Gymnastics

Before the email gets lost in my inbox, I'm going to try to quickly write this post, before I dive back into my contracts.

Recently, our gymnastics place changed the time of Emmy's class from 6:30 to 6:00 pm.  Since changing jobs in January, I've been on a later schedule, which means that I can't make it home in time to get her to a 6:00 class.  So, our family routine of all driving to gymnastics together had to change.  The class lasts for 45 minutes.

From Tom:

So I had to take Emily to gymnastics by myself.  They changed the time on us and there really isn’t a way for Pam to make it home and make it to gymnastics on time. So because I work at home on Thursday, I picked her up at 5:00, got her home, changed clothes and we left for class about 5:30.  The class starts at 6:00 and we were 8 minutes late because of traffic.  We were at gymnastics and had been there about 20 minutes.  Emmy had already come over to me once to give me a kiss and had called out to me a few times to make sure that I was watching.  There was the required bathroom trip where I had to stand outside and make sure she could get out by herself.

They were at the part where they climb a pommel to a height of about 5 feet and then they jump into a pit of foam blocks.  Emmy was willing to do this if someone held her hand but refused to do it by herself even though she knows that she isn’t going to get hurt.  I was playing on my iPad when I hear her come over to me. 

“Daddy, I don’t want to do gymnastics anymore.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to go home?”

“Yes”

“Okay, go get your shoes.”

So Emmy goes and gets her crocs and puts them on and off we go.  We’re out the door and I ask her again if she is sure and once again she says yes.  So I figure I’m home free.  I’m only there because she wants to do this.  I buckle her into the car and as we are pulling out, I foolishly ask about the trampoline and it hits her…’I missed jumping on the trampoline!’ 

“Daddy, we have to go back!  I didn’t get to jump on the trampoline!”

I tell her that, it’s too late.  We’re on the road and we’re going home.  I asked her if she wanted to go home and she said yes so now we’re done for the week.  If she wants to jump on the trampoline she has to do all the activities. 

It’s right about here that she losing it.  Normally, she putters out after a period of time but after she realizes that she isn’t making any ground she kicks it into another gear.  We are in rare territory.  The land where crying to Daddy isn’t getting her what she wants.  And I mean she is losing it.  I actually put headphones in and listened to my phone until we get home…20 minutes later.

So I’m not upset but I’m not going to deal with this so I get out and open the garage door and put the trash can away (all the while Emmy wailing).  Pam comes out  and asks where the baby is but I think it was pretty apparent.  

And now, back to Pam:

I walk outside, ask Tom where our child is, and he just shrugs, so I look at the car, and I can see her in the back seat, losing her mind.  I ask Tom what happened, assuming she's either in trouble or got hurt.  He doesn't answer, so I go to the car and open the door and lean in to get her out. 

"What happened?" I say.

Emmy is sobbing and says that Daddy made her leave "'nastics." 

Tom and I have a long-standing policy of backing each other up, so I turn to him to verification.  If he made her leave, it was for misbehaving, so I'm looking to get the rest of the story.

But Tom says no-- he didn't make her leave.  She asked to leave.

So, damage done, I proceed to try and comfort her, because until she calms down, there's no point in trying to reason with her and explain Daddy's logic.  Or that Daddy was right.  Or that she made this situation herself.  

Spicy

This isn't a real post, and I won't even acknowledge the amount of time that's passed since I last posted, but this morning, the subject of a trip to the beach came up, and Emmy told us she likes swimming in the pool better than the ocean because the pool is a little spicy, but not as spicy as the ocean.

(In Emmy parlance, "spicy" means "salty," just so we're clear.  And to further clear it up, most pools at the beach (or at least "some" pools) salinate their water instead of chlorinating.)

Just a brief update.  I got a new job in January, which is keeping me much busier.  It's not an excuse, just the truth.

Tired of Croup

The week of October 21-25 was Emmy's fall break, so it was well-timed, since we had planned to keep her home anyway, but it was also her FOURTH bout of croup.  It seems that anytime she gets a respiratory virus, it's going to turn into croup (and it seems to happen every six months).  This time, the doctor didn't think she needed steroids, so we got through it with just fever/pain reducers, the humdifier and lots of icepops/suckers.

But I am really tired of croup.  I'm tired of the seal bark cough.  I'm tired of how uncomfortable it makes her. 

She's finally getting better now, and her cough is down to just a regular congested cough instead of the seal bark.  We'll see you again in July, croup.

Halloween Prep

Before the meltdown that was dropping her off at her new preschool this morning, Emmy informed me that everyone needed to dress up for Halloween. 

She was recalling last Halloween and said, "I don't remember what Mama and Daddy dressed up as."

And I said, "Well, I think we just dressed up as a Mama and Daddy."

"But everyone has to dress up at Halloween, mama!"  Pause.  "You can dress up as a princess.  Like me."

So, hooray.  I get to be a princess this Halloween.

The Little Parrot

While we were on vacation with Mom and Dad (and Mini-weez and JP), we went out to dinner.  I wanted sushi, so I searched on yelp and found a place with good reviews.  We headed out and put our name on the list for Sushimoto.  It was a tiny space, with only about 10 tables and a bar-- and there were 7 of us.  I knew we would have to wait.

About an hour later, I decided to check back in with the hostess/owner, especially since I had noticed that smaller parties who had arrived after us had been seated.  This is when I realized that she had skipped over us (THREE times) and that she was going to wait until she had seven seats open rather than hold four until a 3 top opened up. 

Needless to say, I was not pleased.  I walked back outside and explained the situation to my family.  I may have been... emphatic, but mindful of the presence of my child, I refrained from using any language stronger than "stupid," (though that one is still technically a forbidden word).

I quickly searched again, found another sushi restaurant, called them to ensure they could seat us, and we headed out.  As soon as we got in the car, Emmy said, "Mama, that restaurant was stupid.  That was a bad restaurant!"

And though I sighed inwardly, it's impossible not to be amused by her precociousness.  "Yes, honey," I said.  "That's right." 

"Now we're going to a good restaurant."

"I certainly hope so."  (It did, in fact, turn out to be a good restaurant-- a hibachi place, and our chef, who had a four-year-old at home, was amazing-- he spent the entire time entertaining Emmy.  I'll have to do another post on the "joke" he pulled on Mama, which made Emmy laugh and laugh.)

After we got back from vacation, we expected to have Emmy start her new preschool on Monday, but they scheduled her start on Thursday instead (giving the kids more time to adjust by splitting the class in half for the week) so Emmy stayed with Grandma for a couple of days.

Yesterday, Tom told me that Emmy told Susan the following:

"Dammit.  Grandma, that car cut you off.  We should go catch them."

I'll give you a couple guesses as to who she might have gotten that from.  Mama's going to be putting a lot of pennies in the swear jar.

I'll see your baby brother, and raise you two kitties.

On Friday, when I went to pick Emmy up from daycare, her friend McKenzie was there.  Emmy told her, "My mama's here!"

Usually, McKenzie isn't there when I pick up Emmy, so I made sure to say hi to her.  I asked how her mom was doing (I knew that her mom was pregnant).

Mackenzie said, "She had a baby.  Maddox."

So I said, "Oh, that's exciting.  Is it a boy or a girl?"

"A boy."

"So you have a little brother?"

"Yeah."

At which point, my child chimed in.  "Well, I have two kitties named Maddie and Lily and I'm going to go see them now."


I tried not to laugh and told Emmy to say goodbye.

When we got home, we went straight upstairs to tell Tom what she had said.  Tom did laugh, and then gave his daughter a high five.  I don't think it's the best idea to praise Emmy's clear display of petty jealousy, but it was hilarious.

"Can you do me a favor?"

For the 11 years that I have known Tom, we have been mindful of how we ask each other for help.  I can't even remember how long we've been doing it, but to maintain respect of each other's time and efforts, I have always asked, "Can you do me a favor?" before asking Tom to do something for me-- particularly when it's something I could fairly easily do myself (but which is more convenient for him).  Like getting a new bar of soap when I'm already in the shower (because I always forget to check the soap status beforehand).

So, when my daughter started prefacing her requests with the same statement-- "Hey mama.  Can you do me a favor?" (It sounds like "fever" when she says it)-- I found it very difficult to contain my amusement.

She is so perceptive.  And she's a little parrot.  If you ask her what her mama's name is, she won't say Pam.  She says "Ham."  Because that's what she's always heard her daddy call me.  And the day she told me to "calm it down, mama," I almost lost it.  (Tom's been saying that to me for years-- minus the mama part.)

These phrases and statements are part of the fabric of our marriage.  We're so used to them, we don't even hear them anymore.  It's just the pattern, it's just what we say.  Until we hear them coming out of Emmy's mouth.  Then I hear it.  And it's surprising, and amusing, and sometimes a little bit jarring to hear these things anew.  It reminds me how much of us will be in her forever and ever.  It reminds me how much of my parents I carry around, without even knowing that I'm doing it.

So, when I get in the car with my little girl and say "home again, home again," and my husband chimes in and says, "jiggety jig," I think of my mom.  And when we pull in the driveway and Emmy says, "now home," we think of Tom's mom.  And hopefully, someday, when Emmy's driving her own daughter around, she'll find herself saying some little phrase and think of me and her Dad.