I interrupt this regular blogging broadcast to bring you a picture of blonde baby Piper with a pumpkin. Shameless cuteness. Thanks for reading, folks.
Happy Fall, Y’all
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Category Archives: Daily Dharma
She Sees You When You’re Sleeping
I have a stalker. Her name is Piper Mae.
She sleeps down the hallway behind a closed door. Yet she knows my every move.
If I get up in the middle of the night, she’s by my side. “I just happened to have to go, too, Mommy,” she says. “How about a quick hug since I’m here, you know?”
In the mornings I like to wake up early and write and blog. I’m careful not to make a sound. As soon as I lift the computer screen, though, Piper bursts through the door like she’s caught me. “I saw your light!”
“But it’s a laptop screen with just a tiny bit of light? How could you possibly see it?” I protest, throwing back the covers for the morning cuddle.
“I just know, Mommy. I always know where you are.”
Spa Bound
“Mom,” Piper asked, “do you ever wear cucumbers on your eyes when you go to the spa?”
“Once I did, but usually they just put little hydrating pads on your eyes that do the same thing,” I said.
“Do they use anything besides cucumbers? You know, like broccoli or peppers?”
“No, just cucumbers.”
“I’d want the cucumbers, too. Then if I got hungry, I’d just eat them and ask for more.”
Order in the Court
Once a week we try to have a family meeting. There’s nothing formal about it. We just gather around the table and put whatever needs sorted on the table. It clears the air. I gripe less daily when I know I can bring up my grievance at family meeting. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t have a laundry list of grievances. None of us do. But when you live in a family, stuff needs talked about. The family meeting is our place to do that. It’s like therapy without the therapist. Sissy and Piper have a voice, too. Last family meeting Sissy asked people to knock before they barged into her room. Dad was frustrated that no one ever puts the hairbrushes back. I asked people to remember to clean out their lunch boxes right after school so they’d be dry by morning.
We also chat about good stuff coming up. We exchange news. The pending move in our new house was a hot topic at our last family meeting. The girls had questions, mostly about paint colors and decor. It was pretty civilized. Until Piper slammed her fist on the table out of nowhere and announced, “WE NEED SOME RULES AROUND HERE, PEOPLE!” We all gaped at her in wonder. Where did that come from? I still don’t know. The family meeting dissolved in giggles and there was no order to be had.
Modern Day Nomads
We’re moving. Again. 13th time is the charm, right? It’s still exciting. Not the packing, of course, but the idea that this time we may stay somewhere more than five minutes. We’re not running from the law or anything. Each move has seemed completely rational at the time: jobs, school, opportunities. It’s just when I add them all up I realize that the nomadic lifestyle may not be what’s best for Sissy and Piper. So, this move finally feels permanent. Whew.
Last night at dinner we were discussing the logistics of the move (did I mention it’s only a few weeks away? Aah!). “Do we have to pack everything or will we have movers?” Sissy asked. She knows this drill well.
“We’re only moving two blocks, so I think we’ll move most of it ourselves,” I said. “We’ll get help with the furniture and piano.”
“Can I bring my stuffed animals?” Piper asked.
“Absolutely. We’re taking everything,” I said.
“Can I live with you when I grow up, too?”
“You can live with me, P,” Sissy offered. Whew, again.
“Thanks, Sissy. Can my boyfriend come to?”
“No. Just you. You can be weird Aunt Piper in the basement,” Sissy said. “My kids will love you.”
“Thanks, Sissy. I’ll bring my stuffed animals, too.”
Storm Prepping III
“What’s that?” Piper asked, gazing over my shoulder at the computer screen.
“That’s Sandy,” I explained. “She’s the big storm headed our way. That’s why you don’t have school today.”
“It looks like cotton candy. Yum.”
Storm Prepping
I know. I know. Sandy is on her way. My mom has called from Florida to make sure we are storm prepping. That’s when you know the weather is about to get real. We’ve got the essentials: water, cash, gas, food, batteries, radio. In the last few years (between the Midwest and the East Coast) we’ve experienced two earthquakes, two derechos, and weeks without power. We know what to do. First and foremost, say good-bye to the beautiful fall foliage. Sandy and her hurricane force winds will steal all the gold. So Piper and I spent some time on our front porch saying adieu to our favorite tree, which we’ve checked in with every day and watched change from green to brilliant red.
Now we’d like that beautiful tree and its pending nakedness to stay right where it is and not on our roof, thank you. Piper has another storm prepping plan.
“If the power goes out, Mom, we should just be naked. Like the tree. That way we won’t have to do laundry since the washing machine won’t work,” said Piper, the professional storm prepper.
Niblets and Gravy
“Piper, you really should close the curtains before you change your clothes.”
“It’s okay, Mom. I’ve only got niblets.”
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“There’s a big storm on the way, Piper. We may lose power.”
“I’ll eat all the ice cream if you want me to, Mom. Would that be helpful?”
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“What did you do at school today, Piper?”
“I chased Andrew. Pretended to do my school work. And tried to take a nap when I went to the bathroom. Same as always.”
Book Fair Puppy Style
I busted a move on the dance floor at the elementary school book fair last night. I owned that gym. Sissy told me to stop. Last week I was still cool. This week I’ve become embarrassing. Yet I don’t feel any different at all.
Piper still let me dance, though, or at least shimmy a little in the book fair aisles as we searched for books. She was on a mission. “I will read books if there are puppies involved,” she declared. It’s not too tough at an elementary school book fair to find a book with puppies. This was our first prize:
You and I know there’s no such thing as a “perfect” Thanksgiving, but this darn puppy had to learn the hard way. First she bossed everyone around and then she got all puppy stressed about the decor. You know how it goes. You want things to be right. If they look right and taste right, suddenly your family will be less dysfunctional. We get you, perfect puppy. We’ve all been there. In the end, of course, the puppy’s Thanksgiving meal is a disaster but her family is good enough. Awwww.
But the real takeaway, besides the warm fuzzy message to just breathe, was the next book. I saw Piper’s eyes bulge as she examined it. “Mom,” she said, “I’ve found it. The book I’ve been waiting for my whole life.”
“Really?” I asked. “Your whole life? Wow. It must be special.”
“Oh, it is. Just look.” Then Piper held up the coveted page to me.
A puppy in a tutu? Wow. Just Wow. Not that is a perfect puppy for the Piper
The Hardest Chore of All
When I was a kid I was convinced that the entire reason my parents had me was to empty their dishwasher. This seemed logical to me. They didn’t want to do the chore. I was free labor. Surely, the cost of my keep was significantly less than a cleaning lady.
I can hear you laughing from here, you know?
The hardest chore of all is actually being the chore enforcer. Here is a list of Piper’s chores, the time it takes her to complete the task, and how many times I have to remind her to do the task until its completion:
Chore:
Set the breakfast table, 18 minutes, 17 reminders
Empty trashes, 42 minutes, 5 reminders (one for each trash can)
Clean room, 2 1/2 hours, 133 reminders
Wash lunch box, 20 minutes, 1 reminder (she actually loves this one)
Put away laundry, 3 days, 406 reminders
I could finish Piper’s chores in about three minutes flat. It would be more efficient for me to just do them myself. It would save me a lot of frustration, too. But I believe in chores. One day Piper will empty the dishwasher all by herself. Without being asked or reminded. I dream big.
piperism 