Word of the Day: Independence

Caroline has the flu. The vomiting began around midnight last night and lasted until around ten this morning, when of course there was nothing left to throw up, and the poor kid was just heaving miserably.

But sometime around 1am as she was, as she calls it, "performing the technicolor yawn", and Calvin and I were hovering behind her, concerned. I was waiting with a towel to wipe her face and Calvin was holding her glass of water.

Looking back, maybe this attentiveness was a little much though, because this kid does not like to be coddled.

She turned around between heaves and said, "What is this? A spectator sport?".

All right. Point taken.

Time To Sharpen My Game

Me: Caroline, don't bounce that ball in here.

1 minute later: bouncing sound from in the hallway.

Me: Caroline, I asked you not to bounce that in here.

Caroline: You said not to bounce it IN THE LIVING ROOM.

Me: No, I meant the house. Caroline: Well, YOU LEFT A LOOPHOLE!

Should I Worry?

Caroline has taken all 400+ of her books off her library shelves and has stacked them in numerous skyscraping piles around her room.

Calvin asked her what she's doing.

"Don't worry, Dad. I'm sorting my books by genre."


...

Oh.

Last night:

"Caroline, it's nearly eleven. Why aren't you asleep yet?"

"I can't sleep, Mom. My head is filled up and I can't stop thinking."

Sympathetically, "Oh, I'm sorry, honey...do you need to talk? What is it you're thinking about?"

"Chromosomes."



>>

Dignity Please, Mom.

Teenagers. Caroline just let me know today how she feels about them.

"Mom, you know what? I don't like being around teenagers. Sometimes when the high schoolers walk through our school at the end of the day on the way to the buses, they look at me and the other elementary schoolers and say, 'Awwww, how cute!'.

"That's sweet!"

"No, it isn't!"

"Why not? You don't like it when they compliment you?"

"Mother, I AM NOT A HAMSTER."

But Then I'd Have Bigger Problems To Worry About

Caroline and I were in the commissary, walking down the cereal aisle, when I noticed that she had a black smudge on her nose.

What did I do? What all mothers since the beginning of time have done, and what all kids since the beginning of time have hated.

I licked my fingers and used them to wipe her face.

Don't knock it; your mom did it, and you've done it to your kids. But did you or your kids snap back the way Caroline did, much to the amusement of passersby?

"Ewww! Mom! I wish I was a cat! Then you'd have to lick my butt and THAT would teach you!"

No, probably not.

The White Rabbit

When Caroline was three, she was very well spoken and eloquent for her age, but some words or phrases still escaped her and she was totally capable of completely butchering these and then memorizing the carcass of the said word or phrase, incorporating it into her vocabulary in its new and improved form.

One of those butcherings came as a result of something she heard in Disney's Alice In Wonderland.

The White Rabbit says, over and over, "I'm late! I'm late! For a very important date!"

But apparently there was a disconnect between what her little ears heard and the way her three-year-old lips could perform the imitation. Her version came out as:

"I'm yate! I'm yate! A-ponna-monna-date!"

So, one of the days on which we were driving the 5 hours down to see my parents, Calvin looked at his watch and said, "Oh, hey, we told your parents we'd be there at --- and I think we're going to be late."

At which point Caroline chimed in helpfully from the back with "I'm YATE! I'm YATE! A-Ponna-Monna-DATE!"

And I gently corrected her, pronouncing each word very slowly and deliberately, "Caroline, honey, it's A VERY IMPORTANT DATE."

FYI: Correcting this kid has never been easy, even on a good day. She drew herself up to the full height she could achieve in her car seat straps and snapped, "That's what I SAID, mommy! A-PONNA-MONNA-DATE!" .

Like, duh!

And she crossed her little arms over her chest and stuck her nose in the air in the direction of the window where she didn't have to look at us trifling, meddling people.

We still do laugh about and use this term of hers. Frequently on the way out to work, Calvin will remind me that he's "yate for a-ponna-monna-date".

And seriously, how hot is a man who has ponna-monna dates?!

I know, ladies. But, hands off. He's mine.

Mother, Painfully Out Of Touch

This afternoon, I was driving Caroline home after her piano practice and I remembered to ask her if she wanted to go to the Sock Hop tomorrow night, where her Dad has been recruited to play Elvis to entertain the kids.

"Yes", she said. "I want to go, even though it's much too late to ask anyone to go with me."

Of course, a "date" hadn't crossed my mind, but I wanted to show that I'm taking her seriously, so I replied,

"Well, that's OK, right? I mean, if you go by yourself, you can dance with whomever you please. That's good thing, huh?"

"Mom!" *sigh* "I don't dance at all!"

"Really? Then why are you going TO A DANCE?"

She gives me this look that most mothers know. You know, the one that says, "You are so OLD and still, YOU KNOW NOTHING." But she condescends to answer me anyway.

"I go for the root beer floats, of course!"



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The Seemingly Unimportant Moments Are My Favorites

So I'm sitting here on the sofa, checking email, doing homework, pondering why Germany has only one season these days...
...and the silence is broken by a tiny voice in another room.

"Baby Beluga! Baby Beluga! Is the water warm? Is your momma home with you? So happy!"

She's supposed to be sleeping, but she's singing her contentment instead. I'm not even going to stop her, because this? These are the moments I live for. These are the moments that make everything else worthwhile.

And it makes me think of others of those moments throughout her life. Little things she said here and there that were funny or touching or just memorable for whatever reason.

In particular, something that Calvin and I reminisced about the other day was when Caroline was just learning to talk and she was having a lot of trouble with prepositions.

She used to walk up to me if I was sitting on the sofa and say, "Ma-ee, I going to sit at you, OK?"

Or "Da-ee I going to dance by you."

Or she'd take his hand and say "Can I walk on you?"

Well, OK, maybe that last one wasn't a mistake at all.

If I Had A Frozen Heart, It Would Melt

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"Mom, I just want you to know that I have come to a decision today. I made it while I was taking a break in the middle of Terra Nova testing."

"Oh yeah? What decision did you come to?"

"I intend to be far more interactive when it comes to cuddles and kisses from now on. I intend to fully participate instead of just letting you cuddle and kiss me. I love you."

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Someone Should Have Called Social Services

When I was a kid our pyjamas and blankets were not flame-retardent. GodDAMN we were hard core.

To Whip Han Solo In A Popularity Contest

Caroline just came in the room and told me, "Mom, I just want you to know that I love you. I love you EVEN MORE than I love Star Wars."

And I didn't even give her chocolate cake for breakfast!

If you knew how much my child loves Star Wars, you'd know just how weighty a declaration that was.

There Are Not Many Who Would

Caroline came home today and, like always, we headed straight for the sofa where she sat in my lap and began telling me about her day at school. Lately her teacher, Mrs. Shives, has been away due to the ill health of her father, and the kids have had the same substitute for most of the days that Mrs. S has been gone. But yesterday, they got a new substitute and Caroline was gushing over how nice this new substitute is.

"She NEVER yells at us like some of our other subs, Mom! She talks to us instead, and we can tell she likes us a lot! I hope she will aways be our substitute when Mrs. Shives is away!"

"Well, that's pretty good news, Honey. I'm glad your substitute is nice to all of you."

"Yep, she listens when we tell her things too, and she looks at us in the face!"

"Excellent! I'm glad to hear it!"

"There's only one thing wrong with her." Caroline said, shaking her head.

Then she added maganinimously, "But even though it's frustrating, it's not enough for me to want her to be replaced."

"Oh? What's "wrong" with her?"

She paused a second and rolled her eyes...

"She just WILL NOT engage me on the subject of the nutritional value of the cafeteria food!"


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She Puts The "F" in Fun

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ME:

Welcome home, Baby! How was your day?

CAROLINE:

It was GREAT! It was REALLY good!

ME:

Oh, yeah? Why was it so great?

CAROLINE:

At lunch, Joey and I spent the entire break chasing boys!

ME, slightly worried, cocked eyebrow:

Um....

CAROLINE:

Oh, don't worry, Mom! It's not like THAT. We were chasing them WITH STICKS!



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She's Not Buying It

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Caroline has explained to me, with all the authority she feels she's earned by scrutinizing the Disney Masterpiece Collection, that while Belle and Jasmine are "smart enough not to be embarassing", Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella, Ariel and Snow White are "empty headed" and "no one but an empty-headed prince would EVER marry them."

Go Caroline! The Cultural Brainwash Machine can SUCK IT!




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They Were Pulled By Dinosaurs, Though

.

Yes, Caroline, they did have buses when I was little. Yes, I'm sure.




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But My Aunt Had A Bad Case Of Asteroids

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No, Caroline, I don't think that Hank Azaria took deltoids to get his muscles that big.


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And I've Already Got A Foot In My Own Grave

"Mom, I was reading a National Geographic in school today and I read a story about a baby mammoth that was found frozen in a block of ice near a river."

"Yeah?"

"Yep. It was found a reeeeally long time ago and scientists have been using it to study mammoths."

"What's a "reeeeally" long time ago?"

"Um...I think it said 1999."



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The Unedited 'Bad Santa' Is More His Speed

Watching Scrooge, the musical starring Albert Finney.

Calvin says, "This is going to make me throw up."

Me: Why? It's a musical. They're SUPPOSED to spontaneously burst into song and dance.

Him: It's all the men's legs flying around in colored tights and all the fluttering toes and gushing songs about love.

Me: It's cheerful. I like it. You're ruining it for me.

Him: *sigh* Fine. You're right, it's just great. I feel exuberant and infused with glee.

Smartass.

Dear Santa.....

It's late, no doubt, but our little sprout has turned in her Yuletide requisition form. This might be my favorite so far.

The envelope (home made) is addressed to "Santa Claus (maybe?)" and the letter is as follows:


"Dear Santa Claus,

Did you have a good summer in the Bahamas? Is Mrs. Claus okay? Are you real? Because I'm not sure I believe in you anymore, but I'm willing to be convinced. Feel free to answer back in your defense.

In case you are real, here's what I want for Christmas:

1. A new set of Lincoln Logs.

2. The Nintendo Dogs DS game.

3. Better gloves THAT ARE NOT PINK.

4. New Lizzie Maguire PJs. Mom says I have to throw mine out just because they're too small and have holes. I'm hanging on to them as tight as I can and arguing a lot but I'm losing.

5. Another Webkinz THAT IS NOT PINK.

6. A couple hundred bucks.

7. Tickets to Australia.

8. A personal bag of marshmallows.

9. A truckload of animal figurines.

10. A "no homework" pass.

11. A new pen for my DS.

12. Euro.

13. A slingshot.

14. A science lab.

15. A wood working kit.

16. Electronic Hangman game.

17. Apples to Apples

18. A new blue elephant shirt. I'm losing that battle too.

19. A paintball gun.




Love, Caroline



P.S. I'm sorry the list is so long. I hope it's not inconvenient. "






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Mayhap, We'll Do A Moose For Christmas

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I've started brining the turkey for Thanksgiving, and every day I have to go and turn the turkey and check to make sure it's thawing properly and that the level of wine, water and spices stays high enough to keep the whole thing covered.

And today I invited Caroline to go with me to the icebox to look while I turn and check the bird. She really doesn't like turkey, but lately I have been letting her observe and help with the cooking and prep; I figure if she's involved in the kitchen, then she'll be more likely to appreciate the art that goes into cooking and, in turn, this picky little eater will be more likely to actually eat.

AM I BRILLIANT, OR WHAT?

Now, I'm pretty sure she only agreed to go and watch because, hello, she is 9 and there are raw body parts on display (fascinating stuff, carnage) but that's OK. Not to worry. Everyone just stand back and watch the Mommy-Magic--I KNOW WHAT I'M DOING.

So, I opened the icebox, flipped the turkey over, and began explaining to her what spices I've used and what I'm looking for every day during the brining. Just at that most opportune moment, a nice, large, black peppercorn floated out of the turkey's tail end.

YOU HAVE NEVER SEEN A CHILD'S FACE DISPLAY SUCH DISGUST.

She performed a rapid about-face and went screaming back to Calvin,

"Dad! Daaaaaad! The turkey POOPED! Dad! I SAW POOP COME OUT OF THE TURKEY'S BUTT! EWWWWWWW!"

So much for my brilliant little plan. Damn.


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Of All The Things To Retain

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Saturday night Calvin and I took Caroline to the theater to see the new animated version of A Christmas Carol.

This morning she was walking around with her two favorite stuffed toys and she, very stony-faced, informed me that their names have been changed.

No longer are they Violet the Pink Elephant and Sirius the Webkinz Dog. Now? Now they are known as "Ignorance" and "Want".

And they seem to be on her shit list.




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Like The Wind

Here's my baby---first place in her age group (4-9), ahead of all the other girls, and ahead of all the boys too.

There were a few moments in there when I wanted to stop and I KNOW Caroline did. At one point on a particularly long hill she said,

"Mommy, I have a stitch AND I'm hungry and they're combining to MAKE ME MISERABLE!"

"Do you want to stop and walk?" I asked.

"NO!" And she ran faster.

I could not be more proud of my little warrior. She inspires me.


I'm so proud of you, Caroline! And I loved running the Great Pumpkin Race with you.


Catching a falling leaf.

Now, She's Got The Idea

We're driving into the gym parking lot tonight when from the back seat:

"Mom?"

"Mm-hm?"

"You know what I wish?"

"You want to clean your room. You can't wait."

"Mom!"

"Um..ok. You hope I'll get you up early tomorrow morning so you can do your chores before school."

"MOM!"

"You wish that all elephants were named Irwin."

(evil glare through the rear view mirror)

"Ok...ok. What do you wish?"

"I wish that eating candy would give us big muscles and a healthy heart. And I wish that eating healthy stuff would make you really fat."

"But I like healthy stuff. I wouldn't want to gain 10 lbs. if I ate more than one salad a week."

"Well, I've got that problem covered. If you get fat, you can just go have a massage. While the massage is happening, you'd be getting thinner and thinner and healthier and healthier. You'd only need one hour per 5 pounds."

"Really...huh. But massages are pretty expensive. What if someone out there LOVES ONLY VEGETABLES, eats veggies and fruit for every meal, and has a lot of weight to lose? It might cost them a lot of money. What about those people if they can't afford it?"

"In my world there's massage insurance for anyone who wants it."


Folks, I just want to say that this kid?

This kid who just invented the world we all want?

The world where we get massages on a daily basis in order to combat all those salads we might eat?

This kid is mine.


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And My Generation Ate Top Ramen

So Caroline came to me and Calvin this morning, and in a very business-like tone, hands on hips, back ram-rod straight, requested that we come up with a chart of her chores and a plan for allowance.

Oh yeah, I guess we knew this was coming. It's allowance time, Baby!

So after a quick glance at each other, we told her we'd talk it over, and come up with a schedule and a plan. After that we'd get back to her so the three of us could discuss it and finalize an arrangement we could all agree on.

"Good" she said, nodding approvingly, “Because I think it's time I started saving for my university."

(short pause while Calvin and I look at each other with pride)

"And Mega Gumballs" she finished, "I'm going to need plenty of those in college."

You Are My Sunshine, My Only Sunshine, You Make Me Happeeeeee....!

This morning before Calvin left he came to kiss me and Caroline good bye, tell us he loved us and then tell Caroline to be good in school. Caroline responded with "Goodbye Daddy! I love you! Don't get fired!" You know....the usual routine.

But this time after he left, she looked at me and said,

"Mom, it's really sad when Dad has to leave in the morning. It's like watching the sun disappear."

Hey Freud, Analyze THIS!

This morning, as I was walking Caroline to her bus stop:


"Mom, I had an interesting dream last night."



"Oh yeah? What about?"



"Well, I dreamed that I was really hungry, and I looked down at my arm and it swelled up really big and my forearm split open!"



Me: *gasp*



"And that's not all! When it split open, there was feast inside!"



"A..........feast?"



"Yes, it was like my arm was a food machine! I could just reach in and pull out food and eat it. Whatever I wanted! I was just pulling out a dinner roll and was about to eat it when my alarm went off."



"You sound disappointed that you alarm went off."




"Well, yeah! Wouldn't you be?"




"No, I think I would be happy my alarm went off. I think I would find that dream disgusting."




She sighs, shaking her head, "Oh, Mom! You could never cut it in my dream world."



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Of Crooked Teeth And Broken Hearts

My heart is, if not broken, at least fractured a little bit.

Caroline came to me last night with tears in her eyes and told me she's "depressed". I asked her why and she told me that she is "very lonely" at school. She has a friend she sometimes hangs out with, but this little girl is rather popular and naturally also has many other friends to take up her time. This is understandable, of course, and Caroline knows this, but it also leaves her alone a lot of the time.

And like any parent would, I asked her why she doesn't make other friends so she always has other poeple to lean on when her favorite is off doing her own thing. I expected her answer would be a shrug and an "I don't know", because I've just faced it: Caroline is a very one-on-one kind of person. She, like her mother and father both, is generally uncomfortable in a crowd and prefers the company and conversation of one person at a time; she's a little shy. And so what?

Her answer surprised me, though.

"Because everyone hates me."

"What? How can EVERYONE HATE you?"

"They do!"

"But how do you know they hate you?"

"Because they make fun of me and when they're not making fun of me, they're looking at me like I'm crazy, or just ignoring me."

Now, as her mother, I find this just absurd. How can anyone make fun of this beautiful, smart, loving little girl? She lives to laugh and make people happy. She has a fantastic sense of humor and a brilliant imagination. What's to make fun of?

So I ask her: "What do they make fun of?"

"They make fun of the books I read, and they look at me like I'm crazy when I talk about animals and science, and they make fun of me for the words I use because they say I'm showing off. And they make fun of my teeth."


Alright.....on the first three counts, I think it goes without saying what is actually behind those attacks. It's not worth discussing or dignifying the human tendency to shun what people don't understand or are jealous of. And I explained this to her; what else could I do?

As for the latter, the teeth? Caroline is a normal 8-year old who is in the process of losing and growing teeth. Like many 8-year olds, her teeth are not coming in straight. They're quite crooked, as a matter of fact, and she is probably going to need braces. But even with those teeth, which look like they can chomp up the world faster than a set of ginzu knives, she's still a beautiful girl. Her perfect olive complexion, her sparkling turquoise eyes, her long eyelashes, her adorable little nose (thanks to her Grandma Barbara) and her high-cheekbones (thanks also to Calvin's Native American family) are stunning.

There is nothing wrong with her. Nothing at all.

Having been made fun of myself, for most of my childhood, for my hair (which was too short) or my clothes (which were too poor) or my freckles (which were too numerous) or any number of other things, I can understand her loneliness and her dread at going back.

And it makes me sad. Sure it might build character, sure it might happen to a lot of kids, and sure I am clearly OK having been through it myself. I learned to like myself and survived without scars; I have never climbed to the top of a belltower and started dropping people with a rifle, and I have never stood up in church and announced that I hope the president dies and goes to hell.

But the point is, having been through it, I know the misery it brings when you know that the people you have to spend all day and year with can't stand you. I know what it feels like to walk down the hall and know people are whispering about you. And I know what it feels like to look in the mirror and hate what you can't help.

I am a firm believer that kids have to work out their own problems at school, so long as there is no violence involved, and so I won't march down to the office and embarrass her by demanding that all the kids be nice to my baby. It would only make things worse for her in the long run. All I can do is be there for her, to listen and to reassure her that this will pass. All I can do is explain that what other people think of her is really none of her business, and the only people whose opinions she ought to worry about are her own and those of the people who have proven that they love her and won't judge her based on silly things like her vocabulary, her reading level and......stupidest of all.....her teeth. I don't know how much of my reassurance is soaking in, but it's all I can do.

In the meantime, until she's stronger and has developed a thicker skin and an inner confidence, I will sit and watch and listen. And I have to tell you, it is painful watching this happen to her. Physically, in-the-gut painful. I would gladly take on this burden for her if I could. I'd gladly go through it all again, if I knew it would do her any good.

Being a parent, while mostly full euphoria and laughter, also has to be one of the hardest things I've ever been through. I watched her get on the bus this morning, her little Chuck Taylors taking giant steps to climb the bus stairs and her little blue backpack behind her. She seemed her cheerful and optimistic self again, having talked it out.

I am hopeful that today will be a better day for her and she'll come home with a big crooked-tooth grin on her beautiful face.

Some Fruits Are Just Cool-Headed

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Caroline and I were in the commissary a few days ago and she was "helping" me select vegetables and fruits. This is a favorite activity for her lately. She used to bring her book to the commissary and would read it while waiting up front for me to finish the shopping. These days, she's my little shadow, asking me how to tell if this fruit is good or if that vegetable is ripe enough. She wants to know what I'm going to do with this or that, and how long it will keep in the fridge; she has really taken an interest in the daily domestic minutiae. She's also growing more confident in her abilities to choose produce and will tell me in no uncertain terms when she feels I've picked a too-ripe banana bunch or some slighty-past-their peak onions. This can be a nuisance when I'm in a hurry, but mostly I find this a cool development. My baby is telling me that she'll be a teenager in a few years, and she will make the best personal shopping slave ever.



Anyway, while we were looking at pomegranates, I heard someone call my name and I turned to see one of the teachers from Caroline's school waving at me. I walked over to the teacher and we, having not seen each other in a few months, had plenty to talk about and began a newsy conversation. It was probably too lengthy a talk for Caroline though, as she was very intent on the task at hand and clearly wanted my attention. I kept putting her off each time she'd say, "Um...mom.....?" and ask me a question about this veggie or that fruit with "Just a minute, Sweetheart."



So at some point, she decided she'd had enough and maybe it would help move me along if she'd just raise her voice a little bit. That's when I hear her shouting from across the fruit section while holding up a wrinkled little ball, "Hey MOM! See this passionfruit? It sure doesn't look very PASSIONATE, does it! It looks the OPPOSITE OF PASSIONATE, I'd say! Right, Mom? They ought to call it an UGLYFRUIT! It's SO WRINKLY! This is NOT PASSIONATE!"



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Hope Tricare Covers This

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Caroline built a 'hospital' in her room for her stuffed animals. She says this guy had pink-eye. And it spread to his butt.








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