Wednesday, December 9, 2009

Voo doo.

I'm pretty sure I'm just a pin cushion with hips. While wearing pajamas that were last washed about a week ago (a recurring theme for me), I knelt down yesterday to give Dee a good morning hug and to ever so pleasantly, but not too urgently, ask her to go potty first thing and then get dressed for preschool. Despite my efforts to make the end of the sentence lilt up like the helpful remarks of Cinderella's devoted animal friends, Dee's response was to push away from me in her cutie jammie clad three year old body and say, "Mama, you don't smell good." Ouch. And a good morning to you too, dearheart.

I presume, per usual, that she sensed how very precious pee in the potty means to me. And how very quickly thereafter the wiping, flushing, hand washing, tooth brushing, dressing, hair combing and breakfast eating must occur before my true angel of a friend, who's still treating me like Baby Nar is one week old, comes to pick up Dee and take her to preschool. So we rush and I get stressed and yell sometimes. It's a way of life.

I'm okay dealing with the aftermath of our hurried morning routine. My unmade bed, dishes harboring the beginnings of cereal concrete and breakfast for the kids by way of snack trap. So long...as I...get...the...girl...out...the DOOR! I also feel a certain sense of accomplishment if my buddy doesn't have to actually come up the porch to fetch Dee. I guess I'm not as okay with the fact that my daughter's first thought when she sees me is, YOU STINK!

On occasion, Dee has also been known to tell me that:

"You have a weird butt," edited to "you look like a nice monster," when I sought clarification. Ouch.

The ever popular, "you smell like a doggie," or "your hair looks weird." Ouch again.

The other night, after I served the family a lovely dinner of penne pasta with Kalmata olives and tuna (all white tuna in water, mind you), Dee informed me that I "didn't do a good job on dinner." Ouch one more time.

How easily I forget that I do often smell like drying baby spit up, or even day old baby spit up. Which might smell like dog sometimes. I know Dee doesn't like dogs. And usually when Dee says my hair looks weird, I know deep down inside that it does. I must have slept on it wrong and the bobby pin didn't stay in right to form the part I want.... Or its just not as frizzy as I like it.

My sweet baby doll also reminds me that I "did good" on dinner sometimes. Those times usually involve noodles and cheese that rhyme with "raft," but sometimes a delicate miso soup or her grandmother's Chinese spare ribs (tried with great effort on many occasions by me).

Dee also often tells me that I "look pretty." Those utterances usually first require that I put on tights or the dreaded nylons and two inch heels. While elastic leg wear isn't a necessity of my current duties and invitations, I've been known to find an excuse to wear such things, because they're magical.

It's at those times that I'm pretty sure my daughter thinks I'm a princess. Then all I have to do to seal the deal is actually play dress up with her, or do a craft.

5 comments:

Amy said...

God love 'em! Leo has had some whoppers as well!

anymommy said...

She's going to be a tough critic when she hits sixteen ;-)

Molly said...

haha, I love it! I work at a summer camp for kids with special needs, and I refuse to get a haircut during the summer. Because when I do, my favorite 7 yaer old always goes "YOU LOOK FUNNY!" and then giggles everytime he sees me.

also, last summer a kid wrote "fatmolly" in chalk at camp. Heh. I had to swallow my ego so hard.

heytheredearheart said...

Amy: It's hard, huh. Dee told me again at lunch today that I stink. It's b/c I didn't want her to eat the candy cane before lunch.

AM: Don't remind me. At least I'll have a fellow exasperated pal to lean on!

Molly: So totally relate! When I worked at a summer camp of sorts, I had a kid ask me if I was pregnant (when that reality was still years away). As if I didn't already have enough self esteem issues!

Anna See said...

sounds familiar-- i stink, my butt is bumpy, etc.

p.s. everything is always my fault, too.