I’ve got what I need. 

The story of Kiddo story time. Gather your coffee and sit down to enjoy. 
Tonight I gave kiddo a gift early. It’s a little figurine of Foxy from Five Nights of Freddy. I think the thing is repulsive but she loves it. I enjoy the pleasure on her face and how she’s holding it as so precious. Mommy pleasure here. It’s nothing fancy. It’s nothing expensive but she goes on and on about how this is the best gift ever. 
Then she looks at me and says “I’ve got everything I need for Christmas “. I look dumbfounded at my 10 year old.  
“I have you. I have my family. I have a roof and food. I have clothes. I have all the gifts you’ve given me. I don’t need anything more. ” 
Now I’m trying not to cry. Some of the stuff that comes out of her mouth I never expected. This is right up there especially so close to Christmas. Then she starts trying to remember the lullabies I used to sing to her. We get through them and I’m all blubbering inside.  
I think I’ve gotten all I need for Christmas too.


Wings are Meant for Flying

Who hasn’t wanted to fly? Boys break arms jumping off beds and roofs to obtain this dream.  We catch air while driving cars over hills, or sleds when we are younger.  I know I have dreamed of flying.  Or at least having a dragon or hippogriff to feel the sensation of flying.  So when kiddo said she wanted to fly I wasn’t surprised.  I told her how much I would love to do that too.

Image result for icarus

“Wouldn’t it be cool to fly during gym and playing basketball?” she asked. Definitely!  “So I know what I want for my birthday.  I want cosmetic surgery!”

I am horrified. I don’t want my kid to think her body anything to be ashamed of, to need to surgically alter it.  My how I have failed as a parent to let my kid think she needs to do that.  Parental guilt just floods and floods over me.

“Honey you are beautiful as you are. You don’t need cosmetic surgery.”  I say as I put my arms on her shoulders and look into her eyes.  Please let me fix this so she doesn’t feel this way. I don’t want her to feel this way!

“No. I want 20 foot bat wings surgically attached to my back muscles.  I think 20 feet wing span will be enough to be able to fly.  So that is what I want for my 10th birthday.”  All earnestness and belief that I can provide her with this.  No concept of how bizarre this sounds or how unrealistic this is.

Image result for human bat wings

“Well kiddo, I think they would need to do some research for this.” I stutter out for her.

“Oh I know. They will need to grow bat wings that big.  But that shouldn’t be that difficult. I think I have figured out how to do this.” Of course she has… duhhh mom I think internally.  Of course she would have planned this all out.

“But that will take a lot of money.” I say trying another avenue.

“How much?”

“Probably over a million dollars.” I will just throw some random amount out there that I won’t ever have.  That should end this.

“Okay. So when you have a million dollars I get my batwings.”  I nod in agreement.  Then think better of it.

“Only if you get me something at that point. I want a submersible car.”  She readily agrees saying that she thinks she can make one already so that won’t be too bad.  So the agreement has been made.  I remind her to limit talking about this at school.  I can only imagine what the other kids would think.  She will be on this kick for a few weeks and she will be on something else.  So for now I will just let this run the course.

But of course that can’t happen. How in the world could I expect that from Kiddo?  Don’t I know better by now?  It continues on and on.  4 months later it takes even a stranger turn.

I am driving my friend Chuck and kiddo to go see horses. Now Chuck is a really smart guy and Kiddo knows this.

“Chuck, I how come we don’t have more than 4 limbs?” He kindly goes into some of the evolution reasons for this.  I just sit there smirking.  For once I will not need to come up with answers.  Someone else gets the pleasure!  Internal Happy Dance going on here.

“I want more limbs because then they could evolve into wings. What if I going to get cadaver arms and legs and surgically attached to my back?  And then I can get them turned into wings.”  She is so excited at this point.  I am sitting there horrified at the mental image I have of zombie arms and legs attached to her back.  The skin is rotting off of them.  It is just such a gruesome image.   I look over to Chuck to see how he is going to handle this.  At least I don’t have to participate in this one.  But she continues on.

“How long after someone is dead would the legs and arms still be good?” Now I am picturing her grave robbing.  My KID!!

He takes it completely in stride. They discuss the decay rate of body tissues on purely a scientific level.  Then he raises the question on how she will get the nerves to connect and how difficult that will prove to be.  Her brilliant answer is:  “ I already have that figured out, so that won’t be a problem”.  Now I am chuckling in horror and in disbelief of this whole conversation.

They begin to discuss how arms and legs won’t be strong enough muscularly.  The talk about birds’ hollow bones making them light and how their muscles are arranged.  It is a very twisted and comical conversation to observe between a 40-ish man and a 10 year old girl.

She finally decides “Well I will just use cow legs then” ………………………………………….

Image result for cow legs

There are points of no return with disgusting things….

A new level of disturbing activity happened when Kiddo was 8.

I am sitting comfortably on my couch. Relaxing in peace.  In comes my darling little one with a concerned look on her face.  I have learned by now that that only leads to problems.  She sheepishly asks me “Mommy, will you die if you eat poop.”  My jaw drops.  Never in all my years would I have expected this question, and I am even more afraid of where this might lead.  My mind runs through all the options of what she could have done.  Unfortunately, there is no good options running through my befuddled brain.

“Well, there are bacteria in there that would not be good for you. I would advise against it.” I stutteringly say.  I am hoping against hope that she is asking before attempting an experiment.  But my hopes are soundly dashed.

“What if it happened 2 years ago? Am I going to die?”  There is pure fear on her face.  I am still trying to keep a straight face.  Not trying to show the disgust in my mind or the rising hilarity of the absurdity of my situation.

“Well if it happened 2 years ago, you are probably safe by now. But I wouldn’t do it again.”  Now I am just trying not to laugh hysterically at this.  Am I really having this discussion?  Am I going to wake up from this?  Please let that happen!  But of course this is reality…

She looks at me relieved and says “Oh I won’t do that again.”

I debate on my next question, but we already had passed the point of no return. “So why did you do that?”

With a look of disbelief she says “I was curious, duh”………..

“How Much Blood Loss Equals Death, Mommy?”

One of Kiddo and my favorite activities is hiking.  We love it. There is something with the fresh air, the potential to see wild animals, plus the glorious exercise.

We were with the darling boyfriend at his cabin one beautiful day, hiking.  We played in mud, we picked wild blueberries.  We were enjoying this gorgeous pond.  It had all this beautiful arrowroot growing in the water.  It was such a wonderful, beautiful day.

To leave this beautiful oasis, we had to hike up a decent sized hill.  As is common on the East Coast, there was plenty of weeds, ferns and multiflora rose to hike through.

So BF and I started cutting paths for the little legs of Kiddo to make it through.  She starts lagging and getting tired.  Suddenly there is a concerned voice saying “How much blood loss equals death MOMMMYYYY?”

Quickly I turn around to see what is going on.  I am expecting a finger to be missing, an arm possibly hanging by a thread.  Mommy hackles are all up looking to hurt what has hurt my kid.  And I see a small (tiny) red scratch mark down her leg.  There is one little drop of blood and that is it.

So calmly I respond “A lot more then that honey”.  And we continue to keep cutting our way up the hill.  And again I hear that scared voice almost screaming:

“I’M BLEEDING TO DEATHHHHHHHHH!!”  And it keeps being repeated.

Being the kind, understanding mom that I am, I turn around and say “Know how a momma bear finds her cubs?  She listens to a sound similar to a kid crying.  Because they sound very similar. ”

Ah the following silence was wonderful.

Things I Thought I Would Never Need to Say – Part 1

Scene: Kiddo is coming home from day care, after a day at school.  She is a kindergartener.

Kiddo:  Mommy!  I made friends on the bus!  I make them laugh!

Me:  Oh really?  How do that?

Kiddo:  Well I lick the bus windows.  They think it is really funny!

Inner diaglogue… how do I let her know they aren’t laughing with her?  I do not want to destroy her sense of friends.. but EWEEEE  OMG EWEEEEEE 

Me:  Please do not lick bus windows.  That is icky gross.

My kid licks bus windows!  My kid licks bus windows!!! 

“Mommy I am Pregnant!”

My darling 5 year old comes up to me all sad.

Her: Mommy, I am afraid to tell you this.  You are going to be mad a me.

Me: *sigh*  What is it honey?

Her:  (Long Pause) I am afraid I am pregnant.

Me:  Why’s that?

Her: Because I think I am.

I start trying to express to her that she isn’t.  She just keeps disagreeing with me.  She tells me she has been kissed by a boy.  I try to tell her that kissing won’t make you pregnant.

Now to diversion #2.  So I decide to let it drop, thinking that it will be forgotten quickly.  Wait two weeks later, and it still isn’t forgotten.  She is still plaguing me with this.

She has now decided that she needed a second opinion, as I apparently am not knowledgeable on this topic.  Thankfully her school physical was just around the corner.  We walk up to the check in counter at the Dr.s office.  She starts telling all the nurses that she is pregnant.

Here is this head barely able to see over the counter saying at the top of her squeaky voice  “I am pregnant.”  All the heads turn.  All eyes are aghast.  I think half assume I am the one that is pregnant.  But then she starts pointing to herself “I am pregnant.  The Dr is going to check me out.”  I quietly shoo her away from everyone.  She is so happy and excited at this point, that we are going to get to the bottom of it.

She proceeds to tell the nurse of her pending bundle of joy.  She proceeds to excitedly tell how the doctor is going to make sure.  The nurse doesn’t bat an eye.  The Dr walks in and takes her concerns in stride.  He has her get onto the exam table and lay back.  He does a quick check over her belly, being very serious.  And kindly tells her she isn’t pregnant.

She lets out a breath she had been holding.  “Good, I am too young to be a Mommy.  I need to wait a few more years.  Maybe when I am 10.”

Palm To Face

I have become an expert in many expressions due to my darling child. She is a glorious 9 years old and yet still gives me lessons on how to express shock, horror, embarrassment, love and joy.  So let’s see, what have I perfected?

1. Eyes wide in horror.

This is typically accompanied with silence as I do not know how to respond to what I have just been told.  Words are non-existent in my brain.  The body has gone numb.  The only thing that is working are the eyebrow, and they are so high that my forehead no longer is visible.

2. Palm to Face.

This results when I know I can’t keep a straight face.  I might laugh in her face, scrunch my face so I do not get mad, or any other uncontrollable response.  Usually this is accompanied by shaking of the head.

3. I Ate a Lemon Face.

This is typically observed at the start of a conversation where she begins “So Mommy, today I did something that you aren’t going to be happy about.”  The nose mashes into the face, the mouth squeezes in and only one eyebrow jumps towards the ceiling.  Maybe if one eye is closed, I won’t have to hear this.  This is the “I really do not want to hear this” face.

4.  Nose to Shoulder Face


The subtle turn of the head, nose meets the shoulder.  Whatever you do, do not speak or laughter will come out.  “Really honey, I know it is serious.  I know it isn’t funny. I swear I am not laughing.  I need to go to the bathroom.  I promise any noises will not be laughter, promise……”  As I am running down the hallway.

Please enjoy the pending stories.  They are all real.  I have lived through all of these.  And don’t laugh too hard or you might too…..