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Corey and The Mermaids
I overheard this gem while Corey was reading to Mo-Bug:
“Once upon a time, in a faraway kingdom, there was a beautiful queen, heavy with child. She sat sewing by her open window, gazing at the winter scene before her. Her needle slipped and a drop of blood from her pricked finger fell upon the snow on her window sill. Oh, she thought to herself, how I long for a beautiful baby girl with skin as white as snow, lips as red as blood and hair as black as night…” Cor slams the book shut.
“Or, actually, blue eyes and brown hair would be fine too. Hey! It doesn’t matter what she looks like. I’ll teach her to use her brain instead of a pretty face. And what the heck am I doing sitting next to an open window in the middle of winter right before I have a baby? This is messed up… ”
Corey is fantastic. She is a spectacular comic book artist, and, with great pride, creates characters who break stereotypical female molds. She takes distinct pleasure in challenging social norms, especially in regards to women.
Case in point:
Ha! Hope that doesn’t give anyone nightmares. A little twisted, I know. But this is one of my favorite Corey comics. I’m sure she imagined it while contemplating the futility and pathetic-ness of Ariel. Turns out, mermaids can take care of themselves…
I hope my girls, in some small way, pick up on her excellent sense of humor and radically different definition of feminine.
Video Update
Here’s two (adorable) videos of the girls. Just in case pictures don’t do justice. Which, of course, they can’t.
Lu-lu is now a proficient clapper. This delights her to no end and is a constant source of amusement for the rest of us.
Mo’s bedtime prayers have evolved from simply bowing her head to full-on participation. We say the same Guardian Angel prayer that was the subject of my very first blog post. Jessie joined us last weekend, and she said her heart all but literally melted out of her body when she joined us for this little ritual (you may need to turn up your volume to hear):
Just in case you didn’t catch that, she prayed for Papa and Nana and then for Mia, Abbie, Herself and Lu because they’re all “a little bit sick”.
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Bleaching My Feet
Warning: Graphic content below. Of the severed-mouse-head variety. Don’t worry, no gross pictures…
…
An actual conversation with the Husband today:
Ring Ring
Andy: “Hey Love, what’s up?”
Me: “OH MY GOSH! Wait, wait let me get to the garage…”
Andy: “Are you ok? Get in the garage? What’s wrong?” Andy was in a fender bender this morning (EDIT: not his fault, and everyone’s ok), so our conversations were already set on crisis mode.
Me: “I just found a MOUSE HEAD on the mat in front of the kitchen sink!!” Ear-piercing squeal and heebie jeebie dance
Andy: Chuckle “Ok…Well I can’t really come home right now…”
Me: Indignantly “I picked it up! I put the girls in their chairs and distracted them with food then threw it away while they weren’t looking…”
Andy: Quiet Chuckle
Me: “You obviously don’t understand how gross this is!” Still suffering from heebie jeebie aftershocks. “You know what makes it worse?”
Andy: “What, Honey?”
Me: “I stepped on it AN HOUR AGO and thought, Hmm…I wonder what the girls left on the floor this time, and then DIDN’T EVEN LOOK DOWN! What is WRONG with me?!!”
Andy: Straight up laughing
Me: “I had to lysol my feet!”
Andy: “You mean wash them?”
Me: “No. I washed them in bleach! And I had to do both of them, cause I can’t even remember which foot stepped on it!!! AHHHHHHH!”
Andy: More laughter
Me: “Oh my God. The floors! The Girls!” (Don’t worry, Christian readers, I was literally asking for the protection of our Dear Savior to be placed upon my daughters at that moment…read on)
Andy: “The floors? The girls? What about them?”
Me: “Oh, the girls! I promise to NEVER EVER pick up their sippy cups from the ground and just hand them back again!” facepalm “I’m an awesome parent…AHHHHHH! I have to clean the kitchen floor! No! All. The. Floors! Who knows where the cats took it! ” More twitches
Andy: “Well, I’m glad you took care of it. However, where there’s one mouse, there’s always another. Should I pick up some traps?”
Me: “No…For once the cats aren’t fighting. I think they took out all their agression on poor decapitated Mickey. Let’s see if they can take care of the others and buy us some more catfight-less days.”
Andy: “Good thing Mo didn’t find it.”
Me: “Oh my gosh, yes. I’m not sure I’m ready for any “Circle of Life” talks yet… Remember how I nearly punched Eric when he started defining the word sushi with ‘Well, you know Nemo?'”
Andy: “Ok. I’m going to get back to work now.”
Me: “I’m going to go bleach my feet again, and the floors, and the walls, and change all the sheets…”
Andy: More chuckling
….
I grew up around cats. This shouldn’t bother me so much. However, I can attest to the fact that I am still doing a heebie jeebie dance (and it’s way worse than the Praying Mantis induced shakes from last summer).
On the bright side, the cats are finally earning their keep… Andy might even kind of like them a little. They caught a mouse and made his wife sound like a crazy person.
This crazy person is now, truly, going to go bleach some floors… Hey! If I do it barefoot, I can clean my feet again. Excellent.
Almost Three-isms
I’ve recently been around some pretty cute two-year-olds (like Abbie’s M and E, above). This lead me to realize: Mo is no longer two. Actually, in two months she’ll be three. I’ve been calling her “two” for so long, that when people call their kids two my immediate reaction is “No! Can’t be. They’re so little”.
So, I was tempted to call this post Two-isms, but that would be kind of like lying. And lying is bad, or so I tell my two three year old.
Recently overheard from the mouth of our babe:
“Use your nice voice Mommy, not your mean voice.”
“Walk on the sidewalk Mommy! It’s bad to walk in the street. A car could bump you. You could get a big owie!”
While holding a banana to her face, “Look Mama, the banana is a smile!”
” ‘Because’ is not a reason, Daddy.”
Mo: “I want to ride the train!”
Me: “Well, that costs $2. Did you bring your money?”
Mo: “No, but you have money Mama!”
I saw the shoulders of people ahead of us shake in silent chuckle.
She’s still working on her negotiating skills:
Andy: “Mo, please go get three books.”
Mo: “Hmmm. How about two books?”
Andy: “Ok. Well you can read two books if you want.”
Mo: “Hmmm. How about three books?”
Andy: “Ok, Love. Three books.”
A Little Beauty
In the wake of today’s ugly, tragic event in Boston, I feel the need to put a little more beauty into the world. Consider this my act of counter-terrorism.
Time Travel
I look into the mess of bouncing, banging, falling children running at top speed into walls and each other.
Bouncy castle. Stuff of my nightmares.
At least one kid is screaming, two are wrestling, and one big sister is squishing her little brother with a giant blown up pillars that look a lot like intestinal villi.
That’s how I imagine this thing to be: a giant digestive system. I’ll insert my child in one end and receive her out the other, smashed, crying and changed by the destructive forces of child-powered “fun”.
“Mo bug, I think you’re still a little too little,” I say, taking her hand and leading her away.
“Mama! I not too little. I want to try!” she says, pulling her hand out of mine. I look down, a little surprised. She’s not angry. She’s earnest, her big blues eyes filled with confidence and anticipation.
I look to Andy, who subtly shakes his head, no.
I look down at Mo.
And then I’m sucked down a wormhole.
In a gut-wrenching moment, I am transported to times in the future when Mo will look at me and say “I want to try Mama!”. Moments where Protective Mama will immediately say no, trying to shield my Forever Baby from hurt, embarrassment and harm. The Big Slide, No Training Wheels, Tough Classes, Varsity Tryouts, The School Play, Driving, Dating, Growing Up…
I catch my breath, blink and am present once more.
I take Monica’s hand again, “OK, Mo. You can try.”
She removes her shoes and socks with delight, hands the carnival worker her $3, and jumps right in.
Did she fall down? Yep. Did she get plowed over by big kids? Absolutely. Did I watch every single moment, breath held, fists clenched? You bet your reading eyes I did.
Did she have a fantastic time?
Mom’s Turn at the Zoo!
It seemed as though everyone had gone to the zoo with my girls, minus my own mother. That was more or less the truth. 
Fixed that little problem yesterday, and had a ridiculous amount of fun doing it.
Note to self: next year avoid the zoo during public school spring break. I am pretty sure every single person who lives in the Pacific Northwest was trying to catch a glimpse of this adorable baby monkey:
OK, I admit it was worth the wait. That is one of the cutest little babies I’ve ever seen.
Apart from my babies, of course.
Here’s a couple more pics (photo credit goes to all three of us lovely ladies, and some random fellow we asked to take a group shot).
The empty mountain goat cave above reminds me of the Empty Tomb, so happy Easter Octave everybody!
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