The other night Mike was telling me that I was a good wife -- that I do so much around here, etc. "Then you even write nice posts about me," he added.
"All those nice posts should be about you," he said, "I'm going to change them all to you. . . . How you had so much fun on the pheasant hunt, how you have such a lovely hair color, how you used to spit up so much and now you are getting better, how you wore so many cute costumes for Halloween."
I haven't actually posted about all those things, but I like that he wasn't necessarily going to go so far as to compose a whole new post about me -- he was just going to give me a little more glory by putting me in place of every person my posts have ever been about.
Also, sometimes when I hear things in my house, it feels kind of like I am waking up from a fuzzy dream. Like on Sunday morning when Abe asked me if he could have some of the chocolate chips in the cupboard. I told him he could, but that they were the kind he didn't like (semi-sweet). Next thing I hear is Mike in the kitchen telling Abe something about how he is going to plant the chocolate chips, and Abe is playing along by asking if they will grow into a chocolate tree, and Mike is telling him that they will grow into pineapples, which are even tastier than chocolate chips. Which is actually kind of funny if you'd been there the night before when Mike was insisting Abe eat the pineapple on his ham and pineapple pizza, and Abe was refusing.
Lastly, two cute things from Penny:
1. Goldie was crying about something the other day and Penny seemed concerned. "Don't worry, Goldie," she soothed, "We can go to Christmas."
2. Today, she said to me, "Mom, could you turn the sun off now? 'Cause I'm burning!" It is nice that she sees me as the all powerful center of the Universe. Sadly, this was probably only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to all the inadequacies she will eventually discover in me. How well I remember once telling my two year old Abe, "I don't know," to a question, only to get his frustrated moan of, "but you and dad know EVERYTHING!" If only they didn't have to discover just how human we parents are.
2 comments:
I'm really glad you have stopped spitting up.
(Which is really not that funny if you do get sicky pregs like me because like you said in your comment on my post, it isn't so fun and was a reality for me. Thus, I'm glad you don't spit up.)
Oh this was a really pleasant post of randomy momness, but I liked it. remember when my cupcakes were all like "Whaaaaat!?"
Anyway, good seeing you today...it had been a while. I like how your mind works.
I wish too that my kids didn't haveto see all of my imperfections, but it has happened inevitably too many times. Now I just look at Nik and he knows me so well and has known me all these last 15 years, but surprisingly he just still loves me. Too cool.
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