On today’s episode of Dubious Compliments from Stumps

“Mommy your face looks like a sandwich ’cause it has moles all over it.”

I assume she is referring to my sun damage age spots large pores freckles.

Um. What types of sandwiches have they been feeding my children at daycare?

***************************************************************************

In unrelated news, I am pleased to discover that Stumps and Beans are quite creative and am veritably bursting with copious amounts of understandable mommy pride.

For example, just today Beanie repurposed a pair of toenail clippers into a shank.

“No Beanie. Stop Beans. STOP!!! Mommy she got the clippers! Mommyyyy she is trying to clip meeee!!!”

It is worth mentioning that they are both sick so I am home from work and we are quarantined to the house. Only 170 more minutes until Husband comes home. Not that I am counting. Or completely disgusted from doing many hours of post-puke laundry. Or entirely out of BRAT diet ingredients, Florastor, and Pedialyte.

Or going stir crazy and slowly rapidly losing my grip.

I would be a really shitty SAHM.

Much, much respect ladies (and the occasional gent). I don’t know how you do it.

Advertisements

“I’m two. Don’t f*** with me.”

CIMG6181

My now four-year-old Stumps was a high-strung newborn who would routinely scream from 4-7 pm every afternoon for the first four months of her life. So when the Jellybean came along nearly two-and-a-half years later, we didn’t know what hit us. Beanie was such an easy, happy, laid back baby that it was uncanny. No amount of antagonization was going to provoke Beans into fussing. I remember asking Husband more than a few times in those early months, “She’s so chill. She never cries. Do you think there’s something, you know, wrong with her?”

Beanie’s amiable and easygoing temperament was quite fortunate, all things considered, since I am pretty certain I said “Leave the baby’s head alone!” to Stumps at least twice a day that entire first year.

Fast forward to now, and in hindsight, we now know Beans was just stockpiling rage to unleash upon the pitiful creatures of this world throughout her toddler years.

In other news, they are eating a meal at an actual table (see Items #3-5) , so we can consider that progress.

If anyone would like to propose a caption for what the comic strip thought-bubble above my twenty-two-month-old’s withering glare might read, I welcome submissions!

{Edited to add: When you click on the picture, it is not at all blurry, so not sure why it is blurry embedded in the post?}

So today I was the subject of the following heartfelt sentiment…

“I don’t want this mommy anymore! I want a new mommy!”

Not sure about anyone else, but on this brisk and blustery March afternoon, I for one am feeling quite warm and fuzzy and entirely affirmed that my decision to procreate five years ago was a good one.

Her soul may evolve to be very confused but her future SAT score will completely blow your mind.

“Mommy do you remember when the really bad men spit at Jesus?”

Hmmm… is she assuming I was there when that happened? Kid I’m only thirty-freakin’-two!

Whatever.

“Yes Stumps.”

“That was really really mean! And they called Him names and they threw things at Him and spit on Him!”

“Yes sweetie. It was really terrible and Jesus did not deserve it and they were really mean.”

“They did those bad things because He loves us!”

Sure okay. Yeessss… Sort of like that. But not exactly… More like He loves us in spite of those horrible things that they didthat we did…  that we do…. Er, how does an optimistically agnostic mommy explain this to a Christian four year old again?

“And Mommy spitting on Jesus is very very unbespectful!”

*****************************************************************************************

Oh Em Gee.

Shut The Front Door.

Did my preschooler just use attempt to use “disrespectful” in a sentence in a way that was more-or-less contextually accurate??

I can’t really discern any age-appropriate digestible way to break down for her the fall of man, but I couldn’t be more proud of Stumps’ growing vocabulary!

An etiquette lesson from my four-year-old

This morning I authored my 200th blog post. I struggled with writing this, as I felt the milestone deserved the respect, gravity, and solemnity one reserves for a truly memorable occasion. I only hope that what follows measures up. Deep breath. Here goes…

*****************************************************************

“Ohmigod! Ew! Whoever just did that needs to excuse themself! Quiet toots that stink that you don’t apologize for that mess up other people’s air are RUDE!”

Despite Stumps’ very public admonishment, no one stepped up to claim responsibility and express any sort of remorse.

Stumpsisms of the day

Aside

Stumps will ask me “Why?” nineteen times in a row and still not be satisfied with my answer. Since I am not quite ready to surrender to earning the very special Mother Of The Year award that is reserved for mommies who tell their preschool-age children to “shut up”, I oftentimes find myself saying “Sweetie, it’s my quiet time now.”

This, however, has started to backfire. Now when I pick the Stumps up from daycare and inquire about her day, she responds with “Can I have some quiet time please?”

In other news, Husband was upstairs this evening giving our pitiful little Beans, who was mid-overtired-and-overstimulated-helltantrum, a bath. Typically my children bathe together so when I came downstairs and found my four year old still down here playing, I asked why she wasn’t with her sister in the bath. Stumps replied, “I don’t want to listen to all that freaking out.”

Instead we played beauty parlor for awhile. Stumps was styling my hair and just tooting up a storm. I asked if she had gas and she stated matter-of-factly, “Yes, that usually happens when you fix someone’s hair.” Hairstylists – Is excessive flatulence a universal issue within the industry? It must be all the exposure to processing chemicals. I now feel like I am privy to one of the secrets of the trade. Prior to this evening, I just always assumed she got it from her dad.