Not in my job description!

I didn't realize, when I took on the role of Mommy that there would be so many things in my job description that I didn't expect.

Sure I've swabbed poopy behinds, and more puke than I care to recount. Sure I've dealt with squabbling and screamers, but I expected that.

The latest one that has me flummoxed... Sea monkeys. Every kid growing up who has ever seen a comic book has seen the ad in the back for sea monkeys. You didn't have red blood in your veins if you didn't want your own tiny tank of sea monkeys. My sister in law got some serious "cool aunt" points for getting the girls sea monkeys for Christmas.

We've successfully raised them. We've even successfully bred them and there are baby sea monkeys swimming around now. Of course with this duration of success, the tank was getting a little gross, so I dumped in some fresh water, but how to get rid of the goop on the bottom? I thought back to my days of having an aquarium and remembered the vacuume sucky thing that cleaned out the bottom and came upon the idea of using a miniature version thereof, to wit, a straw. I thought I could just delicately suck sea monkey poop up into the straw a couple of inches and then blow it out into the sink.

It was a good plan.

I sucked too hard and wound up with sea monkey poop IN MY MOUTH!

I have now found the limits to my dedication to my children. Their sea monkeys can drown in their own poop, but I'm not cleaning that thing again.

I want HER kind of handicap!

Annabelle is amazing. Sure, she's "handicapped" but on some level or other, who isn't? Her's just has a lable, Down Syndrome. Interestingly enough, you give her a playground, or a room full of people, she'll pick the people every time. She'll high five that guy, then give this dude a hug, then climb into that woman's lap, and giggle with the little girl over there. And heaven help you if there's music, she won't stop dancing even when the music stops. The great thing about it is she doesn't realize that "that guy" is actually a jerk, or that "this dude" is a wife beater, or that "that woman" is a manipulative bitch. She doesn't see the subtexts that make people dislike each other. She's just happy and wants everyone to join her in it.

If that's a handicap, I want it.

Lost tooth

Angelina lost her second upper incisor this morning, courtesy of Annabelle, who kicked it out.

Angelina asked what the tooth fairy's name is.

I told her I didn't know. She was shocked. "I thought grown ups knew everything."

At least she's only seven. When she's 14, I just hope she thinks I know anything!

History Lesson

So this morning I was telling the girls some stories about history. The topic was "resistance behaviors." This is the behavior engaged in by slaves, prisoners, and conscripted soldiers to sabotage the mission of the oppressor. I went on with examples. Breaking machines needed to do their work, bodily fluids in foods, and such like.

Lexie left the room.

I told Ina that I was telling them about resistance behaviors because I had discovered someone engaging in resistance behavior AGAINST HER. You should have seen her face. Complete shock. I told her she should imagine what I saw the other day. A naked blonde four year old bouncing up and down all over her bed with a grin from ear to ear. This wouldn't be a big deal except for the hundreds of times Ina's made a HUGE fuss about how she doesn't want "Lexie butt germs" on her bed.

Lexie had no intention of being discovered by me (I just gave her a hairy eyeball and tried not to laugh out loud), she had no intention of boasting about it to Ina. (Bounce, bounce, grin.) She was just deriving calm quiet satisfaction of getting back at Ina without Ina even knowing it. (Bounce, bounce -- hey, I should make sure to hit the pillow -- grin.) She would never have bothered even doing it if it weren't for Ina's hystrionics about it.

Ina actually thought it was pretty funny and proposed that she pee on Lexie's pillow.

I showed her by pushing our hands together, that either person can decide to give up causing the pressure on our hands. Either I, the oppressor, could stop oppressing, or she, the resister could stop. So if she STOPPED CARING about "Lexie butt germs" then maybe Lexie would have no reason to bounce naked, grinning like a canary eating cat on her bed.

Heaven help me if they start perceiving ME as the one to be resisted!!!!!!!!!!!!!!