Marie The Parent

Dearest Elise and Everybody Else,

Yesterday it wasn't until evening that I looked into K.J.'s backpack to go over the book and the homework de jour. I know, I know... slacker! But let us wax philosophical here... at least I looked. (The book was about earthquakes. Say What?! I skimmed it, and it did, in fact, describe in rhyme how buildings tumble/buildings crumble. Whatever, man. That is the last book I am ever reading to my extremely nervous first grader. So we read "Five Little Monkeys Read A Book," and I signed his book list anyway. That is me, sticking it to the Man!) In the backpack, I finally found the note that explained K.J.'s random squeakings of "The whole school is having a Christmas party tomorrow!" Yep. And we were supposed to bring treats to share with the class for after lunch. Here is the thing... I just... did not want to leave the house again to go to the store again. I figured I would do it this morning and then run it in, but I really do hate interrupting class. I feel like such a Hoser every time. So we ransacked our cupboards... Spaggettio's? Beets (Olivia and I just love beets)? Bean and Bacon soup? And then, he found my secret stash -- candy from Brazil! My baby brother and sister-in-law brought me quite a bit when they went in September to visit her family, and I have hoarded it. And there, there was my favorite thing that I had hoarded the very most: the delicious little individually wrapped white chocolate wafer things. And K.J. said "How about this? I can tell everyone it's from my Aunt Sil who is from Brazil, and Brazil is in South America!" How could I resist? I wept bitter tears (figuratively speaking) as I loaded it into his backpack.
I am the best mother this kid is ever going to get.
Which is super, because last night my mother stopped by our house just as this child in particular was meeting his fate after a naughty day of half-truths and direct defiance. Daddy was not happy. Daddy rose up from his chair in that way that speaks so very clearly: "I am now handling this situation; and you will be very sorry that you made me handle it." K.J. was sorry. I was a little sorry, too, but -- to wax philosophical again -- the kid had it coming, and for some reason, Dad's are way more effective at striking the fear of justice into children's hearts then Mom's. So I just sat back and smiled at my Mom. I am positive that she thinks weird things about our parenting sometimes.
But my kids don't have a nervous twitch yet. So we're good.
Just to let you know, I have eaten SIX buttermilk nugget donut things since yesterday at three o'clock. And they have been delicious. And there are two left, and I might eat them, too. I particularly like them warmed up with a very small glass of milk.
After dropping Bob and a few other stray children off at school today, and realizing that this is the LAST day of school before Christmas break, I got thinking of happy Christmas pasts from my own childhood. I got lots of fun toys, but most importantly, many, many happy memories. We used to share Christmas breakfast with my cousins, and that was so fun. And now my kids get to do that, which is cooler.
And then I thought of the fact that I used to walk home from elementary school pretending I was a world famous singer. So I'd prance in my imaginary high heels and sing at the very top of my lungs. Then one day, I looked to my right and there was a nice man leaning into his car chuckling with one huge, gigantic smile. I thought he was laughing at me, and my high heels shrunk quickly back to normal shoes. I now know he was either thinking "Wow, that is so cute" or else "Someone should do something about that girl," but he wasn't laughing at me. I really should have learned volume control as a child.

When you think about it, that is a very useful life skill.

Peace and Hair Grease,
Marie.