THE TOOTH FAIRY DITHED MY KID

Being an “old-ish” mom, somewhere between fitting in Gap clothing and wearing Depends, I have found motherhood has its ups and downs.  Like when trying to remember what it was like when I did things as a child…pretty near impossible!

My oldest daughter asks, “Mom, when did you first ride a bike without training wheels?”

“I’m sure I rode a bike. But to tell you the truth, I haven’t the foggiest!” I say squinting my eyes and searching the ceiling for answers.

Or…the latest, “Mom, how much money did the Tooth Fairy bring you when you lost your first tooth?”

Now I have a mouth full of Big Girl Teeth, so I know I must have lost some baby ones during my younger days; but if you can’t remember them falling out, how can you be expected to retain the cash value for those babies?

“I believe I was given diamonds and rubies,” I retorted.  “A girl’s best friend, you know.”

“MAH-OM!!  You are joking, right?!”  Can’t put anything past this one!

“Honey, the Tooth Fairy is the one who makes these decisions and whatever the going rate is will be what you get.  It’s just exciting you have entered a new phase of tooth-dom!”

“What?” she gives me the look which I know will be repeated way too many times in her adolescence.

“Forget it,” I smile baring all my big girl teeth.  “Congratulations on losing your tooth.  Tomorrow we’ll see what this tooth fairy thing is all about!”

That night Munchkin #1 put her first bloody, hollow tooth into her precious Tooth Fairy pillow and placed it under her regular pink sleeping pillow.  Her younger sister was almost excited for the impending event; but since it wasn’t about her, why should she waste her energy?

The next thing we know it is morning and over the monitor we hear the squawking, “THE TOOTH FAIRY CAME!!!”  Have I ever mentioned how fast that kid can run?  Two-point five seconds later, she is practically beaning me in the head with 2 golden coins.

“Look, Mom!  I got a Sacagawea!” she started in her best high-pitched girl scream.

“First of all…you are in Kindergarten. How do you know who Sacagawea is?” I asked reaching for my glasses.

“And another one with some guy on it – but Sacagawea!!” she said flopping on the bed like she had just won the Powerball.

“That other guy is a U.S. President, not that I can focus on him yet to tell you who he is, but he was famous too.  These are gold coins the Tooth Fairy left you!”
“Gold? How much is it worth?” she eagerly inquired.

Inspecting the coins carefully I whispered, “It’s a gold dollar! Each one is worth ONE dollar.”

“ Kathy got FIVE dollars and she said her cousin got TWENTY dollars from the Tooth Fairy!!” she quipped.

“I hate to be the one to tell you, but you saw that tooth of yours…it was totally hollow.  I bet those other kids had diamonds or rubies in the middle of theirs.”

 

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Drama Queen Daughter Crying Over Spilled Yogurt

drama queen daughter

 

 

Time for a Drama Queen Intervention

(Stacey Hatton, RN) Do you happen to have melodramatic, or as I like to say Drama Queen daughter in your home? In the medical world, we say these creative kids are predominately using their right-brain more than the analytical or left-side of the brain.

At our house we are a 50-50 brain split. My husband, the engineer has his mini-version of himself (our cute – but girly daughter, Munchkin #1) and this writer/nurse/ex-theatre gal has a “mini-me.” (Prayers are welcomed!)

It works out great during family arguments as long as you don’t mind tie breakers to be implemented with every household vote. Coin tosses or Paper, Rock, Scissors usually do the trick.

Several years ago, when my munchkins were five and six, it was a beautiful day with the normal balance of drama queen-ness and sweet giggles coming from my daughters. We had changed activities only 43 times and it was only 10:20am, so basically it was a smooth sailing day!

When out of the blue, a darting figure entered the kitchen, swiped a yogurt out of the refrigerator and without any warning, she took a strawberry yogurt and squirted it all over the hardwood floors. An odd practice for one of our girls, but who am I to judge?

Normally, the next thing you would hear is one of the munchkins hollering for me to come clean up their mess or one tattling on the other; but the strangest string of events occurred. A scream echoed from the other room, followed by soft cries that crescendoed into panicked wails.

“Mom, come quick! Yogurt… (sob, sob) …is…” Munchkin #1’s voice trails off into hysterical tears.

I slide around the corner to find a small yogurt container which has been jimmied open by young fingers. A tiny portion of the contents had dripped onto the floor. And for some reason, a tablespoon of the mixture is rubbed into a pink mitten. Why the children have mittens in May is beyond me, and why they are wearing them to open yogurt containers is something that only a child of mine could justify.

Normally my drama queen daughters would NOT be crying relentlessly about spilled yogurt; or even notice they made a mess, but malay had ensued in the fullest degree. Without some sort of intervention, these young ones weren’t going to gain control.

After practicing some deep breathing exercises and various yoga poses to calm them down, their breathing returned to a natural pattern. I felt it was safe at this time to begin the interrogation process.

“So you wanted some yogurt for a snack? Good choice!” I smiled.

(They both nodded affirmatively, with lips quivering.)

Praising their efforts, I said, “Those yogurt lids are really hard to open, huh?”

(They repeated with the head nodding.)

I continued, “Boy, I hate it when yogurt spills on the floor, don’t you?”

“WAAAAAAHHHHH!!!” Munchkin #1 started crying uncontrollably again.

Ah, crap! What did I say? It’s freaking yogurt!!

“Please don’t make us get rid of our favorite pink mittens. I don’t want to give them to kids who don’t have any!” wailed the oldest drama queen.

Sometimes when we lead by example to demonstrate kindness and goodwill, apparently it can backfire. I didn’t know this until that morning.

Perhaps I’ve have been donating too many clothes to good will lately.

Also, it might be a good time to start teaching them about the art of laundry.

Please join me on Twitter, Facebook or Pinterest to swap stories. I love hearing about other moms who have daily drama at home. Do your kids do OK with you donating items of theirs? Any tricks?

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Artwork, Single Parenting and Murder

Parent Teacher conferences were a couple of weeks ago, and I never got around to writing about them. Actually, my husband and I have been trying to get over the public display of artwork both our children left for the entire community to view and judge our parenting skills, or lack thereof.

Munchkin #1 is such an incredible student. She makes great grades, tries her best in class and doesn’t screw around too much (or get caught) – whichever, I am so proud of her. When she had a writing assignment, asking them to write what they would be doing at 10 years, 20 years, 30 years from now, this was a huge problem for her. She wanted to get it right. I guess she is always looking for the right answer (analytical mind, anyone?) and this type of writing doesn’t allow that kind of accuracy.

She was afraid to put anything on paper which wouldn’t come true. Now since I hardly write the truth, EVER, I can’t imagine how this must feel for her. (It’s a joke, Peeps! I can understand her a bit.) This project was trying for her, and took her much longer than her classmates; but she wanted it to be just right.

The teacher, whom I LOVE, posted these in the hallway for all the parents to look at while waiting for their conference. It was like having some nice bathroom material for your guests. Teachers are such thoughtful hostesses!

When my hubby and I got to M1’s conference, we located her story in the hall and read what she expected to be her future. Or as some of the other students in her class had written, “My Fucher!!” That one really cracked me up, but they ARE 2nd graders, so I gave them a break.

M1’s story was beautifully written about college, and moving to California with her BFF to live on the beach. She was also going to be a fashion designer. This we already knew was in her plans; however, the next line is where we choked on our tongues.

“I am going to be single and have 2 babies.”

Looking over our shoulders to see if anyone else had read this, “WHA????!?”

Several days before, M1 had asked if it was possible to have babies and not be married. I told her it was possible, but it was terribly hard to raise children by yourself and that her father and I preferred she be married before she decided to have children. I thought I covered all bases there. Except, Miss Free Thinker in the 2nd grade decided to take my advisement under consideration and then veto it! She and her BFF can raise the babies just fine, and then when they are 30, they will get married to some men. Glad she waited to get all the facts right before she wrote them down.

Wow! Next child, please…

So my hubby and I head to our younger daughter’s classroom. We are a bit early, so we decide to find Munchkin #2’s artwork. Her classroom has the cutest torn construction paper owl design ever. Since her teacher had been teaching them numerous facts about owls in their science section, she asked the class to write in large letters one fact that made the biggest impact on them from the lesson.

There were examples like owls fly at night, what owls eat, how their heads turn around, and their wingspan. The kids did a great job of coming up with fascinating facts.

Here is Munchkin #2’s:

And an exclamation point!?

And an exclamation point!?

Yes, I audibly yelped in the perfectly quiet hallway. Apparently, so loud that when the teacher came to the door she had a big knowing smile on her face which said, “Yeah, your daughter really wrote that!”

I asked M2’s teacher if she had mentioned death, killing or murder in any form during the lesson because I couldn’t believe it would have been part of the 1st grade curriculum. She said that she hadn’t, but the only thing she could think of was that she had mentioned that some species of owls are now extinct.

Ahhhh.

When we got home, we asked M2 about her art project and why she chose that fact.

She said, “I thought it was funny. Did you laugh?”

Well, she did get a huge laugh from my hubby, the teacher, other parents and me – more out of shock than anything – but she did get a laugh.

I present you…the next comedian in the family.

If you enjoyed this, please join me at my Nurse Mommy Facebook page, for light appetizers, wine and Murder Mystery Dinner Theatre.

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DIY Crafty Shoelace Fix Pit crew Style

Thoughtful womanBefore children, I used to be crafty. Not evil or plotting, but into yarn and stuff. Even when I first met my husband, I tried to knit and paint and cross-stitch…oh, how I could cross-stitch like a mothah! But that was another time, another life, and 20/15 vision up close!

Now that I have no time, no energy and can’t see within my arm’s distance, I have put my professional crafting career on hold. Until this morning.

I guess a mother can only hold back her crafting skillz so long and can be broken by the incessant whining of children complaining during their “Groundhog Day” movie version routine of getting ready for school.

“Look at your feet. What are you missing?” I ask one child for the DAILY (I’m not exaggerating) question.

“UGHHHH!!!” she says stomping her bare, blue cold feet up the stairs to retrieve socks…again. (Let’s hope this day she will return with socks because this march to her sock drawer does not always promise she will return with socks on her feet)

Today, luckily she returns with socks. Two of them. Don’t care if they match. Just want two socks that are to go on her feet before the shoe debacle.

This is what I want to happen:
Child puts on shoes, coat, grabs back pack and gets into car.

This is reality:

Child stews over which shoes to wear. Mom intervenes and says we are leaving we will meet you in the car. Child gets anxious and can’t make a decision. Plan is NOT working. (Polite little horn honk) Child comes to door with no shoes on and visibly upset.

“Just put on those shoes in your hand and get in the car,” cries out a semi-frenzied lady who has taken over this mother’s body and stomped all over her patience.

The child loses it, “I can’t wear these shoes. The laces are too long! But they are my favorite and they go with my outfit.”

Boys would be easier at this point I’m sure, but I reassure myself I love her and it would not be appropriate to leave a 7 year-old alone in the garage while taking the other child to school.
Well, she put on some old ugly beat up hobo shoes and I took her to school. Nice.
But now I have a craft project in mind.

"Perfect pink shoes with dreadfully long laces!"

“Perfect pink shoes with dreadfully long laces!”

First I found some leftover craft beads in her favorite colors. I chose 2 beads per each lace (8 total).

Make sure knots are snug against the beads to prevent further whining.

Make sure knots are snug against the beads to prevent further whining.

Two inches from the end of each lace, I tied a square knot.
Then I strung the 2 beads next to the knot.
Keeping the beads close to the first knot, tie another knot at the end to keep them in place. (If you have the first knot at 2 inches, you should be able to do the second knot without difficulty)
Repeat this 3 more times on each lace.

"OMG! Mom!!! I love them"

“OMG! Mom!!! I love them”

This is the final look. Pretty cute and the laces are no longer dragging on the ground. I know you all may be thinking why didn’t she just double knot the suckers in the first place?

You have your battles and I have mine! Don’t even get me STARTED on the double knot!!!

Let me know if you have any tricks like this. Always looking for more tricks up my sleeve…

©2013, Stacey Hatton. All rights reserved.

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A Mother’s Worst Church Nightmare

(To all my Jewish, Muslim, Buddhist and Agnostic friends…keep reading – you will feel the pain if you have children!)

Well, the big day had arrived!  The first performance of the preschool choir (aka The Cherub Choir) in the history of my church was to commence and I was to direct them. These four and five year-olds had been preparing for months and were pumped to sing for the church on Sunday; and if you have them motivated that is 80% of the battle.  The rest is … just singing.

The nice part of having a preschool choir is that no matter what, they are going to be cute.  Just the walking up to the front of the altar in their favorite outfits and the hand waving to their parents is enough to make you “ooh” and “ah!”  And right on cue they started grinning and waving, and pulling at clothing and picking various bodily crevices.  Great stuff!

One of the female Reverends was going to give church announcements while the kids were getting in place.  Note to Reverend Gail…not to be disrespectful, but you might want to send out an email because no one was listening to you!  Gail is very cute herself, but you just can’t compete with this age group. Sorry.

So they get through the song and there is applause and laughter.  I just figured people were laughing because the kids were so darling that they were filled with joy and that was an appropriate release.  However, that was not the case.

As I was cueing the guitarist to finish the last song, on the other side of the choir a little dancing was going on.  One of my students was shaking her bootie in quite a noticeable manner.  Guess whose kid it was?  Yep.  Mine!  She felt the rhythm and couldn’t control her hips.  I am doomed.

The songs are over and the children go back to their parents to finish the service; and afterwards one of the other Reverends, a male that was wearing a long white robe – traditional for Episcopalians, came up to congratulate my children on a job well done.  It was also at this time, that I was informed by the clergy that my daughter could “really shake it.” A mother can only be so proud.

This wasn’t the “dinger” though.  My daughter started dancing again and the Reverend lifted the hem of his robe and did a dance similar to a low-key Rockette’s kickline.  Very cute and bonding with my child.

Then it happened…my darling cherub shook her head back and forth at him and disapprovingly said, “Oh, Jesus!” When I awoke from unconsciousness, I looked at all persons surrounding us to see who heard her.  No one.  We were in the clear!

It is one thing to get in trouble in school, but to take the Lord’s name in vain in FRONT of the Reverend, is way too much for this Mama.  After all, when my kids do something squirrely, I shake my head in the same fashion and say, “Oh, (insert child’s name)!”

It was a few minutes later that I finally got it.  She wasn’t swearing in front of the altar, but she truly believed that the male Reverend was the real Jesus.  AHHHHH!  After I was able to start my heart beating again, I decided the story was precious, instead of devastating.

I haven’t corrected her yet because I don’t want her to be embarrassed, but we will have a little discussion in the near future about who is who in the church and discuss when it is appropriate to gyrate your hips in public.  Can I hear an AMEN?

Peace Out!

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