Snow Day

You know the hard part about disappearing for months? When you finally reemerge from the abyss you have a million things to talk about, but not a single good starting place. I told myself I would not recap and I won't. I will do my best to fill in the gaps as we go along.

 

"Mama," five and a half year old Alice yelled up to me from the back door. "I'm not having any fun."

"Why not?"

"There are spider webs in my play house and I'm too heavy to slide on the kick board."

It had snowed this morning, but with above freezing temps it has begun melting. Sidewalks have been cleared, leaving the only good snow in our back yard. "Have you made snow angels yet?" I suggested.

"No. That's a good idea," she stated with a hint of a smile on her lips.

Gone for mere seconds I heard the familiar click of the back door knob followed by her happy voice.

"Mama! I am having so much fun! I found the best game ever!"

"What's that?" I asked.

"I'm brushing Marley's tail with ice!"

"Hmm. Really?"

"Yes. And it's so much fun. But I am getting ice in her fur. But she doesn't mind it. I'm so glad I thought of this game!!"

 

I, too, am glad she thought of the game. Does it make me the worst pet owner ever that I didn't demand she stop? Or when, fifteen minutes later, I went on the back porch to check on them and she was still brushing the dog with handfuls of ice packed snow and, still, I did nothing? No. I stand firm. I love my dog and I love my child and if this is how they choose to entertain themselves on our third snow day in a row, so be it. Her wonderful game was allowing me peace and quiet. I mean really, if the dog was truly being hurt she'd bite Alice, right?

The Mid-Play Pee

"Alice? Do you have to go potty?" I asked. She wasn't holding herself, but she didn't seem right.

"I already did," she stated matter-of-factly. No emotion, no expression, just the words.

"What do you mean, 'you already did?' Pee didn't come out just now, did it?" I couldn't believe I was asking this question. We were at my friend's house and Alice was playing race cars with her son. There was no way my four year old peed in the living room of my friend's house.

"It came out." That was all she said. She was killing me with her lack of concern for peeing mid-play.

"Where did you pee, Alice?"

"Over, there. On the rug."

Oh. Em. Gee. My daughter peed on the rug. At someone else's house. Sigh.

"Alice!! You can't just pee on the rug! What were you thinking? Why didn't you stop playing and go use the potty?"

I contemplated rolling up a newspaper and swatting her on the nose. Or maybe I should have pushed her face down and rubbed her nose in it.

"I don't know. It just came out." That's all she had to say for herself. No shame. No embarrassment. She had peed on the rug in the living room of someone else's house and she didn't even seem phased.

"Alice. You get upstairs and wait for me in the bathroom. I am very upset with you. I can't believe you just peed on the rug! Like a dog!" That's right. I said it. I compared my daughter to a dog.

I can recall a time not too long ago, Alice was forced to poop in the grass near I-95, and she was devastated to be defecating like a dog. But this? Peeing on the carpet? This she's okay with? Just when I think I have a clue about little kids, she makes me realize I haven't the foggiest.

Night Time Adventures

I've been über busy recently. Allow me to fill you in on my goings-on.

Last night, I died my hair. I'm a brunette. I've always been a brunette. As much as I have wanted to color and highlight, growing up watching my mother and my two sisters change their hair color to match the phase of life they were in, I'm far too practical. I watched the expensive, money sucking cycle continue month after month, year after year with them and knew, until grey hair forced me to, I had better things to spend my money on. But last night, I chose a very pretty shade of blonde with soft, subtle pink highlights. Pink. I'm sure I will be the talk of the preschool parent association.

The night before, I watched my best friend's girlfriend train a yellow lab puppy. It seems the puppy is destined for hunting trial fame and fortunes. The girlfriend, being an obvious bad ass, killed a duck by clubbing it and ripping it's wing off. She procedded to wrap the wing in tape and throw it for the adorable, black nosed puppy in an attempt to teach it to fetch. Impressive, albeit a bit scary, to watch.

The night preceding that, I took a job on Air Force One. I can not disclose my duties, far too top secret. All I can say is I may or may not be serving the president and his staff refreshments. I was issued my assignment in the middle of the night with no time to prepare, having to quickly pack all my belongings into brand new charcoal colored luggage, say my farewells to dear, sweet Alice, and head off on my way.

As you may have guessed, all this busyness has been occurring while I was sleeping, in my dreams. Every night, while I'm supposed to be recuperating from an exhausting day taming my wild child and her tantrums, I'm off on another nighttime adventure. I don't know what all the randomness of my dreams mean, if you or someone you know is a dream interpreter, feel free to offer your two cents. I do hope tonight I can take the night off and just sleep.