It started as a perfect weekend morning. I was in bed drifting in and out of a sluggish slumber, Vivian was cuddling into my side, and William was seated between my feet. Some cartoon marathon that I couldn’t hear due to my earplugs was playing on the TV.
Of course, if it starts as a perfect morning, there has to be a moment when you freefall from heaven’s gates. That moment came just after William asked for a turn using the remote control. Vivian listened. She launched the remote at his head with accuracy that could make her throwing arm the answer to the Jays’ bullpen problems.
Will didn’t cry, but he did complain. He was rubbing his forehead when I pressed my face off my pillow. I removed one of my earplugs. Vivian didn’t apologize.
So I did what every parent who’s sleep and caffeine deprived does. I overreacted.
“Vivian,” I snapped. “Say you’re sorry.”
She looked at me with wonder.
I took this as defiance. “You can’t whack someone in the head and not say you’re sorry!”
Demonstrating the for-every-action-there-is-reaction principle, she took my anger-induced fastball and knocked it over the fence with a single swing, which—in this case—meant stomping out of the bedroom and slamming the door.
I drifted back to sleep.
Five minutes later, I took out my second earplug and yelled again. “Viv? You okay?”
“Yes!”
I grabbed five more minutes before I showered.
When I came out of the bathroom, Vivian was seated on the edge of my bed, a homemade book in her hand.
I read the title: “Why Don’t You Love Me Mom?”
I knew I was in for it.
Now you’ll know too.
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qA0utlljjdQ]
After reading Vivian’s book to myself, I did what any mom with half a heart would do: I gave her a hug and defended myself debate style.
But before I could get to my second rebuttal, Vivian interrupted me.
“Mom,” she said, “you have a booger in your nose.”
“Right,” I said, readjusting my sopping towel so I could grab a Kleenex with an ounce of dignity.
After blowing my nose, I reassured Vivian that I loved her forever and for always.
She was not happy to hear this. She looked up at me and said, “You mean I made this book for nothing?”
“Not really,” I said, stalling.
“I even googled ‘how to make your mom love you,’” she said.
“You did? What did you learn?”
“That you should make your mom a craft.”
*
What have you googled recently? Or, what “should” you google?
Crafts always work for me. That’s why I’m so fond of Dimples, of course. All of those crafts she makes. Well, she doesn’t make them for me, exactly, but I guess I’ll take what I can get.
I love the Craft Production Factory. As long as I’m on the outside of the fence.
Well, that’s nice. I’d take passive aggressive over outright brutal any day. At least she made it seem like she wanted your love. Maybe it was when she said “love me” 90 times.
This morning, from my son, when I denied him ice cream:
“NO MOM, JUST LEAVE! JUST LEAVE!”
He is two.
LOL. Yes, we want them to talk so badly, and then they start talking. I get that.
I didn’t know you were Canadian. Small world.
That’s pretty impressive turn-around time on a self-published book. Viv should go into business.
Famous last words.
She wants me to buy IronicKids.com.
Let me get right on that.
Perhaps your mistake was in removing the earplugs. Then you could have avoided the entire episode. (Although, I must say, the book seems worth it to me. Priceless)
Good point. Keep. Earplugs. In.
Monkey and I just watched your awesome vlog and Monkey is in the bathroom muttering: “Please love me please love me please love me please love me please love me…”
I think you may have a hit on your hands.
It’s obviously catchy.
Especially the “like a new tree” part.
That was my favorite part, too. Because new trees are very lovable.
Obviously.
They are!
I’m laughing at the image of that. Vivian does understand the use of repetition-for-effect…
I give Vivian points for creativity, that’s for darn sure. I love how her bad behavior really became about your “bad” behavior. That is talent.
It’s a magical talent, isn’t it…
Things I have recently googled:
Gavin Rossdale bisexual?
Twitching stomach muscles
Blazing Saddles quotes
Willowbrook IL pizza places
perioral dermatitis
otterbox screen bubbles
c. booth fresh and clean dry oil
From this list, I conclude I am a well-rounded googler. Either that or I have too much time on my hands.
(If you would like to know about any of the above mentioned googles searches, let me know.)
Karen, I’m cracking up. Did googling “Gavin Rossdale bisexual” cause your “twitching stomach muscles”?
This is so great – for me, I mean. Matthew asks me all the time why I don’t love him and he and Luke stood gobsmacked and slackjawed, watching this video.
“See,” said I, to my love-starved eldest. “That little girl thinks her Mummy doesn’t love her. What do you think of that?”
Said Matthew: “That was a funny video. I bet that little girls’s Mummy loves her more than you love me sometimes.”
Ouch, eh?
Ouch. But a hilarious ouch!
LOL. Ah children. They really know how to throw us.
And hold us down for the count. Until we’re unconscious. Or wish we were.
Ummm, your daughter is a genius, you do know that, right? Just try to ensure that she uses her powers for good…
Ay, there’s the rub.
p.s. You must have worked on scansion with her. That’s a sign of love right there.
Even in Canada, I assume.
I think I should mention Canada more. Did I mention I’m Canadian?
This is classic. As you know my daughter frequently pulls out the big guns with me. She has written me many notes, no books though. I think I’ll have to play this video for her. She’s gonna have to step up her game.
Also, I agree with Lori. She’s clearly a genius.
Well, you know what they say about geniuses (well, I’m not sure what they do say about geniuses, so if you find out please let me know).
I like the use of google. My kids google “heads that blow up.” Not sure if my kid is a genius.
He’s thinking outside the box. And possibly outside his head if he blows it up.
I agree with Lori too. Your daughter’s a genius. God help you when she hits puberty.
I think I’ve timed it well that I might be nearing menopause then. Just watch the hormone cloud hover for a year or six.
Oh man, that’s hilarious! Making mom a craft that tells mom why she doesn’t love you – that’s priceless. I love the little alien in your vid. Thanks for the chuckle, eh? 🙂
I stole that alien from my son; it gets the attention of middle school students.
wow… i never dared to tell my mom this kind of stuff when i was little. maybe i should have – perhaps we’d have a much different relationship than the one we currently have.
It’s all hard to predict, eh? In some ways, I’m thankful we can’t go back in time.
That was cute and hilarious as only your stories can be. Here are a couple of my daughter’s prayers. Prayer 1: Dear Jesus, please kidnap my mother and please kidnap my brother. Her dad, me, can do no wrong, so I get to stay. Prayer 2 – Dear Jesus, please take care of my pink nail polish, blue nail polish, red nail polish, …. Someone has her priorities right.
Vinay, those prayers are hilarious. I’m pretty sure Jesus is smiling.
😀 awwwww… a craft, so sweet! lol
Yes, she knows she has to do crafts by herself in our house.
I awarded you the Versatile Blogger award. http://mairedubhtx.wordpress.com/2011/09/27/versatile-blogger/
Awe. Thanks. How cool is that!
I’m going to google about where to get me one of those bug-eyed squeezie toy things. Very cool.
Chapters/Indigo. You know that store that sells as many toys as they do books?
I guess Viv wouldn’t have found it amusing if you had told her the shortcomings of her work and lack of character arc eh? Oh, the trials of dramatic children with comedic parents. This is the relationship between my wonderful nephew and his mom. And me. And his grammy…
I think SisterClaytion needs to guest post on your blog.
(And now I have Night Ranger stuck in my head. “SisterClaytion oh your time has come…”).
Thanks for that.
I about died. I have a 6 year old son who is so going to give me fits once he harnesses his writing skills into poetic short stories. That’s what I get for raising a smart ass, I guess. But yeah, agree with above posters . . . boy are you in for it. 🙂
“That’s what I get for raising a smart ass, I guess.” –> Yup. I’m learning it all comes back, like a boomerang on Speed.
This made my frickin’ day. I was howling. And, the best part is that no one was here to hear it!! My recent googles: what is my facebook url, do you capitalize mom and dad in a formal essay, boomslang, green mambo, spitting cobra, braai, boerewors, biltong, harare, how to succeed glee. I would like Vivian to come supervise reading time at my house.
LOL. Now I have to google “boomslang” to understand your comment. You’re researching something African, I can tell that… Hmm…
I guess Google must recommend the opposite for getting your dad to love you because I love my children less every time they make me a craft.
I get that. I’m good with crafts. As long as they don’t involve me.
This post was kinda scary to me, but that’s probably a function of my kids, not yours. In that scenario, I’d hide the knives.
She already knows how to pull the guilt card. You GO Vivian! ;} My new puppy was neutered on Monday and I Googled, “How to make an Elizabethan collar.” I don’t have time to go to the pet store but I don’t want him chomping through the vet’s good work.
Lo and behold, I found the puppy has an incredibly short attention span (like my husband) and is easy to squirrel out (also like my husband, and yes, this trait is dangerous when he is driving) and the second he begins to notice his wound, I give him a toy to play with. He doesn’t really need an e-collar (the puppy, not my husband) but I’m tempted to put a paper plate with a hole cut in the middle of it on his head anyway. Thank God he can’t write me a book. 🙂
Crafty little booger.
IT’S SETTLED.
Please let’s be best friends.