The evidence of the pathology

I have a serious aversion to telephones. I have a very social daughter. This has created some tension in our family, as she would really, really, really, really like me to call her friends' moms and arrange playdates and I just ... can't.

To deal with the problem of calling one or two moms, I have devised the following solution:



Yes, that's right. I am throwing a party for 10 five-year-olds because for parties, you can send paper invitations rather than talk to actual people! To avoid using the phone, I have designed and printed invitations, planned crafts, activities, and games, and intend to make (or at least drive all the way to the grocery store to buy) cupcakes to arrange in the shape of wiggle worms.

That, folks, is what you call pathology.


~RCH~

Junior miss

DH took me on a hot date last Saturday ... to the town's Jr. Miss competition. Woo-hoo! It's a very big deal around here -- DH had purchased six tickets in support of various girls or their families who are his patients -- but neither of us knew anything about it. ("Is it a beauty pageant kind of thing?" I asked him. "Why are you asking me?" he said. "You're supposed to know stuff. You talk to people." He furrowed his brow. "I think it's some kind of contest...? I have no idea.")

It turned out to be a fascinating sociological experience. The girls in the competition (yes, it was a beauty pageant) were way out of the realm of my experience; I think I had my confused face on for the first 90 minutes (I relaxed with an hour still to go).

This year's theme was In Your Dreams -- which made me laugh because it sounded so snarky, though it turns out the participants were quite earnest. They each introduced themselves at the beginning, stepping forward to the microphone in their fancy gowns and large hair, by letting us in on their dreams. Several dreamed of becoming a dancer (another very big deal in this town, apparently), others a teacher or a scientist. One girl freaked me out when she stepped forward and proudly announced, "My name is ______, daughter of So&So & Such&So, and my dream is to find my prince charming and live happily ever after!"

Excuse me? I have nothing against true love, obviously, but.... WOW. I'm hardly the most ambitious girl you'll ever meet (I'm rather anti-ambitious, actually), but I find that mindset really, really disturbing. Women are far more than the man they do or do not have hanging on their arm.

I think the Jr. Miss program is designed to counteract that mentality (well, sort of, if you don't pay attention to the sparkly princess gowns). Utah's reigning Jr. Miss served as the evening's emcee. She has an impressive resumé (along with flowing blonde locks and a killer Barbie pink dress): She's the state's Sterling Scholar in Music; she has studied at Julliard and performed at Carnegie Hall and for heads of state; she is currently her high school's senior class president and will enter Harvard this coming fall with Biochemical Engineering as her intended major. She's way on the other end of the spectrum from the contestant who just wants to find a cute boy, and as the winner for her entire state I imagine she's more representative of the Jr. Miss ideal.

I ought to appreciate her achievements and example. And I do, in theory. On the other hand.... The underachiever in me wants to take her aside and tell her to CALM DOWN. There must be some kind of middle ground where she can happily live just one life, and not six or seven all at once. Just listing her activities makes me tired.

They held the event in the town's elementary school auditorium. This was the first time I've been in the building where Uno will begin her public school career in four months. It looks horrifically oversized for my little girl -- perhaps because it used to be the middle school, giving it a grander scale than your average grade school, but more likely because I hate to think of my firstborn as that independent, that ... old.

The whole pageant hit me like that, actually. I don't anticipate that Uno will grow up to be our town's Jr. Miss of 2020 (can you picture her in sequins, striding up to the mic? "I'm Uno, daughter of RCH & DH, and my dream is to kick the bad guys' butts through the beneficent use of my super powers!"). But I do anticipate that she'll grow up. Someday in the not nearly distant enough future, she will be as grown up as those girls are. She'll drive. Date boys, or at the very least pine. She'll be looking around at colleges (if I've done my job right, colleges far away from me). She will have fully and intelligently formed opinions about her world. She will be herself, or just about, but in any case no longer merely my child.

Whoah.

Amy Someone won the competition. I had my money on #10 (they each wore numbers pinned to their clothes throughout the evening), and while she made quite the haul in individual categories like fitness and poise, she failed to win the Big One. Oh well. DH told me -- after it ended as we were walking out, lol -- that he knew it would be Amy. "I just didn't say so before because I didn't want to have to say I told you so," he claimed.

Whatever, dude. ;-)


~RCH~

Today's Quote Book quote

From Dos:

"I left my bracelet at the petting zoo, and a horse pooped on it. That's not good."

Nope. Not good at all, kid. :-)


~RCH~

Sisterly love

Awwww!


~RCH~

Addendum

I meant to include the following in the weekend update posted a couple hours ago:

Tres has a new super power: She can roll off the bed in a single bound!

*THUD*

No more boxing her in with pillows and running downstairs to turn on the dryer, I guess. (For the record, she's fine. DH freaked out, but of course he wasn't around for the time ~9mo Uno flung her highchair -- while she was strapped in it -- to the floor, or the time Uno knocked the stroller -- with 4mo Dos strapped in it -- onto concrete, both of which resulted in frightening and dramatic goose egg head trauma. If he had been, he'd know that a short fall onto padded carpet is nothing!) (Where do I sign up for the Parent of the Year award...?)

* * *
This guy? He and his friends decided to come to our house this weekend and freak the girls out. He's a Box Elder Bug, right? Nope.

According to Uno and Dos, he's a Litter Bug. Or a Lady Box. Or a Box Letter Bug. Maybe even a Bug Older Bug.

Whatever the case, Dos will happily assure you, that little Litter Bug won't get you. He might be creepy, but he's nice. So you don't have to smash him into pieces if you don't want to.

Good to know.

And that really is all. :-)


~RCH~

Weekend update

Originally, DH had planned to take the older two girls to the big city an hour north of us by himself, giving me an opportunity to organize things at home in relative peace and quiet. But in the end, we decided to make it a family day; I'm so glad we did.

First we hit a pet store that had a small petting zoo in the back. We made our way through the store, oohing and ahhing at the cute puppies, the huge fish in the salt water aquariums, the mice and gerbils and rabbits, the parrots and parakeets, before stepping outside into the warm sunshine (hooray for spring!) and an array of exotic and farm animals. Uno and Dos liked it all; Tres was pickier. I thought she'd like the big soft eyes of the donkeys or miniature horses, but nope. I thought the scampering of baby goats (the billies with itty-bitty horns on their heads, so cute!) might catch her attention, but nope. The ostriches? The yak? Wobbly fat pigs? No, no, no. But then I set Tres down in front of a very large turkey with white feathers and a colorful, grizzled neck and head. He hissed at her from behind the fence. (Who knew turkeys hissed?) She laughed. He walked a few steps to the side, his angry turkey eyes never leaving hers. She chuckled. He walked back and spit out a low gobble. She giggled and giggled.

Turkeys are hilarious.

We left the store with some equipment for Uno's goldfish tank, a lawn ornament (an elephant carved in wood), and two whiny children demanding a puppy RIGHT NOW. Uno turned our attempts at teaching empathy back around on us: "How would you like it if you didn't get a puppy? How would that make you feel?" Actually, although I do consider myself a dog person, I'd be just fine with that, lol. I clean up enough poop as it is.

* * *

We met DH's part-time PA Friend Todd (when DH first introduced him to the girls a year and a half ago, he said, "This is my friend Todd" and he's been Friend Todd ever since) at Perkins for lunch. I had a pot pie. Uno stole Dos's rainbow pancakes, one bite at a time, and left her own scrambled eggs and bacon untouched. It turned out the guy who owns that Perkins is Friend Todd's patient at his other job, and he comped the meal for us. It's nice having such well-connected and influential friends!

* * *

Friend Todd went home to get his girls (9yo and 7yo) and we met them at the theater to see Horton Hears a Who. Uno chatted up the girls before the movie started, telling them about how she's five years old now (she has been since January, but it's still a hot topic of conversation). Dos chimed in that she used to be two, but she's three now (has been since last July). Friend Todd's girls smiled politely and nodded their heads.

I thought Tres would sleep through the movie after such a big morning, but she didn't. She alternately ate and stared wide-eyed at the bright colors on the big screen. All three of them slept on the drive home, though.


* * *

I taught the 12yos in Sunday School yesterday (DH and I share the job; we alternate weeks). Nobody would focus; I blame the nice weather. The kids -- even the usually very good, very quiet ones -- were cracking jokes and giggling long before I got to the part of the lesson about chastity (and long before I had to explain what a concubine was, though of course that explanation just made everything worse).

* * *

Uno and Dos were playing grownups yesterday after dinner: Dos was Mom; Uno was Dad. "Let's take a nap. I'm tired," Dos-as-Mom said in an unnaturally squeaky voice. "Me too," said Uno-as-Dad in false baritone. "But mostly I'm tired of cleaning up this pig style every day when I get home from work!"

* * *

DH & I watched a little TV after putting the girls to bed; he, as usual, maintained firm control of the remote. He kept switching back and forth between VH1's Rock of Love 2 with Bret Michaels and Ice Princess on the Disney Channel. "This show is so stupid," he said about the movie wherein a teenage bookworm discovers her passion for figure skating. But he kept watching and wouldn't turn it back to VH1. ;-)


~RCH~

The best word

Tres started saying Mama today. Or, to be more accurate, Mamamamamama. And actually, she's stumbled upon those particular sound combinations before (I think the first time was at Easter?) but this evening she said it with purpose. She said it with a big grin as she looked right at me. She said it when I asked her, "Who's the prettiest lady you know?"

Granted, I don't think she gets that it's my name; I don't think this counts as her first word (we'll save that honorific for words like diaper -- Uno's -- or hat -- Dos's). But I'll take it for now. Coming from her, it's the most wonderful sound.




~RCH~

From the desk of Uno

UNO: Mom, will you help me write a letter?

RCH: Sure.

UNO: Start, "Dear Santa...."

RCH: You do remember that it won't be Christmas for a long time, right?

UNO: Yes. "Dear Santa: I want you to give me super powers for Christmas. I would like to fly, and I want hot lava arms and a robot head with laser eyes to banquish strangers."

DOS: And a pig with wings! Tell him an evil pig with wings!

UNO: "And an evil pig with wings to get bad guy strangers. I promise I'll be good. Love, Uno."

RCH: You know, I think Santa is more into giving toys than super powers....

UNO: Mom. I said I'd be good. Just trust me on this one.

DOS: Yeah, Mom!

RCH: Oooookay...!


~RCH~

Dance, Dance Revolution?

Uno wants to take dance classes. She practically explodes with energy, so I think it's a good idea ... but when DH looked into it, he discovered that -- except for the 3yo class -- all of the students are required to attend and participate in competitions.

Bleh.

I'm sure Uno won't mind that; she's among the most competitive people I know (though also one of the whiniest when she doesn't win). But I really hate the idea. Why can't she just dance for fun? Why can't she learn some cool moves, get all that crazy pent-up energy out, and call it a day? Recitals I wouldn't mind, but at a mere 5yo I don't feel like schlepping her all over the mountain west to face off with other kindergartners.

Waaaah.

For those with older kids, is this typical of how dance classes work? Or is this just another of the many oddities of my small town? :-P


~RCH~