Category Archives: Blasts from the Past

More Words You Didn’t Know You Needed

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Piper continues to add to our family vocabulary. You may want to catch up on the vernacular with the first Words You Didn’t Know You Needed before trying out these new ones.

noodle-slized.  Go ahead and say it fast. You may get it that way. As in “Mom, I noodle-slized that my birthday is coming up. Let’s play Candyland.” I just noodle-slized she means “realized.” 

structions. Piper gives a lot of these. We always like to read the structions before we play Candyland. We’re hoping one day to discover a point to the game. Until then, we just do what we’re told.

Milton Bradley - CandyLand

nusually. When something happens often, it nusually happens. Piper nusually picks up after Candyland, but I noodle-sized she left the pieces all over the floor when I stepped on one in the middle of the night. Clearly, my structions weren’t clear.

chotskies. The girl loves a veggie sausage. We don’t have any idea how these became chotskies, but that’s what they are. Piper loves to munch on chotskies while playing Candyland.

Finally, I regret to inform Piper’s fans that lemolade may be a thing of the past. Blame it on Sissy.

“Piper, you know you’re drinking lemoNADE, right?”

“Yep,” Piper said, licking her lips. “I love lemolade.”

“No. It’s lemoNADE.”

“Oh. LemoNADE. Got it.”

We were considering grounding Sissy for her trespasses, but then who would blog and make Star of the Week posters and other things that Piper’s mother really should be doing?

Spider-Man to the Rescue

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The last time Piper went to Sissy’s piano recital, it wasn’t a complete success. I’m not a total rookie. I know that it’s hard work for a four-year-old to sit still and be reasonably quiet for an hour and a half. I brought along what I call “the quiet bag.” I filled it with stuff that-you guessed it-is supposed to help you be quiet. Crayons, coloring books, suckers, goldfish, books, etc. Each activity occupied Piper for three seconds, so by after the first minute of the recital, she was miserable. We survived, but I’m sure you can imagine how much we enjoyed it. Not much.

What a difference six months and a superhero make. This afternoon, on a whim, I picked up one of these at our neighborhood toy store:

It’s got stickers. You make a picture on a grid. Match up the number on the sticker with the corresponding 1-30 numbered grid. Voila. You have a picture of Spider-Man doing something awesome or fighting off someone evil. Piper completed 8 grids during the recital. She didn’t move a muscle except for her little pincher fingers as she peeled and pasted. I actually listened to piano music and watched Sissy perform three songs without interruption. Sissy played beautifully. Piper seemed to be listening. She was quiet, at least. I was a proud Mama.

“Can we get more of those number puzzle things?” Piper asked on the way to the car.

“Absolutely,” I said. “Spider-Man saved the day.”

Sticks and Stones

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When I picked Piper up from preschool this afternoon she was in a fit of tears because a playmate had called her a name.  It was too awful to repeat, she said, so she just cried on my shoulder and snotted up my sleeve a bit.  Once we got to the car, the truth came out.

“Molly called me a chatterbox!”

“Oh,” I said. I’ve learned the hard way just to listen.

“She said I don’t let anyone else talk at lunch.”

“Huh.”

“I don’t even know what a chatterbox is!”

“Hmm.”

“Mom, do you think I’m a chatterbox?”

“I think you’re wonderful, Piper.”

“Thank you, Mommy. I don’t even like that kind of cheese.”

“Cheese?”

“Chatter. The yellow kind,” Piper clarified. “I like parmesan.”

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Duh. It’s My Website.

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When people read piperism, they usually ask me two questions:

1. Does Piper know you’re doing this?

2. Does Sissy wish she had her own blog, too?

Yes, Piper knows all about the blog.  When she does something that makes us all spew our drinks at dinner, she says, “You’re going to blog about this, right?” I usually do.  Tonight at dinner her Sissy prompted her to explain what piperism actually is. Piper rolled her eyes. “Duh. It’s my website.”

No, Sissy doesn’t want her own blog. She’s at that age where blasting her funnies into the universe would be devastating. Preteen privacy is to be respected. Sissy enjoys being a part of the blog, though, but she gives me a thumbs up or a thumbs down on ideas.  She enjoys writing the occasional blog post herself, but since she writes better than me, we had to put a quick end to her contribution. I’m only half kidding.

Last weekend we passed the 20,000 hits mark, so I thought it might be time for a retrospective. Here are the top rated piperisms based on number of views since we began. Hope you enjoy the ride. Feel free to vote for your own in the comments.  I love to hear what laugh made your day a bit lighter.

1. Hold On. We’re Going Gaga

2. Even Sleeping Beauty Stalls

3. Words You Didn’t Know You Needed

4. Drunk Dialing or Something Like It

5. Raising Star Wars Girls

6. Soulmates

7. I’ll Raise You a Lalaloopsy

8. Sometimes You Get What You Need

9. Piper Ruins Your Lunch

10. What We Talk About When We Talk About Love

Thanks for reading!

When in Rome, Eat Chocolate and Data

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Have you ever wondered what children of academics do for fun? I have your answer. It’s a bit alarming. You’ll want to sit down for this.

A few weeks ago I was invited to be a part of a panel at our university (my partner and I both teach there) for the Delta Phi Epsilon Professional Foreign Service Pi Chapter Sorority. Clearly, it was fancy. They wanted me to talk about “intercultural communication” since I spent some time living and teaching in Brazil. The other professors on the panel were fancy, too.  It turned out to be a lively conversation which concluded in me making a public rant against our family policies in this country versus other societies in which I’ve lived. They gave me a brief soapbox, so I took it. The room was full of smart, earnest young women who raised the roof when I lectured on what it really means to be a working mom in a country that is often offended by public breast feeding.  They were shocked to learn that as a high school teacher in a public school I didn’t have maternity leave. And if my kids got sick, I went without pay. And that my salary exactly equaled the monthly cost of health insurance and childcare. I was unleashed. In my defense they’d asked why more women didn’t seek public office in our country. I suggested it may have to do with our policies toward families i.e. birth control, childcare, etc. I suggested that my struggles were minimal compared to a woman without an education, a job, healthcare, and an equal partner. Whew.

As a thank you for not actually baring my chest and nursing a child in front of them, the sorority gave me a beautiful pen set and a coffee mug from AU filled with chocolate. Like a good working woman, I was hiding my children outside the door to the lecture hall. My talk concluded at 7:30 p.m. and my partner had to teach at 8:00 so we were doing the childcare shuffle. You’d think Piper and Sissy would be proud of their mom, right? Raising awareness and fighting for their feminist futures, right? Nope. They saw the chocolate and clobbered me.

When we got home, they did what normal kids do: they ate the chocolate.

But then, they began sorting and collecting data.

Piper did the sorting and the eating. Sissy took notes. The children of academics know good data when they see it. So, of course, the next logical step was to prepare a presentation.  You have to share your results with other academics, you see. A power point presentation is a must.

Once the research was concluded and the data was collected, they moved on to making meaning out of all of this chocolate. Piper continued to eat the data.

And now you know what the children of academics do for fun and why you don’t ask their mommy a question unless you really want to know the answer.

A Light Dusting of Pixie

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Go ahead.  Just try to look at little Piper with her pixie cut and not smile.  I dare you. Double dog dare you. Can’t, can you?

Me, neither. This was taken the summer she turned two. She’s still dressing in fancy skirts. She still likes high heels. She still makes us laugh. And Piper still spreads magical pixie dust through our days.

Breakfast in Bed

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We’re preparing for Sissy’s birthday soon.  Double digits.  That’s big.

On your birthday in our house you get breakfast in bed.  You place your order like room service by writing it up the night before and leaving it outside your door. Then your family gets up early to make you the perfect breakfast on a tray and delivers it while you lounge around in your pajamas.  It’s as awesome as it sounds.

Last year Sissy invited Piper to get in bed with her and nibble off the edges of her tray. It didn’t go so well.  This morning on the way to church they were debating whether Piper would be invited back for breakfast in bed when the birthday morning arrives.

“I don’t know, P,” Sissy said. “Don’t you remember what happened last year?”

“It was awesome?” Piper asked.

“Not exactly. You spilled my juice and sneezed all over my muffins.”

“Seriously? Why are you still talking about that? Just let it go, Sissy.”

I can’t say yet whether another birthday breakfast in bed will be extended to the Piper.  If she’s that lucky, I’ll have the tissues ready.

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Professor Piper

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I’m a working mom. Who isn’t? But sometimes I leave my house and work outside the home, too.  After a long day of teaching, I like to kick off my heels, peel off my suit jacket, and sit down with a Piper.

Tonight Piper decided that there really wasn’t much to this Professor gig.  It looked pretty easy. You just need a jacket, red heels, and cool black sunglasses.

I assure you that I almost never wear a pink tutu to work, but I’d consider those tights with the silver hearts. I might be able to pull that off. I doubt my students would take syntax and diction seriously if I were dressed like a ballerina, though. They have a hard enough time all ready.

“Oh my,” Piper said. “Listen to this!” Apparently, that’s how I lecture in my classroom. I would actually say something like that if I found an awesome sentence on a student paper.

And sometimes I dance.  Tap dance. That part may be true.

Flaco Taco Shows Us His Moves

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My childhood Sundays included Catholic Mass, glazed donuts, and the WWF.  My father considered the World Wrestling Federation to be an important part of my education.  My brothers and I spent hours watching the WWF and debating the merits of Jimmy Superfly Snuka, my personal favorite, versus Rowdy Roddy Piper.

Wrestling was a religion in our house. I assumed Piper and Sissy would share a similar love of wrestling, but we’ve so far failed as parents in this regard.  Their wrestling education usually goes like this:

My partner, known by his wrestling name Flaco Taco, announces the upcoming wrestling match.  Imagine Jack Black as Nacho Libre if Jack Black were a tall, slender academic wearing glasses.

Flaco Taco yells “Show me your moves!” to Piper and Sissy. He then tries to tackle them and they run out of the room screaming.  “Come back!” Flaco Taco pleads, “Let’s wrestle!” The girls huddle together whispering and finally decide watching their father beg may just be worth it. After all, this wrestling thing involves fake names and dance moves, too. First, Squirrel Two Toes (aka Piper) twirls about waving a wand and takes a bow. Then she does a somersault. Flaco isn’t happy. “Um. Those aren’t wrestling moves. Those are flourishes,” he complains. Sissy, who in her younger wrestling days was known as The New York Crusher, dances into the room karate chopping the air.  Contact still hasn’t been made.  Flaco Taco yells “I’ll show you wrestling moves!” and grabs at their feet, trying to knock them over for a take down. There is more screaming. “Ow!  Why are you hurting us?” “Yeah, stop hitting! Mom, Dad is hitting!” Flaco defends his moves by again explaining the concept of fake wrestling. The girls stare as he speaks his foreign language.

“Dad,” Sissy asks, “did you want boys instead?”

Squirrel Two Toes sashays out of the room.

Oh, Superfly, where are you when I need you the most?