Mommiest Moments: September, 2009

--My apologies for the very long delay between updates. I am trying now to get caught up before the baby arrives in two or so weeks. I can't promise complete repentance, since its possible the baby will derail blog updates for several more months. Nonetheless, I hope people will forgive me and post comments, even if the current crop of quotes doesn't seem quite as high-calibre as normal.--

Drat. Now I'm throwing up and sick.

--Pregnancy gives me this paradigm shift about the definition of “sick,” y'see.

“So why did my children understand 'I'm sick. My throat is sore and it hurts to talk so I'm only using sign language,' and 'Daddy is asleep. Be quiet and quit screaming,' but not 'are you hungry?' Talk about my languages only working half the time...”

--Gail, suffering linguistic frustration.

“I wish Q would make up quits mind. I mean, bad week, throwing up three times a day. Then good week, going three and then four days in a row without vomiting. I was lured into a false sense of security: the worst was over! And then bad week again, throwing up twice a day...this is one argument in favor of quits being a girl. Or bipolar. Or maybe twins with two different placentas. Or possibly Hamlet...”

--Mommy. I settled on 'Bipolar Baby.' It seemed apt.

Mommy: [Turns pale, races for the bathroom, and makes retching noises] Oh, curses!
Daniel: What's wrong?
Daddy: What do you think?
Daniel: She missed?

"Houston, we have a heartbeat!"
--Gail, after a doctor's appointment.

My very first castle made from my birthday legos!

The boys especially liked the gruesome decapitated heads on pikes.

[Conversation among some plush giant microbes, voiced by Daniel]

Flu: Hi! What's your name?

Dust Mite: My name is Dust Mite!

Flu: I'm the Flu!

Dust Mite: Achoo!

Flu: [giggles] No, silly. Germs can't get sick!

Bubonic Plague: I'm the Black Death! Let's go infect people!

Flu: Okay! We'll go kill bad guys!

Halitosis: I'm Bad Breath. Can I come?

Others: Sure!

Mommy: [Mutters to herself] Oh, joy. Biological warfare. [Conversationally] You know...bad breath doesn't kill people. But I suppose it could render them sterile...

“Okay, but I will just leave you to wonder how I got there.”

--Eric, after I found him sitting on the top shelf of his closet and forbade him to climb up again. I'm still not certain how he managed.

Eric, having mysteriously ascended his closet.
He has denied all my guesses about ladders, stools, and gymnastics tricks.

“I think that when Superman moves faster than people can see, he is moving faster than the speed of light!”

--Daniel. He reasoned that out for himself. I was so proud.

Gail: You realize that if we had a teen-age girl, and she chose to play the evil, Machiavellian, two-faced, cat-fighting, boyfriend-stealing, sweetly poisonous social domination games of an alpha-girl cheerleader drama queen, she would be--

Jon: A pro.

Gail: --A master. And we would have to watch the carnage. You still want a girl?

Jon: [Cheerfully] Yep!

Gail: Well, we'll hope a hypothetical girl turns out like me. I imagine I could have been brilliant at it, had I lacked moral scruples and cared to exert myself. Fortunately I was more mature, and had many better things to do with my life.

--This conversation should not be taken as an indication of gender preference in Q. It merely reflects the speculation parents engage in during the pregnancy waiting period.

---It wasn't until much later I found the correct word for myself. I'm a “gamma girl,” meaning I'm an autonomous high-achiever. I neither played the political machination games of the alpha girls, nor was I a submissive beta follower (*snort*). Rather I ignored 'em all and worried about getting a good scholarship for college.

Given a unilateral choice between “A” and “B,” I'd write an eight-page essay explaining the historical origins of A and B, the potential consequences of both choices, a weighted evaluation of why “A” is 30% more preferable than B, but, really, that's ignoring the broader issue, because we ought to be re-examining the question from a different perspective; how “C” is a growing minority option, but ultimately, in another twenty years, I think sane people will recognize that “G” is the best of all possible approaches; my predictions, not only of how the debate will play out, but how it ought to play out (though it won't); and...

"The kids were surprised to hear about the whiny side of prophets. Enoch: 'Everybody hates me! And I'm still a kid!' (He was in his seventies.) Moses: 'I'm slow of speech! They'll all make fun of me!' Moroni: 'I'm a general, not a writer! The gentiles won't take this book seriously.' Except for Saint Paul, who 'gloried in tribulation.' But he was nuts."

--Gail, after substituting for a thirteen- and fourteen-year-old Sunday School class.

"Eric, you're to be more careful in this game not to hurt a person's hand!"

--Danny. This is a vast improvement over twenty minutes spent, offended, in the fetal position, whimpering due to a slight injury...

[Reading The Emperor's New Clothes]

“But, Mommy, even if the cloth was real, the emperor still wouldn't be able to see it because he only worried about pretty clothes and he doesn't do a good job being emperor.”

--Danny. What excellent political science skills! I think his Aunt Cheryl would also agree with his analysis that the emperor was not an effective ruler.

---This reminds me of when Cheryl was planning her hypothetical wedding on a hypothetical date with detailed hypothetical bridesmaids, colors, centerpieces, and guests, and I quipped how she would walk down the aisle only to hear a small child exclaim "But the bride is only wearing a hypothetical gown!"

The Cub Scout's New Clothes: Fortunately Eric seems very well suited to his new station, and his outfit was visible to everyone.

Mommy: Danny, you need to scrub your hands because you petted the dog. He was a nice, friendly dog, but you should still wash your hands.

Danny: Yes, and when we stopped to rest, I was sitting on the grass and my hands touched the dirt and that might have germs I couldn't see because they are microscopic.

“Can I have the eyeball?”

“Can I have the eyeball?”

“I want a fang!”

--Children in Eric's class, divvying up the pull-apart alligator cupcakes I brought in for his birthday.

Eric's birthday treat at school. The office ladies were impressed. :)