TheMommyBlog

Saturday, July 26, 2003

Mood:  silly
Each day, when I come home from work, Dylan asks, “Mommy, did you have fun at your car?”

Yesterday, he ran off to go to the potty (loving this, by the way). He came down the hall a few minutes later with his shorts, underwear & shirt all balled up in a turban on his head. I didn’t specifically ask, but he said:

“Look, Mommy! I’m Clothes Head.”

Monday, July 21, 2003

Mood:  accident prone
Gil and the boys are in the mountains, camping. I, ever aware of my own limitations, stayed home, sure that it would not be felicitous to spend three days in 100-degree heat and three nights with the 5 of us in a tent. The guys would be just fine, but I knew that I would crack within 36 hours.

Just to be clear, I cited Daphne’s safety as one of the reasons for staying home.

Let’s review the last 48 hours: the first day was spent sheltering from the 100-degree heat, watching TV and eating McDonald’s and Skittles. Not a properly balanced day for a toddler. That night, we went shopping for brie so I could have my cherished bread-cheese-and-chardonnay dinner. While driving the 2 miles home from the store, I got a speeding ticket. 52 in a 36 zone, in front of a school. Not a balanced day for a responsible parent.

The second day, today, Daphne fell off the rocker once (bump and scratch on her right eye) and the bed twice (lacerations to inside of bottom lip). She looks terrible. Her blankie is covered in blood (but I could not release it from her death grip to put it in the wash), as is her Oxford University t-shirt and my jammies. Luckily, the nurse said they don’t usually suture the inside of the mouth, and we can just avoid citrus for a few days.

What was that I was saying about safety?

Sunday, July 20, 2003

Mood:  incredulous
Gil got up very early today to go play golf. I explained to the kids when they woke up that it was a day for Daddy to go have fun with his friends, and that he’d be back after dinner. This did not please Logan.

“But Logan, don’t you want Daddy to have fun?”

“I want him to have fun, but who’s going to work on that silly, silly patio? Who’s going to work on the project? Somebody HAS to, before the grass dies!

Saturday, July 19, 2003

Logan had an elaborate skit to play today. He squeezed into the space by the trash can in the kitchen so that his tummy was hidden. He made absolutely sure that I wasn’t even thinking of looking at his shirt. He then started counting on his fingers.

“Grocery store…check. Home Depot…check. Hardware store…check. Another Home Depot…check.”

“Do you know why I’m doing this, Mommy?

“Not a clue, honey.”

“Look who I am!”

He pulled away from the wall to reveal his sherrif’s badge pinned to his t-shirt. The same badge Gil’s mother gave him in May when they came to stay. She deputized him to be the Chief, making sure that everything went right.

Friday, July 18, 2003

This morning, Dylan crept into bed with me and snuggled close. After a while, I noticed that he was awake and staring quietly at the ceiling.

“Whatcha thinking about, sweetie?”

“Mmmfmmfmhmhmmnnmnsd.”

“What did you say?”

“Mmmmmnnnhnnnnaannnnmmmmp.”

“One more time, baby, I didn’t hear you.”

“Mmmmshhoommmmhmmmgghh.”

“I’m sorry, honey, I can’t understand what you’re saying. Can you tell me again without your binky in your mouth?”

“I said, I was thinking about talking to you.”