Monday, March 21, 2016
Tuesday, March 8, 2016
Cinco is on a tear. She's running her own birthday countdown. She's indignant that it somehow managed to not be her birthday still. She's put quite a bit of effort into making it her birthday. She's tried sweet talking the father figure in the wee hours of the morning "wake up daddy, it's my birfday.....make me doughnuts." Stunningly, this did not work.
She's also tried barging into the office while I'm working, also in the wee hours of the morning, flinging open the door and announcing "today is my birfday I am having a party." I don't know how she's going to handle the fact that Baba actually has a birthday before Cinco does.
I also have a feeling no matter what happens, Cinco's birthday will not live up whatever fantasies she has concocted. But considering the threeager behavior she's been exhibiting, I'm ok with a knock down to earth.
In recent weeks, Cinco has decreed everyone's favorite color. Those who know me know that me and red go hand in hand. However, Cinco has determined that my favorite color in yellow. Daddy's is red and Cinco's is purple. And everyone else has color appointed by Cinco. But I don't care enough to remember. That, and Cinco is nothing if not capricious.
Cinco's also taken to critiquing my wardrobe. "No mommy don't wear that." Now, I'm no fashionista, but I would think if my jeans and sweatshirt look doesn't warrent a second look from my tweens.....why would my two year old care?
She also has thoughts on my hair. Now, I have thoughts on my hair too, les accepting than Cinco's even, but I also have the thought that maybe just maybe children should be seen and not heard. And really really maybe children should not say to their mother "mommy, I don't like your hair, it's scary."
She's enjoying full run of the house. Mostly because the father figure has yet to have his fashion or hair critiqued by the toddler tyrant. So he still caters to her every whim "daddy play my song and watch me dance. " So he hops to. He did draw the line when she demanded that he take a shower with her. But the line was a princess bubble filled bath with daddy singing to her.
I've heard of Italian mothers coddling their sons. But Italian fathers raising bubbly princess tyrants.....this is new. And alarming.
Monday, February 22, 2016
Monday, February 8, 2016
Thursday, February 4, 2016
Monday, February 1, 2016
|tasteful, in numerous ways|
|at a luncheon no less|
|at least he knew to hide in shame|
|the start of my day|
It doesn’t mean the father figure always picks up his dirty socks. Unless by always it is meant never. It doesn’t mean my children obey me immediately. Or ever. They fight. They ignore the rules. They don’t pick after themselves. They turn their noses up at my cooking. And the father figure is irritating. Especially when he doesn’t do what I want.
|the day got worse|