Random Meaningless Realization

I LOVE the PCD new song for some strange reason. Everytime it comes on the radio, I start singing along. Today I realized I've been screwing up the lyrics a bit.

They want Groupies.


Not boobies.

But you know? Either way.......

Like I'm the First Person to Ask For It

Employee of unnamed delivery company: *Unnamed company* How can I help you?

Me: Hi, I'd like to order an arrangement. Is it possible to just do a whole arrangement of chocolate dipped bananas?

EUDC: We do have a box of dipped bananas.

Me: No, I'm talking about like, a bouquet. Those are just chunks in a box.

EUDC: OK.

Me: Is it possible to do whole bananas and not just chunks?

EUDC: (long pause) Um, I don't.... know. That may look a little... odd.

Me: But is it possible.

EUDC: It will look rather.... phallic.

Me: EXACTLY!!

EUDC:...........

Me: You know, it would be really just awesome if you could maybe shape them into penises (Peni? What is the plural of penis anyway?) before you dip them.

EUDC: ..........

Me: Who wouldn't want an arrangement of chocolate banana penises?

EUDC: *click*

Dear David,

This year, despite your many objections, you turn 3. By many objections, I mean that every time we mention your new age, you scream and cry and demand to be 2. We finally gave up and decided that you could be 2 and 365 days. This seems to be a fair compromise to you. I'm not sure what this says for your future because if it's this hard for you to turn 3, I can't imagine what it will be like when you turn 30.

While you have been busy denying your age to everyone who asks, I have been busy trying to accept that the two's are over. I know that it's often referred to as the terrible two's, but that's just to keep parents distracted from what comes next. Let me give you a photo example.
This is the two's:

And this is what we refer to as the effin' three's:

It seems that overnight you have gone from a very sweet little boy to raving lunatic who loves to scream.

Still, I know it could be worse. Your sister used to throw shoes at our heads and as of yet, the only thing you have thrown is a feather.

It's not all screaming and fits though. If I'm to be completely honest, you are more of a ham than a handful. You are constantly on the go. It's just that you have decided that you want to be the one that says when we go, where we go and how we go and being told that you have to do it our way is just not something your little mind can handle. After all, you are 2 and 365 days and you know exactly what you want. How can we argue with that?


Above all, I think you should know that you are adored. Not just loved, but honestly adored. Your family, friends and a few people who have just been lucky enough to catch you when you feel like being charming. You love to make people laugh, you love to dance and you love attention. You still make your monster face.

This year you have become fascinated with everything to do with outer space. You like watching the Discovery channel with Daddy and talking about the planets. You told me that you are going to be an 'astanot'. I find this much more hopeful then when you told me you were going to be a kitty.

As many changes as we've had this year, the biggest has been the addition of your sister. I was fully prepared for you to be jealous.

I was not prepared for how much (and how quickly) you would come to love her. Everyday you ask to read to her, to play with her to hold her. When she's falling asleep during feedings you whisper in her ear. I don't know what you say and I don't need too. She smiles at the sight of you and if she's not in the room, you ask for her.

I know you love your big sister too, but I think it's easier for you to be with Josie because she's not playing with your toys, she's not telling you to get out of her room and she's not fighting with you. Someday, yes. But not now.

For now, you kiss her and hug her and you are gentle in a way I didn't know was possible from a boy who takes flying leaps off the coffee table at anyone walking by.

You are a handful, rambunctious, lively. You have a wild sense of humor and a need for physical play. You can be so very gentle and sweet. You are smart and surprise me all the time with the things you know.

You are 3. But don't worry, we'll keep that just between the two of us.

Happy Birthday crazy man.

Love,

Mom

Dear Bre,

This year, you are turning 10. The big 1-0. You have been obnoxiously excited about hitting those double digits. I have been at a loss.
It's not that I haven't enjoyed these past 10 years. I have. Immensely. It's that I can't believe 10 years have passed already. When you're a kid everyone tells you to slow down, time passes so quickly. And you laugh because it seems like such a joke. Time is slow when you're young and want to get your driver's license, or be old enough to wear make-up and date. And then one day you are old enough to do all those things. Older, in fact. One day you have kids of your own and you realize that those people weren't kidding. It's too fast.
I've been thinking a lot about this birthday letter, wondering what I would say, if I would be able to put into words just what I want you to know. I don't know if it's possible. I've tried but I always seem to forget something and then I have to start all over because it's just not right.
But I think you said it best when, upon seeing the birthday cake I had made for you, you said you loved the way I made the CD and when I told you it was a record you asked me what a record was. Because that's it isn't it? The basics of it anyway. You are in an era where records don't exist and I am from one where they did.


This year has been a difficult one for us. You have been pushing for more independence while I've been trying to keep you from moving too fast. I think we're starting to find a balance that we're both comfortable with except when it comes to make-up. I say there is no way I'm letting you out of the house wearing it and you try to do it anyway.
This is also the year you finally got a little sister. You've spent much of this year dreaming of pink dresses and braiding hair. I can't tell you what it does to my heart to watch you with her, to watch both of your faces when you smile at each other, all the wonder of it, that bond that you have instantly. It's different then what you have with your brother. While I know you love him just as much, there is something in a sisterly bond that is just special.
You are doing much better in school this year than you have in the past and that gives me hope. I've said before and I've meant it that I want your hands to always be full .

We are coming close to a time when you and I will find it nearly impossible to understand each other. We will be speaking a different language, you of 'teenager' and me? I'll be speaking that dreaded 'mom'- speak. But I promise that despite this, I will never let you get lost in my shuffle as my mother did with me. I will never stop loving you. I will try to remember what it's like to be a tween-age girl.
Your dad has promised to remember what it's like to be a boy at your age and as you get older.
I'm afraid you'll never be allowed out of your room but I promise to push saltines under the crack of the door and maybe a hose for water.
I know you think that we are too often unfair because we don't let you on the phone past 7 pm and we don't let you watch r-rated movies but I'm ok with that because it's our job and as much as I hate saying it because it sounds so much like my father's voice coming out of my mouth (and if you ever tell him I said this I will torch your Hannah Montana CD's) but... when you have kids of your own, you'll understand.
After Josie was born, when I was still in the hospital and enjoying my vicodin, you asked me if I thought you'd make a good mom someday. I tried to picture you in that moment, staring at your nine year old daughter, holding your newborn, and I knew that you would.
But please, don't rush it. Time passes oh, so very quickly. And before you know it? Your ten year old will be asking you that same question and rolling her eyes when you get teary.
Happy 10th Birthday Bre......

Love, mom.