Tag Archives: humor

For Your Eyes Only

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Sissy has a top secret diary. A diary is essential when you are 10 years old and it’s PRIVATE, of course. Sissy likes to carry her PRIVATE diary all over the house and accidentally leave it open. She loses it at least twice a day. Piper can’t help but peek. She is a little sister after all.

“Stop looking at my diary!” Sissy screams. “It’s PRIVATE!”

“But I can see it,” Piper protests. “You left it right there.”

Sissy snatches her diary up and slams it shut.

“It’s my diary. It’s PRIVATE. You can’t see it!”

“OK,” Piper agrees, “can I smell it?”

Now You’re in the Baby Book

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Piper is having a playdate today with her best schoolmate Alexandra (Alex around these parts). It’s a huge success.  I define “success” because I’m in my office writing while she and Alex are playing in the room next door. Sure I’m supervising, but it’s not my playdate. Geez. It’s taken almost five years to get to this solo moment, and you better believe I’m savoring it…by blogging twenty feet away about Piper. Don’t ever say I don’t know how to party, right?

Here’s a snippet of what I’m missing (or not missing as the case may be):

Piper: “Say eyeball!”

Alex: “Eyeball! Now you say Goo Goo Ga Ga!”

Piper: “Goo Goo Ga Ga!”

(Screams and giggles)

Alex: “I made you sound like a baby!”

(Screams and giggles)

Piper: “Hey, look at this!”

Alex: “OK!”

Piper: “Made you look! Made you look! Now you’re in the baby book!”

(More screams and giggles)

Piper: “Let’s smack ourselves in the head!”

Alex: “Your mom said we weren’t supposed to do that anymore.”

Piper: “Oh, right. Let’s pat ourselves on the head. Gently.”

Alex: “OK!”

(More screams and giggles)

Life Illustrated: Preschool Edition

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Remember this? Piper was never thrilled about preschool.

What a difference a school year makes.

She wore her purple shirt today, the one with the rainbow, just so that she could draw herself this way.  Her hair had to be in braids. And that little red swirl is a smile on Piper’s face.

Even Before the Coffee: Treasure!

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Ever wake up to find a treasure map in your bed? It happens around here.  Piper and Sissy planned it with their Nana  during our date night. We’d been out late being crazy kids and were woken up at the crack of dawn by two squealing little girls who couldn’t wait to send us on another adventure.

A treasure hunt pre-coffee early Sunday morning? Maps to read and clues to unravel before the New York Times? Sounds uncivilized. I’m game.

So we stumbled off in search of our first clue. Piper was bouncing up and down like a squirrel on crack. It took all the self-control she could muster and her Sissy holding Piper’s hands behind her back to stop her from tearing open the envelopes and giving it all away.

I’m guessing you know how this went. Clue 1 led to my underwear drawer where we found Clue 2 which led to my makeup drawer which led to Clue 3 in the play kitchen in Piper’s room (They tricked us on that one! We went to the wrong kitchen, of course). Clue 4 led us to the bookshelves in the basement which led which led to:

The suspense is killing you isn’t? Finally, the treasure! I was secretly hoping it was a latte. Did I mention I hadn’t had coffee yet and Piper was doing her best imitation of a ping pong ball? Ah, treasure!

The long-awaited and hard-earned treasure was the ceramic butterfly Piper and I painted together last week. My heart melted just a little, I have to admit. It is pretty darn cute. Like most things, the hunt with Sissy and Piper in tow was the real prize. Everyone wins.

Teaching an Old Dog New Tricks

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I didn’t know what to expect when I started blogging. I didn’t know the blogging world existed. I had an idea and a double dog dare. I assumed it would be easy. Turns out it’s taught me more than I expected.  Today is the 163rd day of the year. I’ve posted 156 piperisms. So far, so good. But to reach my goal of 365 piperisms, I’ll need to catch up a bit. Stay tuned. While you’re waiting, here are a few lessons I’ve learned from my brief foray into the blogging world.

1. Pay attention. I watch Piper with a keener eye for her funnies. They come rapid fire. Blogging has helped me be more in the moment as the moment occurs. Piper easily does about 10 things a day worthy of blogging. I try to capture what I can. Sometimes I’m too doubled over laughing to write it down. My apologies. I’ll try to take her more seriously.

2. Be patient. When I first started piperism I would often panic about the next day’s content. What if I can’t come up with anything to blog? What if I’m grumpy and can’t write funny? What if Piper is too busy throwing up, throwing a tantrum, or throwing things at  Sissy to do anything blog credible? It hasn’t happened. Family and friends who have visited during the days of piperism know how this stuff just writes itself. I’ve learned to trust that the post will happen. It does again and again. It will tomorrow, too.

3. Appreciate your fans. My family and friends have been enormously supportive of piperism. They give me ideas. They tell me their own funny piperisms. They’re faithful readers. I couldn’t ask for more.

4. Be grateful to readers. I’ve made friends in the blogging world I’ve never met in real life. Frugalistablog, The Waiting, I’ll Sleep When They’re Grown, Elephants and Rutabagas, Mommysaidaswearword, and Excitement on the Side have been here from the start. These women crack me up. They cheer Piper on. They’re slogging through posts with me. I look forward to reading their blogs, and I’m grateful to have them on my side.

5. Do what you say you’re going to do. The commitment to piperism has helped my writing more than anything else. Every day I’m going to blog. Bird by bird. Step by step. I will write something, even if it’s just a few paragraphs. This summer I’m writing 1000 words a day in addition to piperism. The commitment toward a larger project has been easier more manageable since I’ve started piperism. I said I was going to write. I said it out loud. My bluff was called. Darn it.

Blogging, much like parenting a Piper, has been a welcome education. I didn’t know what I didn’t know. I’ve been humbled by the process. At the end of this year, I’m going to have a cool blog book to give to Piper. Thanks for being a part of it, too. Piper and I are honored that you’re reading.

Free Will or Something Like That

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This is one of the library books I read over and over these days.

Piper loves it because, like the little girl in the story, she thinks kindergarten might be a little scary, too.  The story girl decides to keep a diary about her feelings as she embarks on her new adventure. First, she plans her outfit.

Piper loves this idea because it involves her favorite things: choosing her own clothes, tutus, and rainbow anything. “I think she looks beautiful,” Piper says during our 316th read.

This is what the little girl’s mom actually makes her wear:

See how sad the little girl is? Her mom even made her wear socks. Someone should call protective services. Piper finds this a great injustice. “She’s already scared of school and then her mommy makes her wear something scary, too? Socks are so itchy.” Piper gets this little girl. She wants to fight for her right to dress herself.

The story ends well. No surprise there, huh? The little girl loves kindergarten. She never wants to leave. She forgives her mom for publicly humiliating her by making her look presentable on the first day of school. Piper won’t budge on the issue, though.

“You’d let me wear the first outfit, wouldn’t you?” Piper asks.

I nod, reluctantly. It’s true. This isn’t my first rodeo. I pick my battles. Besides, rainbows and tutus make Piper feel powerful. But I understand the other mommy. I’ve gotten more than a few looks for letting Piper be a Piper.

“You’re a good mommy,” Piper declares, which probably just earned her a pass to wear Mardi Gras beads and a tiara tomorrow, too. With ruby red slippers. Piper believes you can’t over accessorize. Whatever it takes to feel like you can conquer kindergarten and the world.

In Sickness and In Health

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Piper can’t decide if she’s sick today. Her head hurts. Her tummy hurts. She may or may not have strep throat. She has no actual discernible symptoms. No fever. No runny nose. At least not that I can tell. It’s hard to check her temperature when she’s dancing around the living room as Daddy plays the guitar. She’s insisting on only soft foods: homemade waffles, strawberries, mac n cheese. Those happen to be her favorites anyway. How convenient.

“Mom, what’s it mean to faint?”

“Well, you kind of fall over like you’re sleeping. You aren’t really awake.”

“I feel like I’m going to faint,” Piper says, curling up in my lap. I take the opportunity to look down her throat. Nothing. “I need some orange spice tea.”

Then Piper finds a beach ball among the bags at the front door.  Sissy and her friends are throwing a going away party for one of their Dancing Queens. Piper digs deeper in the bags. There’s confetti, water balloons, and cookies.

“Party?” Piper says, “Beach balls? Thank goodness I’m feeling better!”

Beach Balls Mini Inflatable Beach Ball 5'approx. Inflated and 7'approx.deflated 12/Pkg

A Blessing in Disguise

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How is that your kids always figure out your weakest spots and exploit them? Piper spent most of yesterday speaking only in cliches and idioms. I teach college writing; it’s like rubbing salt in my wounds.

“Mommy, will you watch my balloon Lucy while I’m at school? She feels like she doesn’t have a friend in the world,” Piper asked, handing over the ribbon tied to her purple foil love child.

“Of course I will. You can trust me,” I assured her.

“I do. I trust you with all of my heart.” Lucy and I spent the day boxing and bobbing around each other as she trailed me through the house from room to room. Darn helium.

My strategy with cliches and idioms is simply to provide an alternative. It’s not that they are the devil; it’s that there is always a better way to express yourself than relying on pat phrases.

When Piper returned from preschool, I couldn’t hold my tongue any longer.

“How was Lucy?” Piper asked. “Did she have the time of her life?”

“Do you mean was our day successful? Did we get along? Did Lucy behave herself and have fun? Yes, Lucy the balloon did very well.”

“Thanks, Mom. You’re the best mom in the whole world.”

I suppose not all pat phrases are terrible. I can make some exceptions.

Power Corrupts

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The problem with piperism is its intoxicating power. She knows she almost has 30,000 hits. It’s gone to her head. It’s given the Piper a kind of swag previously unseen. If you were in Whole Foods today and you saw a haggard mom and an adorable little blond girl dressed in her crushed velvet emerald green holiday dress (I probably don’t need to explain Piper’s fashion choices at this point, dear reader), you probably witnessed the true corruption of a power like piperism. She knows we find her funny. She can make strangers in the aisle bust a gut. No one can keep a straight face in her presence. It all just encourages her more. Here’s a run down, aisle by aisle, of Piper’s abuse of power.

Fruit and Vegetables: “Mom, those apples look like your boobs!”

Bread Aisle: “Want me to sing the naked song Dad sings every night at bathtime?”

Frozen Foods: “Ice cream! Let’s get ALL of it.”

Dairy: “Jingle bells. Batman smells. Robin laid an egg…”

Canned Foods: “Come on, Mom. You don’t need sauce in a jar. You cook just fine.”

Grains: “Ooh. Let’s get some of that whole wheat pasta that helps me poop.”

You get the idea. She’s completely inappropriate. I have no power against it.

I beg you to stop encouraging her. It’s the only way to bring down the dictator.

The Case of the Absent-Minded Professor

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Piper thinks her dad is a vampire. Here is her evidence:

Dad has black hair and wears a lot of black clothing.

He is kind of pale.

Dad likes to stay up late and sleep in.

He is allergic to garlic.

When I assess Piper’s list, I have to admit it seems rather incriminating. He is an academic (thus the pasty) who takes her to the park in the afternoon (thus staying up late to catch up on work), and he does wear a lot of black (suits, that is, it’s DC folks). The garlic thing is a severe allergy, entirely not his fault.

“You know how I really know Daddy is a vampire?” Piper asked.

I was going to ignore the line of questioning because I’ve been trying to dissuade the topic, but I knew her readers would want to know.

“Ok. How come?”

“Because he’s not a very good rememberer. He forgets his keys, his wallet, his lunch. A vampire doesn’t need those things. He just needs blood. You can’t forget your blood.”