Five Questions

I've been tagged by friend and fellow blogger Julie with the following five, getting-to-know-you questions.

1) How do you really feel about Britney Spears?

Five years ago, I was a fan, even at my age. Now, I just feel pity for the girl. She had the world at her fingertips. She was young, rich, and beautiful. She was at the top of her game in the music industry; she was even being dubbed the next generation's Madonna. And then wham -- a loser of a dude steps in and literally ruins everything in one big swoop - her image, her family, her career, and even her hair. She is a lesson to all young girls out there to never allow themselves to get so totally caught up in someone else that they lose who they are and destroy everything they've worked for in life.

2) Do you believe in love at first sight?

I believe in lust at first sight. True love has little to do with "sight." I've felt the instant stomach butterflies for a few that eventually became love, but I've also felt weak at the knees for a few who turned out to not be worthy of anything approaching love. Further, I've met a few that didn't knock my socks off when I first met them, but they became more attractive and lovable as their character came through.

3) What was your favorite book from childhood?

Do I have to pick just one? I'll give you my top three:

The Best Nest - by P.D. Eastman. This was the very first book I had memorized, beginning to end. I think I was drawn to its rhythm, much like the Seuss books.

Me and the Bee - it was an Read About Me book from the 70s, where you send in your name and vital statistics (city, friends, pet's name, etc) and the book is customized so that it incorporates you and your friends and your info into the story. I still have it, and it's funny to look at now because it looks like it was manually typeset - old school style. But back then, that was high-tech.

Charlotte's Web - E.B White and Garth Williams. We just got the new movie on DVD. While the book is of course better, the movie does a good job. Julia Roberts is a perfect Charlotte.

4) If you had to choose one song as your personal theme, what would it be?
Livin' La Vita Loca

5) When did you realize that you had become a grownup?

Even though I have a husband, two kids, a house in the suburbs, and a minivan, anyone who knows me knows I ain't no grownup.

Because That's How We Roll in My Family

This is how my 74-year-old father arrived at my house this past Wednesday to watch my kids while I tried to get some rest.

He could not understand why I could not stop laughing when I saw him. Apparently, my dad picked up one of my younger brother's t-shirts and put it on without even looking at it.

My father is not the only one of my family's elders to have committed such a Jerry Springer-like fashion faux pas. His 78-year-old sister, who is dang near a nun, once went to church sporting a "Party Naked" t-shirt. Like my father, she picked a shirt out of a bag of clothes that her college-aged niece was giving away. My aunt put the shirt on without even looking at what it said. She was appalled when we told her what her shirt said. She screamed, WHAT??! I received communion like this!! What I would've given to have seen that priest's face!

So this apparently runs in the family. At least I have this to look forward to in about 40 years.

A True Hallmark Moment

We celebrated Mother's Day yesterday because my own mother had to work today. Our gathering was planned to be a low-key celebration - lunch out with my husband and girls, my parents, and my brothers. Everything started out beautifully. My girls had been angels all day, they looked picture-perfect in their pretty spring dresses, we got a prime table for nine at our restaurant of choice easily, appetizers of choice were flowing and delicious, and hugs and tears of joy were being shared as gifts and sentimental cards were being exchanged. I actually thought, Wow, this is a Hallmark Mother's Day in the making. Then the crisis hit.

Conversation and debate were being had across the long table at our typical elevated decibel (as only Italians can do) when I noticed my five-year-old daughter had put her hands over her ears. Then she got her signature pouty/angry look at on her face and screamed, Everyone, stop talking! My ears hurt!

I wish I could say that this was an unusual comment to come from my daughter, but this is a tactic that she has used many times when her father and I dare to try to have an adult conversation that does not involve her. She can become quite irritated when the attention is not focused entirely upon Her Highness and will often do whatever it takes to redirect attention back on herself.

I told her not to be rude and that we could all speak if we wished. This sent only sent her deeper into her fury, and the tears started flowing. She insisted in between moans that her ears really did hurt. I again asked her not to be rude, but she was unrelenting.

My parents, being the loving and indulgent grandparents that they are, immediately started buying into my daughter's complaints, asking what was wrong and what they could do to help. I of course thought they were just feeding into her strategy. However, after a few minutes of my daughter crying and starting to show true signs of pain, I began to believe that maybe she wasn't crying wolf this time - that maybe the kid did in fact have an earache. Imagine that.

I took her outside to sit on a bench to try to calm her down and assess the situation. It was becoming clear that I was wrong (making my parents right again - dang it) and that she really was in pain. A Meijer store was right next door to the restaurant at which we were eating, so my husband left the restaurant to get some Tylenol. By this time her head was in my lap and I was trying to soothe her. My husband was back in a jiffy with the Tylenol, and we hoped that it would kick in quickly. No such luck. She then started asking for ear muffs, claiming that would comfort her ears. Being that it was May, I didn't have any ear muffs on me, but I thought maybe the ear phones for our portable DVD player in the van might pacify her. Again, no such luck. My concern for my daughter was growing, as was my guilt - guilt for not believing her to begin with and guilt for spoiling everyone's "perfect" Mother's Day.

I could see my daughter was clearly now in a lot of pain and that it was not going to subside on its own, so I asked that my filet mignon be boxed up and gathered my husband and kids to go home to care for my daughter. We called the doctor, who quickly faxed in a prescription for Amoxicillin and ear drops. She was in pain off and on throughout the rest of the night, but she is doing much better today.

At the time of this episode I thought, what a miserable Mother's Day. I didn't get the chance to properly acknowledge and celebrate my own mother, which I sorely wanted to do after all she has done for me during my recovery. In fact, I pretty much skipped out on her during lunch, barely saying Goodbye in my hurry to get my own daughter home and well. My poor little girl was sick. I questioned my own abilities as a mother for not recognizing my own daughter's pain or believing her.

But then it hit me. This Mother's Day celebration was very much a Hallmark moment. More so than if things had gone exactly as planned. Because it was real. It was a true Mother's Day, in the purest sense of the word and enveloped all that being a mother is. Pain, love, concern, self-doubt, vulnerability, everything that is raw and true and real. It's also about learning, giving, making and accepting our mistakes, and forgiving (others and yourself). That's what being a real mother is all about. So I guess my Mother's Day was perfect after all.

Happy Mother's Day Weekend

Yesterday my daughter gave me the gifts she had made at preschool for Mother's Day.

One was a a picture she had drawn of the two of us together. Underneath the picture, the teacher had filled in responses my daughter had given her as information about me. The bold are my daughter's responses:

My mommy is 55 years old.

She weighs 50 pounds.

She loves to eat chocolate.

She always tells me to be nice to my sister.

I love it when my mommy takes me to the playground.

Yeah, it's a little scary that she thinks I'm 55, but at least the weight answer makes up for it a bit. I think.

The other gift she had made for me was a Shrinky Dinks keychain. I'm not sure if Shrinky Dinks is what they're called anymore, but for those of you not familiar with the term-- Shrinky Dinks is an arts and craft product first created back in the 70s where thin, flexible plastic sheets are colored or drawn upon and cut into shapes. When heated in the oven, the plastic shrinks into a much smaller, thicker, and more rigid form, while retaining the colored design. I loved creating these myself when I was a kid, but I hadn't seen one in ages.

For her Shrinky Dinks project, my daughter had drawn another picture of the two of us and made it into a keychain. Let me tell you, this is by far one of the most special things I have ever received in my life, and I will cherish it forever. I have my own fond memories of making Shrinky Dinks as a kid, and to receive such a personal, precious one from my own daughter, well, it's absolutely priceless.

Here's to hoping your Mother's Day weekend is just as special.

Just Smile

I'd like to be the first to introduce you to my daughter's new smile!

This afternoon while I was getting some rest on the couch, a call came in from my daughter's preschool. She was in school at the time, so I knew something must have happened because the school only really calls if there is a problem. I knew immediately what this "problem" was -- it had to be my daughter's tooth. She's had a loose front tooth for a good month or so - her first, although not of the typical sort (refer to this post for details).

Sure enough, it was the principal calling to say that my daughter had lost the tooth today during Muscle Room (i.e gym class). The straggler had been hanging by a string for about a week and had become pretty hideous looking - it was discolored and longer than the rest of the teeth. I wanted to rip the thing out myself, but I knew that would be too traumatizing for my little drama queen. She wanted to just let it fall out by gravity alone.

Apparently during Circle Time in the Muscle Room she had been fiddling with it a little and it popped right out, sending her into an immediate, full-fledged hissy-fit. The teacher had her wash her mouth out with water while she secured the tooth in a bag. My daughter quickly became inconsolable. It was only about an hour before school was out anyway, so I told the principal that we would come get her. Since I'm still recovering from surgery and highly medicated, I had to call my mom to come get me and drive to the school to pick up my daughter.

The principal met us at the door with my somber, heart-broken little girl. She looked so sad that I wanted to cry myself. She wouldn't open her mouth right away and when she talked she covered her mouth with her hand, apparently embarrassed by her new smile. We told her we'd go through Steak 'N Shake to get her an ice cream or a shake to make her mouth feel better. This made her happier. I reminded her that everyone loses their teeth, that it was just a sign that she's getting bigger and even more like Mama (she likes to call herself my twin). This seemed to help a bit.

When we got home, she eventually disappeared into the playroom with her little sister. A few minutes later, they reappeared proudly in dressup clothes asking for pictures to be taken. To my surprise, my older daughter was very proudly and knowingly sporting her new grin. I told her I was so happy to see her showing off her new smile, to which she said, Mommy, I kinda like it!

Once again, my beautiful daughter far exceeded my expectations. I thought my rather vain daughter would be sullen and pouting and depressed about the tooth loss for at least a day, but she was actually happy about it within an hour. I could not be more proud of her.

All day she has been on the phone with our family and friends, sharing her news. She's actually even looking forward to the Tooth Fairy (whom before she had considered an Evil, Thieving Witch). After thinking all these weeks about what the Tooth Fairy does with kids' teeth she told me that she believes one of the following is the most likely scenario (since Mama, when put on the spot, could not come up with anything):

Either

(a) the Tooth Fairy saves children's teeth for little babies who do not have teeth yet and then gives the big girls' baby teeth to these new babies. She hopes our good friend's 6-month-old baby gets her tooth.

or (b) the Tooth Fairy takes the kid's teeth and throws them up into the sky and the teeth become bright, sparkling stars.

She's too smart!

I think another thing that is helping her a bit is the fact that she sees the new tooth peeking out from the gums and this makes her feel better that a replacement is on the way. What she doesn't realize, however, is this tooth will have to be pulled by the dentist probably within the month. The dentist discovered that this is actually supernumerary tooth (an extra, "fake" tooth) and has to be removed asap. But I've learned not to underestimate my daughter's strength. In fact, I think I could learn a thing or two from her.