The Best At Remembering

Recently Jane’s snow pants went missing. I’m not sure how regular of a reader you are, or if you live in the area, but this is January in Wisconsin. It’s cold and we do things outside. Snow pants are super necessary.

On the evening it was discovered that Jane’s snow pants were missing, we were on our way to the kids’ cross country ski lessons. Again, when you are seven and the windchill is in the single digits snow pants are super necessary for skiing.

In attempting to track down the snow pants we decided that they were either, still at the ski place from last time we were there, left at Grandma’s where the kids had been since the last time they skied or in the back of the truck in the ginormous pile of bags, ski clothes and general debris.

The only thing we knew for certain was that they weren’t in the truck and so a lively discussion of where they might be started. It was all hypothetical and going fine until Jane panicked when she realized she  might have left them at Grandma’s, about a two hour drive from home.  Then I reminded her that Grandma is a wonderful Grandma who will pack up forgotten items and send them in the mail the next day.

“Really?” says Clara, “I didn’t know she did that.”

“Yeah,” Jane says, “once she mailed me my rainbow crown.”

“What rainbow crown?”

“The rainbow crown that Otis broke and then that one guy was at our house I think his name was uhhh Matt, yeah Matt and he fixed it with that thing that started on fire in his pocket and then I left it at Grandma’s and then she mailed it to me” Jane explained.

I broke in with a “Wow. Yup. She’s right, good memory Jane” (Because Otis is a little boy who moved across the country almost three years ago and the man who fixed it was indeed named Matt and she only met him that one night, and no matter how you cut it that’s a pretty good memory).

“Yeah.” says Jane with not a hint of modesty, “I’m the best at remembering.”

“Okay remembering girl!” I said, “Remember me this! Where are your snow pants!!!”

“Mom. I don’t remember stuff like that!”

 

They were at the ski place. She… forgot… them there. 

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Jane in the Morning

Jane in the Morning

 by Clara Stevens

 

Morning

Oh my goodness

Really Jane

Not ready

In the car late

Not getting her own breakfast

Granola bar I guess

Screaming

I Hate You.

My children have reached the age that I’ve become hated on a regular basis. It doesn’t really bother me. My infractions range from not allowing them to watch videos until their brains drool out their ears to requesting that they carry their own backpacks in from the car and eat the dinner prepared rather than make their own meal of pop-tarts and chocolate chips.

Clearly I am a monster.

On a recent trip to the dentist all the girls “failed” their exams and by the time we walked out the door they were all worked into a tizzy over fears of what terrible appointment might come next (also apparently you shouldn’t guzzle lime juice ’cause it’s bad for your enamel- who knew. Sorry Clara!). We dashed across the street anyway and made a quick run through Walgreen’s where I stocked up on essentials for myself (notebooks and chocolates, you know, some days I feel more like a writer than others) and where I refused to buy the girls giant pillow/stuffed animals. Clearly we were there for my wants, not theirs. But it was going to be okay because next we headed for ice cream. Because that’s what we do after the dentist. Is it logical. No. Were we all starving. Yes. Do we all need a reward after the dentist. Yes. And apparently it’s better than drinking lime juice (seriously, who thinks of that? No kid, no more lime juice for you- it’ll wreck your enamel. Actually, who’s kid drinks lime juice straight out of the bottle? This whole problem is totally perplexing me.).

In the drive thru we had a major melt down from two of the three girls that involved yelling at me because the flavor of the day was bad (and also there was no lemon ice for the lime juice lover so that was probably a blessing in disguise) and crying because the other one “just can’t decide!”

So, meanest mother in the world that I am I canceled our ice cream order. Because, really girls, never yell at the person buying you ice cream. This is an important life lesson that needed to be learned. However I did order a family size fries, because there is a fine line between setting limits and torturing you, yourself, the mother and this was a meltdown that needed french fries thrown at it if I ever saw one (Also, I was hungry).

Jane, affronted that we were getting HOT french fries (she hates hot food, I’ve yet to get the concept that cooking requires heat across to her but if you have ideas please let me know), demanded her ice cream and fell to pieces when it was explained that there would be no ice cream.

“I hate you! And I hate you! And you! I hate EVERYONE! And I hate EVERYTHING! … except that stuffed animal…”

My giggles at her outburst didn’t help.

But the french fries did.

We were all forgiven by the time we made it home.

This is a picture from this summer that has nothing to do with the blog post. This is largely because I can’t get my new computer to show me thumbnails of my photos and instead I have hundreds of identical icons to choose from.  All help appreciated!

Moral of the story:

Never underestimate the power of fresh french fries and the evils of lime juice. 

E-mail Conversation Circa 2012

What follows is an actual e-mail conversation between John and I from May of 2012. At that time Jane would have been about five months old…

…Clara two and half and Ivy five, though not yet in school…

..and e-mail was John and my primary method of communication while he was at work.

John:

Can you email or call Abi and see if they are available for us to visit on the 31st? And to refresh my memory, you were thinking leaving Thursday morning, so I should take off right?

Did things improve with the girls today?

 

Me:

yes until it rained in kitchen – now sucks jane asllep pn arm, stuck and afraid to move

 

John:

Would you mind elaborating on “rained in kitchen”?

 

And then, according to my old e-mails I was cleaning out, I never answered him. Which makes me giggle every time I re-read it. Because what must he have thought at work knowing total chaos waited him at home? “Well, at least they didn’t burn the house down.” or “I guess it’ll be cleaner now.” or “Just another typical day at the Stevens house.” I have no idea, and he doesn’t remember either but, unless it rained in the kitchen twice in May of 2012 (a possibility I am NOT discounting!) I did blog about it…

“It’s Raining…”

 

One of the major problems I have staying home with three kids is that while I’m nursing the baby the other two are doing stuff. Some days they are doing nice stuff and some days are like today. Today I came into the kitchen and found that Clara discovered not only how to change the kitchen faucet from a stream to a spray but that you can also pull out the head of the faucet. I pull out the head of the faucet to wash large pans and clean the sink. Clara pulled it out, must have thought it was actually intended to be the worlds best water gun and got right to work spraying Ivy.

Read the rest of it’s raining here: https://behindthewillows.com/2012/05/22/its-raining/

 

 

Guess What I Made?

“Mom!” says Clara, “Guess what I made?”

Turns out I hate guessing what the kids have/found/made/like/want. Part of this is because Clara likes to tell you “No,” when you guess the correct answer just to keep you guessing.

I do not always appreciate her form of fun.

My tactic in dealing with guessing games has evolved, I’ve gone from interested and caring new parent to jaded mother who has burned by too many fake “noes”.  I now start crazy and guess wilder and wilder items until they become fed up with me and tell me.

The kids do not always appreciate my form of fun.

“You made a pterodactyl.”

“No,” says Clara, “better than a pterodactyl.”

“Well, I have no idea then, what’s better than a pterodactyl?”

“This!” she says and whips her creation from behind her back.IMG_6721-(2sm)

Yeah.

She doesn’t know what it is either.*IMG_6724-(2sm)

But it is so obviously better than a pterodactyl.

*And why? Why do I have to guess what a thing is when she doesn’t even know what the thing is? I also do not appreciate that kind of fun!