Target grandma

 I was at Target yesterday sitting in the fitting room waiting area while my teenager tried on some clothes. There was a line of people waiting to use fitting rooms, and a grandma waiting for her maybe 8-year old granddaughter to show her the outfits she was trying on.

The girl came out with jeans and a t-shirt on, excited to report that they fit. Next, she came out with a long, flowy, lacy special occasion type dress that was too big on top. Grandma pointed out that it was too big on top and the girl agreed. She could feel it.

Next, the girl came out with this hot pink, flashy party dress with sequins all over the bodice. It did fit on top and now grandma was in a pickle. I got the feeling they were not special occasion shopping. I got the feeling grandma was getting summer clothes for her granddaughter. The girl loved it! Of course she did. Grandma said, "Oh. I don't know. Let's get this lady's opinion...ma'am? Excuse me, ma'am?"

There was that line, I was looking at my phone, but I knew she was talking to me.

Deja vu. This happens all the time on the first day of summer break. When I am free from making 600 decisions a day regarding other people's children and am trying to enjoy my time with my own children. Some other parent seeks me out - a total stranger - to make a decision for them. There was those two kids at the park, that boy at the pool, the girl in the toy department, and now this scenario.

I felt bad for purposely keeping my head down pretending like I couldn't hear her, but this grandma was persistent. Plus, there was that audience...I mean line.

"Ma'am? Excuse me, ma'am?"

I looked up.

"Can we get your opinion on this dress?"

"No." There may have been a collective eye raising from the line.

"Well, sweetie that lady thinks..."

"I meant 'no' I am not giving my opinion."

Grandma blinked twice. Everyone in the line shifted. Whether they were surprised by my response, invested in how this scenario of the hot pink party dress played out, or just impatient things were taking so long is a mystery. But grandma felt all eyes on her.

Maybe you're thinking that I was being a little passive aggressive. But I feel that I was being empowering to this grandma while protecting my "off duty" time.

"Oh. Um. Oh. Okay, well, sweetie, I think Target is a place to buy casual clothes. This is not a casual dress. I also don't like that this dress is not the same on both sides."

The straps were asymmetrical - one was spaghetti and one was two inches thick. If there's one thing a grandma hates, it's asymmetrical shoulder straps. Regardless, grandma found her voice.

"Yeah...this dress is too fancy. Target is a good place for casual clothes," the girl agreed, scampered back into the dressing room, and I avoided additional eye contact with grandma. My work here was done. Besides, my teenager emerged with her clothes and we were heading over to the socks department now.

I would love to know what you would have done in this situation.

Really Deep Thoughts Over Pizza by Wolfie and Luna

Tulip and Papa weren't home so it was just little ol' Luna, Wolfie and me eating pizza for dinner.  I splurged and got Gelsosomo's because of a $10 coupon.  What a treat!

Luna remarked, "You know what ... delicious stuff and fun to do stuff is expensive."

I feel like she has just learned one of life's most important lessons.  Oh yeah, I totally rock at this parenting thing.

Then Wolfie started talking about how some people say, "That's so 80's..."  and I have to admit here, I don't know what people Wolfie hangs out with who say that, but whatever.

He continued by recalling how I told him about my first video game system, the Atari, and since that was in the 80's it's been 30 years since video game systems have evolved from the Atari to the WiiU.  And then he said, "I can't believe how much the human world can advance in only 30 years."

For fun, we should make a technology time capsule dated 2015 and I should give this to Wolfie on his 39th birthday.  For Luna, we should put a price sticker on everything in the time capsule.

And in case you were wondering...we did save some pizza for Tulip and Papa.

The Three Dreaded Words: Can I help?

It's the holiday season and we are all so busy, busy, busy.  All this activity looks so inviting to our special little "helpers" but beware of the dreaded three words.

Allow me to translate: Can I help?

Can I spill it?

Can I smear it?

Can I break it?

Can I sneeze on it?

Can I drop it?

Can I waste it?

Can I squish it?

Can I stick my finger in it, stick my finger in my mouth, and then stick my finger in it again?

Can I do half of it and then walk away?

Can I put it somewhere else?

Can I put it somewhere else and forget where I put it?

Can I just get in your way?

Can I just touch it a lot and then walk away?

I love my littles.  I love teaching them and sharing moments and all that stuff.

So why, oh why, do these three little words make me cringe?

Mamas, what have I forgot?  Please add to my list.

In honor of breastfeeding week

I'm no longer nursing, but if you'd like to know my stats they are: 3 children for a grand total of 84 months, a few of those months were tandem nursing the girls.

This morning I overheard the girls playing with their animals and I could tell by their dialogue that nursing babies was past of the game.

I snuck up on them to take this picture. I wish I would have recorded them because the animals were "saying" things like:

Can I have some milk?
Here, have some milk.
Oh, I don't have anymore milk. Try my husband's.

As you can see in the picture, there is some inter-species nursing going on. It seems that between that, and the fact that my 5-year-old thinks that animal husbands can also provide milk, I need to set them straight.

But in the meantime I'll just enjoy my daughter's innocent, yet spot on, insight that mammal mothers nurse their babies.

My 5-year-old's Thoughts on Why Women Should Be Able to Take Their Shirts Off.

The girls and I were on the way to a park and two men jogged past us, one shirtless and one not which Luna, my 5-year-old, noticed. Tulip, my 7-year-old explained that when some men get sweaty, they take off their shirts. 

I thought this would be a great opportunity to engage my girls in some gender equality discussion. 

I asked Tulip why sweaty men take off their shirts when running but sweaty women don't. She said that a woman's chest is a private part so she keeps it covered. I asked her what she thinks about how a woman's chest is private but a man's chest is not. And she said,  "I know. That's crazy. Who made that up?  The gods?!" (It's been a summer full of Greek mythology and creation myths) 

Then Luna chimed in,  in response to my question, "That's not...nice." She hesitated before saying the word "nice" because she was thinking some big thoughts and maybe meant to say, "That's not fair" but perhaps I'm projecting. What she did say was the following and it took her some effort to find the right words.

Luna said, "That's not...good (new word this time) because when a man is sweaty and can take his shirt off he can look down at his chest but a woman can't look down at her chest."

This blew my mind.  She's 5.  She thinks her body is her most amazing possession and she looks at it all the time. Of. Course.

Luna also said, "It's also not good because when a man gets sweaty he can take off his shirt and then the air can blow on his stomach and that will feel nice because he's sweaty but a woman can't take off her shirt so she won't ever have any air blow on her stomach when she's sweaty.  When I get sweaty I like to lift my shirt off my stomach so I can feel some air on it."

This also blew my mind because at her innocent age it's about two basic principals - comfort and identity.  Not shame or embarrassment or anything like that.  Everyone needs to think like a 5-year-old every now and then: This is my awesome body and I like how it looks because bodies are amazing and, oh, by the way I'm sweaty so I'm going to adjust my clothing to cool off.

Seven

Your eyes sparkle and every morning you look out the window when you wake up because you love nature. You adore your big brother and dote so patiently and lovingly on your little sister. You notice beauty everywhere. You fill our hearts with joy and laughter because you are so funny and delightful. You love to dance and color and blow bubbles. I love you, Tulip. You make me smile all day long.

When Your Son Turns 9

When your son turns 9, you savor every moment he wants to sit in your lap even though he's squishing you.  And you're so proud of his book choices and the way he plays with his sisters.  And your heart melts when you hear his unabashed giggling at silly cartoons.  And you make another mark on the wall.

And you might find this list in his room on his desk:

Evil Plan to Get to School on Time
1.  eat breakfast
2.  get lunch
3.  turn off night light
4.  get dressed
5.  comb hair
6.  brush teeth
7.  wait
8.  go to school
9.  get good grades and stuff at math
10.  become brilliant and make a super weapon

And you'll probably save this list because, you know, when he turns 10 his handwriting might look different.