I Do Not Like It, Sam I Am

"I like my martinis NEAT and TIDY. And at 8am."

I'm walking down an aisle in the grocery store when I get it into my head that I really want to make lemon poppy seed bread. I'm sure, it being September, that most of the world is excited to be eating all things pumpkin, but right now I have a hankering for lemon.

I plunk two boxes of lemon poppy seed mix into the cart and continue on our way.

Don't judge me because I didn't run and get lemons and poppies to make the bread. I retired "Mary Poppins" version of me when I went back to work, and now we're left with a more-sober-than-Mary-yet-non-smoking "Peg Bundy" me in the house.  Kiss it.

Non-smoking, yet giddy. This must be TV.

So, here I am, weeks later, thinking about making some lemon poppy seed bread.  I still want lemony goodness, but also, because my kiddos have hot lunch at school (!!) I haven't grocery shopped since that day, and frankly, there isn't much left in the house.  

Lemon poppy seed bread it is.

I put the whatever it calls for in, stir it up, and put it in to cook.  Meanwhile, I head over to Kiddo #2's play date to pick him up. 

When we get home, the bread is done. I pull it out of the oven to cool and Kiddo #2 runs in.  

Kiddo #2: Mom! Is that banana bread?

Me: No. It's lemon poppy seed bread.

Kiddo #2: I don't like lemon poppy seed bread. (whining sounds)

Me: Ok.

He leaves, gets his scooter and begins scooting through the house.  I probably shouldn't allow that, but Peggy Bundy Me is just glad he's not underfoot, so it's allowed.

I slice up some of the bread.  Kiddo #2 reappears.  

Kiddo #2: Mom! Is that the bread with bananas in it?

Me: Nope. Still lemon poppy seed. Would you like some?

Kiddo #2: Awww! Why isn't it banana bread?

Me: I guess because I didn't make banana bread.

Kiddo #2: Why not?!

He leaves on his scooter and scoots another three laps.  I put on a pot of water to make corn on the cob.  And Kiddo #2 reappears.  

Kiddo #2: Mom. Are we having corn for supper?

Me: Yes.

Kiddo #2:  I would like some corn.

Me: Good. Because it's about to start cooking.

Kiddo #2:  Can I have a snack?

Me: Sure. Would you like some lemon poppy seed bread?

Kiddo #2:  No. Unless it's banana bread? Is it banana bread?

Me: Nuh-uh. Sorry kiddo.

He scoots to the living room and begins playing with his Lego.  I'm not sure what's he's building, but he's also singing "King of the Brothers." That, by the way, is a song he invented that sorta sounds like "The Story of My Life" by One Direction, but it's not quite, and it's all "ooh-wah" and never starts or ends. Like a circle, but cuter, and frankly, it makes my heart happy.

So he's singing "King of the Brothers" and assembling Lego when he stops and reappears in the kitchen.

Kiddo #2:  Mom. I'm hungry.  Could we pretend that it's banana bread?

Me: Uh. Ok?

Kiddo #2:  Ok then. I'd like some banana bread, please.

Me:  Ok.

Kiddo #2: Thanks, Mom.

Sure. Ok. It's cool to be four years-old.

I watched him munch his bread, carefully taking reasonable bites, chewing slowly and swallowing.  He took his time to really assess whether this "banana bread" was worth faking it for or not. 

Kiddo #2:  Hey. This doesn't taste like bananas.

Me: Uh? That's cuz it's lemon poppy seed bread.

Kiddo #2:  Really? Because it's pretty good.

Me:  Oh! That's good.

Kiddo #2: What's this stuff again?

Me: Lemon poppy seed bread.

Kiddo #2: Wow! You should make this all the time.

It's like living with Dr. Seuss.

Spectacles, Testicles, Wallet and Watch

Ding, ding.

I'm in a meeting with a parent, my iPad is dinging. I look over, and it's a Facetime call request from Kiddo #1's best friend. I, embarrassed, click "not now" and the friend texts her.

Ding, Ding-ding.

Friend's text arrives.

I continue to try and have a conversation with a student's parents.

Ding, ding. 

I look over.  Now it's a Facetime request from Grandma.  I, embarrassed, click "not now" and go back to my meeting.

Ding, ding.

I look over.  It's Grandma, who has decided that if someone can answer the call request to say "call later" then they must be able to chat, regardless.

I, embarrassed that I've interrupted a 15 minute parent-teacher interview three times in about a minute, click "not now" and go back to the meeting.

Ding, ding.

It's another friend of my daughter's. I click "not now" and power down my iPad and vow to never sync our two devices again.  Ever.

And that, my friends, is the story as to how my daughter came to have her own email address and iTunes account, despite being 6 years old.

Flash forward a year and life is good.  She is 7, she is loving life as an iPad owner/operator and there's nothing standing in her way (except that only I know her passwords, so she can't just buy the world). But there's something up.

It all started on a quiet day.  I got an alert that there was a text message waiting for me on my phone.  My daughter texted me the following:

Kiddo #1:  I love you Mom.  You are the best!

So I replied, "I love you too, daughter.  You are the best!

And she replied, "When are you coming home? I'm staving."

And I waited a sec and then the little conversation thingy bounced up "starving" instead, because we're not from Boston.

But let's get back to the whole "you're the best" thing. I mean, really, isn't that the REAL reason we have kids? The unconditional love is what makes the sleepless nights, the puke in your bra, the astounding, overwhelming lack of any money leftover at the end of the month, totally worthwhile.

Kiddo #1 in her new specs

Ahh.  You are the best.  Somedays, the idea that this version of my best happens to also be the pinnacle of awesomeness is exactly perfect. Ahh. Like a warm bath.  But still, I had an uneasy feeling.  Something was still up though... something... but I couldn't quite put my finger on it...

So, as August reared its ugly head, I realized that both kiddos needed to see the optometrist.  Kiddo #1 had been complaining of headaches and Kiddo #2 was about to start school, so he needed that obligatory eye test.

I got Kiddo #1 in, got her eyes tested and, yep, she needs glasses for reading. Not all the time, but man, she looks cute enough in the frames she chose that she could wear them all the time and no one would care. Cute, and now able to minimize headaches, ta-da! Instant vision.

Last week I got Kiddo #2 in for his little "meet the Dr" visit.  Kiddo #2 sat down in the chair, the Dr asked me if I had any concerns (which I didn't btw- no lazy eye, no crazy eye, no bumping into stuff).  Then he asked why my son wasn't wearing his Calgary Flames jersey and everyone laughed.

But what number do YOU see?

My son (and my side of the family) love the Flames. My husband and his side of the family, all love the Detroit Red Wings. The Dr happens to be friends with my in-laws, and constantly sees us out together.  It never fails, of course, that Kiddo #2 is in his Flames jersey, despite pleas and protests from my husband.

Colour test book, passed.
Farm test book, passed.

Then the Dr put up the alphabet thing on the wall.  And then my guy, Mr. Cool, Kiddo #2 said, "I don't know" when the Dr asked him what letters he saw.

I interrupted and snorted, "Kiddo #2, you need to tell the Dr what letters you see."

Dr then put up other letters and had Kiddo #2 cover one eye.  "I don't know" was his reply again. I said, "Now, Kiddo #2, don't trick the Dr. You know your letters. Tell him what you see."

And the Dr looked at me like I just announced classified information about Santa.

And I looked at the Dr like, "Huh?" and then I looked at the Dr like, "Oooooh."

And at the end of the appointment we were off to find Kiddo #2, who is turning 4 in a week, some glasses to wear all the time. Every day.  As I told my son, if they're not on your face, they're in their case.

So much for being "the best."  How did I fail to notice my second child has crap for vision?

Yes, he sits close to the TV, but that's because he's intense.  And yes, he bumps into stuff, but he's frickin' THOR. Most of the time, the stuff he falls into turns to rubble and ashes upon impact.  And yes, he misses the ball a lot in soccer, but lots of kiddos do.  ... ...

He picked out his frames while I pretended this wasn't a big parenting fail, and I took him to school.  Even his teachers were surprised that he'll be always wearing glasses, so that makes me feel less bad. I mean, if it takes a village to raise a child, and none of the villagers noticed, it can't ALL be my fault.

Mommy guilt. Suck it.

Anyway, we picked up the glasses today and holy CRAP is he ever cute in them.

But my favourite part was when he got into my car. He sat in his car seat and looked out the front window.

Kiddo #2 in his "Always Glasses"

Kiddo #2: Mom, why are there so many dots on the window?
Me: Oh! Honey it's just really dirty.  You couldn't see that before?
Kiddo #2:  Oh. Yeah. Sure I could.
Me: Oh. Oh honey.
Kiddo #2:  Wow. (looking down at the mats below his feet) Hey Mom, why are your mats so dirty?
Me: You couldn't see that either?
Kiddo #2: Well, I guess not.  You really should take better care of the car, Mom. Is Dad's car this messy, too?
Kiddo #1: No, Kiddo #2.  Dad's car is immaculate. That's a fancy word for super clean.
Kiddo #2:  Oh. Ok. Well at least my glasses won't change THAT.

Thank you, universe, for sending my Cleaning Fairy on the same day my hard-of-seeing son got his glasses.

I have a rep to protect.