Lions and Tigers and Sloths! Oh My!

Madeline claims to like puppies. And she does, as long as they're a safe distance away. The puppies on the other side of the street are just lovely, but put Madeline in the same room with a dog, and she'll claw her way up the nearest adult.

She doesn't even pretend to like cats. Every time we go to my parents' house, she quietly and fretfully asks about their cat. We try to assure Madeline that it's a nice kitty and that Mimi will put it away in the basement if she wants. Maybe on some level the great cat incident of 2011 has been seared into her memory.

On the other hand, animals in books and on TV seem to fascinate her.  She likes to pretend there are monkeys in the trees when she drives to school in the morning. Sometimes she pretends to be a bear who steals our picnic baskets. For a long time she tried to convince us that a lion, who was also named Madeline, lived in our basement.

A few weeks ago we decided to take her to the zoo. We've taken her every spring, and she asked to go this time.  Based on her reactions toward cats and dogs, we figured she might be a little shy at first, but that overall, she'd enjoy seeing the animals.

We were wrong.  She cried the entire time.

She cried to go home when we saw the tiger, who was lying in the shade so far away from the fence that we could only vaguely see his nose and paws. She cried when we brought her near the sleeping lion.

Mumma, that baby zebra back there is stressing me out!  

It wasn't just the giant cats that frightened her either.  She cried at the camels, and the kangaroos, and the emu. She calmed down when we entered the indoor tropical exhibits. She really liked the fish.

But then we rounded the corner to see an ant eater and she began crying all over again.  We tried to point out the cute, little monkeys to her.  She was not impressed.  She cried loudly as we rushed past the gorillas, but she didn't mind posing with this statue just past the exit.

After we finally gave up and headed toward the exit, Madeline decided she had enough courage to ride the zebra on the carousel.  She even liked the tiger with a pink saddle behind us. I guess plaster animals are just fine.

On the way out, we saw a sloth that she thought was pretty cool, and she didn't mind the prairie dogs either. Fish, sloths, and prairie dogs are about all the gal can handle.

I can understand why lions and tigers and bears would frighten her. They at big, unfamiliar, and roar. But last week we stopped by a local farm to see the goats, sheep, and bunnies. She cried some more. Animals stress her out.

I guess we shouldn't expect Madeline to grow up to be a veterinarian or a zoologist unless she can specifically work only with fish and sloths. Dr. Doolittle she is not.

Moon Picnic

I am now officially on summer vacation for the next two months.  Which, not to rub it in, is pretty damn fantastic!

Last night there was a super moon.  I'm not sure what that means exactly other than the moon looks bigger and brighter than usual.  I'm sure it has something to do with the planet's rotation, but I'm not sure since I was hungover through most of my astronomy course in college.  Also?  Too much math for me to pay attention.

All I know is that the thought of a big, bright moon hanging low in the sky on a warm summer evening sounded perfectly magical.  In my head, I planned a picnic on the beach.  We'd watch the sunset, eat some gourmet food, let Madeline dance in the surf, and gaze at the moon as it rose over the ocean.  

Yet, my plans for a gourmet picnic quickly went out the window.  It was too damn hot to cook, chop, or dice anything in our non-air conditioned kitchen yesterday afternoon.  Instead, I decided we'd pick up some seafood at the beach, and then still enjoy the sunset, waves, and moon afterward.  

Brown's Lobster Pound can get pretty crazy during the summer, so we were skeptical over our chances of eating there.  However, we lucked out.  There were plenty of tables, and the line was manageable.  We tried to get Madeline to eat some sea creatures with us, but she wasn't interested in the least.  She did, however, eat a hot dog and most of my tarter sauce.  Silly girl.

In my original plan for our moon picnic, I thought we'd go to a quiet, peaceful state beach, but after dinner, I was craving some fudge.  Taking the small crowds at Brown's as a good sign, I decided heading toward the busy Hampton Beach boardwalk after dinner wouldn't be too bad.  After all, it was a Sunday night, and summer vacation has barely begun.

Ha.  Ha-ha.  You're a stupid girl, Summer.

Between the restaurant and the beach, a distance of what is maybe five miles, we sat in traffic for two hours.  

We would have left, but the traffic leaving the beach was just as bad.  We were stuck in a virtual parking lot of cigarette-smoking teenagers, men with hairy backs, women in tiny bikinis, and body parts I didn't know could be pierced.  I know that makes me sound snobby, but if you're familiar with Hampton Beach, you can picture the scene.

As time slogged by, the hope of seeing the sunset quickly vanished.  Not only were we not going to reach the beach in time, but there were also storm clouds ahead.  We could see lightning flash in the distance.  Maybe seeing the moon was out of the question as well.

"I'm sorry.  This was a bad idea," I said sheepishly.
"No, it wasn't," Eric kindly offered back.  "It was a very nice idea..."  

By the time we reached the boardwalk, the sun had set, the casino lights were flashing, and we felt wildly out of place amongst the hoards of young people looking for a fun night out.

Yet, once we got out of the car, it didn't seem so bad.  Madeline kept looking at the airbrushed, neon t-shirts lining the boardwalk and sighing, "Oh, so beautiful!"  We marveled at the sandcastle sculptures.   We sat and listened to a concert band for a few minutes.  A cool breeze blew through, but no rain.  We got ice cream, and...the clouds parted long enough for us to see the moon.  Our mission had been accomplished...sort of.

We were feeling pretty happy when we got back in our car to head home.  The traffic leaving the beach had vanished, and our previous two-hour ride, took us about five minutes.

Sadly, the highway was under construction in two different areas on the way home.  That tacked on another couple of hours to our trip.  By the time we pulled in our driveway, it was after 11 pm, Madeline was passed out in the back seat, Eric was grumpy from the traffic, and my gas light had come on.

"This was a bad idea," Eric said.
I nodded.  "Yes, it was."

Luckily for me, I got to sleep in this morning.  Unluckily for Eric?  He still has a week of school left.  Womp.  Womp.  So much for romantic moon picnics.

For next year's super moon, maybe we'll just set up lawn chairs in our yard.

Conversations with Maddie Bear

Madeline:  I'm the Mumma!
Me:  Um, no.  I'm the Mumma.
Madeline:  No, I'm the Mumma, and Dada is the Dada.
Me:  Then who am I?
Madeline:  You're the grandma.

Me: (waking Madeline up in the morning.)  You're such a pretty girl.  Your nose is pretty, and your eyelashes are pretty, and your chin is pretty, and your mouth is pretty...
Madeline: (eyes still closed) And my BUM is pretty...(Evil Giggles)

(I come downstairs after getting dressed:)
Madeline:  Mumma, WHAT are you wearing?!
Me:  My clothes.  Is that okay?
Madeline:  It's just blue...
Me:  So.  What's wrong with blue?
Madeline:  I only like pink shirts.


Madeline: *gasp* You went peepee on the potty, Mumma? Oh! Such a big girl!
Me: Thanks.

Madeline: Tell me the truth, Mumma.
Me: The truth about what?
Madeline: The truth about how I was a baby in your belly.
Me: You mean the story of how you were born?
Madeline: Yeah that one.

Dear Madeline: June, 2013

Dear Madeline,

It's been fascinating watching the wheels in that little head of yours spinning recently.  You're learning and growing so quickly these days that it's hard to keep up with you.

I love listening to you play.  You use your dolls to make up stories, or to reenact favorite books or movies.  The other day you walked in the living room with two Little People and said, "This is Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley."  It made your English-teacher Mumma proud.

You like to run around the yard pretending to be Rapunzel or Belle.  You often demand that Dada be Flynn Ryder and Mumma be the evil mother.  I'm not sure how I feel about this.  I'm not sure how Dada feels about this.  I'm not sure how Freud would feel about this.

This bossy behavior has extended beyond the playroom, I'm afraid.  You're quite certain that you're the boss of our little household.  We're constantly getting orders about what to get you, where to stand, or how to clean up your toys.  Dada and I are doing are best to put you in your place.  You may be our little princess, but we're still in charge, Maddie Bear.  There have been a lot of tears around here lately when you don't get your way.

We took your pacifiers away for good a few months ago now.  We retired them one by one as you poked holes in them.  For some reason, they all seemed to fail within a week or two.  You didn't protest too much, which was a pleasant surprise.  However, I will say that getting you to bed takes A LOT longer now without the pacifier to help calm you down.

You've started playing the classic child's game of finding every excuse under the sun to get us back in your bedroom at bedtime.  Sometimes you claim that you have a wet diaper.  Sometimes you claim that you want to use the potty.  Sometimes you beg to have your back rubbed or your hand held.  Sometimes things gets really ridiculous, and you cry for us to put the blanket back on you, or help you reach a book at the foot of your bed.  We try to get you to do these things yourself, but you can yell....loudly.  Then we try to ignore your yelling, and instead, you become hysterical.  Sigh.  I guess we're just in another one of those phases.  I'm sure you'll figure out other ways to self-sooth eventually.

When you first transitioned into the preschool, your new teacher asked me, "Does she usually talk herself to sleep?"  I just had to laugh.  Buddy, you have no idea.  You talk, and talk, and talk.  

In fact, I just overheard you say, "I want to be big, and turn into a human!" from your bed.  Not sure what that's all about.  

Meanwhile, you've become increasingly curious about letters and words.  You now realize that the symbols on the page are words with meaning.   You ask me to spell words out to you.  You try to spell out the words yourself.  Sometimes you get the letters right, but mostly, you just randomly spout out the alphabet.

And in a week, little girl, we'll be on summer vacation.  Then I'll have you to myself all day long.  We can bake, do projects, explore the neighborhood, and go on trips together.  We can sleep in late and stay up later.  Can't wait!  

Love you, Bean Sprout!

Mumma

On Technology and Laziness

Oh, hey there!  Remember me?  I used to blog here on a pretty regular basis.  Sometimes up to five or six times a week when life got really exciting.

I wish I could say that my recent bloggy absences were due to something worthwhile.  How awesome would it be if I'd taken up Kung Foo, written the next great American novel, gone backpacking across Europe, or even organized my closets?  Nope, nope, nope...and nope.

Honestly, most of my spare time has been spent playing Candy Crush.  I knew I should have avoided it.  When it started popping up across my Facebook feed, I said to myself, "Summer, that looks like trouble.  You don't need trouble like that in your life.". But surprise, surprise, the girl who has remained steadily overweight for the past three years because she can't pass by a bag of potato chips without her loins aching, gave in to temptation once more.  (It's just left over baby weight, I swear!).

Now, instead of blogging, I play Candy Crush.  Instead of organizing my closets, I play candy crush.  Instead of actively parenting my child, I play Candy Crush.  (That's okay, Maddie Bear, I'm sure you're fine balanced precariously on the top of that stepstool.) Sometimes when I close my eyes, I see neat rows of bright candy stacked up in front of me.  In my dreams, there are no wait times between lives.  

And sometimes I wonder...What did I actually DO with myself before the convience of mobile devices?   We got our iPad when I was pregnant with Madeline.  I know I didn't  spend every waking moment staring at my desktop's screen before that.  So I must have done something else.  Hell, I didn't even have a child to occupy my time back then.  Did I just stare blankly at the wall?  Did I knit blankets for the homeless?  Did I actually shave my legs on a regular basis?  I'm dumbfounded.

All this dependence on technology makes me very curious about Madeline's future.  She already can operate me phone and iPad pretty well.  If she wants to watch a movie or play a game, she knows just how to access those apps.  When she plays with her toy telephone, she uses her index finger to pretend-scroll through the pictures.

I didn't even have a computer in my house unil I was in middle school, and even then my online time was spent browsing Encarta and avoiding the dark mysteries of chat rooms where I was sure to be kidnapped.  As for cellphones?  I didn't own one till college.  I just purchased my first Smart phone a year ago, and it's become another limb.  I forgot it at work last night, and it was so, so sad.

So what's all this mean for Madeline's generation?  Will they have computers embedded in their brains, tracking every thought and movement?  Perhaps she will actualy see Candy Crush in front of her eyes...even when sleeping.

P.S. Please forgive any spelling errors or typos as I'm writing this on my phone.

Chalkboard Flower Pots

I used some left over chalkboard paint to spruce up some terra-cota pots a few weeks ago.  We finally added some herbs last week, and they're doing well so far.

I like being able to write on them, and so does Madeline.  As of this afternoon, they were covered in pink scribbles.  It's a whole new way to display her artistic talents!  

 Summer is almost here!  The porch is covered with green, growing things.  Soon our vegetables will be sprouting, we'll be making pizza on the grill, and we can sleep in....as late as Madeline will let us.  Hizz-ahh!

Hot-headed Ladies

The universe's cruel, ironic idea of a joke was to curse a girl named Summer with complete hatred of the heat.  It's no secret that my behavior gets worse as the temperature climbs.  Being hot makes me want to smash things for no rational reason.  The only way I manage to get through heat waves without completely losing my humanity is thanks to the abundance of ice cream stands in the area.  It's hell on my waistline...too hot to exercise.

Unfortunately, along with my stunning good looks, Madeline seems to have inherited my winning personality as well.  (Thankfully, she has not inherited my cankles.  Bless her heart.)  

During this past weekend's heat wave, we decided to seek relief in the air-conditioned mall.  (Our house does not have AC.  This may have to change...soon.)  Before Madeline even made it through the parking lot, she had two heat-induced meltdowns.  The first was because she is not allowed to ride the employees-only freight elevator.  The second was because there were doors.  Doors cause rage.  

There were a series of other back-to-back incidents as we made our way from one end of the mall to the other that are best left unsaid.  They will only make us look like jackasses.  We thought of leaving, but that meant going back out in the heat.  Instead, we gritted our teeth and smiled apologetically at everyone unfortunate enough to cross paths with us.

"I swear, she's usually not like this," I tried to communicate with my eyes.  "It's the heat.  The heat."

Then a miraculous thing happened.  After loudly declaring her hatred for pizza, the universe, and most of its inhabitants, we sat Madeline down calmly at a table and placed a plate in front of her.  She sniffled a moment, grudgingly tried a bite of the much-hated pizza, and instantly her mood shifted.  The beast was defeated!  Our little angel was back again, saved by the cool atmosphere and a few bites of junk food.  

It was eerily familiar.

"Wow.  She's just like me!"  I said, not knowing if I should laugh or cry in horror.

Eric raised his eyebrows and shook his head.  "You think?!"  he mocked.

Later that night, after Madeline was sleeping soundly, Eric confessed that he was a little bit jealous.  "She's a little Summer," he said.  "There's so much of you, and I don't see much of me at all."  

"She likes puzzles..." I offered.  "She doesn't get that from me."

We literally waded out the rest of the weekend in her kiddie pool until some storms rolled through and broke the heat last night.  It's going to be an interesting summer....