Archives for January 2012

Have you seen that quote on Facebook from parents about how you will question, stalk, annoy, etc. your kids just to make sure they’re safe because you love them?  Well, I would look it up for you if not but I’m on my lunch break writing this at work and something about looking up stalking in Google feels like it might raise some red flags with HR.  Plus, all I really want to say is I completely agree with quote and did my first bout of stalking this weekend.

Emma had a friend invite her to sleepover on Friday night and her mom said she could just walk home with this little girl since they only live two blocks from the school.  At first, I was like, oh no, this is different and Emma is going to freak out.  See, every day since she was 3, I have taken her and picked her up from whatever school she was in.  And she cried the first 3 weeks of Kindergarten even when I walked her in.  So, when the mom asked me this on the phone,  I had to put her on hold and ask Emma if that’s what she wanted.  See, Emma has said that she really, really wanted to be a walker on multiple occassions but we just don’t live close enough.  But here we were with a chance for her to actually walk home and well, I just didn’t know how that was going to go over.  She gave me a sheepish grin and agreed that yes, she wanted to walk.  Then, of course, Lexi started to freak out because she didn’t want to walk to the van alone.  Change!  My girls are not good at it! 

Friday afternoon came along and Lexi was saved because I had to pick up a friend’s son too.  As for Emma, I hadn’t seen her all day and was on pins and needles to see how she was going to do.  I seriously wouldn’t put it past her to be in near tears walking the two blocks.  There are two ways she could have walked home so I parked my van on one of the streets so I could see the alternate way too.   We waited.  And waited.  I just had to see how she was doing.  Lexi finally started suggesting we just head home even though she was pretty interested in seeing her big sister too.  I started seeing other parents and their kids and still no sign of Emma.  Then all those horrible things started going through my head of kids just being picked off the street in white vans (because it’s always a white van in my head).  So, I told the kids, ok, now I’m getting worried it’s been so long, we’re going to have to go look for them.  So I started to take off, looking back in my rearview just to make sure I hadn’t missed her.  I turned left at the corner and was then one street away from the alternate route.  And there was Emma and her friend on the other street. 

She was crossing the road and drinking from her reusable soda can we bought a few weeks ago.  You could tell she was having fun and talking a mile a minute.  And then she spotted the van.  I rolled the windows down at the stop sign where we met and she was all, “Hey, Mommy!  Hey, Tucker!  Hey, Lexi!”  And then I was all, “I gotta go, there’s a line behind me!”  And we were off, headed home and I watched in the rearview mirror as she finished her walk. 

She had no idea I had waited a good 10 minutes for her.  It just happened that we met at the stop sign. She just figured I had just picked Lexi up and was on my way home.  I guess it shouldn’t be a big deal.  Kids walk home all the time.  But for us, it was a first.  One of those Mom Moments where you look at your kid and go, You’re growing up, stop doing that.  

And it won’t be the last first-time she’ll have with her mommy stalking her through it.

I’m going to show my age here a little but I’m old enough that when I was little, rotary phones were still pretty popular.  In particular, the only phone my great-grandmother had was a black rotary phone that was mounted on the wall surrounded by a cabinet such that I remember it being like a pay phone. 

Her phone was in a central area of the house where a door to the kitchen, living room, 2 bedrooms, bathroom and cellar all met.  Rarely did anyone stand in this area to talk.  The cord was at least 20 feet and was more often than not stretched into one of the bedrooms while someone had a conversation.  When I was little and was visiting at her house for summer or Christmas, I would always call my cousin and the town was so small you’d only have to dial 4 numbers.  For whatever reason, that phone feels like a link to my childhood.  I wish it was still around and I’d mount it in my house.

I was at my aunt’s house over the holidays and noticed she had a rotary phone in her granddaughter’s play area.  It was donut shaped, brown and reeked of the 70s.  It reminded me of my great-grandmother’s rotary phone simply because it was a rotary phone and the brown matches my very brown house.  Also, I had a hunch that vintage phone would be worth something. 

When I got home I immediately did some searches on eBay and etsy and found they were going anywhere from $25-75 so I emailed my aunt to tell her.  She replied that my uncle, who had been at her house when I noticed the phone, mentioned to her that I had commented on it.  She said if I wanted it, she’d save it for me.  It turns out she was given the phone back ‘85 when she didn’t have a phone at home and a coworker at McDonald’s gave it to her.

Lo and behold, the phone showed up in my mail today.

The great fun in all this is when I plugged it up, it worked!  And then Lexi decided she wanted to call their Daddy. But she had no idea what to do.  I was quick enough to grab my current phone, which by the way, records video too. And has apps, And….well, you know. Nothing that phone did.

That’s going to be my new line when I can’t figure something out.  “This is boring!”

Also? I’m very tempted to make this my first listing on etsy to fulfill a wish from yesterday but we all know how I handle letting go of things with a story.

Moments of parenting exist when you realize you’re turning into your parents.  And more than that, your children are growing into little people. 

Last weekend, Scott and I were making our bed and the girls were flipping cartwheels in the wide expanse where we still have yet to decorate.  Mid sheet-changing, Scott decided he needed to flip the mattress.  I agreed as the night before I rolled on his side and suddenly felt like I’d been dropped into a hammock. 

We bought our king size bed a few years ago but we still don’t have a frame.  Our headboard is only held against the wall by the box spring and mattress.  So when he went to flip the mattress, he asked me to hold the headboard against the wall so it wouldn’t fall forward.  I propped my right hand on the headboard and my left one on my hip and waited.  Scott flipped the mattress and started spreading out the sheets.  “You can let go of the headboard now.” Scott said with quite a bit of sarcasm.  “Oh,” I said trying to think of what had distracted me.  Behind me, Emma propped her hand up on the wall and mocked, “I’m still holding the headboard.”  She was making fun of me.  Scott and I both fell on the half-made bed in fits of giggles, repeating her, “I’m still holding the headboard.”  I laughed so hard I couldn’t breathe.  Scott and I exchanged glances, with that same look of admiration we got when she learned to walk or wave bye-bye.  All I could think about is the multitude of times we had (in fun) made fun of my own mother.  She was always such a good sport, or always seemed like it.  Maybe I’m wrong but I think I see why.  It’s way too much fun watching your daughter turn into a little woman than be offended by her attempts at humor, even if it is at your expense.