Piper was worried I’d forget her while I was traveling for work so she packed a little something special in my suitcase. Here’s what I found while hanging up my suits in my hotel last night.
I’m not sure if the purse is going to match, but surely I can slip a little jewel in my pocket during my presentation. It looks like I may have scored the Hope diamond.
How could I forget a Piper? Impossible.
I’m leaving today for a conference. I spend 363 days per year with the Piper. I’ll be gone for two whole days. And yet Piper stalked me all night. Every hour her little face was at the side of the bed. “Are you still here?” She crawled in bed and cuddled like her baby self used to. We snuggled and snoozed. Then I put her back in her bed, but she found me again.
“You’ll be in here in the morning, right?” She opted to keep me in her sight. I opted to add layers and layers of mommy guilt. It’s hard to leave. We’re still umbilically connected.
“I’ll be back, P. Mommies always come back. Grandma and Grandpa and Daddy will be here. You’ll have so much fun you won’t even know I’m gone.” I said all the right stuff. I’ve made all the right arrangements. This shouldn’t be so hard, this leaving thing, but it is.
“But when will you be back?” Piper asked.
“Two days. That’s it. I’ll be back Sunday.”
“Why do you have to go?”
“For work, honey. I’m presenting research at a conference. It’s part of my teaching. It’s an exciting opportunity for me. Aren’t you proud of me?”
Piper nodded. “I just wish you didn’t have to go,” she said with big, sad eyes. I looked at the clock. 2:34 a.m. And I let her stay.
Halloween is upon us. At least that what my mail full of costume catalogs indicates. Piper can’t decide what she wants to be. It’s a daily drama. “I want to be a cowgirl. No. I want to be Dorothy from Wizard of Odd (you read that right). No. Maybe I’ll be a turtle. Or a fairy.” It goes on and on.
Sissy’s decided, though. “I think I’ll go as Piper (you read that right, too).”
I hadn’t realized that Piper has become a Halloween persona.
“Oh, that will be hard,” Piper said.
“Why? All I need is a tutu and rainbow stuff,” Sissy said.
Piper looked down at her tutu and rainbow shirt. She may have noticed her rainbow striped pants and sparkly headband. You know, dear reader, that I let Piper dress herself and sometimes I have to admit that she does look like she’s wearing a costume.
“Oh know. You’ll have to have the tutu, the rainbow shirt, the colorful bracelets, the braids, the jeweled headband, the sparkly sandals, the tattoos, the rainbow puppy underwear, and all the other stuff.”
“That’s a lot,” Sissy said.
“It’s not easy being a Piper. I don’t just come in a catalog, you know.”
Not really. Just my birthday. In our house that means we’re busy prepping. Not like this:
We prep for fun. And chocolate. Piper’s dad took Sissy and her to the mall today. They were prepping. They each chose one essential ingredient for our survival kit. Piper chose “Godiba.”
“Mom likes tea, too. And coffee,” Daddy suggested.
“No. Godiba.” Piper is an insistent prepper. We expect her to lead our doomsday team.
“How about a book? She loves to read.”
“No. Godiba.”
“Something for her running?”
“No. Godiba. Then she’ll share it with me.”
Piper is the brains of our survival, too.
We packed a picnic for Sunday Funday and went to the monuments. The Lincoln Memorial has always been our favorite. Piper likes it, too.
Our friends, Corey and Robyn, met us there. They’re the kind of smart, interesting women I hope Piper and Sissy grown into being. And they like our kids, so clearly they have impeccable taste.
I made guacamole, which is one of Piper’s true loves. Robyn made lentil salad with goat cheese. Yum. Piper’s dad whipped up a Greek pasta salad. It was a crowd pleaser. We topped it all off with sponge cake and fresh berries.
Then we played frisbee and softball and walked around the mall. We had time to play, you see, because there weren’t dishes to do. That’s my favorite part about a picnic. You sit and eat and lounge and chat and eat some more. The kids run around and you don’t have to chase them. Delicious.
Piper almost fell in the reflecting pool several times. She blamed it on the sidewalks. What else could it be?
Following her antics, Piper told Corey “My mom embarrasses me. Not as much as my Dad, but that’s still a lot.”
Who hates Whole Foods? Piper. She thinks the entire store is conspiring against her. “It’s so cold!” she complained as we shopped. “Why do they make it so cold?”
“I’m guessing because they want to keep the food fresh,” I suggested.
“No. They want me cold. This store hates me.”
“I really don’t think it’s personal, Piper.”
We let Piper and Sissy pick out their own dinners from the food bar. As we were eating, Sissy asked if Piper liked the pizza. “It’s really tasty,” Piper admitted, “but I still don’t like this place.”
“How can you dislike an entire store? Just look at my yummy salad,” Sissy said.
“Whole Foods doesn’t like me either,” Piper said.
“I’m not sure they know you, P”
“Oh, they do.”
“But you hate everything,” Sissy said.
Piper thought for a minute. Then agreed. “That’s true. I do.”
It was a wild Friday night. Piper and I made banana bread. Then we ate all the banana bread. Okay, we shared a few creamy butter slathered slices with Sissy and her friends. Then we all gathered around a game of Whoonu. What? You’ve never played Whoonu? It’s the perfect family game. And it’s especially fun if you have visitors.
The idea is that you’re guessing each other’s favorite things. You draw four cards. Each card has a word like bowling, lemonade, painting your nails, back rubs, strawberries, cartoons, etc. The crowd tries to guess what things the designated person likes best. The designated person has to leave the room or promise not to peek. Then the designated person rank orders their favorites. If you guess correctly, you get the most points. Then everyone says “Whoonu?” as in “Gosh. I’ve been married to you for fifteen years and I didn’t know you loved poodles?” It’s a hoot.
The real fun starts when Piper feigns her disappointment in our ability to guess anything about her correctly. Suddenly she hates ballet and cartoons and tutus. She also hates playing, the color blue, and parties. Surprising, yes? Shocking, really. It’s part of her charm while playing Whoonu to be utterly upset because we people who live in her house don’t seem to know her at all. Sometimes she can work up a tear or two because she is clearly so unloved. Last night Sissy gave her “dogs,” which happens to be Piper’s favorite thing on the planet. “Sissy, how could you?” Piper shook her head in outrage.
“What? You love dogs.”
“You people don’t know me at all.”
Here’s a conversation I overhead last night when Piper’s daddy was giving Piper a bath.
I was, of course, hiding in the other room checking Facebook catching up on work email.
Piper: “Dad, do you want to play 50 questions?”
Dad: “Do you mean 20 questions?”
Piper: “You’re right. That’s too many. How about 1 question?”
Dad: “Okay. One question. I’ll start. Do you ever pick your nose?”
Piper: “Yes. A lot.”
Giggle. Giggle. I think I heard Dad high five her.
Dad: “Okay. Here’s another one. What’s the last thing you think about at night?”
Piper: “My family. Or what I did at school that day.”
Dad: “Your turn.”
Piper. “That’s more than one question, you know. Don’t you know how to play this game?”
Piper’s latest obsession is making collages. This involves dragging things out of the craft closet, cutting everything into tiny pieces, and then gluing them onto a surface. Sometimes the surface is paper. Sometimes it’s a hat. One time it was her shoe. “I’m collaging!” she says, wiping a glue stick on Barbie’s leg and pressing red beads all over it. It looks like Barbie has an infectious disease. She should probably see a doctor. Barbie that is. As far as I can tell, Piper’s “collages” are perfectly healthy.
I blame it on the art table. A few weeks ago in a massive reorganization (I had a syllabus to write and therefore began cleaning out every drawer in the house in order to procrastinate) we moved the art table from storage to Piper’s room. She needed a space to sit and “write” and play games. The art table needed to be used. Or else.
Making a collage is how Piper likes to unwind after a long day of kindergarten. She’s been making a lot of collages. Mostly for me. My birthday is coming up so each collage becomes an early gift. That is until her dad walks in the room. Then Piper takes the collage out of my hands and presents it to him. “I made this for you, Dad!” I should protest, but I know there will be more collages. Many more.
You might remember Piper’s obsession with Jack Handy’s Deep Thoughts. Lately, she’s been writing her own. Here’s one she made up at breakfast yesterday.
(I should also mention that Piper’s Daddy had jury duty this week. It was a robbery case. ‘Burglar’ is Piper’s favorite new word.)
“When I think of burglars, I think of burgers. And then I think ‘yum.'”
Come on. Admit it. She’s adorable, isn’t she? Funny, too. Unless you’re a burger.
piperism 