Can you be a bag lady at age 7? Peyton has a problem. She constantly fishes stuff out of my office trash and finds ways to play with it or recycle it into a toy. Yes, I agree, some "green thinking" is good...but that's not what this is. I open bills and throw away the envelopes. Days later I'm getting them back stuffed with "love notes" with my name scribbled across the front and the flap taped shut with about sixty pieces of tape. At first I was curious as to why OG&E was addressing my bills to "mommy" in purple crayon.....when I asked her to please not dig in the trash for envelopes, Peyton responded by simply asking me to just not throw them away so she wouldn't have too. Oh, and by-the-way, could I please use the letter opener so it was easier to tape her "letters" shut?
Another obsession she has is digging out every single receipt I throw away and storing it in her room. She calls them her "tickets" and she plays store with them. That's all well and good, except I really don't need her playing "store" with daddy and showing him all the receipts mommy had thrown away from all the stores! Especially when he asks "Where did you get all of these?" and she announces, very proudly, "Oh, I have LOTS!" Thanks Peyton.
Maybe this is why she never throws anything away. She sees treasure in trash. Empty toilet paper holders become decorative instruments. Old magazines become sources for collages and pictures. Old make-up gets used on baby dolls and, oh yes, herself. She and the cat even fight over plastic bottle tops! One day maybe I will appreciate her ability to recycle and make use of things that others see as disposable. In our "throw away" society that likes to "throw away" people it sees as valueless, like the elderly or disabled, maybe she will champion a cause to rescue them.
Or maybe, Peyton's just a little trashy.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Monday, September 27, 2010
Labor Pains
Not long ago, as we were riding in the car, Peyton asks, "Mom, will you be there for me when I go into labor?" Huh? Did I hear her right? Does she mean "labor union" or did she actually mean "labor", labor? What kind of question is this from a seven year old child? "Of course I will Peyton. But why are you worried about this now?" "I'm just thinking about it and I'm pretty sure I will want my mom there." Okay...... I let her know I was pretty sure her husband will want to be there as well. That didn't seem to concern her as much as having her mommy in the delivery room. Did she somehow know the details of labor and delivery? The pain and the agony that descends upon you like the darkness before the dawn? The overwhelming urge to cuss like a pirate and swear never to allow your husband to touch you again?? Did she somehow know all this???? Actually, after further questioning, I learned she was actually more concerned with me being there so I can watch the baby while she's "busy". I didn't ask what she thought she'd be busy doing...... This obsession with labor, delivery, and general child rearing has gone on for about six months now. Her baby dolls are constantly by her side and she seems to enjoy dealing with the constant barrage of illness and discipline problems they cause her. I knew that all of this would eventually lead to the inevitable question: Why can't MOM have another baby?? When she finally brought it up, I simply explained that I was old and tired and that it wouldn't be happening. Sorry. She thought a minute and then asked me why I couldn't just run down to the "shelter" and pick her up a brother? I guess in her mind adopting a child is like going to the pound for a puppy? I imagine she would also want it to have all it's shots and have some kind of guarantee as well. Little does she know that she can't barricade a real baby in a laundry basket while she's at school all day so the cat doesn't nibble on its hands and feet nor can she leave them wrapped in sweatshirts on the foot of her bed while she watches TV. Although, I think I read somewhere that's what "Octomom" does...... | draft |
Monday, September 20, 2010
Wardrobe Malfunction's
Both of my girls have always had a flair for fashion. I have always tried to let them express themselves (within reason) by choosing what they want to wear. Parker was my princess. She loved the frills and bows and fluff that goes with being a girl and was content for quite a while with what I picked out for her to wear. Peyton? Not so much.
Last week was picture day at school. After reminding her, I sent her off to her room to decide what to wear. She returned with a skirt, a pair of shorts and some shoes. "Aren't you missing something? Where's your shirt?"
"This is my shirt." She said, holding up the skirt. "Im going to wear this as my shirt with a little sweater over it to cover my shoulders."
WHAT? She wanted to wear a skirt as a strapless top. Creative, I must admit, but appropriate? No. And definately not something that was "safe" for school. I mean, how long would it take before it got caught on something and pulled down??? I brought up all of these reasons not to wear it, but she was not easily disuaded. A twenty minute argument insued on the perils and fauxpas of wearing a skirt as a shirt and finally ended with me using the old reliable parental excuse "BECAUSE I SAID SO!"
Her latest attempt at fashion was to try and wear a slip...thats right, a SLIP.....white, lacey and donned with a little pink bow, as a tunic over a pair of jeans. "Are you serious?" Surely she knew this wasn't something you wore outside the house by itself. "Yeah, why not??"
Oh Peyton.
This time the argument didn't last as long when I convinced her that it was basically equivlant to wearing your underware outside your pants and how embarassing that would be. "Really?" She looked horrified and skipped off to find something else.
Of course, this is a child who once tried to a pair of boots with everything through four seasons. I finally had to hide the boots up high in a closet so she would quit showing up with them on as we were trying to leave the house. It was exhausting.
Just the other morning I went to wake her up from school and as she rolled over and uncovered she had on a pair of purple, fingerless gloves. Yep. She slept in them.
Fashion isn't dead. It's just sleeping with Peyton.
Last week was picture day at school. After reminding her, I sent her off to her room to decide what to wear. She returned with a skirt, a pair of shorts and some shoes. "Aren't you missing something? Where's your shirt?"
"This is my shirt." She said, holding up the skirt. "Im going to wear this as my shirt with a little sweater over it to cover my shoulders."
WHAT? She wanted to wear a skirt as a strapless top. Creative, I must admit, but appropriate? No. And definately not something that was "safe" for school. I mean, how long would it take before it got caught on something and pulled down??? I brought up all of these reasons not to wear it, but she was not easily disuaded. A twenty minute argument insued on the perils and fauxpas of wearing a skirt as a shirt and finally ended with me using the old reliable parental excuse "BECAUSE I SAID SO!"
Her latest attempt at fashion was to try and wear a slip...thats right, a SLIP.....white, lacey and donned with a little pink bow, as a tunic over a pair of jeans. "Are you serious?" Surely she knew this wasn't something you wore outside the house by itself. "Yeah, why not??"
Oh Peyton.
This time the argument didn't last as long when I convinced her that it was basically equivlant to wearing your underware outside your pants and how embarassing that would be. "Really?" She looked horrified and skipped off to find something else.
Of course, this is a child who once tried to a pair of boots with everything through four seasons. I finally had to hide the boots up high in a closet so she would quit showing up with them on as we were trying to leave the house. It was exhausting.
Just the other morning I went to wake her up from school and as she rolled over and uncovered she had on a pair of purple, fingerless gloves. Yep. She slept in them.
Fashion isn't dead. It's just sleeping with Peyton.
"If I shave my back, do I still have to wear a shirt?"
It has come to my attention that my 7 year old daughter is way more popular than I am. Her public is demanding that her antics be shared on a more frequent and detailed basis. This is not meant to leave out her wonderful big sis, Parker. But lets face it, Parker was a child of the video age. We have endless photographs and videos of Parker in her adorableness from the time she was too little to care on up to and covering her humiliation at being asked "stupid" questions just so we could record it on tape. Peyton is a child of the digital age. She had her first Utube video posted when whe was 5 (talent show--see link) and has multiple pictures stored, not in a huge box in a closet beside her sister, but on a hard drive on mommy's computer. It's sad really. If someone broke in the house and went strictly by what they found cataloged and stored in boxes, Peyton may not exist. For this reason, (and maybe more for the reason that alzheimers runs in the family), I've taken to sharing her little quirks and daily "funnies" digitally too-via Facebook posts.
I should've known I was in trouble when she came out in full make-up for the first day of Kindergarden. Im not talking a little sparkley eyeshadow and some lip gloss. Im talking full-on contrasting eye color, mascara, blush, powder and frosted pink lipstick. The argument that ensued over why exactly she had to wash her face left me wondering why I was having to have this discussion at least 8 to 10 years ahead of schedule. Who was this child? Did someone switch my innocent baby girl with a minature woman when I wasn't looking? I won the battle on that day, but have had several moments since then when I've looked over at her during church and wondered, "Is she wearing mascara?" The answer was yes. My disapproving look was met with a "what?" and a shrug of tiny shoulders. Oh boy.
Peyton just has a different way of thinking. And it's highly entertaining. This is a child who announced to me not long ago that several of her dolls had cancer. Yes, that's right, cancer. "How do you know?" I asked. "Because Mom, they have no hair!" Duh mom. More rolling of the eyes. At first I was disturbed, but then I watched how carefully she was caring for them. Tending to them, wrapping their wounds carefully, pretending to feed them and soothe them. Maybe, I thought, this is a nurse in training. Maybe this is good practice for dealing with things that, as adults, terrify us. Or maybe, she's just practicing being a good mom. Regardless, I decided not to let it disturb me any longer.
She has a funny way of looking at herself too. I love that she refers to her round little belly as "her chunkiness". She's always been pretty confident even though she is starting to have that confidence challenged (blasted little schoolmates!). I still love it when she's changing clothes and runs through the house yelling "Nakey Squeezes!" and hugging everyone. She's really outgrown that now, but it gets a replay now and again when she thinks of it. However, now it's more likely that she will run through the house in an old discarded bra she found in the Goodwill donation bag in my bedroom, stuffed with socks and asking everyone what we think. Her dad covers his eyes in embarassment and looks at me as if to ask why I have no control over her. Little does he know, this is the least of his concerns! I have a feeling we are in for quite a ride with this one.......and I haven't even told him that she has started shaving her legs........
I should've known I was in trouble when she came out in full make-up for the first day of Kindergarden. Im not talking a little sparkley eyeshadow and some lip gloss. Im talking full-on contrasting eye color, mascara, blush, powder and frosted pink lipstick. The argument that ensued over why exactly she had to wash her face left me wondering why I was having to have this discussion at least 8 to 10 years ahead of schedule. Who was this child? Did someone switch my innocent baby girl with a minature woman when I wasn't looking? I won the battle on that day, but have had several moments since then when I've looked over at her during church and wondered, "Is she wearing mascara?" The answer was yes. My disapproving look was met with a "what?" and a shrug of tiny shoulders. Oh boy.
Peyton just has a different way of thinking. And it's highly entertaining. This is a child who announced to me not long ago that several of her dolls had cancer. Yes, that's right, cancer. "How do you know?" I asked. "Because Mom, they have no hair!" Duh mom. More rolling of the eyes. At first I was disturbed, but then I watched how carefully she was caring for them. Tending to them, wrapping their wounds carefully, pretending to feed them and soothe them. Maybe, I thought, this is a nurse in training. Maybe this is good practice for dealing with things that, as adults, terrify us. Or maybe, she's just practicing being a good mom. Regardless, I decided not to let it disturb me any longer.
She has a funny way of looking at herself too. I love that she refers to her round little belly as "her chunkiness". She's always been pretty confident even though she is starting to have that confidence challenged (blasted little schoolmates!). I still love it when she's changing clothes and runs through the house yelling "Nakey Squeezes!" and hugging everyone. She's really outgrown that now, but it gets a replay now and again when she thinks of it. However, now it's more likely that she will run through the house in an old discarded bra she found in the Goodwill donation bag in my bedroom, stuffed with socks and asking everyone what we think. Her dad covers his eyes in embarassment and looks at me as if to ask why I have no control over her. Little does he know, this is the least of his concerns! I have a feeling we are in for quite a ride with this one.......and I haven't even told him that she has started shaving her legs........
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