Category Archives: Gratitude

A Modern Mary Poppins

Posted on by
4

I’ve seen Piper’s future and her name is B. She’s our new babysitter. We met her at our church’s Peace Camp. I should have known then. Piper and Sissy dragged B over to me and announced that this was the young women they’d chosen for their new cargiver. I just do what I’m told, so B has spent the last few days at our house while I’ve been reacclimating to life in a suit.

B is a modern day Mary Poppins. She arrives with arts and crafts ideas. She takes the girls to the pool and organizes all the children into a rousing game of Marco Polo. She spends hours at the park where babies flock to her and she swings on the monkey bars like one of the gang. Piper said, “B does all the voices right when we’re playing Laloopseys!” B and Sissy talk fashion and food. And Sissy said the best part, which is vital for a ten-year-old that doesn’t feel like she needs a babysitter, is that “B just plays. She’s not really in charge. She’s like one of us.”

“What does she do if you and P are arguing?” I asked.

“Oh,” Sissy answered, “she makes us wrestle and she declares the winner.”

Okay. The kids are happy. They’re safe. They’re running around the neighborhood enjoying the last moments of summer as kids should. The tv is off. B sounds dreamy, doesn’t she? She is. But that’s not even the best part.

B has blue hair with streaks of hot pink. At the park and the pool the other kids call her “the girl with rainbow hair” as in “let’s go hang out with the girl with rainbow hair!” B has put some modern flare into her Mary Poppins drag.

Yesterday B showed up wearing a rainbow tutu. It matched Piper’s exactly. By the look on Piper’s face, I thought Santa Claus himself was standing at our front door, but it was just B, in her rainbow tutu towering over P in her rainbow tutu. They’d planned the whole thing.

In fact, B has a collection of tutus. She also has a Pinkilicious backpack. Apparently, all the high school backpacks weren’t stylish enough. How could they be?

I’ve seen the woman Piper may grow up to be, and she’s just as awesome as I imagined. Better than that, she’s entirely herself.

Tomato, Tomahto, Let’s Call the Whole Thing Off

Posted on by
9

Piper picked these this morning. She reached her kid paws into the towering tomato vines and plucked. Happily.

“They’re beauties, aren’t they?” she asked.

“They sure are, P,” I agreed.

We ran our fingers over their smooth skin, inspecting the colors, pressing their ripeness.

“What do we do with them?”

I looked at Piper, studying her deprivation. Surely, the kid’s had a tomato. What kind of a mother am I? Her Daddy has a tomato phobia, it’s true, but I know for a fact that Piper’s enjoyed grape tomatoes in her lunch. I packed them myself.

“You eat them, honey. They’re tomatoes. Fresh ones,” I explained, for good measure. I’ve taught grammar to high school students, too, but that doesn’t mean they remember where to put their commas. Sometimes we have to reteach and repeat.

“Can I eat one?”

“Yep,” I said, nodding my head and popping a pearl tomato into my mouth.

Piper picked out a juicy one. She licked. She nibbled. She broke the skin. She stuffed it in her cheek like a squirrel. Her whole face smiled. Tomato juice dribbled down her chin. Pure delight.

Then she leaned over the trash can and spit the whole thing out. “Yuck! They’re sweet. Like candy!”

And the problem is? Maybe it’s genetic.

Olympic Winners

Posted on by
1

We took a little trip down Piper lane tonight. It was longer than expected. Laughter fueled our ride. A good time was had by all. If you need a blast from the short past of piperism or just a quick chuckle to get you through your Olympic viewing (let’s face it-it’s serious business), here are the top viewed piperisms of all time:

Hold On. We’re Going Gaga

Raising Star Wars Girls

Soulmates

Drunk Dialing or Something Like It

Words You Didn’t Know You Needed

There you have it. The top five. The competition was tight. They all put up a good fight. If you were the judge, what piperism would take home the gold?

 

 

Yelp!

Posted on by
2

Do you Yelp? Piper’s Daddy is a true yelp devotee. He checks in all the time everywhere we go. He must know not only what other patrons think of the place but how his own rating is valued. If you’re as devoted as Piper’s Daddy, you, too, can earn a meaningless Yelp rank, such as Earl or Duke.  How do you achieve such Yelp status, you ask? I checked their website.

What is the “Yelp Elite Squad”?

The Yelp Elite Squad is our way of recognizing and rewarding yelpers who are active evangelists and role models, both on and off the site. Elite-worthiness is based on a number of things, including well-written reviews, a fleshed-out personal profile, an active voting and complimenting record, and playing nice with others. Members of the Elite Squad are designated by a shiny Elite badge on their account profile.

As an Elite badge carrying member of Yelp, Piper’s Daddy has risen to the ranks of Duke in our favorite restaurant and two local frozen yogurt establishments. We’re very proud.

Last night we went out to eat. Piper’s Daddy was logging on to Yelp in the car as we pulled into the parking lot. He’s a bit competitive, you see. There could be other restaurant patrons inside just waiting to knock him out of his well-earned Duke position. Piper knows how much it means to him.

“Daddy, did you Yelp?”

“I’m logging in right now. I’ll let you know,” he said.

“Are you the Duke?” Piper asked, excitedly.

“I think so. Just a minute.”

“Daddy, you can be the Duke of my love!”

With that kind of status, who needs Yelp?

The Best Ingredient

Posted on by
2

After my rant about Piper’s numerous food complaints in “I Hate That,” it seems only fair to share how sweet she can be with food she loves.

Last night Piper dragged in a stack of books for me to read to her as I made dinner. I chopped carrots. I read a book. I chopped celery. She read the book back to me. I brought the broth to a boil and added spices. I read another book. I sauteed seitan and put on a pot for homemade noodles. I read another book. I washed asparagus and spinach. She doused it with olive oil. We put rosemary bread in the oven to warm. Then Piper help set the table and we tasted the soup together.

“You know what makes it taste so good, Mommy?”

“Salt?” I guessed.

“Love. You sweeten it all up.”

Yum.

Scoring Big

Posted on by
4

To conclude the birthday week festivities, we had a small party for Piper yesterday morning at the park. It was a breakfast picnic. She invited a few friends from her class. It was blazing hot. We brought watermelon, water balloons, and iced water. There were bubble wands and beach balls. It was just the right size. Alex and Andrew, Piper’s best buddies, were there with competing Lalaloopsy presents. It was an impressive match. Alex won be sheer volume, but Andrew surged ahead when the Lalaloopsy tattoos were revealed. There was a hush among the other six children gathered and then a “Whoa!” The tats were a huge hit. Piper’s Daddy leaned over to Andrew to congratulate him. “Nice. You scored big with Piper,” he said.

Andrew swaggered away to the swing set and called over his shoulder, “I always score big with Piper.”

Birthday Blog: Live Updates

Posted on by
10

It’s today. Pipey’s big day. I know you’ve been anxiously awaiting the 5th birthday as much as we have. It’s here! Let’s celebrate. I’ll be updating this blog throughout the day with piperisms. Be sure to tune it for the funnies!

8:12 a.m. Piper runs into our room to cuddle. She likes to wake up smooth.

8:22 a.m. “Piper, it’s your birthday!” I say.

“It is?” she asks.

“Yes! Happy birthday, baby!”

“Really? Today?”

“Yep. You’re five. Happy birthday!”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I gave birth to you 5 years ago. I remember.”

“Mom, it’s my birthday. Stop being gross.”

“Happy birthday, Piper!”

“Wow,” Piper says. “I’ve been waiting so long to be 5 and a half!”

8:52 a.m. Piper orders her breakfast in bed. She invites Sissy, too. And Cousin Tay. What did she order? Oatmeal. With rainbow sprinkles and chocolate chips.

9:23 a.m. Still eating. Piper is now sporting a chocolate mustache. She says she’s going to wear it all day so she can snack whenever she wants. “You know why I’m so cute?” Piper asks. “If I wasn’t so cute, I’d get in a lot more trouble.”

10:08 a.m. Our neighbors will love us. Piper gets a new drum set:

12:15 p.m. Sunflowers for the Birthday Girl!

1:17 p.m. More drumming. More bongos. More dancing. More singing.

2:03 p.m. Starting to regret the drum set present. What was I thinking?

2:41 p.m. Mandatory nap time. Mine, anyway. Piper asks, “Can I put on a concert while you nap? I’ll be quiet. Promise!”

3:13 p.m. There is a band in our basement. They must have a big show coming up, thus the constant rehearsing.

3:47 p.m. “Mom, can we have basagna for dinner and then go out for frozen yogurt?” Absolutely. I’ll take sweating in a hot kitchen over steaming pots if I’m rewarded by a trip to the mall. They don’t have drum sets there, right?

5:15 p.m. Basagna baking. You haven’t lived until you’ve heard Lady Gaga solo on the drums. Just sayin’.

5:35 p.m. At dinner Piper complains, “I didn’t even get to name myself!”

“What should we have named you?” Dad asks.

“Stella,” Piper says. Of course.

6:32 p.m. Off to Build-A-Bear because a birthday girl has just got to build a bear.

8:32 p.m. Introducing the newest member of our stuffed menagerie: Stella.

Happy Fake Birthday to You

Posted on by
5

We celebrated Piper’s fake birthday today. What’s a fake birthday? It happens when you’re halfway across the country with family that you won’t see on your real birthday so we throw a fake birthday party. There’s cake and candles and presents.

We pretend well. Piper told every single person we saw today that it was her fake birthday. Checkout clerks were impressed. Strangers on the street wished her a happy day. Our waitress would have sang if we hadn’t stopped her.

The best part of your fake birthday is our real birthday tradition, which we borrowed from Uncle Pete’s family. On your birthday (in addition to the breakfast in bed), we also give you a dollar and tell you our favorite thing about you.

So, Happy Fake Birthday, P. Here goes:

What’s your favorite thing about Piper?

Hummingbirds

Posted on by
4

When I grow up I want to be Mrs. Peterman. She is our 78 year old neighbor in Illinois. She mows her front lawn in her bathing suit, has a halo of picked out brown hair, and always wears full makeup. That’s not necessarily the part I aspire to, but it shows you her spunk.

Mrs. Peterman loves really hard. She breaks out in tears of joy every time she sees you. Then she talks your ear off. Some of it is neighborly gossip: who got new windows, who is or is not mowing enough, who had an unfamiliar car stay the night. She means well, though. And she’ll do anything for you, including flirt shamelessly with the guys from the power company to get your street reconnected first after a storm. Mrs. Peterman also bakes the best chocolate chip cookies in Jackson County. That is not an exaggeration. She wins most of the baking contests in the newspaper. If you’re lucky, she’ll make you her sour cream banana bread, too.

The real reason I want to be Mrs. Peterman when I grow up is her positive light. She smiles and laughs and loves. We stopped by yesterday to pay a surprise visit to our old neighbor.

Mrs. Peterman told us that she’d taken a fall lately. She was on a shopping trip to St. Louis with some girlfriends. She has a lot of girlfriends and a packed social calendar. Anyway, one of her friends, who Mrs. Peterman says is “much older and in worse shape than me,” was leaning on her arm and Mrs. P took a tumble. She was bruised a bit, but she bounced back. When she went to the doctor he said, “Sue, I can tell you’re not a complainer. You’re strong, too” and she said, “Is there another way to be?” Piper gets a kick out of Mrs. P’s stories. I think they’re cut from the same spicy cloth. Mrs. Peterman was one of the first to tell me that Piper just needs to be a Piper. She’s a free spirit and she needs to express it, just like Mrs. P.

During our visit Mrs. Peterman said that the approach of 80 was making her a bit tired. She was entirely surprised by this development. She and Piper share a similar energy level. They look like two hummingbirds chattering and darting about the yard when they’re together. Mrs. P told us that she gets invited to a lot of parties. “They want me there because I bring the party. I am the party,” she said. That sounds just like Piper, doesn’t?

Mrs. Peterman also knows her mind. She has her priorities straight: God, family, friends, yard. Even in 100 degree heat, Mrs. P is painting benches, pruning bushes, and pampering her flowers. “You gotta live,” she said. “I’ll take my health more than all of their wealth.” And that’s why I want to be Mrs. Peterman when I grow up.