Crazy, stupid, love.
I know, it’s been quiet around here, but I really hate to update unless I’m doing something interesting. Which has not been the case lately. Most boring week ever. Web work is finished– at least briefly– so I’ve been spending most of the last few days with the kids. It’s been–
– oh em gee, WHY IS THE TELEVISION SO LOUD? Are we ninety years old, Jason? I had to get up and turn it down to hear myself think. It was at level 48. 48. It should be kept at, like, 15.
I know, that was the most crotchety old lady aside, but I don’t even care. That was ridiculous.
The kids and I have been spending our time playing XBox Kinect. I’ve found a new reason to love my children: their trash talking abilities. Elias plays the table tennis on there, like, SERIOUSLY. Like this hardcore, virtual table tennis match. And Addie sits on the couch and cheers him on. Elias: “Nope.” SMACK. “Not in MY HOUSE.” SMACK. “WEAKSAUCE, SON!” SMACK.
Addie: “SCHOOL THEM, ELIAS!”
And afterward, when he inevitably wins (because let’s be real, the table tennis on Kinect is not that hard), he and Addie air high five like homecoming champs. “I WON!” Elias says. “IT FEELS SO GOOD!”
“I KNEW YOU WOULD WIN!” Addie chirps. “THEY DIDN’T BRING ANYTHING!”
(Addie is into the virtual bowling. The trash talk doesn’t go over as well there. “WHAT NOW, PINS! HERE COMES THE BALL, PINS!”)
This is their vocabulary. You know how they say kids pick up on everything? Kids pick up on EVERYTHING. Not just swearing. Not just kind words. Slang, too. Last week, when I said we might be going to Lush, Elias enthused: “Oh, dude. I’m totally down with that.”
Kids pick up on EVERYTHING.
Which means I have to be more careful about my gossip. Both Eli and Addie overhear parts of conversations now, and repeat them later in mixed company. And it’s, like, juicy gossip– juicy, private gossip. E came up while I was making dinner and started a conversation about, so, hey. So-and-so needs to get a job, huh? Because they don’t have a job? That’s what you said, Mom. He has that surprise baby coming, too. That’s what you said. What’s a surprise baby? Do people like surprises? Do you think if so-and-so had a baby, their boyfriend would marry them? They’ve been dating a long time but he won’t commit, huh? That’s what you said, Mom.
I need to watch that.
What else. Besides raising two children who can threaten imaginary opponents, I am also raising them to be literate (library trips! books! free! educational!) and healthy (frozen banana slushies!).
Yes. That’s Nutella. The recipe called for it.
(It’s semi-healthy, at least.)
The only other thing of note is Addie’s sixth birthday– I know, sixth– which is at the end of this month. I’m scheduling the party itself around Michelle and Audrey; both of whom should be able to make it. So that’s awesome. Initially, Addie said she didn’t want a party at all; only
A candy bar.
And a ginormous iPod like Daddy’s.
“An iPad?” I said. Out loud. And it sounded even crazier. Heh. But Addie was like AN IPAD, YES YES and Elias gave her a GIRL, PLEASE look. “They’re expensive,” Elias lectured her, “and plus, you have to pay for the apps, and you don’t have a job, Addie, so you can’t buy apps, so what are you going to do when you have NO? APPS? ADDIE?”
Addie: Is Angry Birds an app?
Addie: Is Grover an app?
Addie: Is Angelina Ballerina an app?
Elias: IT’S ALL APPS ADDIE.
Addie moped for a little while, but announced yesterday she changed her mind– she no longer wanted a ginormous iPod and the inevitable job that came with it– she wanted a Build-a-Bear party instead. WELL OKAY. That sounds TOTALLY REASONABLE.
Like, Build-a-Bear will handle it. They have a party coordinator. We just send out invites and show up, they wrangle the kids for us and entertain them. We’ll do cake and ice cream in the food court. EASY.
I even emailed Audrey something along the lines of: “You won’t have to work this time, I SWEAR!”
– then of course, Jason and I got together tonight at Moe’s, and Build-a-Bear is fun and everything, but you know what would be REALLY FUN? (Audrey is tensing up right now, reading this. Heh.) How about a HELLO KITTY TEA PARTY? Where the girls could make stuffed Hello Kittys at Build-a-Bear and then we could all come back to our house instead with HELLO KITTY CUPCAKES and HELLO KITTY TEA and HELLO KITTY COOKIES? We’d only have to DECORATE EVERYTHING and BAKE A LOT, right? “How are we getting them from the mall to our house?” I asked J. “We don’t have enough room in our car.”
He considered. Long pause. Then I said, “You know… this is– this is totally ridiculous and crazy, but wouldn’t it be awesome if we could get a limo or something? To pick the girls up and drive them back?”
And Jason said, totally straight-faced: “… Well, it should be a pink limo.”
Addie, when you’re a teenager and you think the whole world is against you and we don’t understand you at all and your father is totally lame, I want you to know that when you were six years old, this dude did not bat an EYE when it came to making your birthdays the most lavish and wonderful events ever.
He would’ve even gotten you that iPad if I let him. (But I didn’t.) (You can direct your hate at me, Teenage Addie. I’m probably used to it by now.)