Friday, October 07, 2005

I Wish I Weren't Quite This Dull

The other morning at 4:45 a.m., my husband woke me to tell me he couldn't sleep, so he was going to work early. He bragged later that he was at his desk by 6:00 a.m. Though the sun slips from the sky earlier and earlier, the days seem longer and longer around here. It doesn't help when a certain someone keeps waking up early (alerting me to that fact) and when a certain someone else calls my name, "Mommy! Oh MOMmy!" before 7:00 a.m. and when a certain someone else stays up too late writing her blog and reading other blogs.

My 3-year old daughter is incessant, persistent, insistent. Bossy. And she talks, talks, talks. Last night, I had to take her with me to a meeting for school. She kept talking out loud during the meeting, so I would whisper to her, "Shhhh, be quiet." And she'd retort, "No! You be quiet!" Sometimes, when I tell her, "Stop that!" she'll say, "No! You stop that!" But usually, she scolds herself and says, "Don't be mad at me, Mommy."

My husband tells me that in ten years, he'll be sitting in a recliner with a Pepsi and a bag of Doritoes, laughing at me and her. He says she is just like me, which is patently untrue because I was a docile, compliant, overachieving child. I never sassed my parents and if I talked in church, my mother would poke my head with her pointed fingernail. I kept my sassiness to myself. And it doesn't count if you don't say it out loud, does it? If your sarcasm and bitchiness is contained only in a thought bubble floating over your head, you are innocent, aren't you?

(In seventh grade, at the beginning of a school year, I raised my hand in my homeroom class and challenged the teacher: "Why do we have to go over every single answer?" I was bored, bored, bored. The teacher sent me straight to the principal's office for being such a rebellious troublemaker and the principal gave me a little lecture and I never raised my hand in class again. Good job, public school teachers! Way to handle the very bright girl who was bored with worksheets!)

My daughter is sweet. She adores babies and helps me in many ways--some helpful and some not. (Helpful--getting a diaper and the wipes from a diaper bag. Not helpful--"washing" dishes, leaving a puddle in the kitchen floor.) She seems to be very smart and knows the sounds of lots of her ABCs and has a sharp memory. I hope this trend continues because, so help me, if I have another Reluctant Student, I may resign.)

I went to Target tonight in search of activated charcoal, but they didn't have it. (Pet store, here I come.) I need the charcoal for a science project. Anyway, when I returned at 10:00 p.m., as I was unloading the trunk while holding my keys, I accidentally pushed the panic button.

My car blared: HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK! Nothing like announcing to the (quiet) neighborhood that I'm home. I'm unobtrusive like that.


Anonymous Simply Coll said...

Ah..three year olds.. they have developed just enough of "self" to think they know everything. Gotta luv them.

Beautiful photo of your daughter.

8:23 AM  
Blogger Cris said...

Mel, there is much of you in your daughter by looking at the two photos. She sounds like a precious little girl. Thank you for sharing her with us.
Three is ...three :)

10:23 AM  
Blogger Chelsea said...

I love your quiet shy retiring way of coming home.

I want to say more here but I'm not sure what so I'll just tell you that I really enjoy reading your posts.

6:43 PM  
Blogger Krisco said...

I found you via a long, internet ramble. But glad I made it here! I too turned 40 this year, which still seems like a shock to me. (I mean, you see it coming - how can it still be a shock? But it was...) I'm home with two little ones also. Not four, and not home schooling - but nonetheless I could relate. Thanks! Be back soon.

6:47 PM  
Blogger Christi said...

My son does the exact same thing! It's really starting to push my buttons. Nothing I have done to get him to stop has even put a dent in it. I realize he's two, and that's what's to be expected, but I really hate that my son thinks he can tell me what to do. You're lucky in at least your daughter tells herself she's wrong!

7:49 PM  

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