Since We’re Talking About: (Differences in Ability)

FLASHBACK: September 1, 2011

The upside to having a kid with asthma is that, while you’re forcing the inhaler to their face urging them to inhale, you can introduce counting. To make the whole “sticking an angry looking plastic thing to your face” experience a little less intense, Doug and I count to ten and make all sorts of silly noises to make the process a little less scary. Plus- once we reach “ten” we stop- it signifys the end and gets her comfortable with counting.

When we started this routine she would try to count with us- but she could only get up to “two.” So it would go something like this:
Doug and I: “One”
Billie: “One”

Doug and I: “Two”
Billie: “Two”

“Three”
“Two”

“Four”
“Two”

“Five”
“Two”

“Six”
“Two”

“Seven”
“Two”

“Eight”
“Two”

“Nine”
“Two”

“Ten!”
“TWOOOOOOO!”

Just last night, though, she got a little more inventive with her counting:

Doug and I: “One”
Billie: “One”

Doug and I: “Two”
Billie: “Two”

“Three”
“TREE”

“Four”
“No.”

“Five”
“More”

“Six”
“I’m”

“Seven”
“All”

“Eight”
“Done”

“Nine”
“FINE”

“Ten!”
“Byeeeeee!”
and then she runs away…

Haha- I love it…

Since We’re Talking About: (Differences in Ability)

Because We’re Talking About Being Different (In Our Aspirations)

FLASHBACK: May 18. 2012

Me: “Billie, what do you want to be when you grow up?
Billie: “Water!”
Me: “You want to be water?”
Billie: “Yea! And a beast!”
Me: “You want to be water AND a beast?”
Billie: “Yea, so I can go whoooosh and ROARRR.”
Me: “Um, ok. Sounds good to me.”
Billie: “Oh, wait! A WATER BEAST! I want to be a water beast!”
Me: “I like that- a water beast. Why a water beast?”
Billie: “So I can eat fish.”
Me: “But, Billie, you don’t like fish.”
Billie: (said in a “Duh, mom” tone) “That’s ’cause I’m not a beast, yet.”

Because We’re Talking About Being Different (In Our Aspirations)

Since We’re Talking About Being Different (And Possibly A Bit Vain)

FLASHBACK: April 28, 2012

So Billie had picture day at school a couple months ago. Sadly, we weren’t able to get any pictures of her because we couldn’t pick her up that day and then, when they came back 3 weeks later, we were in California. LAME. But, thankfully, they gave all the kids they photographed T-shirts with their picture on them. This is the most amazing idea ever. Hand a narcissistic two-year-old a T-shirt with their own face on it. I wish I had been a part of that marketing strategy. I’d be a millionaire.

Anyways, this is a real conversation I had with Doug the other day. It made me happy.

Doug: “So, Billie’s wearing her special shirt tonight and I promised her she could wear it for school tomorrow, too. So, please. Just let her wear it or she’ll go nuts.”

Me: “Her special shirt? Which one is that?”

Doug: “The one with her picture on it. She’s obsessed. Everything I said to her tonight I also had to say to her shirt.”

Me: (I can’t help it. I’m laughing. The visual is just too much) “Wait. She made you talk to her shirt?”

Doug: “Oh yea. I’d say, ‘Goodnight Billie. I love you’ and kiss her on the forehead and she’d go, ‘Now say it to Billie, too’ and hold out her shirt. So, there I was, a grown ass man. Talking to a shirt. Felt a damn fool.”

Me: “Oh. That’s amazing. Did she make you kiss the shirt goodnight too?”

Doug: “I’d rather not say.”

Me: “You kissed her shirt goodnight, didn’t you??”

Doug: (hangs his head ashamed. Then thinks for a moment) “What is with the narcissim in this family?”

Me: “Well. Can you blame us? We’re fucking beautiful.”

Doug: “At least we know it’s genetic.”

 

I’d like to also add that Doug is an amazing father. I don’t know too many men who would willingly have a conversation with a shirt all night.

Since We’re Talking About Being Different (And Possibly A Bit Vain)

Since We’re Talking About Being Different (with a Dark Sense of Humor)

FLASHBACK: September 23, 2012

Billie has three toys she’s playing with right now. A zebra, a dog, and a cow. She’s been trying to stand them up on her lap for the past 10 minutes. Inevitably, the zebra knocks the cow over who then knocks the dog over and all three fall onto the floor. Finally, she gets frustrated and sits on all three of them while crossing her arms indignantly.

I looked at her, sitting on her animals in silent rage, and asked, “Um. What are you doing?”
Her response?
“It’s the circle of life.”


…..
…….oh. my. god.
I don’t know whether I’m raising a genius or a sadist but I’ve been on this couch laughing to myself for the past 10 minutes.

Since We’re Talking About Being Different (with a Dark Sense of Humor)

ALL MISMATCH ALL THE TIME!

Billie’s sense of style could very well be the only reason I believe in a spiritual power greater than my own. I have seen that child put together an outfit comprised of 6 different types of patterns, two different bathing suits (one one- piece and one bikini bottom), a tutu, a scarf, one rainbow tennis shoe, one princess tennis shoe, and a jean jacket and BY GOLLY IT WORKED. Not only did the outfit work conceptually, I daresay it looked good. Really good.
Me? I live in gym shorts. I know this did not come from me.
If I had to guess this gift was either a) inherited from her super stylish father or b) she sucks the creative soul juice out of all of our artist friends. Either is a possibility.
Anyway, I digress, the kid’s got style.
Continue reading “ALL MISMATCH ALL THE TIME!”

ALL MISMATCH ALL THE TIME!

THIS JUST FRIGGIN HAPPENED (see also: my kid thinks she’s funny)

On Thursdays Billie and I head to the local shelter to hang with the kids and help out if we can. When we arrived today, however; there were no other kids- just me and two adult advocates. We all decided to hang out and chat while Billie colored and played with play-doh.
Halfway through our conversation Billie walked up and showed us her drawing.
Me: “That’s beautiful! Can you show these ladies how well you can write?”
Billie: “Sure!”
She then writes her name.
Me: “Awesome job! Can you spell ‘pops?'”
She then writes “pops.”
One of the advocates tells her to write “mommy.”
She thinks a moment, then writes the letter “H.”
Me: “You’re absolutely right- My name is ‘Heather’ and starts with an ‘H.’ But she asked you to spell the word ‘Mommy.’ What letter does ‘mommy’ start with? Mmmmm- mmmmm…?”
Billie thinks a moment. Writes one more letter then says, quite definitively, “Nope. THAT’S your name.”
Then she walks away.

Below is what she wrote:
Continue reading “THIS JUST FRIGGIN HAPPENED (see also: my kid thinks she’s funny)”

THIS JUST FRIGGIN HAPPENED (see also: my kid thinks she’s funny)

Since We’re Talking About: Failing (At Basic Manners)

FLASHBACK: February 14, 2014

Billie’s daycare teacher’s husband is a reverend who sometimes comes to visit the kids. He and Billie have an interesting relationship.

Reverend Franklin: “Hey there, Billie! Good morning!”

Billie: “Good Morning baby! I like your poo poo face.”

Me: (freaking out just a bit) “Billie! Reverend, I am so sorry about that. Billie, that is not funny, love, we need to—“

Billie: “Mommy. Poo poo is always funny.”

Me: “Sweetie–“

Reverend Franklin: “She’s right. Poo poo is always funny. I like your poo poo face too, girl.”

What? I– what??

DAMNIT, REVEREND. YOU’RE NOT HELPING.

Since We’re Talking About: Failing (At Basic Manners)

Since We’re Talking About: Failing (At Fine Motor Skills)

FLASHBACK: February 18, 2014

I got Billie a new cat cup. Basically it’s a cup with a twist on top of a cartoon cat. Billie thinks it’s positively magical and takes it with her wherever she goes. Only it’s not magical. It’s evil. I can’t get the damn thing to twist on and stay there to save my life.

Billie: “Mommy! You spilled water on me!”
Me: “Bills- I’m so sorry. It’s this cup- I can’t figure out how to keep the top on.”
Billie: “It’s ok. Maybe you need daddy to do it.”
Me: “I’m sure I can figure it out.”
Billie: “Mommy- you look really angry at the kitty cat. It’s my cup. You need to be nice to the cup.”
Me: “I’m not angry, I just— UGH. FRIGGIN SERIOUSLY??”
Billie: “Mommy. You got water on me again.”
Me: “Dude. I’m sorry. Can we just get you a new cup?”
Billie: “I don’t think it’s the kitty cat’s fault. And I need new pants, too. You gave these ones a bath.”
Me: “Billie, love, I’m sorry—”
Billie: (pats me on the shoulder) “It’s ok, mommy. My cat cup is really smart. You’ll get it next time. But I really need new pants now.”

There is a moment in every child’s life where their parent stops being a superhero in their eyes.
…I believe this was that moment for me.
I was foiled by a f*cking kitty cat cup.

Since We’re Talking About: Failing (At Fine Motor Skills)