November 2009 Archives

I like to tease Karenna that I am more Italian than her.  (I am half; she and Jude are a quarter.)  She, in turn, tells her dad that he is not Italian at all.  This is how he responds...

Chris: That is not true. My Italian grandpa says I am Italian.
[He means my grandfather, who proclaimed that Chris is Italian on the merits of his cooking things like peppers and eggs, and such.]
Karenna: You are honorary Italian. That doesn't count.

This has gone one for at least a year or two.

Last night we went to visit Karenna's second cousin Samantha, the daughter of my first cousin on the Massaro side.  Today I commented on the similarities between the two girls:

Me: You two look a lot a like for cousins.  You can tell you are Massaros.
Karenna: I'm not a Massaro.
Me: But you have features from your mommy's side.  Your are one quarter Italian, right?
Karenna: Yeah.
Me: And Samantha is a little more than that.
Karenna (shocked): What?!?
Me: Well, she's Italian on her daddy's side and her mommy's side.  You just have Italian on your mommy's side.
Karenna (exasperated): But I have honorary Italian...

Epilogue: She is now hoping that she has more German than Samantha. We''l just have to ask Samantha's Mommy how much German is on her side. ;)

Road Sarcasm

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You can't have road rage with kids in the back of the car.  You can't curse at other drivers.  You can't even say less than polite things because kids are observant enough already.  (The last thing you need is someone imitating you at school or daycare.)

So instead when I do something like I did this week when I was trying to get Karenna to ballet in a time crunch and no one wanted to let me in to make a right turn:

Me (in my sugary sweet mommy voice): Nice of you guys to let me in...
Me (after a few more cars): Yeah, um does it really hurt to let someone in front of you two blocks before the light?
Me (after a few more): Thanks for taking some out of your day to not let me in.
Me (after even more cars, but sounding a bit less sugary sweet): It appears we all brought our good manners today!
Karenna: Come on, people, you're making my mom get sarcastic!

Jude must be having a growth spurt because he's been waking in the middle of the night and carrying his "pilly" and stuffed animals over to our room.  After several days of disturbed sleep, he was getting pretty cranky.

On the way to daycare Monday morning, Jude was crying over every little thing: the seatbelt that wouldn't click, the shoes that were alternately too tight and too loose, the pants that no matter how many times we readjusted them still didn't fit since his pre-growth spurt tummy disappeared.

Finally after a long talk about growth spurts and missing sleep from growing pains, Jude got frustrated and burst out, "But I don't want to grow tall and I don't want to go to school.  I just want to stay home with my babies."

Did I miss something?

"What babies?" I asked Jude. "Do you mean your stuffed animals?"

"No," he said. "I mean my real babies when I am big and I am a daddy.  Those babies."

"But Jude," I reasoned, "you need to go to school so you can learn all the things that daddies and mommies know so you can take care of babies."

"Yeah," Karenna added, "How are you going to read to your babies if you don't go to school?"

"Mommy can read to them," he answered.

"Well," she thought, "you'll need to know math.  How are you going to pay for your house?  How are you going to pay your taxes?"

When Chris comes home, he plays his podcasts while he cooks; I take Karenna to ballet/tap, apprentice ballet, or modern--depending upon what night it is; and Jude hangs out doing whatever it is Jude does.

Recently, Jude has been doing any of the following:

  • dressing in costume,
  • playing with his stuffed animals,
  • playing DS,
  • playing action figures,
  • playing lightsabers,
  • drawing,
  • writing his letters,
  • usign fridge magnets to try to make words (which often requires our help--"How do you spell 'Spiderman'?"), or
  • any combination of the above.

The other day I found one of Jude's notebooks on the living room floor with some letters on it: "B,A,N,D, and W" in very large print, and on the next line, "I,D,T, and H".  I thought nothing much of it until I set the table the next day with Chris and I turned off his podcast--I cannot handle background noise.  Here's what he said:

So Jude came in while I was cooking and Jude came up to me.  "Daddy," he said, "How do you spell 'Bandwidth'?"

"Where did you hear that word buddy?" I asked him.

He pointed to my iPod.

(It was a TWiT.TV podcast.)

We were on our way home from daycare/pre-K yesterday when Jude asked us about his old preschool.

Jude: Mom, Dad, home come you never take me to visit my old school?
Me (always teasing): Because it's filled with fishes.
Jude: No it isn't.
Me: Okay, I'm just kidding. It's filled with ice cream and hot fudge.
Jude (getting upset): No, Mom, it is not. It is filled with cereal and lunch and learning!

Karenna does.

I was knee-deep in laundry.  Karenna had to eat a late dinner after ballet, so I kept her company.  Chris said he was going to put away some laundry.  There was a basket of his clothes and a basket of kids' laundry

At this point I must admit to being a recovering control-freak.  Or I'd like to think of myself as one, anyway.  There are still some things I can't let go.  And when I try to tell Chris he needs let go, he can zero in exactly which things of which I haven't been able to relinquish my control.  Like picking home decor.  Or putting away the kids' laundry (I have a system; I need to be able to find things.)

So as Chris started to walk away with a basket I said in terror, "Noooo! You're not going to put away the kids' laundry!"

He pretended to act innocent but had a devilish grin on his face and said, "But I'm helping you,"  then scampered off.  I could see a basked in his hand.  I tried calling to him, but it was futile.  I was torn between leaving my daughter to eat he dinner without someone to talk to and stopping him from this heresy.

Of course I chose quality time with my daughter, but sensing the disturbed look on my face, Karenna put her little hand on mine, looked me in the eye and said, "You know he's only kidding you, right?"

(He took his own basket back and left the kids' basket for me, just like I like it.)

Jude's Stuffed Animals

Jude keeps a running list of the video games, movies and TV shows he's not allowed to play and/or watch.  How does he know these items exist?  (It's not like we have cable.)  Some are things he knows because a friend mentions them, like The Dark Knight.  Others are things he knows from older relatives (his sister, his cousin, his dad, etc.), like  Star Wars Episode III.

And then there are the ones we pause when he wakes up from nap, like Heroes...

Jude: What are you watching?
Me: A scary show. It's paused now.
Jude (authoritatively): Are you watching Scary Heroes again?
Me: Yes. But I paused it now that you are awake and it's off now so we can watch one of your shows...
Jude (noticing his favorite stuffed animal, a stuffed horse with a very long name): Is that my Harry Potter and the Half Blood of the Prince Yoshi Warrior Wario Bowser?

[According to Jude, Harry Potter and the Half Blood of the Prince Yoshi Warrior Wario Bowser, or Harry Potter for short is five years old and no longer takes naps, so he does not always end up in Jude's bed during nap time.   He does, however, go with him just about everywhere else, including the dinner table and to bed at night.]

Me: Oh... Yes it is.
Jude: He's only five! He's not allowed to watch Scary Heroes.  He will have nightmares now!  (Breathing heavy and sounding frustrated as he looks me in the eyes before walking away.) I am so disappointed in you, Mom.

Karenna had a sleepover last night.  Jude was trying to play with the girls, but was beginning to feel left out.

Finally, he got frustrated, and as he walked out said, "You guys are not being nice to me and I am just going to go to my room. Ciao!"

(Repeated emphatic door slamming followed.)

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