diner, it just made the night a little better.

“Don’t look now,” I said, “but there is a pirate six booths away by the door. Full beard, full makeup, full costume. Yep, that’s a pirate.”

It’s mid December. There are no costume parties in sight. No trick or treating. Santa, elves, reindeer, fine. But pirates?

One by one Piper, Sissy, and Dad leaned over into my line of vision to spy on the pirate.

“Ok. Why is there a pirate on a Saturday night in our favorite diner? Go.”

“Maybe the pirate came to get some fruits and vegetables,” Sissy offered, “you know how you’re always saying that we’ll get scurvy, Mom, if we don’t eat well? Maybe the pirate is afraid of scurvy.”

“I’m going with aliens,” Dad said. “It’s always the aliens.”

“Pirate aliens?”

“For sure.”

“She’s shipwrecked,” Piper said. “That pirate REALLY needs some pancakes. With chocolate chips.”

Dad offered anyone at the table $1 to go over to the pirate and get the real answer. Piper and I jumped out of our seats and sauntered over to the pirate. We pretended we were on our way to the bathroom. Then I blamed it all on Piper.

“Excuse me,” I said, “but my little girl would really like to know why you are dressed like a pirate.”

“Ahoy, mate,” Piper said.

Turns out it was for a college film project. Piper’s story was better.

And now here’s a shameless photo of my favorite pirate. Meow. Piper agrees.

Baby Jesus and His Puppy

Posted on December 16, 2012 by melissa.scholes.young

Piper’s dreams are simple: she wants a dog or she wants to be a dog. She also wants chocolate for every meal. Oh, and she wants me permanently attached to her side. Just in case she needs some chocolate.

This morning at our church’s Christmas pageant, one of Piper’s dreams came true. She was transformed into a dog. She got to bark and sleep on stage and generally misbehave. She wore dog ears and a dog nose, which made dog noises when you squeezed it the right way. Just so you know dogs don’t behave just because Baby Jesus decides to make an appearance. Neither did Piper. Fortunately, misbehaving animals were in the script.

The innkeeper’s wife, otherwise known as Sissy, shoed the dogs, donkeys, sheep, etc. out of the barn to make room for Mary and her baby. Sissy called them “filthy animals.” It was in the script. She’s usually not so harsh. Piper the dog understood, even though she’s not used to Sissy speaking to her in such a manner. “It’s ACTING, Mom. I get it.”

Lockdown

Posted on December 15, 2012 by melissa.scholes.young

I’ve been a teacher for 15 years. I’ve been a mom for 10. I’ve had to lock my classroom door for numerous lockdowns. I sat with 4th period once for hours when there was a gunman on campus. He was from the surrounding neighborhood. He never intended to harm our students.

Yesterday morning while students at Sandy Hook Elementary were under siege, I was at Piper and Sissy’s elementary school. I took the day off and decided to join the girls for lunch. The smiles, the giggles, the joyful chaos that is elementary school filled me all up. The time was a gift. The evil in our world never crossed my mind.

Until I got in my car to drive away and heard the news. I sat in the parking lot fighting the urge to go back in. I wanted to grab my kids and hide. I wanted to grab everyone’s kids and hide. I wanted to know that they were safe, even though I’d seen them moments before. It wasn’t logical; I knew that. But parenting and living require faith. I went home. I waited.

And then I thought about the parents who were also waiting. The ones in the Connecticut parking lot waiting for their kids to come out one by one. The last ones. The ones with empty arms. Oh, God.

Piper and Sissy came home hours later hungry. They wanted snacks. They wanted to throw down their backpacks and share their day. I sat and listened and asked questions, but I’m not sure I heard a word. I kept moving my chair closer, close enough to touch them. I couldn’t get close enough.

Ladies Who Lunch

Posted on December 14, 2012 by melissa.scholes.young

Today I observed Piper in her mostly natural habitat: school. First, I went to art class with her. The class was working on self portraits and they were each given a mirror in which to study themselves. “I could just look at myself all day, Mom,” Piper said, gazing longingly at herself.

Piper excelled at observation. She spent most of art class making faces in her mirror and leaping about the room doing her other favorite art activity: sharpening her pencil.

Then we were off to lunch. I got in line behind Piper and carried my Muppets lunch box. It made me very popular. Another mom asked me if I’d packed it myself. I told her I did. I don’t think she was very impressed, though. I didn’t write myself a note like I do for Sissy and Piper but I kind of wish that I had. It would go like this:

Dear Piper’s Mom,

I hope you enjoy lunch with Piper today. You’re awesome!

Love,

Piper’s Mom

At lunch, Piper and I unpacked our food onto our snowman napkins. Then we ate our apples. Then our peppers. Then Piper threw down her whole thermos of pasta fagioli in ten seconds flat. I worked on my carrot sticks. Piper read her note out loud to me.

Dear Piper,

I’m eating lunch with you. I’m right next to you!

Love,

Mom

That cracked us up. We almost got in trouble for laughing. Geez.

Then Piper marched off to recess and waved good bye.

I really, really hope she invites me again.

Gender Trumps

Posted on December 13, 2012 by melissa.scholes.young

We had to split teams tonight. Sissy had a violin concert at school scheduled much later than Piper’s bed time. Normally, I’d drag Piper along and juice her up on a sugar high, but she’s fighting a cold and she’s completely off sugar (more on that later).

So, one parent needed to stay home, wash lunch boxes, give a bath, do dinner dishes, etc. and one parent needed to shuttle Sissy and her violin to school and enjoy the concert. I was game for both, but after a long day giving final exams, I was kind of hoping for the home duty. It didn’t work out that way. Dad thought the sisters could rationally work out the split. He was wrong.

“Mom needs to come to the concert,” Sissy said. “She’s always supported my musical career. And she helped me pick out my dress. She gets to come.”

“Mom needs to say home,” Piper said. “No offense, Dad, but I need someone my own gender tonight.”

Doomsday

Posted on December 12, 2012 by melissa.scholes.young

Piper is our sage when it comes to all things doomsday.

At breakfast this morning Sissy filled her in on the end of the world as we know it.

“It’s 12-12-12,” Sissy said. “Something big is going to happen.”

“So what? Who cares?” It helps to imagine Piper’s “Scrooge voice.” Then she finished off her waffle. No reason to face impending doom on an empty tummy.

On the way to school Daddy told Piper the rest of the predictions. Why he chose to do so is a worthy of its own post on questionable parenting decisions but that’s not what this blog is about, is it?

“The Mayan calendar ends next week. Who knows what will happen,” Daddy said. “Some people say that the world will end.” The he busied himself staring out the window to avoid my incredulous glare.

“So what? Who cares?” Piper said. “Bah humbug.”

An Apple a Day. Or Not.

Posted on December 10, 2012 by melissa.scholes.young

Sissy did a locker inspection today. It didn’t turn out well for Piper. Sissy told on her after school.

“So I was walking through the hall today and I saw Piper’s coat hanging out of her locker. Being the awesome big sister that I am, I stopped to open the door and tuck in her coat.”

“Sounds like you were spying,” I said.

“Guess what I found?” Sissy reported. “Apples. Rotting apples. In a plastic bag. On her snack shelf. That’s disgusting.”

“I kind of like them,” Piper said. “They’re all brown and mushy.”

“Why do you have rotting apples in your locker?” I had to ask. I couldn’t stop myself.

“You sent them for snack but we didn’t have time to eat snack that day so I keep them there,” Piper explained. Perfectly logical. “It was awhile ago.”

“Why didn’t you throw them away?” I asked.

“They’re cool.”

“Ewww,” Sissy said, “that’s totally gross.”

“I offered them to Daniel, but he didn’t want them.” Giggle, giggle. “So then I truth or dared Kieron to eat them. He wouldn’t either.”

“What was the truth?”

Piper thought about that. “Okay. I dared and dared Kieron to eat them. He still wouldn’t do it.”

“You need to throw them away, Piper,” I said.

Piper thought some more. “Maybe.”

Royalties

Posted on December 9, 2012 by melissa.scholes.young

Piper wants paid. She’s figured out that you like this blog. She doesn’t know what 50,000 hits means but it sounds like an awful lot. Yesterday she demanded royalties.

“Shouldn’t I get paid, you know?” Piper asked. “For the blog? I do provide all of the content.”

“That’s true,” I agreed, “but I don’t get paid.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t charge anything for it. I don’t sell it. And I’ve said ‘no’ to advertisers so far.”

“Whatever,” Piper said, “I should still get paid.”

“In fact,” I added, “I pay for the domain and I pay for the privacy so that word press can’t do anything with my content.”

“Still,” she insisted, “I need money.” Piper doesn’t yet live in logic world.

“How much do you want?” Sissy opened the bidding.

“Five dollars.”

“Sold!” I said.

Piper paused. “I should have asked for more.”

“Yep,” Sissy agreed.

Kanga Mom

Posted on December 8, 2012 by melissa.scholes.young

I thought we’d stopped. I keep saying that. I must be in denial.

Piper’s been finding me in the middle of the night again. She wakes up two or three times and tries to sneak into our bed. There’s nothing wrong. She doesn’t need anything. She isn’t sick. She just wants to be there. I wouldn’t mind her there either if it weren’t for the snoring, kicking, tossing, and climbing on top of me thing.

“I’m cold and you’re so warm,” she says, snuggling in. I let her. Then I march her back.

“I just need a hug. You give the best hugs,” she says. I hug her. Then I march her back.

Sometimes I wake up and find her on a pillow next to me. I don’t remember when she snuck in. Sometimes I’m too tired to march her back.

Every night when I put her to sleep I give her “the look” and she says, “Stop, Mommy. I know what you’re going to say. I have to sleep in my own bed. I know. I will.” She doesn’t.

Last night I woke up to find her standing by the door. She must have been assessing the risk. “I just wish you had a pouch,” she said, “so I could crawl back in.”