A Long Drive Home

You know how once in a long time, you see, or hear something that just seems unreal?  I assure you, the following conversation (if it can be called that) really did happen.  I also assure you that I cannot do it justice, and since I failed to record it, I am doing my best to recreate it as I remember, and I am confident that my sister witness will respond in the comments if I have erred in any way.

One night, my two girls and niece were crammed in the back seat of my little car, and my sister (the one who told me to start this blog) and I were talking about something deeply important and profound.  During a break in the conversation, I heard quiet sobbing coming from the back. 

As sometimes happens with sobbing, a simple inquiry can open up the floodgates.

"I'll NEVER be able to go hunting or fishing because I talk too much and can't sit still and will scare all the animals away.  I'm not allowed to go until I can be quiet and I just can't stop talking!  All the animals will run away.  I'll never be able to go hunting with Daddy!

"I just can't stop talking!  I talk all the time, and just can't stop!  I wish I could stop talking.  I talk too much and I just can't stop.  I think there's something wrong with me.  I don't know why I have so many questions.  I wish I didn't have so many questions.  I'm just curious.  I wish I wasn't so curious.

"It's like there's something inside of me controlling me.  Like there's something in my head and it just makes me keep talking.  Maybe I'm a robot.  How do you know I'm not a robot?  Robots have metal, not bones. But I've never seen my bones, so maybe I AM a robot.  Have you ever seen my bones?  I might be a robot!  I look like a person, but I might be a robot.

"People tell me I need to stop talking so much.  And I always put my hand up because I have lots of questions.  I don't know why I have so many questions.  Why am I so curious?  What's wrong with me?

A deer appears on the road, I hit the brakes.  Hysterical sobbing ensues.

"SEE???  I TALK SO MUCH YOU ALMOST HIT A DEER!

"Do you have a headache Noa?  I'm sorry I'm giving you a headache.  See?  I talk so much that now I'm giving Noa a headache! 

"Is this the worst day of your life Noa?  Is it the best day of your life? 

"I'm so sorry. 

"Do you forgive me Noa? 

"Do you forgive me Noa? 

"Noa, do you forgive me?

"I'm sorry I gave you a headache.  Is this the worst day of your life? "

By this point, the monologue has woken up Elsie who begins crying loudly.

"Now I've woken up Elsie!  See?  I talk so much that Elsie can't sleep either.  I don't know how to stop talking so much.  I just have so many questions and want to know things.  What's wrong with me?  Why do I talk so much?  Why did Jesus make me this way?

"I'm sorry Elsie.

"I'm really sorry Elsie.

I suggest she close her eyes and try to sleep, because I suspect she might be tired.

"But I'm not tired!  I can't sleep.  I can never sleep, because I can't stop talking!  I talk so much I can't go to sleep, and even if I go to sleep, I still talk in my sleep.  See?  I talk too much!  I don't know why I talk so much.  There's something wrong with me.

"I'm really sorry I gave you a headache Noa.  Will you ever go anywhere with me again?  Do you still love me Noa?  I'm really sorry.

"Do you have a headache Auntie Alanna?  I'm sorry I gave you a headache."

This emotional rampage lasted at least 15 minutes, during which my sister and I were unsuccessful at controlling our laughter.

Disclaimer:  My child is actually a well adjusted kid, who is normally very confident in herself.  This whole self-doubt thing was due to walking around IKEA for miles, eating McDonalds for lunch, and driving home at bedtime.  She was back to her normal talkative, inquisitive, optimistic self in the morning.

Dear Dentist...

I know lots of people (myself included) don't like visiting you.  I'm sorry if it hurts your feelings.  But I thought you might like to know that my daughter thinks visits to you are one of the best events on the planet.

When I say I have a surprise for her, she'll often ask if she's going to see you.

Yes, she is weird.  And yes, I adore her weirdness.

So when her first permanent tooth showed up before her baby tooth was even loose, she was so excited that it meant she got to come see you!  She talked more about getting a tooth pulled than Halloween.

When we were on our way to see you today, she was so worried we would be late.  She wanted me to drive faster, and made sure I wasn't taking a "long cut", because only a "short cut" would do.

A friend at school kindly told her it would hurt, but that didn't put a damper on her enthusiasm.

She beamed in the waiting room as she gave me her last smile with all those tiny baby teeth.

The happiest person ever awaiting an extraction.

When it was her turn, she went in by herself, because she's a big girl, and because I've seen you enough to know you're not one of those horrible dentists they write news stories on. 

I could hear her asking question after question, and I enjoyed that it wasn't me that had to answer them for a minute.

When she came back out, she was still beaming, but short one baby tooth.  The freezing made her smile lopsided, and the gauze in her mouth made her speak funny, both of which I found quite amusing.

She was happy, and comfortable, and willing to come back to see you again.  I think maybe you deserve a prize for that.

She thought it was weird that her mouth felt like when her foot falls asleep.  And she didn't like that I wouldn't let her have candy when we got home.  And she especially didn't like drooling blood.

But as much as she loves you, you may now be overshadowed by the Tooth Fairy. 

You can't say you didn't bring it on yourself though.

We got home, and she cleaned her room (because the Tooth Fairy won't go in a messy room), she decorated a balloon (because the Tooth Fairy needs a present), and asked to go to bed early.

So, my dear dentist, I am sorry if you feel overshadowed, but please know, you will always have a special place in the heart of my seven year old.

Sincerely,

A Mom with a really weird kid.

From Ashes

The phoenix is a fascinating mythical creature.  It ends it's life in flames, and is re-born from the ashes.  How beautiful is that?

I have been thinking of the Phoenix the last few days, as I watch the devastation in Fort McMurray.  People being forced to leave their homes, knowing full well that they may return to ash. 

I can't imagine leaving my husband behind, in danger, so he can help fight off the fire.
I can't imagine remaining calm for my children as we drive through our burning city.
I can't imagine losing every material thing I own, except what I hastily pack in my car.
I can't imagine relying on the generosity of strangers for everything.

Those generous strangers -
The ones who are using whatever resources and time they have to help. 
Those who are driving miles to bring families gas, and food, and water. 
Those who are donating money. 
Those who are opening their homes. 
Those who are donating basic necessities. 
And those who are praying.

None of those acts are extraordinary, but they are undeniably beautiful.

And I watch in amazement at the goodness of people.  It's these stories, of people helping people, that bring me close to tears.

These stranger are the sparks of new life - the hope - that's rising from the ashes.

TOY JAIL (aka how Pinterest changed my life)

Some days, my kids are very helpful cleaning up.  This month had not yet had any of those days.

Me:  "Paige, help clean up."
P:  "No thanks!"

It's cute she thought she had a choice.

 

I didn't nag (just politely asked her to help 17 times), and did it myself.  When I got to the playroom, my time wasted invested on Pinterest finally became useful.  I grabbed a big box, wrote TOY JAIL on the side, and filled it with all the toys on the floor.  Check out the original toy jail here!

M:  "Hey girls!  Your toys are in jail!  You have to do chores to earn them back."
P:  "Mommy, you can't just make things up.  Toy jail isn't a real thing, so don't say it is!"
M:  "It's a real thing now!"

I continued on with my tidying, adding toys to the box (perhaps a little gleefully, because this idea really is genius).  Paige pouted and whined, and blamed her sister, and then, miraculously, she started tidying!  And she did it quickly!  The fear of more toys being put in jail actually motivated her.  She tidied her playroom, she cleaned the toilet, she swept the floor, and she earned 1 toy back for each job.  And as she got the toys back, she put them away where they belonged! 

Needless to say (which is a silly phrase, since everyone knows I'm going to say it anyway), the toy jail is going to find a permanent place in our house.  It will be upgraded from a cardboard box to something much more awesome.  And I will likely make it a time-consuming project, because I have once again entered study mode, so will need productive procrastination methods.  I wonder if I could make it using pallets?  Obviously I must spend hours on Pinterest finding out.

My plan is to also use the Toy Jail as a way to purge.  Once toys have been in there a certain length of time (like a week or two), with no desire to bail them out, they will be donated.  Clever, huh?

So, there you have it folks.  Definitive proof that Pinterest really can change your life!

*This post is in no way sponsored by Pinterest.  If Pinterest wants to sponsor any posts, I would happily discuss it with them, even though I'm not sure exactly how that would work.  And since I tend to lack in the follow-through department, I doubt a sponsorship would ever happen.  I hope my two followers aren't disappointed.