Naked Barbies

As of late, Charlotte, only 4 years in age, has quite interesting explanations of circumstance.  For instance, at the twins Basketball game earlier this week, she sat contently on the gym floor playing Barbies.  Three Barbies sat, disrobed, not a stitch of clothes to be found on their bodies, in the shoebox that Charlotte had used as a carrying case.

My brother Paul, visibly worried about the  buck nekid play ladies said, "Oh Gosh honey, why don't they have any clothes on?"

She answered, "Oh Uncle Paul,  they are relaxing in the hot tub."  Obviously, right?

Just yesterday, I handed her a glass of milk, after she had asked politely, and her reply?  "Gee Mom, thanks.  You're a lifesaver."

Daily.  I get this on the daily.

She has also started confessing her wrong doings without hesitation.  Usually, the reconciliation starts with, "Mom, I need to show you something, but you're not going to like it."

See, this is the part as a parent, where you take a big breath, and keep your cool.  I mean, she could have colored with washable crayon on the wall. (fixable)  OR she could have created a life sized scale model landscape, using permanent markers. (errrr)

I have learned to initially stay calm, and then after seeing the destruction, reprimand accordingly.  I mean, if Charlie is coming to me to confess, I want to keep that train coming back to the station, without completely freaking out on her.  

Which, by the way, is NOT parental instinct.  Parental instinct is yell, become infuriated, lose your marbles.  All this count to ten, and get your Zen on as a parent...yeah, okay.  I get it in theory.  I really do.  Just haven't mastered that one yet.

Her latest confession came just last week.  As Charlotte sat in the tub playing with her nakey Barbies,  I sat on the toilet, peeing across from her, she practically shouted at me, "MOM, I finally know why I have so much snot it my nose,"  She was obviously having a revelation.  She continued, "It's because I pick my nose and eat it."  Ewww...gross, right?

But I lost it.  I was cracking up,  Where's the recovery from that?  Charlotte, observing my reaction, sternly said, "MOM...SERIOUSLY,"  like get your shit together woman.  Can't you see I'm having a moment with you?

All these kids are so different, it never seems to trip me out.  I called Isabella on my way home from work, on a game day, trying to pump her up "Are you ready to be aggressive?  To rebound?  Crash the boards and box out?"

She answered, with a yawn, "Not really feeling angry today, Mom."

"Okay honey.  Kill them with happiness.  Give out hugs during the game," I responded.

Well, it only took the 175 pound Samoan Center from the other team, one attempt to try to take the ball away from Bella, and all of a sudden, she became aggressive.  As this massive Center manhandled my 115 pound Poopsie, Bella's arms and legs splayed out like a giraffe, and yet, she wouldn't let go of the ball.  Battered and bruised, flailing around like a seal in a shark's mouth, Bella held on, and refused to let go of the ball.  My first thought, NICELY done Poopsie.  My second thought, we're going to need to submerge you in an ice bath tonight to bring down the swelling in your entire body.

Abby, never needing convincing to be aggressive, recently was asked to play with the Varsity team, along with four other JV players, for an upcoming tournament.  She is a Freshman.  This is a big deal.  I told her how proud I was of her, and her response was, "I don't know if I'll survive Mom.  Varsity practices are like totally hard core."  I assured her she was strong enough, mentally and physically.

When I asked Bella how she felt about Abby being asked to play for Varsity, her reply was completely unfiltered,  "Great opportunity for her, but she is not going to be able to move after practice.  Sucker."  Aw, sweet sisterly love.

I feel proud of the girls for different reasons: of Cosette for being a genuinely authentic human being, who actually cares about others.  Not a day passes, when she doesn't ask, "How was your day, Mom?"  And she asks because she really wants to know.  Not because she is making polite conversation.  She is nine.

I feel proud of Emma for being self-motivated enough to bring home all A's.  And just for clarification, that is ALL her, not me.  That is Emma.  Emma will strive to be the best in everything she does, because quite simply put, it is what floats her boat.  But like Cosette, she craves authentic relationships, and has fallen in with a really sweet group of girls at school.  I mean, it is the kind of group that does a bake sale on a Saturday afternoon, so they can raise money to buy a goat for a family in another country.  True story.  I'm convinced that one day these same girls will also be part of Congress, or be the first female President, or start some amazing non profit organization, or find a cure for Cancer.  "Don't believe me? Just watch!" (Bruno Mars)

I ran into another Mom that I have know since our kids were in Kindergarten together at Booksin, and we were both still wrapping our heads around the fact that we have High School Freshmen.  And suddenly, it dawned on me, and I said, "It feels like, I only have 3 more years left with the twins...and then they'll be gone," and the tears came, out of nowhere, they tumbled down my cheeks onto the sidewalk,  and I fell silent.

Sometimes, being a Mom, hits you just like that.  An emotional sledgehammer.  And gently, I am reminded, yet once again, how incredibly lucky I am to have these awesome young women in my life. And to pay attention to all of their different gifts, and struggles.

 And to remember, that even permanent marker can be covered with a fresh coat of paint.