Cordelia, the Drama Queen

So, hoping to channel some of Cordelia's affinity for drama in a productive direction, we signed her up for a drama class once a week at school. I'm not sure she got very much out of it, but the final performance the other night was pretty cute. (The upper grades did an adaptation of Twelfth Night, which was pretty cute, too.) You'd never know that right before the first number she was having a tantrum in the car — a sort of warm-up to the big, dramatic event. We joke about the sociopath, but really: this was not three minutes later. Put on a happy freaking face, indeed.

Good Morning, Starshine

And by the way, we're pretty sure so far that poor Emma is the one Last who can't carry a tune. In a bucket. But she loves to sing. Especially Christmas tunes, in May.

Well — Mary DID Have a Little Lamb ...

Cordelia and Emma are sitting on the couch, with Cordelia strumming tunelessly on Cody's guitar (as he fumes in rage) and Emma singing tunelessly along and requesting songs.

EEL: Dee Dee! Can you play Tomorrow Tomorrow?

(She does.)

EEL; Can you play Jingle Bells?

(She does.)

EEL: Otay! Now, Mary Had a Little Lamb!

CML: We've done that 18 times. Can you think of another one?

EEL: Otay! Oh! Let's do Salve Regina!

Only then did I realize that she thinks Mary Had a Little Lamb is about the Blessed Mother, too.

Father of the Year

On Sunday I took Cody on an adventure I've been looking forward to since he was born: Hiking the Billy Goat trail at Great Falls. It's strange to think of all the times I've picked over that trail--by myself, when it was just me. With Monika, when she lived with me in DC the first time. Running it with her after she moved to DC permanently. Then with Shannon. Then with BJ, and Monika, the summer we were all in town together. And now with Cody. Just a few highlights from when we stopped for snacks. No pictures of the really fun stuff (like going down the wall) because I was pretty cognizant of keeping hands at the ready to grab him.

Oddly enough, he was totally fearless. At no point did I have to coax him into anything--very different from how he was just two years ago, when he'd get nervous about physical things, like going into the ocean up to his waist.

Nature. Goulet.

Now, last week I went up to get something out of the kids' room and I saw this, in Cody's bed:

My bear. And the book I wrote for him. I've never felt more like I've done the job of giving myself to him.

Thank You For Smoking

So last night, after I get the girls down, I wander into the bathroom where JVL is keeping Cody company during his bath. "Are you going to the gym?" asks Jonathan?

I say, "I want to. I should. I know I should. But I'm pretty beat from today."

Because this morning, we did a long meander from the Washington Monument to the Lincoln Memorial, and back, spending a good long while at the WWII Memorial. It's tied for my second-favorite, but the kids love it best, because of the numerous opportunities to dip their hands in the water when they think I'm not looking. 

As a side note, while we were there, Cody approached a very old WWII veteran being pushed in a wheelchair, shook his hand, and said, "Thank you for your service, sir." The man's eyes welled up — as did mine.

He also had a lot of questions about Lincoln's assassination, some of which I tried to gloss over. The best part was when he said, "Mom. You don't agree with President Obama very much, right?" "Not so much," I said. Then he replied, "But you would never use VIOLENCE against him like John Wilkes Booth!" "No, of course not," I assured him. "That's why we get to vote. You don't always get what you want, but you do have a right to pick the leaders you think will do the best job." It was the first of many such conversations, I expect (and hope).

Emma was also quite taken with our 16th president, as you can tell from this photobomb: "Oh! Mr. Lincoln is SO BIG! And I am so LITTLE! That was a lot of steps!"

She was also quite taken with the many, many, many baby ducks and geese we saw along Rainbow Pond and the Reflecting Pool. "Loot! Loot! (she still can't pronounce "k" sounds) It's a baby duckling! And, another baby duckling! Oh! Awww! They are so tute! Oh man! Oh no! I stepped in the duck poop!"

 

So anyway. It was a busy morning and we walked a LOT (my pedometer registered 18K steps by the time I went to bed.) So I said, "I don't know. I kind of just want to sit down and rest awhile."

Cody looks up from the shaving-cream-and-soap-and-shampoo potion he's making and says seriously, "You should go for a run, Mom. You shouldn't sit. Sitting is the new smoking."

On the Other Hand

There have also been some bright spots — peeking in to see them both absorbed in books before bed is something I've been waiting for since — well, ever. : )

Dept. of Propaganda

It's been a hard few weeks with my bundles of joy. Sometimes I think to myself:

At a recent birthday party, the little doozy was stenciled on the door.

That's a vicious lie. I mean, come on!


Also — notice the serious lock on that unconvincing door? With a keypad and everything? You know why? That tells you something right there. In a just world, the adults would be behind this door.

I'm an excellent mother, though.



Or as Cody told me, "Mom, even though I got really grounded and you really yelled, I still think you're the best mom I've ever had."

Mother's Day Messages

Biggest disappointment about Mother's Day 2015: my card never reached my mom. And it was awesome. On the outside, it said: "Mom, there were so many times while I was growing up that it seemed like a great idea to run away from home."

On the inside, it said: "I'm so glad you never did."

Sorry, Mom. We tried! Damn the postal service!

This was the sweetest part: the youth group was selling roses for moms outside church. Cordelia wanted to buy one, with my money, of course. But I was touched. I was all ready to receive it, but she walked back into the sanctuary and brought it to the Blessed Mother. And then I cried.
 

I got to spend the Friday morning before Mother's Day with the kids at school, and it was lovely. 

 

They each wrote a message for me. 

Cody's was probably draft 5, and evidently his drafts changed depending on what was going on that day. In one, he claimed I was born in Italy. (I wish.) In another, he told about how I chased the neighbor's cats away in the middle of the night with a light saber. (This is a true story. In my defense, they were catfighting on my deck, below my window, and I was half asleep, and very angry. On the other hand, I obviously have no defense, and am relieved this little anecdote wound up on the cutting floor.)

I think my "high noon Texas sky" eyes is my favorite part. Has Cody ever been west of Michigan or south of North Carolina? Why no. But the kid has imagination.

No. There is another . . .

I'm slowly getting the sense that Emma may be the physically aggressive, athletic one of the bunch. Unlike Cordelia, she is very taken with light sabers. And she wants to take on all comers:

That's her taking on Cody with approximately zero fear. And here she is coming after me--it's a POV shot from me on the ground as she batters me with her light saber:

Why is she wearing only a diaper? Why is she sucking on a binky that isn't even a real binky--because it's a doll-binky?

Because the ways of the Dark Side are mysterious.

God Bless the Child

Emma sings her bedtime prayers.

I Have a Guardian Angel…A Fwend I TanNOT See

Eat your heart out. : ) I want to capture her inability to say "C" sounds forever.

Apparently, Hands ARE For Hitting

Emma's not been above a little sibling violence lately. She mainly lashes out when they are all smashed together in the backseat of the commuting car, which she loathes. Her go-to move to express displeasure is taking off her shoes and socks every.freaking.time she gets in the car, so that every.freaking.time I make a stop, which is A LOT OF THE FREAKING TIME, I am forced to put them back on. It infuriates me. And, she knows it. So she does it. Today, we had to make two stops after school. There's generally a lot of screaming and fighting in the car at 3:30 — it's that time of day — so she immediately went full throttle, upsetting her siblings and announcing, "I AM GOING TO SHRIEK AND FUSS IN THE CAR!" She was true to her word. Off came the shoes. I made a new rule: "If you take your shoes off, then you cannot walk. You will be carried." This is a big threat, because "I want to walt!" She replies, "I WILL take them off and I WILL walk!" I then somehow got into a minute or two of "No, you will not" "YES I WILL!" before I realized I had just said, "OH YEAH? JUST WAIT AND SEE" to a two-year-old. Who was, naturally, barefoot.

So yesterday on the way home from school — which took 90 minutes, thanks to suburban hell traffic — they were all screaming and crying, usually at the same time. At one point I hear both Cody and Cordelia shrieking "OW! Emma! STOP KICKING! STOP PINCHING!" I whip around and say sternly, "We do NOT kick and pinch, Emma!"

Emma: "Yes! We do."
Me: "No we do NOT."
Emma: "Yes. We DO kick and pinch! I am going to kick and pinch RIGHT NOW!"

I'm driving, so there's not much I can do. So I say more sternly, "HANDS are NOT for pinching, Emma, and feet are NOT for kicking people!"

Emma: "Yes! Hands ARE for pinching. And feet ARE for kicking people!"

Chorus: "OW! SHE DID IT AGAIN! STOP IT EMMA!"

But...