Tag Archives: piperism

Superglue to the Rescue

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Does this look like a place Piper should be playing?

Is it the steep, winding stairs or the potential to plunge to one’s death that attracts Piper? Probably both. How about this?  Does she need to do this?

Why can’t we just visit her sister’s classroom without Piper climbing into a hallway locker? Because she’s Piper.  She’s a risk taker. A brave and crazy soul sent here to test my sanity. She spends most of her day inventing ways to hurt herself.  I spend most of my day keeping her alive.  I’ve lost count of the number of black eyes she’s had.  She’s so banged up and bruised most of the time people give me funny looks in public. I’d have more pictures but I’m busy catching her.  I’d like to stuff her in a little bubble but I know she’d figure out a way to escape or to burst the whole thing.

Rather than running her to the ER for stitches once a week, I bought this:

Now I just superglue her boo boos.  I keep some extra in the car for on-the-go death plunges. But I still have to ask.  As if it’s going to help me much.

“Piper, why do you hurt yourself? Can’t you try to be a little more careful?”

“Well, you see, there’s lots of things in the world and I like lots of space so I can twirl around.” She danced straight into a wall to demonstrate. “And one more thing. I’m little. And I think stuff jumps out at me.”

Soulmates

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Piper met her soulmate a few days after her first birthday.  His name is Augie.

They picked each other out in the toddler room at the university daycare.  Piper knew immediately that he was something special.  Augie has one of those full bellied old man laughs. What more could a girl want? Piper then called every other boy she met “Audie” for a full two years. She really just hoped they’d all be him. Augie’s parents had to bribe him to go to daycare every day with a game they called “What is Piper wearing today?” It probably wasn’t that hard to guess since Piper really only wears the tutu or the rainbow dress, but it was enough to get Augie out the door and reunited with Piper.

Watching your kids make friends is a bonus I didn’t anticipate about parenting.  It feels good when someone likes them.  It’s a gut punch when they don’t. Your kids pick these other people to bring into your little world. It’s a risk. Piper brought us an Augie. We fell in love, too.

Piper is Augie’s personal laxative. He laughs so hard when they are together he…well, you know.  Every single play date. Every outing. Every time. Sometimes he has to come visit just for the cleanse.

When Piper and Augie are together, the rest of us disappear:

Their first official date was to the Longbranch Coffeehouse for Augie’s third birthday. He had his parents drive over in the Subaru to pick her up.  Piper was waiting by the door in the rainbow dress. At dinner, Augie had his standard back beans and rice. Piper ordered the quesidillas and a round of apple juice. She gave him a Mr. Potato Head for his present. Friends know what you like.

We don’t live in the same town as Augie anymore, but they send video messages to each other and say things like “I miss you. You’re my best friend. I need to see you soon.  I love you. I love you. I love you.” When Augie and his family recently visited us, Piper couldn’t sleep because of the anticipation. She waited by the door like a puppy, running back and forth watching the sidewalk for a glimpse of his blond head. After three days of giggling, Augie was empty (see above note regarding laxatives) and Piper was all filled up with love. Saying good-bye got a little rough.

How can you resist your soul mate?  You can’t.  The force is too strong. Even when you meet them before you can walk.

The other day Piper asked, “When Augie and I get married can we live with you guys?”  Of course you can.  I have videos of them bathing together I can’t wait to show their adult selves. Soulmates are forever.

The Stink Eye

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Perhaps the only thing easy about parenting a Piper is that you never have to wonder how she feels.  Most of the time, Piper is joyous.  She bounces about leaping from room to room. She laughs at herself and goes to great lengths to amuse us. She cuddles constantly. She did wait almost two full years to say a word, yet she still managed to get her needs met.  Although she learned sign language, her most effective means of communication was of the nonverbal variety.  If baby Piper didn’t like your answer, you got the stink eye:

It hurt.  The stink eye could burn right through your heart. Ouch.

These days, of course, Piper is all talk all the time.  But if almost big girl Piper doesn’t like your answer, you still get…

…the stink eye. At least she’s consistent.

To the Beat of Her Own Drum

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Piper took a piano lesson last year. Really. Just one.  We have an actual live piano taking up half of our living room, so bribing Piper into lessons seemed logical.  Her sister has been taking for years and fills our house with melodies. I wanted Piper to learn, too. She looks like a natural, doesn’t she? (Note the rainbow dress, once again)

I romantically imagined thirty whole minutes alone with each kid while the other took lessons.  Okay, maybe I was hoping for an hour of reading in the car while parked in the piano teacher’s driveway but anyway…Piper didn’t want to go.  Until she realized that the piano teacher had a dog in the house. For many kids this would be a deal breaker, but Piper has always been unreasonably obsessed with dogs. The bigger, the scarier, the better. She thinks barking and growling is cute. To get her to take piano, I did what any well-intentioned mom would do.  I bribed her.  3 minutes with Fluffy in exchange for 30 minutes at the piano.  I know. I know.  But I thought if I could just get her to try, she’d fall for the piano.  I believed I could manufacture motivation and increase her desire through exposure.  I can hear you snickering at me from afar.

The first lesson actually went okay, but Piper refused to practice afterwards.  Not even for M & Ms. Not even with the promise of more dog love. “I already learned how to play, Mom!  Remember? I took a lesson.”  I reminded Piper that her Sissy takes lessons every week and that she learns something new at each lesson.  Piper ignored me and pounded away on the keys playing piano her own way.  She refused to go back.  I pushed harder.  Bribed more.  Failed.  I kept hearing my grandmother’s voice in the back of my head reminding me that my job as their mother is to help make them the best them they can be not the best me I want them to be. But Grandma hadn’t bought that expensive piano in the living room.  And what if Piper just needed a little encouragement to discover her inner virtuoso? So I gave her a choice.  “What instrument would you like to play?”

“Violin!” she declared pulling a harmonica from the toy box.

“That’s not a violen, honey. It’s a harmonica.”

“Alright, then.  The drums.  I want to be a drummer.  I love to hit stuff!” Then she flew through the house demonstrating her drumming technique on every piece of furniture and person.

 

Lady Gaga is in the Kitchen

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What do you get when you mix the Beatles’ “I’ve Just Seen a Face” with Tom Petty’s “Free Fallin'” and Fleetwood Mac’s “Landslide”?

A perfect Piper mash up.  Try it. Sing along. It goes like this: Now I’m freeeeee, freeeeeee fallin’ down the landslide brings you down to where I’ve just seen a face I can’t forget. La da da dee da da. It almost works.  It’s mighty contagious.

Piper can simultaneously switch melodies and provide running commentary on her misinterpretations of lyrics. The girl has talent.  We’re not sure how to market said talent yet, but you can’t deny it’s there. (See Hold On. We’re Going Gaga for more evidence.)

She truly wants to understand how it all works together, thus the mash up. There’s a clear path of ping-pong ball logic if you’re fast enough to follow it.  On the way to preschool this morning, moments after the above musical mash up, Piper was singing Gaga’s “Telephone” and suddenly realized the true reason Gaga wants you to stop calling.  Stop calling. Stop calling. I’m kind of Kanani.  Kind of Kanani.  (Kanani is the coveted American Girl Doll of 2011):

Kanani American Girl Doll of The Year 2011 Paperback Book

“Of course Gaga wants Kanani, but she can’t buy her anymore.  She’s 2011. That’s why you should stop calling, right, Mom?”  I agreed.  Why keep calling if it’s clear that they are artificially controlling the supply of Kanani so they can drive up the prices?  Geez.  Stop calling, Gaga, or check EBay.

We finally decided that Gaga should really just stick to what she’s good at. Baking, of course. Piper sang, “I’ll get him pie. Show him what I got.” Then she interrupted her own self, which is no small task, to try to understand Gaga’s real mission. “Wonder if he likes strawberry pie? I really like peach, don’t you, Mom? Wonder what kind of pie Gaga likes?” These are rhetorical questions.  Piper doesn’t wait for answers.  “Pokerface” continues to play in the background.  “See!  She said muffin! Cause I’m baking with my muffin. Did you hear that?  She’s just like you, Mom.  She loves to bake.”  It’s true.  I do make a mean blueberry muffin. The Gaga and I have so much in common.  I think Gaga would get a girl like Piper.

I’ll Raise You a Lalaloopsy Part Two: Guest Blogger, Grandpa

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Introducing today’s guest blogger: Piper’s grandpa. He wrote in response to the post I’ll Raise You a Lalaloopsy in which Piper almost successfully negotiated a $400 weekly allowance so she could get one of these:

Here’s what my dad had to say on the chores, allowances, and the lalaloopsy issue:

Dear Piper’s Keeper,

As a seasoned negotiator both in capitalism and with children and allowances (also in getting grandchildren to do chores for next to nothing by offering to teach them a lesson),  I’m freely offering my services to settle this lalaloopsy conflict.

First, I think everyone should get allowances, adults as well as children.

I propose the following for consideration:

  1. List all chores to be done.
  2. List all possible participants.  (It would appear the General Manager has successfully done these items based on the chart)
  3. Give each chore an amount.  Here I would suggest using Lalaloopsy currency since it seems understood by all participants.
  4. Let all participants “bid” on each chore.

For instance, consider the following Lalaloopsy schedule:

  • Cleaning the bathroom is a tough chore if done right: 50 Lalaloopsy
  • Vacuuming is easy stuff, at least I thought so until I learned you had to vacuum the wood floors, too (according to your mom):  20 Lalaloopsy
  • Taking out the trash:  It’s a no brainer, except for remembering to put a new trash bag in the kitchen can before you dump the coffee grounds into it:  5  Lalaloopsy
  • Making school lunches should not be on the chore schedule.  If you want to eat, you should make your lunch.  I have to make my own lunch when I go fishing.  I want to eat when I go fishing.  After all, listening to the radio and eating are mainly the reasons I go fishing.  Consider applying the same reasoning to dinner.
  • Laundry:  What could be easier?  It’s not like we have to go down to the stream and beat the underwear clean on a rock.  The machines do everything.  Three loads, white, dark, and other.  Ironing?  That is what they make jackets and dry cleaners for.  Folding laundry and sorting? That’s what they make dressers for.  Besides, you cannot be responsible for the way your children look in public.  Look around you.  Clearly parents are not.  2 Lalaloopsy
  • Cleaning your room:  Unless you are selling your home, the cleanliness of your room should be up to you.  That is what they make doors for.  Sissy has clearly figured out the chore of keeping her room clean.  She sleeps and plays in Piper’s room while leaving hers set up as a picture session for Modern Decorating Magazine.  She’s also cleverly convinced Piper that she sleeps in her room to make Piper more comfortable. Lalaloopsy value? Priceless.

Now, here is the important part.  Have everyone bid on each chore for the amount of Lalaloopsys they think it’s worth.  For example, I love to buy groceries.  I would bid 1 Lalaloopsy on that chore in order to hopefully win it.  Consider that there are only two of you who can drive to the store so it will come down to you and Joe to get this bid.  Joe is not a good shopper.  He is a good list buyer.  You, as the General Manager, can easily make a case for this chore.

Have open bidding, auction style.  I would suggest you watch Storage Wars to get the idea. If you want help setting my proposal and/or the auction up, let me know. I will be happy to bid on it.

With love,

A content grandpa, dad, and husband

I’ll Raise You a Lalaloopsy

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Saturday morning in our house means chores.  I’m known as the general manager, which is a kind of chore, right? Sure it is.  The negotiation of chores in our house is one effective way to avoid the actual doing of chores. It goes something like this:

Magnets get moved until there is shalom in the home.  Or until the general manager declares the negotiations over and begins shouting about doing the actual chores. This week, though, the girls brought an old grievance to the family meeting: allowances.  I’m not opposed to allowances.  Kids can learn a lot from money management. I just can’t remember to give them regularly and I never have actual cash in my purse.  I’ve asked, but these kids won’t let me swipe my debit card. So, we asked how much allowance they thought was fair.

Piper opened the negotiations. “$400 sounds reasonable.”

Laughing all around. “How about $1 per week?” Her dad countered.

Piper let out a loud sigh. “$100 is enough.  That’s fine.”

“I’m willing to raise my offer to $2 per week.”

“No.”

Dad tried to rationalize. “We don’t seem to be getting anywhere. You’re supposed to suggest a number closer to ours.”

“No.”

“So, you don’t want an allowance?” I asked.

“Wait,” Piper said, “how much does a Lalaloopsy cost? That’s how much I want.”

I shook my head. “I don’t even know what that is.”

“I think $5 is a good amount for me,” Sissy suggested. Ever the voice of reason. “Or maybe we should get $1 for our ages.” Did she just up her own offer?

Piper, who claims she doesn’t know her numbers, did the math and came up immediately with the difference. “That’s $4 more. Why does she get more than me? What’s up with that?”

“I do more chores,” Sissy said.  “I get more money. I’m older. That’s fair.”

“Fair? What’s up with that? How many Lalaloopsies does she get?”  Suddenly, Lalaloopsy  became our currency and we were stuck in a Seinfeld episode.

Clearly, the general manager is going to need a raise.

Hoarding for Beginners

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Please send help.  Call one of those hoarding shows.  We have a problem.  During a perfectly lovely playdate this afternoon my friend’s baby pulled himself up on the ottoman in our living room and moved the lid ever so slightly.  Just enough for me to discover what Piper had been hiding inside:

Yes, those are dirty socks hoarded away in the ottoman.  And a few pairs of underwear for good measure.  The culprit is clear. The rainbow puppy paw prints on the size 4T undies really gave it away. Apparently, when you’re watching TV on the couch in our house and feeling…shall we say…constricted… you strip off the offending clothing and stuff it in our ottoman.  For weeks. You can put your leftover cereal in there, too, rather than walk the ten feet to the kitchen. Do I need to tell you about the smell?  I couldn’t help myself. I had to ask. “Piper, why did you stuff your dirty clothes and leftover food in there?”

“I’m saving it.”

“For what?”

“Later.”

I understand that kids hoard. They collect stuff, like trash. Some even do so for a useful purpose.  Maybe even like this:

This is what Piper’s big sister does with her own hoarding.  She creates sockfits, which is a full line of Barbie clothing made out of mismatched socks. She designs and sews them herself. Somehow, this hobby has moved my response from reproachful disdain to admirable frugality. Our friends now save the orphaned socks from their laundry and bring them over to our house for fashionable recycling. Piper’s hoarding, though, hasn’t yet evolved.  She’s still in the denial phase.  She doesn’t have a problem.  Isn’t it normal to sleep in a bed with 34 stuffed animals? And doesn’t everyone need seven baby blankets to keep warm at night? There’s hardly a spare inch in the bed for the little hoarder.  And that’s exactly as she likes it.

A Rainbow of Fruit Flavors

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Guest Blogger, Sissy, Age 9:

When Piper was still just an idea, my mom, dad and I were thinking up all sorts of names for the soon-to-be little sibling. Since I was only five I was picking lots of very unusual names for this new child. My favorite was Rainbow. I pushed and pushed for that name and in the end we came to a compromise; the name Iris meaning goddess of the rainbow. Obviously the name did not stick. I’m sort of sad it didn’t, for now it really does suit her, though not as much as Piper. The reason such a strange name would fit? Her wardrobe. You name the clothing article, she has it in rainbow. A rainbow dress, pants, nightgown, bathing suit, and hair accessories. She’s been wearing rainbow this and that since she was little:

I wouldn’t be surprised if she had rainbow underwear. It’s actually grown to be her favorite color. And when I (or anyone else) tried to tell her that rainbow is not in fact a color, but multiple colors, she does not take it very well. “Rainbow is too a color, Sissy! Don’t you  know anything? Hey, first one to touch Sandy wins!” This is Piper’s way of changing the subject. She sure is a colorful one.

In case you missed my other guest blog on doing puzzles with Piper, click here.

Sometimes You Get What You Need Part Two

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I didn’t know I needed a Piper until I got one.  For those readers who know Piper’s older sister, you won’t be surprised when I admit to being a Superior Parent.  That’s someone who has such an easy, well-mannered, logical first born that they assume everyone else is just doing it wrong.  Piper’s older sister was potty trained in about two minutes.  I just sat her down and explained the process and how we could spend more money on adult beverages and toys if we didn’t have to buy diapers.  It made complete sense.  Potty training was complete.  I think she’s disobeyed me exactly once in her lifetime. I’m hoping she’ll do more. We were a happy family of three type A overachievers living in an ordered world and along comes a Piper.

In her defense I had fair warning.  My entire pregnancy was like that scene from the movie Alien where you can make out the body parts through the stomach skin. My midwife once stood back in awe and said, “Well. I’ve never seen that before.” I’m pretty sure baby Piper was break dancing in there.  She intended to make a mess of my world.  And she did.  And I’m glad every hilarious, sometimes frustrating minute. Snuggling on the couch this afternoon, Piper asked, “Mommy, what did you laugh about before you had me?” I honestly can’t remember.  She teaches me every day how little control you can have over a force like love.

In case you missed it, here’s Sometimes You Get What You Need Part One.