My mom is getting a biopsy on Thursday, to make sure she doesn’t have uterine cancer. This scares me absolutely bloodless. She is my mommy, and I still need her. She is a much-loved Granny, and all her grandchildren adore her. I cannot bear the thought of her having to go through cancer treatments, or worse, no longer needing them because she is gone.
It fills my innards with ice, just to look at that possibility.
So I am going to talk about some funny things my kids have done lately, because I need the distraction and the else-ness of it.
First, there is Lilo. She was acting up last week and I told her she was being a booger. She drew herself with Duchess-worthy indignation and said, “Mommy! I don’t even live in a nose!” She then flounced off to sulk in vexation that I had said such a thing to her ladyship. That’s my Lilo, y’all.
Then there is Stitch, who is currently trying out her rebellion. She got sent to time out for S&D (sass and defiance) where she proceeded to through a hissy fit and fall in it. I went and got my camera, and took a photo of her in all her hissy glory. This enraged her, because she instinctively knows to never let anyone get evidence. About 30 minutes later, the most innocent faced child in the history of the world sidled up to me in the most casual way and said, “Mommy, I like you camera.”
“Yes, mommy. Your camera can do things, can’t it?”
“Like what, Stitch?”
“Like, erase pictures you don’t want.”
“Yes, and if you are good I will erase the one of you throwing a temper-tantrum one week from today.”
“Okay.” *significant pause* “Can I watch you, and see how you do it? Just because I am interested, no other reason.”
“Sure. I totally believe that because I am an idiot.”
“Good.” Happy and relieved, she wandered back off.
I am okay with her being sneaky, but it is hard on me to realize she thinks I am dumb as a bag of hammers.
Then there is Spock. As the baby, she is very aware that the toys for the older girls are often cooler than her toys. Thus, whenever she sees them with something she wants, she comes to me and says, “Mommy, Lilo and Stitch aren’t sharing.” You know, in case I can be prevailed upon to go bogart the toy away from her stronger sisters. Manipulative much, Spock?
All three of my daughters are rotten and as mad as hatters, but I wouldn’t trade them for three normal kids and a solid gold house. Normal kids would be boring, I reckon. As it is, boredom is NOT something I need to worry about.