And They Lived Happily Ever After

Taking time out to back track today. It’s a very special day to me…

Let’s flash back 10 years…

July 2000

Dating Guy, went to a party with Sister of Guy and Sister boyfriend at Sister boyfriends cousins house. Saw cousin. Ohhh he’s a cute guy (hence forth referred to as Dream Guy ), wanted to talk to Dream Guy, but had Guy so let the whole go. 

January 2001, New Years Eve

Said boyfriend dumped me, (I know right?! I got dumped AT A NEW YEARS EVE PARTY!)

End of January 2001

Went to a party to see ex-boyfriend (please insert eye roll at 20 year old stupidity here). Upon entering saw dream guy. 

Dream Guy’s friend asked me for my number. Mad at ex-boyfriend, gave dream Friend my number. Friend began calling.

February 14, 2001

 Friend sent flowers on valentine’s day. Ohh that’s nice. Actually I still have the card because I thought it was just so thoughtful of Friend to send. Went to Nuthouse Sports Bar at request of Friend to hang out with friends of Friend. Oh what a sweet guy Friend was (is), but I loved his roommate—Dream Guy. 

Sat next to Dream Guy and commenced conversation. O.M.G. (I realize that this was all prior to this popular catch phrase, but it fits so shut-it, I’m telling a love story here). My knee was touching his knee under the table. Eeeeeekkkkk!! MY KNEE IS TOUCHING HIS KNEEE!!! And he wasn’t moving his knee away. Did Dream Guy love me too?!! Could it be?

Told Friend, “Sorry I love another.” Since Friend had been calling  me for all of one-week, I don’t believe he was heartbroken. Friend remains a friend and is quite the ladies man. I am sure I was easily replaced so don’t go painting me the mean girl in this picture.

February 17, 2001

Went to study session (I feel guilty putting two parties and a bar in one story, so we’ll call it a study session) and tried to flirt my way into the heart of Dream Guy. Hit major road blocks upon my route, but feeling as though there is still a chance. Friend of Friend and of Dream Guy asks me for my number. Noooooo!! I like Dream Guy! I want Dream Guy to ask for my number!

“Sorry, I am actually interested in someone else.” Friend of friend leans over and barfs off side of porch. Apparently friend of Friend had done too much studying that night. Dream Guy leaves with friend of Friend who is feeling under the weather. 

Now we arrive upon February 18, 2001…Morning.

Call Dream Guy’s house. “Did you guy’s all get home okay last night?” 

Dream guy, “Yes.” 

Awkward silence.

Dream guy, “Hey, I heard you like someone. I hope it isn’t me.” Did he just say I hope it isn’t me??!! Awww heartbroken. He was my dream guy. 

Me, “Oh no. Don’t worry about it.”

Sad. 

5:00 pm February 18, 2001…

AOL Instant Message from Dream Guy. “Hey.”

O.M.G. Flirty instant message conversation begins…flirty instant message conversation continues for hours. 

10:00 pm February 18, 2001

Dream Guy messages, “Can I come see you?”

No, it’s too late. 

Dream guy “please?” 

I cave. “Okay, but you can’t stay long. I have to work in a.m.”

Dream guy arrives at my dorm. My insides are about to explode. Be cool. Be cool. EEEKKKK. Be cool.

Face to face, one on one conversation with Dream Guy. The more we talk, the more I think Ohhhh!! I LOVVVVE him. 

Dream Guy says “I’d like to kiss you.” This would be my very last first kiss.

Dream Guy leaves to go to his home. Dream guy stays in my heart forever and ever, for several years dating, for proposal at Pentwater, for wedding, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, for three beautiful healthy babies, two homes, several jobs, and for happily ever after. 

Dream Guy I Love You!

Potty Mouth Itis

My smart, sweet, beautiful, darling daughter suffers from potty-mouth-itis. If you are deeply offended by the taking of the Lords name in vain, please do not read any further and please-oh-please please please do not spend any time with Kinsley.

This all started several months ago. There is a parent in our house, not to be named, who suffers from his own version of potty-mouth-itis. I believe it was through this connection Kinsley contracted her illness. I remain firmly convinced that for a women, when she has children who hormones change in such a way that she uses words like poo, geez, darn and dang in her regular vocabulary.

I’ll admit the first time I heard her tiny sweet little voice saying “G. Damnit” I started cracking up. Then tried to regain composure and sternly said, we don’t say that—it’s not nice. I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, we all know that if it is a big NO, then it is way more fun to participate it.

There was the day I took all the kids to the grocery store. Despite being totally brain fried and dripping with sweat from this outing (what in the world was I thinking?!)  I am sure that I was still using words like dang, darn, and poo. Still Kinsley must have sensed my stress and felt it the perfect time to drop her own feelings of frustration, G.D .it! (Abbreviation was not used vocally). So what happens next? Oh Greyson replies with the same—G.D. it! Back and forth, back and forth they go. They got a good three speed rounds in before I firmly announced they were NOT going to get M & M’s in the checkout lane if I heard that one more time. Issue resolved.

We reached a new level of potty-mouth-itis when Bo let out a big “grrrrrr” in frustration. Kinsley immediately blurted out what she thought should follow. Super. We have utilized the philosophy of Pavlov’s Dogs to train our 2 year old to respond with swear words when she hears someone being frustrated. Looking on the positive, great job making an appropriate association! On the downside, the chance that she is going to give a big ole’ swear word in the company of someone who is going to be deeply offended therefore forcing me to retract into a hole of shame is increasing. Parent suffering from potty-mouth-itis ceased foul language at this point.

Kinsley sensed the absence of swearing in our home and felt the need to fill it. “G.D. it I pee pee’d in my pants.” “G.D.it, Dora all done.” “The fishies swam and swam all over the G.D. it.” SERIOUSLY???!!! Confession part #2: it is STILL funny each and every single time. I have a terrible sense of humor that loves when my children behave inappropriately. Every time she says it, it’s like I have the good angel and bad angel on each shoulder. 

Good Angel: This is not okay Mom. Step up. Be a parent here.

Bad Angel: hahaha!! That was hilarious! Don’t worry, she’ll just outgrow it. Probably every kid swears.

Good angel wins. “Kinsley stop it or you are going to get soap in your mouth.” Kinsley has never had soap in her mouth but she is smart enough to know soap does not equal yum.

The potty-mouth-itis currently remains an issue. It was no surprise when my Mom called to report that Kinsley (who has been having a long weekend at their house) was going around singing G.D. it, G.D.it, G.D. it. UGHHHHH!!! Have no fear—my mother is a genius! Every time Kinsley says it, my mom says in the same emphatic tone, “That’s right. GOD LOVES IT!”

Maybe now people will think potty-mouth-itis daughter is singing praises. I have a feeling the phrase “God love it” will need to be further reinforced before the issue is resolved.  Sigh. It could be worse…Greyson could still be declaring in a very LOUD voice, “Mommy, she has a BIGGGGG butt!”

The Lack of a Helping Hand

Do you ever NOT want your kids to do something for themselves? Not because it wouldn’t be good for them, or even that you don’t want them to know how, but simply because you just want to hurry up and do it yourself? 

I realize this makes me sound horribly mean and lazy, but I am pretty sure there is not one parent out there that hasn’t stood clenching their teeth while their kid tries to wiggle into their own socks when you are already 10 minutes late for a doctors appointment. For me, this is the biggest test of a parents patience. 

Kinsley is my “I do it myself” child. I don’t know if it is a girl thing, a second child thing or just a Kinsley thing but absolutely everything she must do herself.

She is committed to changing her clothes at least 3 times a day. This is not an issue for me at all. Rock on with your fashionista self girl! She loves, loves, loves clothes. She loves folding them (or rolling them in a ball) putting them in her dresser, pulling them out of her dresser, carrying them around the house, and of course wearing them. (Don’t worry, I am not ruining the planet by doing excessive amounts of laundry. I don’t put each change of  clothes in the laundry, I do an inspection to determine clean, clean enough or dirty.)

Like I said, changing her clothes over and over no issue. Picking out ridiculous ensembles, again no issue. Even having to repeatedly pick up all of the discarded clothes no issue. The issue lies in the “I do it.” 

Kinsley is INSISTENT on getting herself dressed. If you are even thinking for a nanosecond, why don’t you just tell her no and do it yourself? Then clearly you do not know my daughter or the stubborn gene that I have passed down to her. To OFFER help would be to ask for a complete and total tantrum of monumental proportions. “I do it. I do it. Self. Self. No. No. No.” 

If you dare to tackle her (pardon me, I mean tackle like gingerly holding her on your lap and cooing “let mommy help you darling.”) and manage to hold (hug) her long enough (5-10 minutes) to get her dressed (in the chosen panda bear pants, butterfly shirt and light up tutu) then she will start struggle to free herself from the clothes that have been tarnished by your touch and start the process all over again.

This can go on the entire morning. Generally the process begins again after nap time. So instead of tackling (hugging) her I patiently sit there while she again puts two legs in one pant hole and shoves her arm through the neck of her shirt.

Then comes the pay off—the beaming smile from a two year old who believes she did it all herself. For a moment I feel like I am such a great mom for just sitting and encouraging her, ever so softly putting forth a guiding touch...then she see's the kitty pant, looks down at the panda pants, pulls the kitty pants out of the drawer and I just walk out of the room.