"Oh, I'm writing myself a note to put in my lunch, you know, so I have something to look forward to. All the parents write notes to their kids," she pauses, turning towards me, making direct eye contact, making sure I have her full undivided attention.
An awkward silence ensued, followed by me asking sheepishly, "All the parents, except me, huh?"
"It's okay, Mama. Don't worry," she reassured me.
AWESOMEST MOM OF THE YEAR AWARD does not go to MICHELLE WALSH.
Our little Cozy Wozy, has more than a few tricks up her sleeve. She gives you the straight info, no added boring unnecessary details, and bluntly tells you what time it REALLY is...all the while, you listen, trying not to laugh out loud, but get the sense, that truly, Cosette is a spot on observer of this little thing we call, Life.
In fact, just a few weeks ago, a monumental milestone took place for Charlotte: she lost her first tooth!!!
TWSG poignantly pointed out to me, "Oh babe, it's our last first tooth." What kind of husband says nuggets of truth like this?
Tom. Walsh. Super. Genius.
As soon as Charlotte got wind that she would get money-money-MONEY for that loose Chicklet she could not keep her grubby little 4 year old fingers out of her slobbery, wet, mouth.
I'm quite sure those same fingers, had touched at least one toilet seat, the inside of the actual toilet bowl, and/or even what came out of her, while using, the same said toilet.
But there she sat, during the twins Volleyball match, pulling that little grain of rice forward, backward, and side to side.
Until finally, the one little string holding it to her gums snapped, and BOOM, blood trickled down the front of her chin.
She appeared like she had just come victorious from a battle, as she clutched the tooth, and red drool puddled on her dress, saying with a lisp, "I losth a toof, I losth a toof," to anyone who would oblige.
That evening, Cosette explained to Charlotte, as a big sister does, what would happen next: a Tooth Fairy,
Cosette rushed up to me in the kitchen after Charlie was tucked in her bed, "Mom, I want to give her some pixie dust to go with her money," I stood dumbfounded, not sure I was processing correctly what had just spilled out of her mouth.
"Cozy, how do you know how this Tooth Fairy thing works?" I asked, seriously puzzled.
"Mom," she answered in a hushed tone, as to not alert her little sister, who may still be awake, "I always see Emma come into my room, and take the tooth, but pretend I'm asleep," she answered, very matter of factly. "Give ME the money...I'll do it!"
Cue the Oscar music...AND THE BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS IN A DOCUMENTARY goes to COSETTE WALSH!
The other day, as I was rushing out the door for work, the 3 Bigs (code for Abby, Bella, and Emma), sat at the breakfast table, shoulders slouched over their stack of microwaved pancakes, still rubbing the sleep from their eyes. Although it was barely 6:45 AM, I couldn't help but notice, Abby's hair.
It was, well, um, like most of us, at that time of day: not brushed, and more than a little bit wild. However, by the way the bundle of hair was thrown into a rubber band atop her noggin, and the fact that she was dressed in her uniform with her shoes on, it looked as though that tangled mass of bundled hair, was good enough for her to brave the day.
Now, please don't get me wrong. We are not a "picture perfect" family. In fact, if you want to know what NOT to do, just watch us, and proceed with our actions by doing the exact opposite, as your raise your kids.
But, I do believe it is my job as a Mom to teach my girls that part of taking care of yourself includes, but is not limited to the following: making your bed, packing your lunch, brushing your teeth, putting on deodorant, wearing clean underwear, and yes, running a brush through one's hair.
So when I very innocently said, "Abby, honey, you need to brush your hair," she quickly and efficiently delivered 'The Look'.
You Moms of teenage daughters know EXACTLY what I am talking about.
The glare of all glares. The direct eye contact that verbalized so very much, without saying one single word. I do believe she was shooting laser beams at me, as I stood in the front entryway, wishing me dead at that moment.
Me, standing there with my brushed hair.
'The Look' will make even the strongest of Moms, quiver. I still have the PTSD from 'The Look'.
As I stumbled out to the car, recovering much like a bomb had gone off in my face, I thought, maybe my timing could have been better? Perhaps I could have phrased it differently? But the simple truth is this: I was leaving for work, and TWSG wouldn't notice something like that, or if he did, would be too kind to say anything.
So that evening, I broached the topic again, but very carefully. I decided the timing would be okay, like after she had been fully awake for a solid 12 hours, and had been contributing to society, and the like.
But still, I treaded lightly, "Abby, honey, you know that I wasn't referring to your hair, as much as I was taking care of yourself, right?"
Much to my relief, the laser beams, had been replaced with peace signs, and sparkly rainbows (RIGHT MOMS OF TEEN GIRLS?), and she replied simply, "Oh Mama, I know. I just wasn't really awake when you said that."
Whew...another therapy session averted.
When someone invites my entire family over for dinner, I know they really must actually like me. Especially, when this same someone special, had a house warming party, and all the other guests arrived with a nice bottle of wine, while Tom and I rode up on our cruisers, with a Costco sized bottle of Fireball buckled safely into the baby's bike seat.
Classy.
Inititally, when someone asks us to come to dinner as a family, (it's only happened like twice), I am skeptical. I over think it. I wonder WHY would you want SEVEN people up in your SPACE?
I mean, ask yourself this question, "When was the last time you had a couple with 5 kids over to your house to break bread?"
Um, hmm. Right?
My reply went something like this: "You are so kind and brave! I don't want to bore you with details, but this weekend is a little busy."
A little busy is code for: you don't really need to know all the reasons of why tomorrow won't work.
Because you know how you're trying to get a date on the calendar with a group of 6 friends,that works for everyone, but one person, in particular, feels the need to tell everyone else on the group text, how they have a colonoscopy scheduled and it just won't work out? But they will be free after they have the fatty cyst removed from their...yeah, you know, THAT person?
I'm about to be her. Right. Now.
I can't come to dinner tomorrow night because: Abigail has to be up by 5:30 AM, to be at her team mates house to get a ride, to play in an all day volleyball tournament in Belmont, or San Mateo, or some stupid place up north. (I don't even know which city my kid is going to, okay?)
Cosette and Charlie have the Booksin Walk A Thon, where thousands of kids raise millions of dollars, all in the name of fund-raising. (You think I'm kidding, don't you? CHECK IT OUT. I am NOT joking. In fact, once Foxy got word that the WAT raises over $150,000, she plainly said, "I'm not giving them any more money." And I can't say I blame her. A heads up: smart parents pack in a road soda, or seven to survive the day).
Next up, Emma! She has the High School Placement Test tutoring class for the next 5 Saturdays. She is so
Come to think of it, I bet I could pilfer some money from WAT to pay for it. Too bad Foxy isn't here; she could drive our get away car.
But please, promise me something: keep the dinner invitations coming! God as my witness, I will bring the Fireball.
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