chickenfickle

And she doesn’t even know it.

We used to live in California and before we had kids, I had a nice car. One day, I was driving my nice car through a not-so-nice neighborhood. I had to be at work at 5am so I left pretty early. Anyway, I was stopped at a traffic light and a gentleman approached my car. He had some friends with him but he got out alone. He tapped on the window and I said, “What?” He made the motion to roll down my window and I immediately started to laugh.

I rolled down my window and said, “Hi, do you watch Ellen Degeneres?” He looked at me and moved his hand, which was in his pocket, and pointed something at me. Could have been his finger, could have been a gun, I don’t know. I should have hit the gas and gotten out of there but instead, I said, “Did you see the one where she talks about how people still use the crank motion to mean put the window down but no one has cranks anymore unless you drive a ’76 Dodge Dart?” “She said it would look stupid to make a motion like you were pushing a button but even though that’s what people have in cars now we all still use the crank motion. And you just did that, isn’t that funny? She’s really funny, do you watch her?” This guy looks at me like I am completely nuts, puts his hand down, goes back to his car, and drives away.

That is my favorite episode ever.

The kids’ grandparents are coming to visit this week so it seemed like a good time to clean their rooms. Not much to do in THAT BABY’S room but No. 2 and The Girl had a lot. Hubby cleaned up No.2’s room but left hers for me. I looked and left. It was a disaster. I took a deep breath, called her in and we started.

Some stuff just needed to be thrown away. Some stuff she wanted to keep and out of what she didn’t want, I decided what to toss, donate and save for myself. But, when it came time for the dolls, well, I just wasn’t prepared for what was to come.

The Girl has been getting older lately. I don’t know when it started, but suddenly, she wants to choose her own clothes, brush her own hair, and make her own decisions. The one she made today just about killed me. When we got to putting away the dolls, she told me I could get rid of the baby dolls. She didn’t want them anymore, they were for babies. It was all I could do to not tell her that she was a baby, my baby, and there was no way in hell I was getting rid of those dolls. Instead I asked if she was sure and she said she was. I took the pink tub with her baby dolls and put it in my room. We finished cleaning up her room and she went downstairs to watch tv.

The night went along as usual-arguing, playing, eating, yelling, getting ready for bed, yelling, sleeping. But I couldn’t get those baby dolls off my mind. So, instead of going to bed, I cleaned out the tub. I folded all the little clothes, matched up the shoes. And thought about my Baby Doll.

About bringing her home from the hospital (we have a picture coming in the door with her.) About staying in California so we could continue to see the heart doctor to make sure the holes closed (they did.) About car trips, learning to walk, going to preschool, becoming a big sister (twice), losing teeth, still believing in Santa, still sometimes letting me brush her hair.

I could never understand when people would say that it goes by so fast until I had my own kids. I always thought it just took forever. Now, it’s a blink. One minute you are holding a baby in your arms, the next, you are putting away the baby dolls. I cried a little bit when I cleaned out that bin. I suppose it didn’t help that “Toy Story 3” was on earlier. Damn movie kills me.

So, now the bin is clean, the clothes are folded and the babies are lying there, waiting for their next mommy. I have to look for one missing green sock and a purple slipper. Then I can put the lid on and take the bin downstairs. I guess it’s time to fold up the stroller and changing table, too. Sigh, sniff.

But, I did see her brushing her American Girl doll’s hair earlier. And someday, she’ll brush the hair of her own little girl. And that baby will get the bin. And I’ll have one more chance to play baby dolls with my Baby Doll.

The other day, I asked No. 2 to get a roll of paper towels from the closet. He got the towels and told me that I had to clean the closet because it was really dirty. He stressed the really dirty part. Well, I admit there were a couple dust bunnies but the insult was enough to make me clean the closet and then look around for another project. I saw the fridge and decided that was it.

If you’ve been to my house, you may not realize it but my refrigerator is black. It’s hard to tell because it’s covered in magnets and alphabet toys, pictures, coupons and notes. I stick everything on it-it’s like a scrapbook with food inside. When we need a clip for chips, there is always a bunch of rearranging that has to be done because all the magnetic chip clips have something else in them. I’ve taken to using binder clips for the bags of food.

Anyway, I decided that maybe it was time to take down the old stuff and make room for the new. I looked at where to start and saw “the leaf.” It’s on the side, near the top, not in the way, not really noticeable. It’s been there probably two years at least. I’m sure no one remembers anything about it but me. I know who gave it to me and when and what they said. “For you, Mommy.” I hung it on the fridge. I never really intended to keep it so long but it just stayed. And I look at it every now and then and have a quick smile. But when I tried to take it down, I couldn’t. Not only did I remember the day of “the leaf” but also a hundred other things. Coming home from the hospital, first steps, going to preschool, learning to ride a two-wheeler, losing teeth. I looked at “the leaf” and decided to try something else. I moved toward a clip that had a coupon on the front and then some pictures. It was one of those strips of pictures you get in a photo booth of me and The Girl and No. 2 before THAT BABY came along. And then there was one with THAT BABY, too. I remembered taking those pictures at a museum. I left those and decided to try some stuff on the front of the fridge instead.

But, I couldn’t bring myself to take down the little wooden trains from No. 2’s first birthday party six years ago, the picture of THAT BABY sitting on the potty, or of The Girl on a fire truck from a birthday party last summer. I moved the Nascar magnet, and straightened the old Halloween photo and I plan to clean the shelves inside this weekend. But as for the outside, well, it’s clean enough.

You, yeah you. Get off your high horse, climb down from your soapbox and save me your holier than thou attitude. Do you really expect me to believe that you’ve never gotten in the ten item or less lane with twelve items? Right. And you’ve never turned on red in a no turn on red lane. Nor have you ever mailed something to a different address or used another email to get a deal on something that was limit one per. Nope, not you. And not me either.

Or so we would all like each other to believe. We’re very quick to judge and decide what’s right and wrong and usually, it’s pretty black and white. But what about the gray areas? When is it ok, if ever, to do something that isn’t 100% right but not 100% wrong either? Does it matter the intent or is right always right? If no one gets hurt or no one minds, then is it ok? If a tree falls and no one hears it, does it make a sound? If no one cares that you did something “wrong” is it still “wrong?”

Well, it’s hard to say, isn’t it? Let’s say that you had really good intentions for doing something but the means by which you took to achieve that end were maybe not so honest. Does that make it ok? Do you have to be accountable? I admit, I’ve done some things that would fall into the gray area. My husband does not use hand cream. But, I made him like a page to get a free tube for me. Now I have two tubes. Did I hurt anyone? No. Was he entitled to it? Technically, yes. But, it really was for me and I already got mine. So that leaves me with a conundrum. If one of my kids were to ask me about it, what would I tell them? I wanted two (because a girl can never have too much hand cream) so I made Daddy get one, too. Is that right? 

It’s funny how your kids change you, when you have little eyes watching you all the time. You would do anything for them and sometimes that means doing things that aren’t right. Or does it? Because now, you have to be a role model for them. So when you do something for them, you have to think about what you are teaching them. If you caught them doing something wrong, you would, I hope, correct them. But what about when they see you doing something wrong, even if it’s for them? What are you teaching them? “Well, sonny, I did that for you.” You tell your kids not to smoke and you’d be pissed to see them do it, but when you’re out alone, you smoke and have an Altoid. You tell your kids not to swear (“Watch that potty mouth, mister”) but that bitch pulled out of nowhere so what could you do but flip her off? And you tell your kids to not cheat but then you go to great lengths to be sure they win a contest. You had the best intentions but if they ask, what do you say? How do you justify that? Gray.

Maybe it’s the season right now, that we are all supposed to be thinking of our fellow man that makes me feel this. But it’s also the reason that I don’t make New Year’s resolutions. Why wait until the new year to do something better? Just do it now. Don’t put off your diet, don’t wait to start exercising, don’t wait to be a better person in any way. Especially if you have little eyes watching you. There’s not enough Windex that could clean away that clouded image. Even mine.

Today’s topic is naps. I have a vested interest in naps as I have a two-year-old. THAT BABY still takes a nap. Usually, he takes it willingly, sometimes he needs a bit of persuasion, but either way, he takes one. Ask any doctor, read any parenting magazine and they will tell you-naps are good for kids. Why? If they go beyond their “happily awake” time they become tired, fussy and unhappy. And anyone with a child who has not had a nap knows, when baby ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy. Thus, naps are good for kids and grammar.

But, let’s be honest here. Who else needs a nap? That’s right, Momma does. Because, much like baby, if Momma ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy. And that nap makes this Momma happy. I don’t care who is taking it, me or THAT BABY, but someone is taking a nap. I need that time. I need to go potty by myself. I need to make a phone call. I need do the laundry, go through my receipts, eat something, have five minutes without anyone asking me, “Mama, what are you doing? Can I have a piece of candy? Where’s Nana?” Because when THAT BABY is awake the answer to those questions is “Nothing, no and I don’t know.” That’s a lot of negativity and I try to be a “thumbs up” kind of gal.

Now, I have to say, I am a quirky napper. I sleep on the left at night (if you are in the bed, then I’m on the right) but for naps, I sleep on Husband’s side. I don’t know why, but I have to. Kind of like those people who have to turn the lights on and off 20 times or their family will die, I have to nap on the other side. And I like to sleep under the covers because I don’t want to squish the down comforter. Yes, I know I can fluff it, but again, it’s my light switch. Lastly, I like to sleep when it’s raining. Not pouring, but a light drizzle is ideal. Those three things add up to nap paradise for me. However, I’m not one to turn down any opportunity for a nap so those conditions listed do not have to be met. I have slept in the rocking chair with TB many times. I have slept on the couch while watching tv. I have snoozed in the car on many a family trip. Naps come in many forms and I welcome them all.

I would write more, but it’s time for my nap.

I remember when I was pregnant with The Girl, my boss asked me if I had started having the “Irrational Fears” yet. I said, No, what are you talking about? She told me that when she was pregnant with her first child, her boss had told her about them. It’s when you imagine all these crazy things that will never happen to you. For example, her fear was that she would drop a pot of boiling sugar on herself (she was a pastry chef and I was her assistant.) Hot boiling sugar would be bad, yes, but what are the chances of dropping it on yourself? Pretty slim. My favorite was going to 7 Eleven and getting held up with your kids. First, when is the last time you went to 7 Eleven? And second, most places aren’t held up during the day so why are you out with your kids at 2am, anyway? And in what neighborhood? Again, never gonna happen. But when she told me about them, I couldn’t stop thinking of all the stuff that could happen.

After The Girl was born, I remember being on the stairs of our house and stopping midway, thinking, what if I fell? I would be unconscious and my baby would be stuck here with no way to call for help, crying, while I’m dying. Needless, to say, I didn’t fall and I’m still alive. But it was that kind of thinking that made me stop for a second, paralyzed with fear of what might happen, not what really would, but could. If I let fear take hold of me, what would I miss and regret?

A few days ago, a friend sent me a message about people and their top five regrets:
5) not living the life they wanted but doing what someone else wanted them to do;
4) working too hard;
3) not expressing their feelings;
2) not staying in touch with friends;
and 1) not being happier.

I thought about those things and what, if any, regrets I have. Luckily, I’ve pretty much lived my life the way I wanted. Maybe not all the time, but for the most part, I’ve gotten to do what I wanted and I’ve had some pretty interesting experiences. As for not working too hard, well, Husband and I made a decision to put our family first. He works out of the house and I don’t work at all, unless you count raising our kids and taking care of the house (and I sure as hell count it.) We don’t make as much as we would if he went to an office or traveled or if I worked even part time. But, the tradeoff is well worth it. We have less money but more time with the kids and each other. #3, expressing my feelings, not a problem. I say what I think and I admit, sometimes it comes out awkward, but never with malicious intent. I may not be graceful in my delivery but I don’t regret saying it. As for staying in touch with friends, that is hard. We were out of our hometown for a long time and lost touch with a lot of people. Lately, I’ve gotten back together with some of them and it’s been great. I hope to keep it up but I know that people change and sometimes, it’s just best to let things fade. But I’m never going to say no to a friend, new or old. Come back anytime. Lastly, I want to be happy. I want to see the happiness in my life everyday. And I know that the first four regrets have to go or I won’t be able to do that. I have a lot to be happy about and if I can clear out the irrational fears and regrets, then the happy things can come out more. We all deserve to be happy. Put on a squeaky nose and go to the park.

The message from my friend ended with the advice to live your life consciously, wisely, honestly and happily. I try to be aware of what’s going on around me, make good decisions, be true to myself and have fun. If it means writing silly blogs on Chickenfickle (which is a crazy name and makes me smile to say it) then so be it. And if it means reading them, well, be my happy guest.

I have been giving this some thought and I would like to be your friend. Not your “We haven’t talked in 20 years but I saw your name on a popular social media site” friend, but a friend. There’s one catch, though-I’m “as is.” Yep, you have to take me like this.

And what is “this” you ask? Well, it’s everything you want in a friend and everything you don’t. It’s all my baggage and then some. But, here’s the great thing about being a friend. You can ignore a whole big bunch of that stuff. Yes, that’s right. Why? ‘Cuz we’re friends.

When you are friends with someone, and they act nuts, you have a choice. You can say, you are being nuts and move on. Or you can get all in a snit and not be able to move on. I’d like you to stay on as a friend but move on from the nuttiness. We’ve got lots more in our future but we’ll never get there if you stay stuck in the past. Why? ‘Cuz we’re friends.

Now, let’s talk time commitment. I’m going to be honest here and tell you that I don’t have much time to give you. But, as my friend, you understand that and probably don’t mind because you are busy, too. So when I put my kids and husband before you and we don’t talk for a month, don’t be pissy. When I get two minutes, you’ll be the one I call. And when I get your voicemail and you don’t call me back for two weeks, that’s cool, too. Why? ‘Cuz we’re friends.

Also, we aren’t going to agree on everything. But the great thing about being a friend is that we don’t have to. You can have your opinions (and they can be dumb) and I can have mine (which are completely right in every way) and we can choose to disagree but defend each other’s right to have them. Why? ‘Cuz we’re friends, you moron.

So, I guess what I’m trying to say here is that being my friend is going to be hard, but I hope you consider it. I have a lot to offer. I’m funny. No, really, I am. I can cook, too. And, I know everything. That’s how I know you should be my friend.

#2, when he has a good time or likes something a lot, will say it’s the best X ever. And he puts an emphasis on the ever, which is hard to hear when you are reading so I used italics. You have to use your imagination to understand my Best Bride, Ever.

A friend of ours from college is getting married. He’s been dating his fiancee for a few years and we’ve met her a number of times. But, they are single (at least for another month) and we have kids so we don’t see them a lot. She’s always been nice and friendly and politely listened to our stories about kids and poop and things that she has totally no interest in and I appreciate it.

Now that their wedding is getting close, she’s been having bridal showers and parties. I saw her earlier this summer at a party and she mentioned that she didn’t invite any of her fiancé’s college friends’ wives to her showers because while she likes us, she felt it was inappropriate. While we all get along, she said she thought it was just a “get me a gift” invite because we don’t hang out. I thought that was very classy. How many times have you been invited to something and you know it’s just because someone wants a gift? You haven’t talked to this person in six years or you’ve never met them and you get an invite? Just tell me what to buy (actually someone did that once but that’s a topic for another rant.) Anyway, I still wanted to be part of the celebration so I planned a little get-together with the other wives and her.

I wanted to do something nice and elegant but not a bridal shower. Tea seems to be the big thing now so that’s what I planned. I got all dressed up. I never get dressed up so this was a big deal for me. I picked up one of the other wives and away we went.

We got there a bit early and the table was ready so the two of us sat down. We had a glass of champagne and chatted. Then another guest arrived and we chatted with her. Two more came along. Finally, the Bride arrived and the tea began. And it couldn’t have been more lovely. From the room, to the food, to the conversation, I personally had a really nice time. All because she was the Best Bride, Ever.

Again, she politely listened to our stories about kids and crap and that was nice. But when she talked about her wedding, well, it was so charming and sweet. I remember she said that no one had told her how much fun it would be, how nice people would be to her, and how grateful she was. And she got all teary (and so did we) and I just thought to myself, this is the Best Bride, Ever. She’s having a great time and is truly, genuinely thankful for what everyone is doing for her. I had always thought she was a nice person, smart, good personality, but the couple hours I spent with her on Sunday reaffirmed my faith in humanity. I know that sounds nuts but lately it seems like a lot of people just suck. The news is depressing, people are mean, the world is a bad place. But sitting with her, drinking tea and listening to her be happy was so uplifting. Usually, you hear about Bridezilla but not her. She’s more like Mother Theresa Bride (that’s all I could think of, it’s late, cut me some slack.)

So, I would just like to say, Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials and thank you for letting me be a part of it. You are the Best Bride, Ever.

A friend of mine sent me an article about what it’s like when your kids get their drivers licenses. My kids are too young for that but I can still relate. The Girl no longer has training wheels.

It started out with one of those little plastic push around things. She’d get it and stand behind it and walk. Then she got a little tricycle and then her first bike with training wheels. She’d put her little helmet on and I’d walk next to her. Such a big girl, riding her bike. How cute. But then, she grew too tall for the princess bike and we had to get her a bigger one and those don’t have training wheels. Either she learned to ride or she was going to have to walk everywhere.

We started out in the grass. I would take her to the field down the block and stand next to her. I would balance the bike and run next to her and let go. She’d ride until she fell down. We did this over and over. I cheered her on until she was ready for the sidewalk. It’s easier to ride on the sidewalk but scarier. And stopping and starting is tough, too, but now, well, she puts her helmet on and away she goes. We did the same thing with her rollerblades. We practiced in the basement on the carpet until she was confident enough to go outside. Last night she was blading up and down the block, a seasoned pro. And now, she’s no longer happy to just go to the corner. Oh no, Big Girl wants to go around the block. Without me.

So, what’s the big deal? Don’t all kids learn to ride a bike? Yes, I suppose they do, but, well, it sucks, frankly. She used to need me for everything. Now, that stupid bike is just one more step closer to her moving out into her own apartment. I’m not interested in this growing up thing. No.

Yet, she’s still my baby. I took her to her first concert last week, Taylor Swift. We had dinner together and then went to the show. She stood there, nervous at first, then started to dance a little and sing along to the songs she knew. I looked at her at one point with her arms in the air and, I tell you, it’s a good thing it was dark so no one could see me cry. And I know I wasn’t the only one. There was a mom in front of me with two girls around The Girl’s age and she kept looking at them and touching their hair or shoulders and I know that the girls she saw were two or three years old. Next to us, there was a dad with a little girl who really was only about three and she sat on his lap the whole time. She had a seat, but he didn’t put her down once. He was holding his newborn daughter.

About half-way through, The Girl sat down. She told me was a little tired and wanted to rest. I asked if she wanted to leave but she said, no, just take a little break. We ended up sitting for the rest of the concert, with her head on my shoulder, drifting in and out of sleep. She was too tired to stand up but still refused to leave. When it was over we found our car and she was asleep before we even made it out of the parking lot. We got home and Daddy carried her up to bed.

Monday, she starts second grade. And my middle son starts kindergarten. When did they grow up? I look at them and I see the babies I brought home from the hospital seven and five years ago. I see the babies I potty trained. I see the babies that I taught to ride bikes. I don’t think I won’t ever see them as babies no matter how big they get. They’ll be walking down the aisle at their weddings and I’ll see babies crawling.

I read somewhere that your kids are still babies if they sleep with their butts in the air. THAT BABY still sleeps like that. I go to check on everyone before I go to sleep and he’s like that, tushy in the air. Eventually, he’ll be in a toddler bed, then a regular bed and he won’t sleep like that anymore. Once in a while, the other two sleep like that, more curled up than usual, and I have a little flashback to when they really were babies.

The Girl and I went shopping for clothes a few weeks back. I can’t bring myself to buy her some of what is out there but we were able to find some stuff. When it came time for shoes, she picked out a pair of ballet flats with jewels on the toe. Then she surprised me by picking out a pair of Maryjanes, black with criss-cross straps, just like what she wore when she was younger. I had seen them and didn’t bother to show her because I thought for sure she wouldn’t like them. But she found them on her own. As we walked out of the shoe department, she held my hand and skipped and I carried her bag of training wheels.

Summer has ended. How do I know? We cleaned out the garage.

Yesterday, I took THAT BABY out to run a few errands. Upon our return, I see Husband’s car parked at the curb and everything that was in our garage on the lawn. For a second, I actually thought to myself, Who would have a garage sale on a Sunday? then I realized it was us. Only it wasn’t a sale, it was a clean. Where was the camera crew from Hoarders?

Husband had recruited the other two to help him and thought TB and I would be gone longer. Unfortunately, we came home early. TB was excited and jumped right in. Me, not so much. Yes, the garage needed to be cleaned but that was not how I had planned to spend my Sunday. Not to worry, it won’t take more than an hour Husband assured me. An hour? In dog year time maybe. An hour. Right.

So I joined the cleaning party. I got rid of chalk, old kites, wood, empty bubble containers. I found parts of the bike I gave to my neighbor and put them on her patio. I gave away a fog machine and a stroller cup holder and an infant sled. Husband hosed the floor and #2 soaked himself silly. The Girl played with random toys and TB ran around screaming. Good times.

But, it signals an end to summer. Why? Well, we had to make room for both cars-because it will be cold before we know it. We had to put the jumpy in the back so the snow blower could come out-because it will be cold before we know it. The chalk and bubbles had to be packed up and the snowman-shaped can of snowman parts moved to the front of the storage shelf-because it will be cold before we know it. It took forever for summer to show up, it was cold and gross for so long and now, school starts in two weeks and poof! It’s going to be fall and then it will be too cold to clean the garage.

Am I sad? Well, I have mixed feelings. I know what’s coming. My kids are going to school and it’s one more summer gone away. We did a lot this summer and I have a lot to look forward to this fall. #2 is going to kindergarten and we are taking bets on how long before we get “the call” from his teacher. Um, Mrs. #2, this is #2’s teacher….. I say September. She’ll tolerate him until then. The Girl will be fine, I’m not worried about her and TB and I will have a lot of quality time to spend together. He gets the shaft a lot because he’s the little one. This will be a great opportunity for us to hang together. I may even clean the house with all my newfound free time.

I complain about the kids all the time. But when they aren’t here, I miss them. And now, school is starting and they’ll be gone all day. And I know when they come home, they are going to be crabby, hungry maniacs and I’ll wonder why they can’t be in school longer and on weekends. But today, I wish summer would last forever.