At breakfast this morning Piper told us she was going to knock the socks of her swim teacher.
“Really? How are you going to impress them?” I asked.
“Backstroke? Forward crawl?” Sissy suggested.
“Nope. I’m going to show them my special move,” Piper said. “I call it the dolphin sparkle. I invented it on my own. They’ve never seen it before. No one has. They probably won’t even recognize it.”
Parenting happens gradually. So does independence. At least I think so. It feels like yesterday Piper was nursing, attached to my body. Last week she told me she could walk home alone from school. Detached. I walked ten feet behind her, of course, but she wanted to be out of my sight.
She’s becoming more independent. Sometimes I don’t even realize it until I turn around and find her fully dressed and almost ready to walk out the door. Who undressed her? Who picked out her clothes? Who helped her pull that shirt on? Piper. How did that happen? Sometimes it doesn’t.
Independence seems to be two steps forward, one step back. And just because Piper can doesn’t mean she will. And then sometimes she wants to and can’t. She’s still Piper.
This is how our chore chart has changed over the last year of blogging:
The best part? Dad and I are no longer on it. Believe me, we still have plenty of chores. We’re not lazing about on the couch eating grapes while Cinderella and her sister do our bidding, although that would be nice, too.
Sissy and Piper have simply taken on more. Sissy does a couple loads of laundry a week (sort, wash, fold) and then gets to boss Piper around putting it away. They set the dinner table and I don’t have to show them how anymore. They mostly remember their snacks and water bottles on their own. Sometimes I have to remind them but I don’t have to pack them. They clean up their dishes and put them in the dishwasher. They unpack their lunchboxes and wash them. They clean their rooms, reluctantly but independently. I’m not saying they do any of their chores perfectly, but they do them and that’s probably more important than my standards.
My standards have evolved gradually, too. Parenting, as hard as it is, makes me better, too. Who knew that was going to happen? Certainly not me. Whew.
This morning while packing lunch boxes, making waffles, and overseeing a fairy game under my feet, I listened to a report on NPR about sleep deprivation in children. It’s no surprise, really. Our 24-7 world isn’t good for us. Shocker. Kids need sleep. Parents do, too. The problem is our scheduling. Or, more specifically, our overscheduling.
Like most things in parenting, it’s a tough balance between ‘will Piper be ready for Harvard?’ and ‘has Piper licked up enough dirt in the backyard today?’ I want both. But I have to prioritize. I worry all the time if I’m choosing wisely. I protect our down time fiercely. Two afternoons a week Piper and Sissy have activities. They choose. Mad Science, ballet, piano. Two afternoons a week they don’t. I choose. Board games, books, library, walks. Fridays are always, always for play dates and fun. Saturdays are a mad catch up day. Sometimes I blow off a whole day of scheduled events for a day of nothing. Sometimes we spend all day at a museum downtown. I don’t know if these are the best solutions. I just know what my gut and my kids feel.
Every day I receive another announcement in the mail about the awesome summer camps and summer opportunities in our community. I’ve lived in plenty of places without any such offerings. I would have driven an obscene amount of miles in rural Illinois for a real Math Camp. Now I have six in my backyard. It doesn’t make the decision any easier. What I do notice is how many excuses I find for NOT putting Piper in back-to-back-to-back camps over the summer. It’s too expensive. She doesn’t want to go. We’re traveling. I don’t want to battle DC traffic. Some of my excuses are more valid than others. My goals are always the same. I want to slow things down. I want some balance among the fray. I want Piper and Sissy to not feel as wedded to the clock as I do.
This morning at breakfast Piper analyzed the equal or not so equal distribution of Nutella among the squares in her homemade waffle. It mattered. The perfect bite is not so perfect if it doesn’t have the correct amount of chocolate hazelnut spread. Then we discussed the rationale behind my insistence that she use either a paper napkin or a brown towel (not the new white towels!) to clean the Nutella smears from her face. It was a lesson in logic and consequences. Piper had 42 questions. Sissy answered 41 of them. I waited for my espresso to kick in. And I wondered out loud if making a homemade whole wheat waffle countered the processed sugar spread? I still don’t know, but Piper and Sissy seemed content with the choice.
Our chore chart lives on. Every month or so it needs reorganized. Negotiations rule the discussion. There are a lot of gray areas.
“I cleaned my room, but I forgot to put up a magnet. Now it’s dirty again. Does that count?” Piper asked.
“It doesn’t count. You have to clean your room again,” Sissy said.
“Fine. But I’m putting up two magnets then. And then, I may just mess it up again.”
It’s spirit week at school. On Monday Piper wore her pajamas. I don’t really know what wearing your pjs to school has to do with spirt, but gosh, it’s fun. Piper and Sissy cracked themselves up getting dressed in the living room (that’s where we keep piles of clean clothes these days) changing from their night pajamas to their carefully selected day pajamas.
Today was wacky tacky day. Again, I have no clue how this promotes school spirit but who doesn’t want to dress a little crazy now and then and get away with it? Piper wore three headbands. Sissy wore ponytails on top of her head. They chose crazy mismatched clothes and two separate shoes. At dinner they reported on their wacky tacky sightings.
“Did you see the girl in her bikini?” Piper asked.
“Yep. She was on the playground with me. She looked cold,” Sissy said.
“Yeah. That skirt didn’t seem to cover much if you know what I mean.”
“Oh, I do, sister.”
“Some boys in my class spiked their hair,” Piper reported.
“Mine, too. Boring.”
“Yeah. Anyone can spike their hair.”
“Did you see the girl with underwear on her head?” Sissy asked.
“I did,” Piper said. “Does that mean she wasn’t wearing any underwear you-know-where?”
“Gosh. I really hope not.”
Piper thinks a lot of things are awesome. Like museums on Sunday Funday and elevators. And most things in between. Her joy can’t be contained. It shouldn’t be either. Take a look.
“Piper, what did you think?” I asked.
“It was awesome! Let’s ride it down!”
Piper and Dad were driving to ballet lessons yesterday when Piper saw a neighborhood watch sign.
“Dad, how come burglars always dress in black?”
“They don’t want to be seen. If you were black at night, you blend in more.”
“If the house is yellow, shouldn’t the burglar wear yellow?” Piper asked.
“Maybe. But if it’s dark, they’d stand out wearing yellow. Then they might get caught.”
“If I were a burglar, I’d only break into rainbow colored houses. They’d never see me!”
This note came back to us in Piper’s homework folder yesterday. 
Apparently, Sissy was helping Piper with her homework the night before. Piper didn’t receive words for the word sort assignment. Sissy took it upon herself to communicate appropriately to the teacher.
Thank goodness someone is parenting the Piper. When I grow up, I want to be Sissy.
Most kids have a rough spot in their day. Usually, it’s the dinner/bath/bed hour in which they simultaneously move like molasses and collapse from exhaustion/overstimulation. Sissy and Piper have grown beyond that. They’re older. They party like rock stars these days. We have to end their nightly fun and beg them to sleep.
Mornings, however, can be trying. They don’t want to wake up. Then they want to linger over their hot cups of tea for an hour. The mad dash for the door happens in about 3 minutes. Clothes/teeth brushing/hair combing/backpacks in 90 seconds or less. We have no valid excuse for the morning crazy. School doesn’t even begin until 9:15 a.m. Wouldn’t you love hours like that? Our mornings would probably be more efficient if we weren’t pausing to crack up at a piperism every few minutes. Here’s a run down of why we were late this morning. Again.
7:40 a.m. “Mom, I had a dream last night! I was being chased by chipmunks. And I was completely naked. Except for my tiara, of course.”
8:10 a.m. “This tea tastes like sunshine in a cup. A cup of love. But I think it gives me gas, too.”
8:14 a.m. (calling through the open door from the bathroom) “Yep. It gave me gas. I’m going number 3 in here. That’s when you peefartpoop all at once!”
8:32 a.m. “I love that John Lennon song. You know, Imagine. The one Sissy learned on the piano for your birthday last year. I hope someday you’ll join us and the world WILL BE MINE.”
8:38 a.m. “My breakfast is cold now. Would someone heat it up for me?”
8:44 a.m. “Sissy! I’m getting dressed in here. All by myself. It’s a hoot. I’m going to need some accessories. Some bling. You can’t go to school with anything less than three accessories, you know.”
8:52 a.m. “How am I supposed to decide which of my favorite stuffed animals to sneak into my backpack when everyone’s yelling about being late to school? Geez.”
Then, we stumble toward the door. Sissy and Piper are mostly fed, somewhat organized, almost completely groomed, usually happy.
“Dad, did you have imaginary friends when you were a kid?”
“Yes. I did.”
“Dad, what was the name of your imaginary friend?”
“I can’t remember.”
“Well, then you must not have been very good friends.”
piperism 