First off, an update. With no prior knowledge about my last post, regarding the two sisters, Felix and Oscar, Cailey walked by her sister’s desk, stopped and eyed it with disdain. “I can’t help myself, I have to organize it.” And with that, you can view the results of Emme’s desk makeover below. She even neatly wrapped up Emme’s ear buds (which are missing one ear) and placed them on her slide out keyboard, alongside Emme’s useless scraps of paper which house her doodles. There is also an origami lizard to cap off the look.
A while later Emme sauntered in and mumbled, “thanks”, under her breath, as she sat down in her chair.
When she left her desk, Cailey spied the aftermath, “SHE WAS ONLY THERE FOR TWO MINUTES. HOW DOES SHE DO THAT?”
Welcome to my world, my friend.
In other news, I’d like to address the various states of dress in our home. Last weekend Cailey was scheduled to serve on the church worship team for the K – 6th grade service. What this means is that she stands on a stage with other children and sings and dances using coordinated hand motions. She has a very nice t-shirt which is recommended to wear so the kids are coordinated (and the teachers know who’s who when time to release children to serve). However, Cailey likes to buck the system in this regard, and came up with her own attire. As I was preparing myself for church, she presents herself in my doorway wearing a black strapless dress and black go-go boots. “How do I look?”
“Like a tramp. Try again, Nancy Sinatra.”
Please note that I have never purchased a strapless dress for my 11 year old. This was a Goodwill find when we were looking for a long handkerchief type skirt for a costume. It really was a strapless dress, but worked. And for the record, my 11 year old, who is taller than me now, looks to be at least 14. Hold me.
Yesterday we celebrated Christmas with our American Heritage Girls scouting troop. A lot of the girls have younger brothers, which provides a good deal of fun and frivolity for young Jensen. Because boys will be boys, and considering all of the farting, belching, and general mayhem, we mothers of the young boys prefer to send them outside to assault all of nature. Keeping of course, a wary eye out the window at their antics.
I happened to look outside at one point to find my son rendering himself naked. I was mid-conversation with my husband on the phone when I spotted the shirt off, and the hands were down the pants about to go in the same direction. These events always seem to occur in slow motion as I run (my version of running, not unlike Phoebe on “Friends” only slower) screaming out the door OF A CHURCH, “NOOOOOOOOO!”
I caught him just prior to anyone needing therapy. He explained to me that he was tackled in the grass during a game of football (there was no football, by the way) and he was all wet. He doesn’t prefer to be wet. I explained to him. AGAIN. That he cannot take his clothes off in public.
This is the same child that has had TWO naked events at the public library, and one such event at a horrified sister’s all-girl 10th birthday party (3 years ago, but still).
All of this simply confirms my mantra, “Motherhood. It ain’t for sissies.”