Death by Flatware

(Previously posted in 4/2010)

One day I was sitting at my laptop in the kitchen concentrating on meeting a deadline and somewhere in my subconscious I heard Munchkin #1 yelling for me from the upstairs office.

“Mom, I need you to come here,” asked my daughter.

Out of habit, I bellowed back, “What’s the matter?”

“Just come here,” she replied.

Calmly I asked, “Is anything on fire?”

“No, but I need you,” said girl wonder.

Now in hindsight, I vaguely remember hearing her say there was a spider on the wall in the office, but between my concentration on my article and her not truly answering my questions, I did the bad mommy trick, tune out your overly talkative child.  I try very hard not to do this, for I hate it when people do it to me, but there was this deadline, and…

Needless to say, I did not go upstairs. And after asking several times for me to come help her, she gave up on me.  This is what I heard next.  STOMP, STOMP, STOMP (x13) down the stairs, a loud exhalation of frustration, the kitchen silverware drawer opening, rustling around for the right utensil, another exhale, and a slam of the drawer.

Now she had my attention.  “Honey, what ARE you doing?”

“I need a fork,” she said irritated.

“What do you need a fork for?”

“I TOLD YOU THERE WAS A SPIDER IN THE OFFICE!!” she snapped, turned around and started to run up the stairs with flatware in tow.

Yes, my 4.5 year old daughter was going to fork that spider to death since her lazy mother wouldn’t do it for her.  I ran upstairs, apologized for not listening to her and removed the silver weapon from her hand.  Then with one razor quick move, I removed my flip-flop, smashed the bug proudly and said, “That’s how you do it!”

“I would have used the fork,” she claimed.

©2012, Hatton. All rights reserved.

Mother’s Day was a Blast…of Hot Air!!

I love my children more than anything, especially on Mother’s Day because the eldest,  Munchkin #1, my almost 1st grader-to-be assumes that the day means that she should lavish me with praise (correct), gifts (correct), hugs and kisses (correct), and never leave my side (**chirp, chirp, chirp…**).

My other daughter loves me just as much as the elder, but is a polar opposite breed.  She is so far different from her sister she could almost be listed in the “mineral” family – if it weren’t for her brilliant comic timing and hyper-personality for diving into BARCO loungers to perform headstands 24/7.  Munchkin #2 is prone to giving of the gifts (correct), hugs and kisses (correct), but then she snuggles for 10 minutes, tells a story and then makes her BIG exit.  She is done. The rest is fluff!

So this year, the girls and my wonderful husband made me breakfast in bed, along with homemade cards, fresh flowers cut from our garden (I assume it was ours), and then Munchkin #1 set up camp in bed with me and during the next few minutes of bonding time with my cherished beauties, we talked about mothers and grandmothers.  I told them stories about a gracious grandmother of mine who never used potty words and was so kind to others… and how everyone just loved her!

They then started asking about when I would be a grandmother and how that would work.  I said they might have children someday MUCH later and I would then become their kids’ grandmother.

Munchkin #1 said dreamily, “I’m going to name my daughters Arianna and Marietta.”  She seemed quite pleased with her choices.

Without missing a beat, Munchkin #2 blurted, “I’m naming mine Fart and Bacon.”

EXCUSE ME?!   

“What did you say?” I asked, just in case I had mango juice filling up my ear canals.

“FART and BACON!” She beamed.

There are few times in my life when I am speechless or don’t have free advice to dole out; but a parent has to be careful handling these matters, unless you really want to introduce your future odoriferously-named grandchildren to your bridge group.

Well, if you can imagine a melodramatic 6 year-old girl’s bubble being burst, that’s what happened.

The older child flops back on the pillows, “MO-OM, you mean Fart and Bacon are going to be cousins with Arianna and Marietta?!  Oh, great!”

(**chirp, chirp, chirp**)

© 2012, Hatton.  All rights reserved.

Our Last Kindergarten Round-up

One of the few perks of spawning your children 14 months apart was made clear to me today…KINDERGARTEN ROUND-UP!  For those of you who are not familiar with the term, it goes by many other names across the nation, which I discovered last year when my eldest daughter went through this rite of passage.  But because we are in Kansas and apparently have an affinity for livestock we like to purdy it up!

The perk aforementioned was that Munchkin #1 didn’t have school today (since she is in kindergarten) so the classroom could be open for the new kindergarten class (Munchkin #2’s class) to visit and meet the teachers and explore the rooms.  (Our last Kindergarten Round-up!)  M#1 volunteered to be an “Ambassador” for the newbies, so she could boss show her sister the ropes of kindergarten.  This was great, so I didn’t have to cough up the dough for a babysitter!  This grand experience was going to occur after an elegant lunch planned by both girls at McDonalds – topped off by complimentary ice cream and perhaps some frivolous playtime. Not my first choice, but it’s a special day.

So the morning was planned out perfectly:  first M#2 was to go to gymnastics and M#1 was to pick up a friend and head out for a couple hours at Chuck E Cheese (GAG!, excuse me I couldn’t hold that one back) accompanied by the Mom-of-Year, moi!

We were awakened by the birds, the girls jumped in my bed giggling and talking about the big day and how excited they were. There was even time to make pancakes from scratch (Bisquick…I cracked 2 eggs for Heaven’s sake!) and yummy noises, laughter, and silliness was heard at the breakfast table instead of the normal, “Come on, stop playing with your food.  Look at the clock.  Are you going to school in your pajamas again?”  Stress free and loving it!

The girls ran upstairs after breakfast and put on their clothes and came down proud of their choices.  A fashion parade erupted followed by applause, then more laughter!  They bounced into the van without all the heavy backpacks and lunchboxes, just with smiles on their faces and plans in their hearts.  It felt like summer vacation and I started to ache for that first day of freedom for them.

We dropped off M#2 at gymnastics and drove past the elementary school knowing we would be there that afternoon, but first the big mouse had to be visited after picking up her friend.

Knock, knock, knock. (nothing)

Knock, knock, knock.

A surprised mother comes to the door and says, “Hey there.  What are you doing?”

I said we were there to pick up her daughter for Chuck E Cheese.  M#1 jumps up and down looking in the door for her friend.

“She’s in school,” she whispers like she has head lice.  “Round-up isn’t until next week.”

“OMG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” I think. “Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, it’s totally Mommy’s fault!” I say dragging M#1 into the van.  Oh, no she’s crying…make it stop! My fault.

The next 5 minutes is a blur of apologies, driving in reverse, running, and calling mommy silly names – and this is just me doing the name calling!

“Our last Kindergarten Round-up…not if Blondie has anything to do with it!” I mumble as I 2-wheel it into the school’s visitor parking place.

“Come on M#1, Mommy has to get HER tardy slip while you go to class.  This one goes on MY record!”

Then I exhale giving her a chance to talk. She had stopped crying and in her sweet voice she asked, “So we’re doing this again next week?”

“Oh, I sure hope not!”

(©Hatton, 2012. All rights reserved.)

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Swapping kids is Better than Crack

Okay, so I’ve never TRIED crack, but I can only imagine that the high I get when I drop my children off at my friend’s house every other Friday morning for a few hours to go grocery shopping sans the chillens, is much higher than smoking from a spoon or pipe or whatever the wacky folks are doing these days.

If you ever happen to see a woman dancing and singing down the aisles at the Price Chopper, I’m telling you now…she isn’t insane or off her medications (well, I guess she could be), but odds are, she is free of her children and is able to buy the food she wants to purchase! NO interruptions by umpteen hundred questions, no melons toppling in the produce department and no dreaded whining when certain items don’t make it into the cart.  It’s a beautiful thing and I highly recommend you find a “kid swapping” friend NOW!

Unfortunately, my brilliant friend didn’t come up with this idea until the last month of the summer.  What were we thinking?  We could have been doing this the entire summer and think of all the endorphins we could have created!

The other beauty is our kids get to know each other and learn to play together, practice sharing with kids other than their siblings; and since both sets are extremely creative, the time for the mom watching the kids is a hoot!  They are hysterical with their creative play and dress-up and parades.

They actually enjoy each other so much that there hasn’t been one fight since the group of four has gotten together.  So the mom watching the kiddos gets to stay close by, keep an ear open and get other things done.

Today I had the super heroes and Scooby Doo adventurers at my house.  They were dressed in dance clothes, including tutus and boas, and I got laundry folded, my desk organized, read emails, and ended up with an idea for a blog…THIS ONE!  I LOVE kid swap day!

Next week I will take my kids to my friend’s house, and they will have a blast playing with their Friday AM pals – and I will sing my way through the grocery, run some errands and perhaps get some writing done. It’s amazing how much one can do without children at home.

What on earth will I do when all of the kids are in school all day long?  Read War and Peace or write my autobiography?  An emphatic, “YES!” I say.  When I’m not missing their cute little faces, dances and silly stories!!

Darned Socks Pull a Vanishing Act

The Kansas City Star newspaper

published Wednesday, July 27, 2011

STACEY HATTON COMMENTARY

I am usually a sock drawer is half-full kind of gal, but I have a little confession to make…again.

This time it’s a touch more embarrassing, for it involves a great many of you and might step on some of your toes or your socks, if you are odd and wearing them in this heat. I’d like to formally apologize for my thoughts. I try to keep to the old adage, “If you have nothing nice to say, stick a sock in it.”

For numerous years (before my own children were born), I honestly believed that the parent who has the sole responsibility of performing the task of laundry was mentally less than par. Quite challenged, actually.

Why is it that for 25 years I was able to do my own laundry and lose nary a sock? Seriously. And the remainder of the spawning public has a drawer, a bucket, or some other container specifically set aside for the day when the returning matching socks will magically dance back to join the lone socks.

Kids these days are wearing mismatched socks — intentionally — which I think is brilliant! For all of you grandparents with young grandchildren and parents with only young kids, this is real!

However, this is where I ran out of my research grant funds, so the following may not be as accurate. According to some shady website, the average household has 6.467 missing socks. Some very tired mom in Dubuque, Iowa, with so many kids she didn’t know what to do had a dresser drawer full of mismatched socks and said, “I’ll feed one of ya dinner this week if you’ll wear the socks from the sock bucket.”

And that is the story how this fad started. Unfortunately, as a nurse, I had to report her to family services after the interview, but that is another can of worms.

So back to missing socks…I have no theory why socks disappear when you begin to have children. Do kids just take them off at school and leave them there? Wouldn’t the PTO send out an email notifying parents of the enormous collection of socks, or better yet auction them off to buy more books for the library?

One day my child came home from preschool wearing completely the wrong pair socks on her feet with an additional single sock in her backpack. How does this happen? And, I might add, I never saw the socks I sent her to school in that day. Perhaps since teachers don’t get paid enough and they have put up with our unruly children all day, it’s a perk to mess with the parent a bit, switching all their socks.

All I know is that it is something that can’t be avoided. My advice: Parents should buy more socks and get over it. Don’t invest in the expensive, fancy socks or you will be disappointed when they end up in another family’s washing machine at the end of the day.

And if this doesn’t comfort you, I don’t know what will: Even true princesses can’t keep a hold on their socks. I went to the Princess Diana exhibit at Union Station and there right in front of a wedding dress was a kid’s pink sock.

I like to imagine it belonged to one of Diana’s flower girls.

Stacey Hatton is a freelance writer and public speaker. You can find her weekly humor blog at http://nursemommylaughs.com.