It’s Monday Listicles time. This week is kid edition. The assignment was to list ten reasons why being a child is great. Or why it is not. It was up to us, so we talked to our kids.
We know our kids are some of the luckiest, most blessed kids on the planet. Pretty much everything about being a kid in one of our families rocks. When we asked them about their childhoods, most of them declined to comment (they were too busy running around enjoying this gorgeous spring weather), but we did hear some mutterings and complaints about the “stupid blog.” So, we’re going with that. Erin and Ellen
We’d never do our kid’s homework, but papier-mâché and science projects just don’t happen on kitchen tables without some intervention and guidance.
Erin– Oy, this week may qualify as the Everest for School Projects, but I do believe we have made it to base camp. This week has been non-stop. Ellen and I have both been up to our eyeballs in school projects.
Ellen– Well, if you have been up to your eyeballs, I guess I’ve been up to my armpits. I do only have two kids to your five, after all.
Erin – For the record, when we were planning said family, nobody mentioned school projects times 5. Factor that in, people! It should be right up there with college tuition and the cost of diapers.
And I am not feeling your math on this one. The proportions don’t seem right. I have 5. You have 2. I’m not seeing a 3/5 difference between the armpits and the eyeballs.
Ellen– I was dealing with epidemiology, laminar flow patterns, and Rube Goldberg machines. I think that closes the gap.
Erin– Well, I need a drink to even pretend that I want you to expand on that.
Ellen– Remember the drinking games in college? Ah, those were the days. We had such endless hours of time that we had to create games so that drinking lasted long enough to fill them.
Erin– Ahh, those WERE the days! Loved the game “Never Have I Ever”! Somebody would start by making a statement that starts with “Never have I ever”. Then anybody who “had ever” had to drink. I remember this being one of the more structured drinking games with rules and everything. There was even moral high ground: lying was strictly forboten.
Ellen– Holy Preciousness. You all can save your eye muscles the strain of the eye roll. I have you covered. I guess they liked their drinking games with contrived Shakespearean structure at Erin’s liberal arts college.
Erin–I think it had something to do with being run by Jesuits, but I’m just guessing.
Ellen– Anyway, I went to the University of Maryland during the period when they were transitioning from being a contender on Playboy’s Top Party School List to Not-Your-Safety-School.
Our games were not structured, and the only moral high ground was not to target your best friend’s boyfriend as your next hook-up. That being said, we also played ‘Never Have I Ever,” just without the integrity.
Erin – Can you imagine if The Sisterhood crashed the party on those poor 20-somethings?
Ellen – Ooo, I’m envisioning “Never Have I Ever: The School Projects Edition.” We would either make those poor Innocents’ heads explode or exponentially increase their dedication to birth control use.
Clucking Adorable
Erin – It might go something like this:
Innocent 1: Never Have I Ever violated a farm animal.
Erin:(Take a drink) Check. I just shoved a rooster in a can.
Innocent 1: Did you just say you shoved a rooster up your can?
Table shouts: “Spill the story, spill the story.”
Erin:Puh-leez. We had to papier-mâché a rooster for a third grade character in a can project.
Innocent 1: Well, that was a lot more boring than I thought it would be.
(Sideways glances among the Innocents. A few raised eyebrows.)
Innocent 2: Never Have I Ever dabbled in bondage.
Ellen: (Takes a drink) Well, I may not technically qualify, but seeing as I already took the drink, I’m going to go for it. Yesterday, I had to scour the house for a pulley, steel cable, and duct tape so that Coco (13) could construct her Rube Goldberg machine. But, the rubric did specifically say the machine could not “imply profane, indecent, or lewd expressions,” so I’m going to take a penalty drink for game foul.
NOT Coco’s Rube Goldberg Machine
Innocent 1 whispers to Innocent 2: Wait, what did she say?
Innocent 2: I think she said that Rudy Goldberg, you know, from Econ class, puts roosters in bondage…
Innocent 3: Never Have I Ever worn knock-offs or discount. (Smirks as she pushes perfectly manicured hand through shiny, sleek hair)
Erin: (Takes a drink). Hunger games T-shirt for book report for seventh grader. Biddie(13) had to create original designs based on characters from the book, print her designs onto transfers and iron them on. They were originals, but you can’t get more discount than ink-jet transfers on Wal-Mart t-shirts.
Innocent 3: O. Kay. (looks at Innocents 1 and 2 with scarcely concealed horror)
Innocent 4: Never Have I Ever seen a musical. (Clearly lying or overcompensating for something.)
Ellen: Just hand me the bottle. I’m living in High School Musical, and Coco is only in 8th grade. Last year, Leader of the Pack: 5 times. This year, Bye Bye Birdie: 5 times. I love you, Drama, oh yes I do.
Wait, I’ll take another party foul drink, because I actually do love it.
Innocent 5: Never Have I Ever abused any balls.
Ellen: Oh Sweetie. Party foul for wince-producing flirting and/or poor attempt at double entendre. On second thought, I’ll take the drink for my snarkalicious judgment. You’re young and perky; you can totally pull off a line like that.
Erin-whispers to Ellen: But only for about 5 more years. Snicker, snicker.
Innocent 2: Slow down on the party foul drinks, Lady. After this tequila, all we have is a garbage can full of grain and Kool-Aid.
Fraternity House Punch Bowl
Erin:(Takes a drink) Hey, back off. Do you want her to start talking about the Rube Goldberg thing again? Oh, and back to the balls, fill me up, because I helped Charlie(11) cut an old foam ball in half to create a model of the animal cell.
Innocent 1: I don’t think that is what she meant…
Erin: It’s a DRINKING game (speaking slowly just in case she’s a little slow). Now pass the bottle.
Innocent 6 (clearly here only because her roommates think she spends too many Saturday nights at the library or babysitting): Never Will I Ever Force My Child to Pursue Something She is Not Passionate About.
The Sisterhood: GROAN!
Ellen and Erin: PARTY FOUL! No future tense. You don’t KNOW what you’ll do.
Ellen: Going to take two drinks for this one. Just to numb the pain. I forced Jellybean (11) to join Science Olympiad; to push her beyond her desires for perfection. I thought it was an activity where she could learn and create without worrying about the grade on the report card. But I am paying for it. I am now teaching fifth graders epidemiology.
The Sisterhood: By unanimous vote, we vetoed the idea of hitting up Red Box and just having them watch Contagion.
Innocents: Next!
Erin: Never Have I Ever built a salinometer.
All of the Innocents in unison: WHO let all of these chicks in here!?!
Ellen (Takes a drink): Score a third drink for Science Olympiad. We constructed one out of drinking straws and modeling clay. It took two hours. I could have gotten one on Amazon for $15.95 in 15 seconds. AND it was eligible for Free Super Saving Shipping. I could have added that callous buffer I’ve had my eye on to the cart and been good to go.
We love you Amazon, oh yes we do!
I have advanced science degrees and six summers working in a marine biology lab on my resume and I’m having a hard time finding the worth in this. I have to avoid eye contact with the girls when I proclaim, “This is a great learning experience.”
Innocent 4: Maybe you should say it with jazz hands. Jazz hands make everything more convincing.
Innocent 2: Yeah, you’ve never seen a musical! But more importantly, DON’T ENCOURAGE THEM!
Erin: At this point, we have finished off the bottle of tequila and have moved onto slurping up the garbage can of grain with the leftover drinking straws from the salinometer project.
The Sisterhood: Um, I think we’re about to get bounced from this shindig.
Ellen: You can throw us out, but if you procreate, we are your future.
Innocents run screaming from the room with hands over ears.
Erin: Pipe down! We’re leaving. But just be grateful we didn’t bring the “Never Have I Ever: The Midnight Feedings/Mastitis/Explosive Poops Edition.”
Erin– We all have our Mom Code—the one we live by and love by that makes our families work as smoothly as we can manage. We all have different names for the guiding principles that rule our parenting. You may call them The Law According to Mom. We happen to call them Sisterhood Secrets.
Ellen –One of the most important Sisterhood Secrets I live by: Don’t poop in your own den.
You heard us.
Erin – This may need some translation if you don’t have an Ellen in your life, but let me just say right now, you should find one. Now.
Ellen– Erin’s being very sweet, but ask our friend Mary how well they fared making tie-dyed t-shirts without me.
Erin– I shudder at the memory. Anyway, Ellen is the chick who gets things done. She is a no-fuss, no muss kind of momma, so if she tells you that she lives by this maxim, you might want to sit up and listen. The idea of not messing up your den is a lot harder than it sounds. We all get upset, excited, tipped over our breaking points, ESPECIALLY when our babies are involved. We want the sweet release of watching someone squirm and having our voices heard. But I am telling you now, resist this urge. The squeaky wheel may get the grease at first, but pretty soon she’s just darned annoying and causing drama in the parking lot.
Ellen– In other words, don’t make a princess-worthy stink in a place where you are going to have to play for a long time, like your kids’ schools. You can truly accomplish more by acting like the respectful person you want your kids to emulate. But forget that, I was pacing and growling around my den like a Momma Bear who had eaten gas station sushi and needed to squat.
With forethought and planning, I was seriously considering bringing it down hard on my poor elementary school. I was hot. I was considering thumbing my nose at one of my guiding principles because, darn it, I felt justified.
Now you are going to have stick with me on this one. I am not overly precious about my kids. But my Jellybean (11) came home with a D on an art project. We were not informed of this grade until AFTER the report cards came home, because it was put in late. AND it was part of a DOUBLE grade on the same project, because while the teacher was required by county policy to have 4 projects to grade, she only had 3, therefore double grade.
This same teacher had twice sent Jellybean’s work to the county art show. Where was the love now?
Erin– Have you ever heard of a double dipping grade? I mean, really, even my collar was getting warm.
Ellen- This D prevented Jellybean from getting an A in art by 0.7%. This B prevented her from having Straight A’s. This would have been Jellybean’s second marking period getting straight A’s this year. BUT get this Sisters, they FORGOT to recognize her in the newsletter for it last marking period. Hence, why I was PRIMED to make a stinky.
Erin- And this was not Ellen’s first dance with this teacher. Years back Ellen had to encourage a rubric for objective grading. Before that, grading had been sketchy. Pun intended.
Ellen is not all the way up her tree yet, but she is clinging to the bottom branches.
Ellen – She is either being kind or having amnesia, because I remember being precariously at the top of this tree and throwing F bombs at anything moving. I was calling Erin as a touchstone, because I was queasy that I was going to violate my own rules. My cub had been wronged!
Erin – I know Ellen, and she has never been THAT mom—the crazy one who insists that her kids get all As. She wants her girls to excel to the best of their abilities and they do —two lovely chips off the old, but still looking fabulous, block. Jellybean happens to be a conscientious and excellent student. To say that this grade hit her hard was an understatement.
Ellen – AND Jellybean reported that they had been promised another class period to finish the project, but that the teacher had taken that extra time away as punishment.
Erin– It was the principle of the thing. Jellybean was getting the short end of the stick.
Ellen was in her tree because she was caught not between a rock and a hard place, but between two maxims that guide her parenting— between the one to keep that den nice and clean and the one that she is going to stick up for her kids. As a Sister, my job was to talk her down from the top of the tree, but she was ready for action. And I could see why. I was on her side completely.
Ellen– So I have picked my battle and I was going to kick some booty and take some names. SO what did I do?
I…I…
I let the catharsis of my venting rant to Erin wash over me. I took a breath, slept on it, and wrote an extremely polite email to the art teacher expressing my puzzlement over the grade.
Erin– Surprised? Feeling cheated of the specter of the Momma Bear attack?
You'll thank us. In fact, you're welcome in advance.
Ellen – And guess what? Since I had never pooped in the den, the teacher listened to me and expressed her surprise and regret that this had gotten past her. She teaches between two schools, and the grade had gotten lost in the shuffle. Jellybean’s class had gotten robbed of class time due to some field trips; so the teacher could not get more projects done. She acknowledged that Jellybean was a dedicated and good art student, so if she said that she thought she was going to have more time, the teacher was going to give it to her. Jellybean finished the project and was re-graded.
Erin– See?? I told you all that you needed a little Ellen in your life. How ‘bout that for results? Because she muzzled her inner Momma Bear, Jellybean and Ellen were happy, the art teacher was not eviscerated, and Ellen’s den was squeaky clean. Score one for The Sisterhood.
Share it real good . . .
Why indeed? Does this seem like the simplest solution ever?? Who do we write to first? The President or the NFL Commissioner? This could probably boost the economy, too. I’m just going to CC them on the same email. -Ellen
So, in a previous blog with Erin, I wrote about the craziness of redoing Coco’s (13) room and the havoc it struck on the rest of the house. {Coco Room Apocalypse} I now feel ready to defend, I mean explain, myself. There had been an epidemic of teenage redecorating in her class and we were one of the last to fall victim. We should have painted during the summer, but as Coco put it, “We were too busy living life.” Well, we started living the high life of cleaning and sprucing up the week of Thanksgiving. (I know, bad timing. I already acknowledged this in the other post.)
So Jellybean (11) was helping me and chatting with me as I painted. She says, “You should have known we would hate pink and purple when we were old. I’m going to save time when I have kids and paint my girls’ rooms blue to start with.”
This indeed sounded like a good idea as I was drowning hummingbirds and butterflies in Caribbean Blue. Coco, Frank, and I had already spent hours removing the trellis wallpaper border that completed the garden gazebo theme.
By the way, just don’t do wallpaper. The horror on the Home Depot clerk’s face when I began my request, “Where is the wallpaper…,” was only trumped by his relief when I ended the sentence with the word, “remover.”
Garden Gazebo Theme. Pregnancy hormones must have deluded me into thinking wallpaper border and stenciling were good ideas.
In my defense, Coco’s room was decorated 11 years ago when Jellybean overtook the nursery. Eleven years. My Coco is not so much a packrat as a prolific creator and collector of stuff. She then tends to bury this stuff away and then promptly forget all about it. So really, she is more of a happy-go-lucky squirrel than a nasty old rat.
So due to this squirreling, I am finding a treasure trove of Coco-ness shoved in boxes, books, and under furniture. My favorite find was the foreword to her first novel crediting her sister for inspiring the title.
I could go on (there was A LOT of stuff), but the specifics of my child’s preciousness doesn’t have to be detailed here. But, it all tugged at my heartstrings. It also made me grateful that I had gotten pushed into the whole re-decorating slippery slope. (And believe me; I did not embark on this project willingly. You feel kinda attached to the dozens of pansies you lovingly hand-painted for your first born while six months pregnant with your second. Hmmm… or maybe I just felt attached in the sense that I did not feel like sanding and priming all of those suckers. I’m going to go with mother’s love over laziness, just for the sake of my next point).
So here is why I am grateful, even though I’m a little cracked from the whole snowballing project. Do you think that a surprise walk down memory lane would feel like warm nostalgia five years from now when Coco goes off to college?? No! It would feel like sucker punches! Sucker punches that could land me curled around a teddy bear longing to turn back time.
So I’m glad I didn’t have the forethought to decorate a 2 year-old’s room with her future teen self in mind. Otherwise, this massive clean-out might not have taken place until she leaped from the nest. So criticize something else, Jellybean. I’m letting Coco project HER view of self on her room and I’ve assembled a nice box of mementos that I can choose to open when I WANT that trip down memory lane.
So if you need me, I’ll be the one floating down the River “De-Nile” ignoring that Coco has 5 more years to squirrel away new landmines of preciousness for me to find.
Oh yeah, and in response to Jellybean’s pleas that her room, too, be repainted, I say, “In five years, all this can be yours.”
-Ellen
Finished product. It was worth it, right? Right!?!
So I fully realize that this post is taking place well after Halloween. This is because during the week of Halloween, I and my equally computer illiterate friend, Erin, were trying to get this blog up and running. The fact that we were spending HOURS trying to learn all of the computer science that we avoided in college, (oh wait, there was no freaking internet or blogs when we were in college), showcased how much precious time I was wasting on Halloween activities.
But despite the fact this “holiday” has come and gone, I still wanted to record for all of motherhood what took place in my house over a two, I repeat, two hour period. Because yes, I do want a cookie. So, in said time period, Jellybean (10) and I constructed a papier mache zombie wedding cake; I cooked dinner, edited a speech, braided hair (so Coco (13) could have wavy hair when delivering the speech,) mended a shirt (to be worn during the speech), folded laundry, and shortened the pinkie of a Michael Jackson glove. So if you are like,” Ellen, you could have put away the Super Woman cape and passed on the laundry,” I have this response for you: we all desperately needed clean underwear in our drawers. While I generally prefer to have my kids do the laundry; the facts were, Coco was writing her speech and Jellybean is not yet woman enough to multi-task to the level of working with flour paste and clean laundry simultaneously.
Wanna slice with the finger or the brain??
Now out of all of the tasks, I do have to admit that the papier mache was the most fun. As you can see our zombie wedding cake was epic.
But the most annoying task was shortening the pinkie of the Michael Jackson glove that we ordered online for $10. That stupid pinkie was as long as the ring finger. Take a look at your own finger and you will realize how freaky that is! Now before you judge me on the $10 glove, wrap your head around the fact that it was my ten year old daughter that was dressing up as Michael Jackson. That is definitely on the spectacular side of awesome. I will have to delve further into her Michael Jackson obsession at another time.
Now if it never entered your mind to question why I was making a papier mache zombie wedding cake, congratulations, you are a mother. You were doing your own equally stupid things during Halloween, so I don’t seem that far off the bell curve to you. At my daughter’s elementary school, they have this great event, started by a great teacher called Trunk-or -Treat. Parents circle their cars at the fire company’s carnival grounds and the kids trick-or- treat from trunk- to- trunk. Sounds simple, but what would be the fun if there was no competition involved? Of course, we have to decorate the trunks! It is in its fourth year and as with all good things it gets grander and grander. The first year we opened our decoration box and threw a bunch of stuff in our trunk. APPARENTLY, we were not really embracing the spirit of the whole thing. My mommy tiara got a little tarnished. The second year we did an 80’s theme, but alas, the older gentlemen judging the trunks were not feeling that “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.” The third year we won a trophy (that is still proudly displayed on the mantle) for “Kid Friendliest Theme.” Check out the “Funky Monkey Hot Tub.”
We have a lot of monkeys.
You are looking at a winning trunk, Sister!
Well, the theme this year was “Zombie Wedding.” (We watch way too much “Say Yes To The Dress” and “Cake Boss”). This involved constructing a zombie couple out of PVC pipe and the aforementioned cake. We’ll just say I spent $100 on this glorious-ness since Frank has promised to read my blog at some point. I swear, you give me PVC pipe, wire ties, duct tape, and fishing line and I can out-design MacGyver. But oh my goodness, this dragged on my time so much that I had to practice deep breathing and drink wine to calm myself down. The killer is that this event replaced a free and simple school Halloween parade. Kids just brought their costumes to school and walked around the school yard; simple as that. But would we really be in the 21st century if we were allowed to keep things simple?
Zombie Implants: NOT FDA Approved
And just to give you some insight into Erin’s “fun-loving/not learning from my tribulations” psyche; she stole the idea for her school. Oy!
Well, to bring this story to a close, we were indeed victorious. Oh yeah, we won “Most Creative!” People were standing next to our creeps for photo ops like it was Disney World. Was it all worth it for the plastic trophy and $10 Wawa gift card? I must admit, we are competitive enough to say, “Yes!” But truth be told, Jellybean’s excitement and pride were pretty awesome, too. I can hear the thump of one more brick mortared into the foundation of our relationship. And here is the Sisterhood Secret: you REALLY need that foundation to be strong by the time they reach their teens. Just ask Coco, who wasn’t too cool to celebrate with the rest of us.
It’s Monday Listicles time. This week is kid edition. The assignment was to list ten reasons why being a child is great. Or why it is not. It was up to us, so we talked to our kids.
