Conversations in the Car: Part 2

Wow! It's been a long time since I posted. I guess I've been too busy having adventures with my girls!

Before addressing this particular "car conversation", I will take you back a few months.

We went to Cracker Barrel after church, which had become a weekly date for our family. Of course, after putting our name in, we head back to the toy section to entertain the kids. Emmy had been particularly good that past week, so we decided to reward her with a prize. Brinley is satisfied with chocolate still, but Emmy decided she needed a toy. After some serious deliberation, and I mean serious, she chose an old model cap gun with a white and pink holster.  C'mon! you know the old, cap guns with the little, red circles that smoked when you shot them. They were awesome! Mike and I in our own desire to play with it, decided it would be a good idea. Hmmmm, lapse in judgement to be sure...

After discussing, in great detail, why it's not appropriate to shoot our friends, family, stuff animals, or anything of real value. She's content just aiming at the fence and listening to the sound of the caps. Actually, Mike and I enjoyed it a lot more than she did. I think she just liked wearing it around so she could be a "real cowgirl". After a few hours, the gun made it's way into the abyss of the random toy room, not to be seen or heard from again until this last week.

I am not sure exactly how the gun became the "favorite" toy and couldn't be put down, but I knew that at first opportunity, I needed to hide it again. This brings us to this episode of Conversations in the Car...

From the front seat, this is what I hear:

Brin: "No shoot me, shoot mommy."

(I immediately look in the rearview mirror to evaluate this situation and see Emmy leaning on her chair, casually pointing the gun at her sister.)

Emmy: "NO! I love Mommy!"

Me: "Thanks Emmy! remember it's not nice to shoot ANYBODY."

Emmy: "Yes, Mama"

Brin repeated over and over: "Shoot Mommy, shoot Mommy, shoot Mommy...." and laughing her little head off. I swear she was doing it just because Emmy and I both said no. Thus increasing her desire to make it happen.

Emmy: "NO BRINLEY. I love Mommy and I love Daddy and I love Brudder and I love..." long pause... "you?"

I would've paid good money to have captured that confused look on Emmy's face as she was trying to decide if Brin made the "I love" list.

Me: "Yes, we love our whole family! Throw the gun on the floor." Which she did promptly. I think she was still trying to decide how much she loved her sister. Needless to say, the gun is taking a long hiatus from the toy room.

Yes, a light saber is a better choice. DON'T hit your sister!

clean up day

I should say that every day in the Hedden house is "clean up day". Now, whether or not it actually happens is another thing. With a house on the market, and two toddlers, Mama's stress levels go up and down. I certainly don't expect my children to live in a museum, but I do expect, at 2 and 4 years old, that these two can help put away toys when they're done playing with them. We sing the "clean up" song and make a game of it, but there are days when they prefer to flat out ignore me. This brings me to today...

"Emmy, Brinley, put away all your toys before we leave for the pool."

good luck getting help out of me

Brin: A very decisive "No."
Emmy is chattering away to herself oblivious of everything around her.

"Yes, pick up the toys now, or we're not going."
Brin: "Go simmin pooool?"
"Yes, pick up your toys so we can go swimming."
Brin is now dancing a jig very excited to go to the pool and kicking her toys around.

Emmy is twirling and singing and half dressed.
"Emmy, get your swim suit on"
Emmy: "I can't."
"Yes you can, you are 4 years old. Brin get those toys put away."

Brin: "No."
Emmy: "Mommy, what toys can I take to the pool?"

I sigh... This girl is trying to take the toys with us so she doesn't have to pick them up. I know that within 5 minutes at the pool, I'll be carrying all toys around while they splash.

"Get the toys in the toy box now!"
Brin: "okkkkkkkkkk" This kid can already roll her eyes at me and has mastered sarcasm.
Emmy: "Mommy, how many toys can I take?"
"One. Now get the rest put away."

So the girls mope about and pick up about half of the toys. Good enough, let's go... And sure enough, mama ends up carrying toys around at the pool.

We get home, and I start to make lunch. I keep tripping on the toys that didn't get put away earlier. So, I do what any rational mother does. I throw them in the trash. Granted the only ones I chucked were cheap toys out of kids' meals. About a half hour later, Emmy goes to throw something away.

Emmy: "MOMMY! OH NO! WHY ARE THE TOYS IN THE TRASH!?!"

"Honey, if you and your sister don't put them in the toy box when I ask you to, I throw them away."

A horrified look comes across her face.

Emmy (completely disgruntled): "oh nooooooooooooo!" and keeps turning and looking around.

I'm a little confused. I admit it.
"What's wrong, Baby?"

She turns quickly on her heel, speeds away to her room and yells: "I'll be back, I gotta clean my room! Brin! Stay out of my room!"

I smirk and think to myself: "wow, all I had to do was throw away a cheap plastic ball..."

She's got a dream!

Watching Tangled with Brinley this morning for the 1,233,089th time, I look over during the "I've got a dream" song and notice she's busting quite a jig and singing along. I can't help but laugh at her because it's so darn cute. She's wearing her sunglasses for a belt and waltzing with her new fairy doll.

singing along

I start to sing along with her and it encourages her even more. We spin around the room and giggle for a while then she runs up and yells at me in a super squeaky, excited voice:

Brinley: "I GOT DREAM TOO!"

Me: "You do?!"

Brinley: "YEAH!"

Me: "What is it, Sugar Bear?"

Brinley: "I GOT DREAM TOO! I GO GET IT!"

Off to chase down her dream

Then she turns to run off, high stepping like a little, prancing pony. She's yelling "I get dream REAL FAST, Mama!" and starts to do her "roll 'em up" arm motions taking off for her bedroom. I watch with amusement as she trots off. Suddenly, she stops and I see her little head tilt to one side as if she's pondering something. She turns around and saunters back over.

Me: "Where's your dream, baby?"

Brinley, frowning and pouty lip out: "It downstairs. I wanna get it."

It now occurs to me that she stopped right in front of the stairs and realized the baby gate was blocking her way.

Brinley: "Mama, wanna help you get it." (She hasn't figured out she's supposed to say "help me" yet)

Me: "OK, Sugar."

She lights up, grabs my hand and drags me downstairs. I'm extremely curious to see what this dream is. She walks straight to the cabinets and climbs into one. I'm smiling and wishing all dreams could be so easily had.

Brinley: "OH NO! Bubbles GONE!"

or maybe not....

Me: "Yes, honey. You spilled them on the patio last night."

Brinley: "OH NO! I WANT BUBBLESSSSSSSSS!" Throwing her head back, arms straight down and belly out.

Me: "Let's go back upstairs."

I carry her kicking and screaming back up the stairs. I rewind back to the song, she instantly snaps out of it and starts singing again. I sure hope this time she decides on a different dream. Maybe this evening we'll fulfill the first one.

all better now

After church conversations...

We load up in the truck after church the other day. I fully expect the typical questions coming from Emmy in the back seat. "Mom! where are we going to eat?! Bella Luna or Barrel? I want Barrel, Mom! They have toys to play with. Let's play with toys!" and Brin echoing "apple butta! toys! barrel! apple butta!"

Instead, I hear (on our way to Cracker Barrel). "MOM (long pause), what's your favorite color?"

Me: "Blue."

Emmy: "You can have more than one favorite color."

Me: "I know, but I like blue best."

Emmy: "I think you like blue and red."

Me: "No honey, just blue."

Emmy: "It's blue and red. You need 2 favorite colors."

Me: "No, I just need the one, and it's blue." And under my breath to Mike: "I hate red. I wore enough in high school." Visions of me in my cheerleader uniform dance through his head...

Emmy: "Just blue? ummmm, ok. Dad, what's your favorite color?"

Mike, snapping back to reality: "Blue."

Emmy: "Just one?! Ugh! Well, I have two! Pink and purple!"

Me: "Good for you dear. What did you learn in church today?"

Emmy, ignoring me: "Brin, what's your favorite color?"

Brin: "FOUR!" (holding up four fingers and very excited about it.)

laughter ensues while Emmy explains to her that four isn't a color.

Emmy: "Brin! You have to pick a color!"

Brin: "FOUR!" Arms up. Laughing hysterically, and extremely proud of herself.

At this point, Mike and I are envisioning Billy Bob from Varsity Blues screaming "10! Mother Fu... 10!" and laughing so hard we're crying.

Emmy: "Is it pink or purple like me?"

Brin: "FOUR!" Both arms flailing, looking like Nixon flashing the peace signs.

At that point, Emmy sighs, exasperated, wondering what was wrong with her family.

Maybe we should stay out of the lazy susan

Roller Skate Socks

The other night Mike and I chased, wrestled, scrubbed, wrestled some more, and eventually got the girls somewhat ready for bed. After bath time, Emmy always tells me I'm her "partner" and Mike snatches Brin up. We play them man-to-man at that point otherwise the bed time routine would go from 30 minutes to 60. We spend quite a bit of time negotiating with naked children about how quickly they need to get dressed and go to sleep.

Once Mike can catch Brin, and dress her, he takes her into the other room to cuddle on the couch for their normal routine. She takes down a bed time drink, and they watch Family Guy until the drink is gone. Emmy and I brush teeth and crawl into her big girl bed to read books. Once Brin hears it's book time, she comes sprinting in toddler style with her arms waving around and sippy cup hanging half out of her mouth. She climbs into Emmy's new princess bed and puts me in a headlock or pulls my ponytail while I'm trying to read. It's "loves, mama". 

When we're all done reading books, Mike takes Brin in for her turn brushing teeth. Emmy messes around in her room, stalling. I start cleaning up dinner. Brin comes running out, with Mike behind her. We exchange nom-noms, and Mike starts watching the end of Family Guy. I'm hollering for Emmy to come "give loves" and we hear her little feet pounding as she comes running from her room. 

I see her flash past in her hot pink princess pajamas as she's heading for Mike. Then THUD. She's down! Where did she go?! I see Mike looking down with a half amused, half concerned look on his face. "You OK?" he asks. I walk around to the other side of the island and Emmy is laying flat on her back. She was running so fast that once her feet left the carpet and hit the wood floors it was all over. 

She looks up at him, with a pained and surprised giggle, replies "I must've put on my roller skate socks!" 

Mommy Competition: Winter Games

Why is it when you least want to go out into the world, that is the very moment you absolutely have to?

A few of the reasons we mommies HAVE to get out of the house:

1. Diapers/formula: We're out. They've crapped in, or sucked down the last of them and we just hope there's enough to get us to the store. Once there, we can always break open the package. I know I'm not the only person out there that's handed a cashier an open product.

2. Weather: We must remember after not leaving the house for several days, that weather does still happen and we'd like to know what it feels like. Only to instantly say "CRAP, it's cold! Dragging kids around in this is ridiculous! I should've just opened a window."

3. They've destroyed the house. As much as we try to keep on top of keeping the house somewhat presentable. There are just those days when the efforts are futile. On this note, we'll discuss this morning...

I should've known when I went to the bathroom and didn't have "help" something was amiss. Gone from the kitchen for, I swear, less than a minute, I returned to find a box of crackers spilled, crushed and tracked all over the floor. A chair pushed over the island, which my child obviously used to climb up and across the counter to retrieve a bottle of Pepto Bismol I was certain was out of reach. At which point, she sat on the chair and actually got the lid off. Poured the entire bottle (which was brand new) out into the given cup, all over my freshly cleaned counter top, and onto my now cracker covered solid hickory wood floors. In what I assume was an attempt to clean it up, she smeared her hands in it, then all over the chair, down the sides of the cabinets and into the pantry where she got a hankering for some cookies. Cookies covered in chocolate. In a prepackaged bag. In an unopened box. On a shelf out of reach. And ate them, covered in Pepto, on my white pebble rug. Houdini. Definitely should've named her Houdini.

If smoke could've come out of my ears at that point, it would have. I think my head spun around like that creepy girl on the original Exorcist. Pictures would've been appropriate here, but at that moment, adding a camera to the mix, just didn't enter my mind. Once I got that cleaned up, I HAD to get out of the house.

Here, I'll combine a few of my past experiences of getting out of the house. Regardless of what happens at home, the emotion to leave is still the same. I walk into the store relieved there are other people here and the world indeed turns on some other axis other than my children's behavior. Then it happens. Competition time! Woo Hoo!  I round the corner and see someone from the past. Whether it's an ex, a girl we didn't know well, or like, from high school but well enough we have to say hello and make small talk, that hot guy from work or a nosy neighbor, we've all been there.

That's when I'm INSTANTLY aware of how I look. Maybe it's instantly aware that I have NO IDEA how I look. Is that baby spit or am I leaking milk on my shirt? Did I brush my hair? Forget that! Did I brush my teeth? Do my clothes even remotely match? Man! I sure wish I would've taken a few minutes for some kind of makeup. They already destroyed the house, what would 2 more minutes have done!?!

As the kids get older, all those thoughts still go through my head but now I'm also very aware of how my children look and are behaving. Sure enough, the day you run into Super Mom is the not the day sweet Emmy wears a soccer uniform, cowboy boots and lets me fix her hair. NOPE. It's the day she's got on orange sweats, a stained white t-shirt, neon green no socks with her leopard print ballet slippers and is pitching a fit for a Toy Story toy. Cute hair? not a chance. I haven't combed that kid's hair in days. Brinley, no help from her. She just fell into a snow bank, is screaming bloody murder and is now an awkward (and wet) shade of gray.

yes, we still let her dress herself, and yes, those are cowboy boots

After talking with said Super Mom, I haven't the foggiest what we discussed. I do remember her perfect hair, perfect makeup, cute boots with jeans (she has on REAL clothes) and her perfectly polished nails. My own have either breakfast, lunch, pepto or a 2 year old's poop dried under them. The only time I wear real clothes is when the comfy ones are all in the wash. The sweet little girl with the princess dress, matching hair bow and mary janes though, just as perfect as her perfect Super Mom. I play it off though. Every time. Smile, chat and be on my way.

Yup, it's time to go home. Throw those kids potato sack style over each shoulder and carry them out. She couldn't tell through my huge sweat pants, but my butt is smaller than hers! I decided I'm glad the destruction in the kitchen was on the wood floors and not on the carpet and consider the day a success. Then Brinley, my Sugar Bear, gives me a big hug and nom noms* me on the cheek laughing her little head off. Then Emmy tells me it's the funnest day ever (I have no idea why though). Who's Super Mom now, Woman!?! (only in my head, I didn't say "woman")

Emmy thinks I'm a horse and Brin thinks I'm a slide

*NOM NOMS is what we call the act of pretending to eat each others ears, noses, cheeks making a "nom nom" sound.

Got Crabs?

After the whirlwind of the holidays, Mike and I decided to take a somewhat spur of the moment trip to Mexico for a little (much needed) childless trip. Getting the girls ready to spend 5 nights at their Mam and Papa's 5 miles away proved to be more difficult and required much more luggage than our 2000 mile trek to another country. 

Brin casually dragging her bedtime buddies to the living room

After tucking our "short ones" into bed at Mam and Papa's, we headed back to our house to pack our own bags and get ready for our very early morning flight. We managed to get everything in 2 carry-ons, with room to spare. After all, how much can you really need at the beach? 

After a full day of almost missed connecting flights, stiff arming time share people and please just find me a drink and some food check-in people, we made it to the ocean. First things first. Find shells for the girls. 

That night we called home to let them know how much we missed them and that we were bringing them something from the ocean. Brin just answered us with short stories about her dinner with Papa completely oblivious to the fact we were so far away. 

Then Emmy gets on the phone. Oh boy. Did she have lots of questions. 

"When are you coming home? Do I get a prize?"

Yes, dear, we got you a surprise.

"What is it? A Rapunzel Tower?"

I can't tell you, it's a surprise.

"But, but, what is it?"

We found you some seashells.

"You diiiiiiid! I want a Rapunzel Tower."

Yes, for you and for Sugar Bear. Maybe you can have a Tower when we get home. 

"Ahhhhhh, ok. What color are they?"

White and pink

"I want a purple one"

They don't have purple ones

"Where are you?"

We're at the beach.

this is when the long pause started....

Emmy? Hello, Emmy?

"Mama."

Yes, Baby.

"Do you have crabs?"

(why is my four year old asking me that question!?!)

No, honey, I don't have crabs.

"Are you sure Mama? You get crabs on the beach."

No sweetheart, but I bet I could find some in Cancun.

"What?"

Nothing sweetheart, there are no crabs here.

"Diego says there are crabs on the beach."

Sometimes there are.

"But, you need crabs"

No honey, I don't think anyone needs crabs....

Mike and I on a crab free beach