Everything’s Better at Grandma’s House

Posted on March 27, 2012 by melissa.scholes.young

Piper’s chore after dinner is to clear the table. Sissy cleans the plates and loads the dishwasher. I have either cooked the dinner or I’m on pots and pans duty. My partner does the same. This chore distribution is under constant negotiation at Saturday family meetings, but it seems whatever chore Piper is assigned, she spends much of her time trying to wiggle out of it. She’s actually quite proud of herself once her chore is completed, but the actual task brings much protest. The working conditions are just unacceptable.

“I wish we lived at a hotel,” Piper said tonight dragging her feet as she moved the dishes the entire ten feet from table to counter. “Then we wouldn’t have to clean up.”

This was followed by loud, exaggerated sighs. We all ignored her. Piper escaped to the living room.

“Come back, Piper. The table isn’t clear.”

More sighs.

“My arms are tired,” she whined, flailing her exhausted arms.

We all ignored her.

“I wish I was at Grandma’s house,” Piper said. “You don’t have to do chores at Grandma’s house.”

“We aren’t at Grandma’s house. Piper, finish clearing the table, please.”

She’d now stretched her two minute job into almost half an hour. She cleared the last plate and mumbled, “Everything is better at Grandma’s.”

Who do you think taught me to make my kids do their chores? Piper probably doesn’t want to know the answer to that.

The Sound of Silence

Posted on March 25, 2012 by melissa.scholes.young

Remember when I said we were big gamers? I failed to mention our favorite, the quiet game. I think you know how this goes. Everyone is supposed to be quiet and the first one to make a noise, loses the quiet game. Your job as a sibling is to poke, prod, and tease until you can get a giggle or squeak to escape from your sister’s mouth. Then you win.

It’s probably not shocking that Piper isn’t very good at the quiet game. She spent the first two years of her life mostly silent, but she’s been making up for it ever since. I’m so used to the constant Piper banter, that it’s become the background soundtrack of my day. Strangers stop me at the grocery store, “Wow. She sure talks a lot, doesn’t she?” I hadn’t noticed. Silence would be more alarming than a chattering Piper.

When I Look Up, I Trip Over Things

Posted on March 24, 2012 by melissa.scholes.young

It took Piper and I an hour and a half to walk three blocks. It was a great three blocks, though. I had the time to move at her pace, which requires the following pauses:

1. Counting all public benches.

2. Sitting on all public benches to assess their comfiness (note: cement benches all feel the same).

3. Sitting on all public benches and letting the sun shine on your face at different angles (note: city buildings block the sunlight from some benches).

4. Choosing your favorite cherry blossom tree (note: cherry blossoms next to public benches with ample sunlight win).

5. Smelling all cherry blossoms (note: cherry blossoms don’t actually smell much, but you still need to smell every single one).

6. Touching, leaning against, exploring anything shiny.

7. Forgetting that you actually have a destination.

8. Realizing that Piper is ready for the poetry of Ani.

When I look around
I think this, this is good enough
and I try to laugh
at whatever life brings
cuz when I look down
I miss all the good stuff
and when I look up
I just trip over things

A Cow Says Moo

Posted on March 23, 2012 by melissa.scholes.young

Aunt Angela is visiting this week. Last night she was putting Piper to bed and learned the following about my awesome cooking skills.

Piper: I really like my mommy’s cooking best.

AA: You do? She must be a good cook.

Piper: She is.

AA: What’s your favorite thing mommy makes?

Piper: Chocolate milk.

Naked Isn’t Funny

Posted on March 22, 2012 by melissa.scholes.young

We were driving downtown last weekend, and Piper saw a statue of George Washington off in the distance. George’s lack of modesty caused Piper to launch into the following lecture.

“Naked isn’t funny. You can see other people’s private parts. Other people’s private parts aren’t funny. When I get out of the bath, I don’t laugh. George Washington needs to put some clothes on.”

Naked isn’t funny. Or is it?

Cheap Therapy

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

I’ve had a lot of arrangements for this mothering business. I’ve stayed home full time with both Sissy and Piper. I’ve worked full time with both Sissy and Piper. I’ve been a full time student and a part-time stay at home mom. I’ve been a full time working at home mom, too. None of it’s easy. All of it has its rewards. Most of it is awesome. All of it is exhausting. So, you can imagine my relief tonight when I returned home from a long day of teaching to find an in house therapist just waiting to fulfill my every need.

What did I order? Tonight I went with the half hour massage chat and a drink. $16 seems reasonable. Sissy sat and took notes while I talked. She may be keeping a file on me. I dearly hope it’s not for her own therapy one day. Piper sort of rubbed at my feet and then played with my hair. I think that was my massage. I sipped a lukewarm cup of chamomile tea. What more could a hard working mom want? When my bill came, I left a nice tip.

Sick Kids Suck

Posted on March 5, 2012 by melissa.scholes.young

“Mom! My froat hurts!”

Ugh. Either Kathleen Turner is hiding in Piper’s bedroom or we’re headed down the sick path again. The raspy voice. The sweaty forehead. The cuddles from my normally bouncy girl.

“Can you make me my tea?”

One cup of orange spice with 1/4 cup apple juice, a tincture of echinacea, 2 tbsp honey, and 2 ice cubes coming up. With a straw.

Piper assesses how sore her throat is. “It feels like there’s a pretzel stuck in there.” As bad as that sounds it’s not as bad a the time she said she thought she’d swallowed glass. That was the dreaded strep throat. Double ugh.

I check her temperature. Again. I dole out ibuprofen. I wish for the hundredth time I had magic pills to give my kids when they’re sick. I wish I could go through it for them. Piper’s glassy eyes get glassier.

“Will you nap with me?”

Of course, baby. I could use the reserves, too. Who knows how long this will last? I already miss the Piper a.k.a. my squirrel on crack.

Her dad takes her upstairs for a quick bath and brings her back down weepy and wrapped in a towel. “She says you do it better. She just wants you,” he reports.

I warm a bowl of noodle soup. I blow dry her hair while she slurps.

“I know what we need,” I say. “Cherry Garcia. STAT!” Piper nods and takes her medicine.

Book Club for Beginners

Posted on March 2, 2012 by melissa.scholes.young

There are a lot of things I can tolerate in a Piper. Trash collecting, hoarding, potty words, Lady Gaga. Just to name a few. But I don’t know how to parent a kid who doesn’t appreciate books. We’re a house of readers. We have no athletic ability. Most of us can’t see our hands in front of our faces without glasses. We’re nerds. We read. So when Piper was invited to her first book club for kids, I checked an emphatic “yes!” on the evite. I had no idea what you do at a book club for four-year-olds but they had me at the word “book.” I’m that easy.

I did notice a few differences between my usual grownup book club and this kid’s version. Here are the top 5:

1. Seats are assigned.

Piper’s friend, Rylie, and her mom were hosting the book club. This was waiting at Piper’s chair when we arrived:

Nothing makes a girl feel more welcome than a friend to your right and a name tag.

2. You get cool stuff.

There was also the cutest little mailbox you’ve ever seen:

And there was chocolate inside that mailbox. That’s my kind of book club! Now I know what you’re wondering. How about the “book” in “book club,” right? That came next.

3. You don’t have to read the book beforehand.

Rylie’s mom read the book while Piper mostly listened. I only had to dig the melted chocolates out of her grubby hands twice.

4. There’s more than just talk.

There were activities that corresponded to the book’s theme, which I suppose is similar to activities at my book club with grownups. Drinking mimosas is an activity, right?

Piper’s activities were response sheets that related to the theme of the book. I helped her write them…

5. You get to bring your mom.

The best part of a four-year-old book club was doing it together. I was basking in our mutual love of words when Piper and I were walking to the car. I buckled her in, leaned over for a hug, and said, “Wasn’t that fun? Your first book club!”

Piper played with the lid on her new mailbox, counted her chocolates again, and asked, “What book?”

Once Upon a Turtle

Posted on February 28, 2012 by melissa.scholes.young

Nana is visiting this week, which means we are playing with new toys. The biggest hit is Story Cubes. It’s supposed to go like this: roll all 9 cubes and make up a story based on the symbols. Piper makes up her own rules, though. Rolling isn’t involved. Cubes can be turned and/or ignored. There are no wrong answers.

Now I’ll let Piper tell you a story.

Once upon a time there was a rainbow. It was a sad rainbow because it lost its magic. See the wand? That tells you its magic. It’s leaking stars. Magic wands do that if they really have magic. When the wand ran out of start it was sad, too. Can I change the cube to happy? I don’t like all this sadness. The end.

Once there was sheep. She was named Jenny. Jenny the sheep loved to read. All of her books were about New York City. She loved New York City. Then she had an idea. See the lightbulb? Why not take her rainbow with her to New York City? Jenny the sheep met a turtle. The turtle was named Crumbles. He lived in a little house in Central Park. He like rainbows, too. So one day Jenny and Crumbles went to a fountain together. And their books got all wet. They laughed and laughed. It was okay, though, because they just rolled back the story cube and dried off their books. By the way, that parachute guy doesn’t belong. The end.

The Birthing of a Bambi

Posted on February 27, 2012 by melissa.scholes.young

Most four-year-olds have questions. Instead, Piper has answers. At dinner tonight she explained what she learned from watching Bambi about how deer have babies.

“Well, it’s complicated, really,” Piper began. “You need some water. Then you shove some hooves into the mama deer’s belly. Then, you add the water. Voila.”