“I’m glad you’re my daddy because you tell me stories. I like the superhero ones and the ones about Amber the toenail eating monster. Even though you say monsters aren’t real. I’m sorry that you can’t eat chocolate. It’s really good. I bought you licorice instead. Sissy said you like it. Oh, and I like that you’re silly.”
-Piper Mae, Father’s Day, age 4
I lost Piper tonight. For maybe three minutes. It was enough to make my mommy heart panic. We were downtown with friends listening to an outdoor Irish Rock band. It was a perfect summer night: kids were playing tag, parents stood in clusters drinking beer, we knew all the songs. And then. Just like that. Piper wasn’t in sight. She’d been told to stay on the grass. Between sentences I counted my kids. 1-2. 1-2. Sissy. Piper. Sissy. Piper. Sissy. Piper? I scanned the outlines of the grass. I walked from corner to corner peeking behind groups of kids. No Piper. I saw her Daddy cross the green lawn. “Where’s Piper?” he said.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m scared.”
“I’ll find her,” he said because that’s what he does.
We went in opposite directions and kept eye contact. The band started back up after their break. Piper wasn’t on the lawn anymore. Then it hit me. Piper would go hear the band. She would dance. I walked to the front of the band stand. She wasn’t there. Then I scanned the crowd for dogs. Because if Piper wasn’t up front with the band and she wasn’t back with the kids, she’d be with the dogs. Then I saw her. Her entire body was curled up on the cobblestone street spooning a huge St. Bernard. He was twice the size of Piper. She took off her headband and tried to put it on the dog. He licked her face. I grabbed Piper by the wrist and hauled her out of the St. Bernard’s lap. I told myself to calm down, to breathe, to be grateful. Piper was never in danger. My heart was.
“You scared me, Piper. You weren’t supposed to leave the grass. You can’t run off without telling me where you are.”
“I was right there,” Piper said, pointing to the dog. “I was right there.”
And she was. It wasn’t far. It was just too far for me.
“Mommy, sometimes when I’m dancing, I fall,” Piper says.
“But that never stops me from dancing.”
Sissy and Piper are attending Peace Camp this week. It’s all about the world and your role in it. Make yourself more peaceful if you want to change the world. It’s a Unitarian Church so we’re all into Thoreau over there. And there’s a dance contest every day, which Piper won, of course.
“My camp counselor said she liked how espresso I was!” Piper said, proudly displaying her stickers. I’m not sure if her verbal slip says more about her dance moves or my love of all things caffeinated.
“Did she say you were expressive?” I asked.
“Yep! That’s it!”
In addition to peaceful dancing, there is storytelling. This is a current favorite:
“If there was more peace maybe the world could be magical,” Piper said. “Maybe.”
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?”
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)
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.
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.
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.
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.
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