Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Table Talk

It's been quite a week already at Crazy Road~I am one tired MAMA!

The last few days have proved a bit, let's say, trying.

My Mom's birthday, Mother's Day, Kiki's Party, Kiki's "ACTUAL" Birthday all falling consecutively.

All of the parties went off without a hitch~except the meltdown that my now "5" year old had when she realized that she had already received her presents during her party, and not on her ACTUAL birthday. Where did she learn the word "actual," anyway? Ugh...onward...

Along with every pink party favor, Barbie cake, pink and purple baloons, Barbie Mermaid dolls, Barbie EVERYTHINGEVERMADE, a ZuZu pet that Casey has fallen in love with and "PLAY MAKEUP" (Thanks, Julie. A Do-It-Yourself-Bubble-Blowing-Confetti-Making-Trampoline will be delivered to your home in a few days. Enjoy.) Kiki got a Baby Doll.

She named her Lola.

I told her once she named a baby, she couldn't change it.

She huffed at me and told me she wished that I had named HER Lola.

"Too late." I reasoned. "Your backpack already has your intitials."


She loves this baby, and I am fascinated with how she takes care of her.

So, onto our recent dinner conversation~

One thing I must tell you is that both of my sons inexplicably despise eating meat. Both Nick and Tyler will gnaw on pork chops for hours before gagging it down with gallons of water, or any other liquid they can get their hands on. Nick has gotten better about pretending he is okay with it, but TYLER will sit at the table for hours after dinner, in the dark, chewing,chewing,chewing the SAME bite before either:

a)I give in and allow him to spit it out


b)he chokes it down, shred by shred, until he opens wide in victory to show me his foodless little monster-mouth.

In any case, it is a continuous struggle.

Last night, I was exhausted, and after sitting down to Kiki's birthday dinner (her favorites: pork chops, garlic shells and "cooked" carrots)I was looking forward to hearing about everyone's day.

"Kiki, how was your morning at school?"


"Hmmm. What else happened?" (Like pulling teeth).

"Well, Lola has to go to the hospital. Can you take us tonight?"

"Nannie and Bup are coming over for cake tonight...What's wrong with her?"

"She has a feeve. I think she has 'slu-ergies."

"SLU-ERGIES? That sounds terrible!"

"FLU-ergies. You know, the SNOTS?"(she sometimes replaces "fl" with "sl").

She looked so cute in her yellow shirt and braids...I had to laugh.

"You mean ALLERGIES?"

"Yes. I need to go check on her." And off she went, to check on her snotty, slu-ergy baby doll, Lola.

So that left me and Tyler. With a mouth full of chops.

I started glancing at a Victoria's Secret magazine that came in the mail. It was going to be a while before he finished.

After arguing, pleading, negotiating and mind-gaming about why he needed to take just a couple more bites, he looked at me with those huge, dark brown, impossibly long lashed eyes and said,

"Don't woowy Mama, I won't let you down."

And that little bugger chewedandchewedandchewed aaaaaannd....



He is always so proud when he accomplishes this.

He came over to me, crawled up on my lap and looked at the "BOMBSHELL" edition of Vicky's that I was glancing through.

"What's that?"

"It's for girls, Tyler."

He pointed at the just-turned-16-year-olds fanny.

"She's in huh unda-waya!"

"Yes, Ty. She is."

"THATS DISGUSTING!" He said, still looking closely.

"Yes, Ty. It is."

"On second thought. She's pwetty."

Oh, God.

"Does yowah fanny wook wike dat?"

"No, Ty. It doesn't. Go wash your hands."

"Can I take this and show Nick?"

"No Ty."


Later that night, I was doing our ritual "Rock-A-Baby" with him.

"Tyler, I'm proud of you for finishing your dinner tonight. You didn't let me down."

He looked at me, nose to nose and said,

"Mama. I'm being honest hee-ah. I just about frew up. Pork chops suck. Gnight!"

He hopped off and onto his cute little Thomas The Tank bed, grabbed E-WAH, and rolled right over, falling asleep instantly.

I rocked for a few seconds more, thinking of the crazy things kids say and do and think.

Dinner conversations about flu-ergies and fannies...invisible friends and cooked carrots. All normal stuff here at 145 Crazy Road...and I'm loving it.

Thanks For Reading.


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