Kids, Bastards and Opera

Grace has been keeping me on my toes.
She's living up to the title of the middle child that will always be heard.
-and I LOVE IT!

It was 7 am.
I was unloading the dishwasher and buttering toast.
...yes, at the same time.
My ears perked up.

There was a grand opera being played out in Grace and Chloe's bedroom.

"The bastard is deeaadddd!!!!


I shook my head.
Surprised so early in the morning.
Shocked at hearing the word bastard.
Happy that I have an outrageously creative child that appreciates opera.

Grace came sliding across the kitchen floor.
I paused and looked her way.

"MOM! Where's a pencil? I have to find one.
I'm going to be famous!
I just wrote a song all by myself...Do you want to hear it?"

Me: Of course. Go for it!

"The bastard is deeeaaadddddd!!!
I've cut off his heeeaaaadd!
Down goes his neck.
DOOOOWWWWNNNN goes his HHHAAAEDDDDD!!!
Soon he'll be DeeeaaaD!"
What do you think? Isn't it great?! I can't believe that I wrote such a great song!

Me: Wow!

- Time to burst my baby's bubble.

Me: Gracie, it was wonderful and I loved it! You are a really good opera singer but where did you get the words for the song?
Grace: You mean dead? Everyone knows that word.
Me: No. The bastard word.
Grace: I just thought of it because it rhymes. Cool, huh.
Me: The word bastard isn't a made up word. It's a real word and it's actually a very grown up, bad word.
Grace: Really?
Me: Uhhhh huh. I loved your song but you can't have that word in it. What else can you use instead of bastard?
Grace: So, let me get this straight...I have to change my famous song? (and yes, she really did say those exact words. LOL.)

- Chloe emerges out of thin air.
-POOF! There she is.

 Chloe: Grace what Mom is trying to say is that if you say that word in school you will go to the Principal's office. So don't say that word. It's bad.(and yes, these are the words of my 6 year old)

-Oh, my littlest voice of reason.
-Can you always make Mommy's job easier? Please?Pretty please?

Grace looks at me, frozen, mid dish.

Me: Chloe is right. Listen to your little sister. Bastard is not a word for kids to say. It isn't a polite word at all.
HERE WE GO...
- The key to success with my darling, middle child is to bring etiquette into the situation at hand.
- Peggy and Emily Post had better watch it. She will rewrite the book someday.

Grace: Oh. Ok. Chloe let's think of another word. Let's go.

My little ones walked back into their bedroom for a millisecond.

Grace was back.
Chloe peeked over her shoulder.
Grace: I know! Listen Mom, this is good.
" The pastor is deaaaddd!!!
I chopped off his his head!!!!
Down goes his neck.
Dooooowwwwwwwwwn goes his heeeeAaaaAaaaaddddd.
Soooooon he'll be deeeAAAaaadddddd!"

Me: Whoa! Wait a second. Not that either.
Grace: But it rhymes.
Me: Think for a minute.What is a pastor? Who is he?
Grace: Oh, that's right. We like pastors. They are God guys and very good.Buster is a good God dude. I don't want to say that.
Me: Exactly. No chopping off pastor's heads. That's not nice at all. You'd hurt Buster's feelings. (my kids and now our entire congregation, call our pastor Buster, out of love...long story.)
Grace: Come on Chloe.

I finished the dishes and moved on to the breakfast.
Heart shaped toast, eggs over easy (aka sunshine eggs) and sliced mango were on the menu in my kitchen.
As I flipped an egg the girls walked back into the room.
Addison was now seated at the table and curious.
Addi: What's going on?
Me: Just wait...you'll see. Grace, Chloe any luck?

The girls nodded in unison and Grace belted out the revamped lyrics.

"The Maaaaaasterrrrrrrr is DEEaaaAAAAAAAD... come on Chloe.
Chloe: The Maaaster is deeeeeaaaaaad.
Both girls: I chopped of his Heeeeeaaaddddd!

Now their arms extended outward, pleading as they...WAIT, Grace began to mimic stabbing motions at her neck and slip onto the floor. As she dropped she never missed a beat.
Chloe looked at her like she was slightly nuts...Gracie was now tugging her sleeve and attempting to pull her down too.

"The MaaaAAA---AAAaaaa-AAAaaaaaasterrrrrr is DEAD! AhhhhhhHHHHHHHhhhh!!!"
Chloe is now trying to steady herself, Addi is laughing and Grace is moaning on the floor.
"Down goes his neck. Down goes his head. Sooooooon he'll be DeeeaaaAAAAAAaaaD!"

Me: Wow. -So much better. Good job.

Addi: Seriously? Why are you cutting off heads?

Grace:It rhymed.

We sat down.
Ate some toast and that was breakfast.
Welcome to my morning.
I spent the rest of the day humming the bastard is dead.

Folders, Stickers, Drama & Gracie.

It was an emotional day...
...for Grace.

I was in the bathroom making an attempted escape.
My latest read was mere pages from completion.
Marie Antoinette was close to death...
Tap...Tap....Tap.
Mommmm?........Where are yooooouuuuuu?
The little voice trailed through the hallway, beyond the closed door.
tap.
tap.
Mommm?.........Is that you in there?.....Can I come in, please?

I could hear the desperation in her voice.
Me: Is everything alright Gracie?
Grace: Not really. Can I talk to you in private?
Me: Sure baby, come on in.

We sat in the bathroom together with the door closed. Clever Grace. She knows that time is one our side in here.

Gracie was teary eyed.
Her lower lip puffed out as she sniffled back the boogies.

What's wrong honey?

That's when the sniffling worsened and my Grace began to pace the room, arms a flutter.

"Mom, I'm nervous."
pause
"I'm scared that I'm going to get in trouble in school and I don't know what I should do."
pause
She looked at me and wiped her tears away from her glasses. 
The glasses came off.---- Uh oh.
More tears.
What could she have done?
My kid was a boogie faced mess and in a bathroom panic?!
---the story unfolds---

GRACE'S TALE

You know my teacher? Well, she has us clean sometimes...you know, our folders and our desks and our papers?...

Me...Yes.

We had to clean our papers and our folders and I don't use the stickers like some kids in my class.I don't like the sticker system. I have my own for my folder.
(stickers?? folders??)
 The other kids put some things in each side of their folders and look for stickers.

(I was confused about the relevance of the stickers but contined to listen.)

I prefer to keep my papers all on one side. I don't look at stickers.(again with the stickers...??)

Me...ok. But why do you care about the stickers?

I don't but other kids do.
(She wiped at her tears and paced...I'm gueesing that the stickers are only part of the BIG issue.)
But Mom, I got confused when my teacher asked us to clean our writing folder and now I'm going to get yelled at.
I'm going to be embarrassed and maybe cry. I don't want Mrs.---- to yell at me. She yells when kids aren't organized. That's what happens in 2nd grade! (pacing...pacing...wringing her hands...Oh MY!)

Me: She what?! She had better not!...But in truth I said: 
Oh really? It can't be that bad baby. I thought that your teacher was nice and very funny?

She is when you are good...not when you are messy or throw things out. That's what I did!! Now I don't know what to do. This is soooo bad. I can't see her. She will yell at me. I have never done anything wrong before. (...and she geniunely hasn't)

Me: Gracie, baby...If you have never done anything wrong than I don't think you have a thing to worry about. Your teacher loves you and knows that you are a great kid. What exactly happened? I don't understand. What you are worried about? Did you lose something?

WORSE.
I got confused.
(Watch out world! I'm waiting for the heaven's to open up and swallow her. -They don't.)

Me: That's ok. Everybody gets confused at times. (really wishing that my kid would get to the point here)

I got confused and didn't look at the stickers because I don't do that and I like my things together in one pile and I didn't listen ALL THE WAY and I threw paper out that I should have kept. Now my teacher is going to get loud and yell at me. What am I going to do? I HAVE NEVER GOTTEN IN TROUBLE BEFORE. THIS IS BAD. I am nervous. Can I not go to school tomorrow?(-more tears and an oh-so-pitiful look. My poor little type "A".)

Me: No...you'll be fine baby. You just need to explain this to Mrs.----. It's not that bad. REALLY>>This can be fixed.

Grace was now bawling.

You don't understand. My teacher was not born to yell like Italian people...(we have Italian neighbors, what can I say?) - but she yells when kids don't listen. 

Trying to hide my smile I responded,"What kind of papers are missing?"

Almost all of them. Those custodians are very fast! (HUH?!) I rescued 2 from the garbage (Oh no.)but I couldn't find the rest. Mr.---- says that the custodians clean everything, even the floors! I think they snuck in and cleaned when I ate lunch!
WAIT.
BACKTRACK.
DID YOU SAY THAT YOU WENT THROUGH THE GARBAGE GRACIE?

Yes.

Me: Weren't there boogies and icky things in there?

No. Not yet. I am usually the first person to get organized. I am faster than the other kids so it was clean garbage. I looked. Only papers. No boogies. And I washed my hands with soap after. (This was said proudly with a puffed out chest. -Hooray for clean garbage?!)

Me: (wanting to laugh because my little girl had on such a straight face and was very animated) Ok..then. I'm glad that you checked first. Please don't go in the garbage again though...ok? It's kinda gross honey and you should really just tell the teacher next time.
Grace looked at me as if I had 5 heads and was speaking jibberish.
Obviously I didn't understand where she was coming from.  

Jim: (from the kitchen) Did I hear that Gracie dug through garbage?!

Yes Daaaddd! I was looking for very important papers and don't worry I checked for boogies first and I washed my hands.

Jim: (now at the bathroom door and peering in and smirking)Don't do that again. Gross. Ewwww...

Dad, you don't understand. This very serious and I could be in big trouble. The biggest trouble ever! (More tears and boogies)
Me: (wink...wink...off to the side in his direction) YES DADDY...VERY SERIOUS. Gracie can explain it all to you. Maybe you can help. I tried to explain that it would all be alright (hint...hint) and that the teacher is very nice (hint...hint) and that Gracie shouldn't worry (hint...hint).

Please get the hints.

- After listening to our Grace's tale Jim said:

Jim: I don't know Grace. Sounds like you're in big trouble.

Grace: See!!! I told you!! (staring at me and then running out of the room.)

OH JIM>>>YOU HAD TO DROP THE BALL>
YOU HAD TO TRY AND BE FUNNY>>
...When will you "get" girls?
...especially the stressed out ones?

Me: Gracie.....Daddy is just trying to be funny even though he isn't. Do you remember when I told you that Daddy is just a BIG BOY, kinda like the ones in school? (Please God let this work.) Well, Daddy didn't mean to scare you. He's just super silly like all the other boys.

Grace: That's not funny at all. What's wrong with boys?
Me: I don't know. Just try not to take Dad so seriously. 

CRISIS AVERTED...DAD WAS A CASUALTY OF THE WAR ON STICKERS AND FOLDERS.

The next morning Grace woke before her sisters.
Nudge. Nudge.
Mooooommmmmm... Remember our talk yesterday?
I nodded...yes.
Well, what can you do about it? can you call my teacher and let her know that I didn't mean it and I'll be more careful and to please, please not raise her voice? I'm so scared. I'm really, really scared.
Here we go again.

The hour dragged. I assured and reassured. Her sisters did the same. 
Nothing helped.
Until I promised to call Mrs.----.
I held my cell phone in hand as the girls hopped out of the car.
I smiled and waved it high in the air for Gracie to see.
She smiled back and walked across the bus path, holding hands with her sisters.

AHHHHhhhhhh. BEAUTIFUL.
-Time to push aside the Kodak moment and speed dial!

 I assured her that I didn't feel that there was a problem. I was calling to put Grace's mind as ease. Grace was terrified. 
I mentioned the key words in my sentence...Grace cleaned her FOLDER  and didn't pay attention to the STICKERS...
SAY NO MORE. I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED. IT HAPPENS A LOT...IT'S NO BIG DEAL. I'll soothe poor Grace's.

YES!!!!! Thank the Lord!! 

We laughed and mumbled something about "the eye of the beholder" and "talk about perspective." yada yada yada.
Thank you thank you thank you.
Bye now. 
Done.

Time to make it to work....in--- AHHHHH! 3 minutes!!!

---Thankfully my school is across the street from theirs.

Boys and Training Bras...Middle School Already?!

Not sure what to do...
Don't know what to say...
I have to confess,
I don't have all of the answers!

HA.
This is such a joke.

I'm entering foreign territory.
I'm doing "it" for the first time.
This is weird.

My child is wearing a training bra.
Questions about shaving have come up.
My daughter wants her own face book account.
She is concerned about her appearance
and asks me
"MOM AM I FAT?"
She wishes that she could read a boy's mind.
...little does she know that they wish they could read hers.
"MOM, I WANT SOMEONE TO HAVE A CRUSH ON ME. I DON'T THINK THAT ANY BOYS LIKE ME."

My husband says,
"I don't want to know."
"This is chick stuff."
"BOYS ARE BAD."
...and ducks out of the room.

I say,
"You are beautiful."
"You are not allowed to call yourself stupid...EVER."
"We are all different and that's what makes this world such a great place."
"Just remember, boys are only people."
"Always be yourself."
"If a boy doesn't treat you with respect and kindness then he's not worth your time because you are amazing."
"Remember, you are Addi and you are awesome...a totally cool kid."
"Just say, hey my baby finger is cooler than your baby finger then wiggle it in their face and walk away. (as we giggle, swinging our baby fingers at each other)
"When I was 10 1/2 I looked just like you! You are my daughter and so much like me."

...we chill out, shoulder against shoulder staring at the oversized Christmas ornaments and pipe cleaner art hanging from her ceiling.

Visual confetti.

I show her photos...
The thens.
The nows.

As if it mattered to her.
---5th grader---

With all of the support that we can muster, with all of the compliments that we offer up...
Our beloved child needs to
...trust her mind
...and have faith in herself.


Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
-Will an almost middle schooler buy that?

Who am I kidding?!
I would have never!
As I re-read I want to edit.
I sound like my Mom.
But wait, there's a reason for that.
Mom's cliches and dorky statements helped.
They echo and are remembered.

-Thanks mom.

We are parents. Our love is expected. -Unconditional.
Peers and BOYS are not us.
My opinion is like a feather drifting on a breeze.
Her friends will lay a road of concrete.
Their words are like law.
Middle School is fast approaching and I am afraid for my baby.

Can I have her held back a year?!

Tricky
Tricky
Tricky
...and oh so new!
I'm not sure if I'm ready for this.
Oh wait...
I've been there already...
...But not like this.

I remember those tightly wound feelings of uncertainty...
Hell, I still have them!
Forget about butterflies.
I had wasps and dragonflies in my stomach.

My children can not imagine that there bold mama was a shy girl.
-nose in sketchbook
-paintbrush in hand
-eye peering through a camera viewfinder
-head in the dark room
-small circle of friends
...kind of a girl.

I tease and say,"I didn't become loud and obnoxious until college (which is true)."
I was just like them.
I still am just like them.
It's breath-taking.
Heartbreaking.
Miraculous.

The questions remain:
Mom am I fat?- NO
Will a boy ever have a crush on me?- YES
Can I have a face book account?- When you are much older.
When can I shave?- 6th grade
Will we, I mean she... be alright?- YES

She'll figure it all out
...eventually.

Until then Jim and I are destined to repeat this twice over. I have my Safari gear and a bathroom full of make up, zit cream, tampons, tissues, cottonballs and hair "stuff" ready for the jungle ahead.

God, if you're listening please give Jim and I our own bathroom before the teenage years strike!


Photographs:
1) Addison: by B. Westerlind, 2012
2,3,4) Grace, Chloe and Addi...the 2009 Impromptu Holiday Shoot