My kids love their stuffed animals. They have a menagerie, and most of their beloved stuffies are named. There’s Rainbow, Heartsy, Thomas, Apple Sauce, and Milkshake, to name a few. Mostly, these toys cause little controversy, as one would expect from sewn fluff balls. But two recent anecdotes illustrate my role as a Jekyll and Hyde mother.
I Am Jekyll
Before the onslaught of cheap plastic crap invaded our home on Christmas morning, we did a toy cleanse. Vivian and William were both quite happy to donate some of their action figures and stuffies to other kids who may have less. Vivian was particularly eager. I kept saying, “Are you sure you want to get rid of that?”
“I’m sure,” she’d reply, and place it into the box.
Fast forward two weeks. It’s past bedtime, and Vivian, sobbing through hyperventilating breaths, finds me.
“I…I…I..miss Rainbow Bear,” she says. “I shouldn’t have given her away. William’s playing with his Rainbow so nicely. I miss mine, a lot.” Insert quivering lip action.
“Are you sure you gave Rainbow away?” I asked. “I don’t think you did.”
“I’m sure.”
I lifted Vivian up, assured her that some child was so happy with her stuffy, and carried her back to her room.
“But I miss her, Mommy,” she cried. “I made a mistake. A really big one.”
“I know you miss her,” I said. I tucked her in, and then I opened her closet door. Bingo.
“Is this who you’re missing?” I asked, holding Rainbow.
“Rainbow!” she said, grabbing her lost bear. “Thank you, Mommy!” We hugged. Then later she said, “But I put her in the giveaway pile.”
“Well,” I said, “I pulled her out. I thought you might miss her.”
I am Jekyll.
Perhaps. Or maybe…
I am Hyde
Just to assure you I haven’t gone all life-is-perfect on you, here’s the evil anecdote.
Vivian, clearly bored that I won’t play school with her, decides to hand wash her stuffy, a lamb the size of a pork chop.
She brings me the soggy thing, wrapped in a towel.
“The fastest way to dry her,” I explained, “is to put her on the vent.” Is was -20 outside, so our furnace was working overtime. I placed the stuffy on the register.
Vivian waved her hands over the heat, smiling at our experiment.
I too smiled. Then I said this:
Vivian paused and looked down at her helpless stuffy while she processed what I said. “Mommy!” she yelled. “That’s not funny.”
But it was to me. I’m still laughing, a devious mommy cackle.
I am Hyde.
*
It’s Whiteboard Wednesday, so I ask:
What bizarre things have you heard or said this week?
dont knock stuffies, ironicmom… stuffies are indeed a girl’s best friend.
and you DO have that therapy fund invested wisely, i hope…
Yup, the therapy fund is going to yield a good return some day… And better stuffies than Stripper Barbie, I always say.
My daughter is a few months away from turning three and this year for Christmas she wanted a Barbie. Santa brought her “Toy Story Barbie” who wears a tight electric blue unitard, but at least it covers Barbie’s bits and pieces. An aunt bought her a Barbie that wears platform shoes and a halter dress that constantly falls down to her navel and is so short Barbie cannot bend over lest we see her bottom. Really, the dress acts like more of a belt than an actual garment.
She wanted to take this Barbie, which I have been calling behind her back “Trashy Barbie” to the day home yesterday and as we were rushing out the door she asked, “What’s this Barbie’s name?” In the daze of attempting to get to work on time, I answered, “Trashy Barbie.” I then listened to her talk to and about “Trashy Barbie” all the way to the day home and crossed my fingers that no one would understand what she was saying once she got there. I really must attempt to insert a brain filter between my brain and my mouth.
I love Trashy Barbie! Well, not really, but I love that you named her that. If it walks like a duck and talks like a duck…
And I think payment for the aunt is for her to take her niece ALL weekend while mom slips off to Vegas or somewhere.
Awww…
Don’t worry, I don’t think you’re going soft. You knew the day would come where she’d miss Rainbow and there would be nothing but tears and sobs – and wisely put her to the side – thus making your parenting job easier.
The roasted lamb had me roaring though.
And made me miss floor vents in winter time.
Great Whiteboard Wednesday.
You miss floor vents? Well, maybe I did too when I lived in Thailand for five years. I think I forgot they existed. Of course, William just told me he rescued 2 pieces of Lego from the floor vent. Not sure how many got away…
I recall a family trip to the US a few yrs ago. We stopped in at 1 of those factory outlets en route back 2 Canada. Daughter had brought her fav. stuffy, a Webkinz named Rubym in2 the mall. Fast forward to driving down I5, me rhapsodizing over my cheap new Kenneth Cole coat, when DD notices Ruby is gone. “I left it in the shoe store,” she sobbed. God. What to do. I pulled out the receipt from said store, called it on the cell, & sure enough, the little pink pig dog was there. So we turned around, drove back & retrieved it. It only added 2 hrs to our car trip but the look of bliss on daughter’s face was worth it. Stuffies are important.
That is Super Mom material, truly. You drove back? Fantastic. Great love hath no woman than this…
Devious mommy cackles eh? I grew up with those, and they do have a charm that’s realized later in life. Your kids will have a great sense of humor. Of course, they’ll be making wisecracks while someone else’s child is sobbing. Trust me on this. Yet they’ll be way more functional going forward. Once again, the picture made me laugh, a devious blogger cackle 🙂
Devious blogger cackles are good. I sure hope my kids have great senses of humour when they grow up; otherwise, I’m going to be remortgaging our house for the therapy bills.
Now that all of my kids are in their teens, I’m starting to see the results of devious mommy (and daddy) cackles. I think Clay’s assessment is bang on. It’s a lot of fun hanging out with our children. Though I do have to hide my stuffies.
LOL. I sometimes steal my kids stuffies. (Did I just admit that?)
I, unfortunatly, have been hearing lots of “why” this week. We are in the “why” constant questioning stage. Which also means we are also in mom saying “because”. =)
Jenn
That’s quite the stage…in some ways, you want to encourage it, but it is so exhausting.
Found this on Twitter. I love this so much, I am subscribing to the emails. All my best to you, your family, and the lamb.
Clay
http://www.tantrumstroublesandtreasures.blogspot.com
Twitter: @claylauren2001
Thanks, Clay. I can’t wait to check out your blog, too.
I found this through Larry’s Best of January post and I love this, because it shows I’m not alone! My kids are 6 and 3 and am having a great time simultaneously loving them and screwing them up 🙂
You perfectly articulated the fun (and challenge) of raising kids: “having a great time simultaneously loving them and screwing them up.” Glad you visited from Larry’s blog; I adore his cartoons!
I LOVE it! I will be sharing this one for sure!