In this age of mommyblogging, I sometimes find myself feeling guilty that I don’t talk about my kids more. Especially when I find myself with nothing to say. But somehow, it’s just not my thing. Sure, I love them to death and I think they are cute and smart and amazing. But when it comes time to sit down and talk about them here, I find myself leaning not towards the cute and smart and amazing, but the cranky and whiny and loud. Because smart, stubborn four year old girls? Cranky, whiny and loud.
But they’re also very cute when they want to be, so maybe I should mention it now and then. Ever since the girl could talk, she’s been singing. She sings every song she knows and many she doesn’t. but the best songs are the ones she writes herself. We’ve had The Grass Song (“It’s a song about grass, it’s the grass song. . .”), The I Love Mom Song (“I love Mom, she’s the best, I love her, I love her hair. . .”), The Poop Song (“Poop, poop, poop, poop, Rocky poops, Angus poops, everybody poops, poop, poop, poop. . .”), and may more soon to be classics. But lately her songs have been changing to All Love Songs All the Time.
She now sings heart wrenching love ballads that have lots of “Baby” and “Oh Baby” and “I love you, Baby” in them. Since mr b and I are more likely to call each other “Scrotum” than “Baby”, I’m not sure where all the “Baby” is coming from. But she loves nothing more than to sit with her guitar and sing about “her baby.” Her most recent songwriting effort was called “I Want it Back”. It went, “I want my life back, Oh Baby, I want it back, I want everything back since you broke my heart. . .”
I’ve mentioned before that she is a little boy crazy. And she loves the older men. Like 8 year old Roman. And 11 year old Luke (to whom she recently wrote a love letter), and Troy. And Sayid (I can’t blame her on that one). I guess she gets the older men thing (along with a lot of other things) from me. Which is how I know that my mother’s “I Hope You Have Kids Just Like You” curse worked. Oh baby. We're alike in a lot of ways - looks ebing right on top. . .
My girl (and boy – I didn’t forget about him – I’ll talk about “11 year old boy minutes” another day):
But they’re also very cute when they want to be, so maybe I should mention it now and then. Ever since the girl could talk, she’s been singing. She sings every song she knows and many she doesn’t. but the best songs are the ones she writes herself. We’ve had The Grass Song (“It’s a song about grass, it’s the grass song. . .”), The I Love Mom Song (“I love Mom, she’s the best, I love her, I love her hair. . .”), The Poop Song (“Poop, poop, poop, poop, Rocky poops, Angus poops, everybody poops, poop, poop, poop. . .”), and may more soon to be classics. But lately her songs have been changing to All Love Songs All the Time.
She now sings heart wrenching love ballads that have lots of “Baby” and “Oh Baby” and “I love you, Baby” in them. Since mr b and I are more likely to call each other “Scrotum” than “Baby”, I’m not sure where all the “Baby” is coming from. But she loves nothing more than to sit with her guitar and sing about “her baby.” Her most recent songwriting effort was called “I Want it Back”. It went, “I want my life back, Oh Baby, I want it back, I want everything back since you broke my heart. . .”
I’ve mentioned before that she is a little boy crazy. And she loves the older men. Like 8 year old Roman. And 11 year old Luke (to whom she recently wrote a love letter), and Troy. And Sayid (I can’t blame her on that one). I guess she gets the older men thing (along with a lot of other things) from me. Which is how I know that my mother’s “I Hope You Have Kids Just Like You” curse worked. Oh baby. We're alike in a lot of ways - looks ebing right on top. . .
My girl (and boy – I didn’t forget about him – I’ll talk about “11 year old boy minutes” another day):
Me (in my best photo ever):
Also – a conversation:
The Girl: Mom – when is Disney?
Gina: In October.
The Girl: I can’t wait.
Gina: Me either. What are you looking forward to?
The Girl: Belle! And Ariel!
Gina: What about rides? You’ll be big enough to ride some cool stuff this year, like Soarin’
The Girl: I don’t wan to ride that.
Gina: Why not?
The Girl: I don’t like Whorin’.
Gina: Soarin’. And how do you jnow you dont like it if you haven't done it? It’s not scary.
The Girl: No – you can ride Whorin’. I’ll wait.
Gina: But I want you to ride with me.
The Girl: No. Whorin’ in your favorite, so you can do it. I’m not doing it. You can.
Gina: Aww, come on!
The Girl: Nope - You love Whorin’.
Gina: Well, I used to, anyway. . .
Gina: Well, I used to, anyway. . .
7 comments:
Ahaha!
That picture of you on the toilet is PRICELESS!
"YOU love whorin'!" Amazing. Just amazing.
You love whorin'. hehe I love kid-speak.
Also- I'm glad my husband and I arent' the only ones who call each other non-traditional pet names. Like 'Turdstain'. That's a favorite of course. We've never used 'Scrotum', I'll have to add that to the list!
(I can just imagine the Google hits you're gonna get now! lol)
I love it! That conversation is priceless.
You should not feel bad about not doing the mommy blogger thing. To each his own, y'know? If everybody blogged about their kids all the time, it would be a boring world.
You were pretty darn cute sitting on that toilet. Just sayin'.
LOL - that picture is priceless. And so is the whoring conversation!
I'm not sure I have sufficient bladder control to read this blog.
I love the photo!!!!
****Jean Nate!!!!!!! on the toilet cover?**** :)
MEMORIES. ok, i am dating myself. let me stop now ;)
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