My girls? They are all prepared to live in the wilderness.
They figure they will be able to find a cave somewhere, because in adventure stories? There is always a cave. That or an abandoned boxcar . . . either way, they figure shelter is easy to find.
They will drink rain water.
And they will eat pine needles.
Apparently, Maj learned at her camp at few weeks ago that pine needles are a delicious and nutritious wilderness snack. So she and Kallan have been nibbling on the pine trees wherever we go.
All I know?
Is that their breath has never been fresher.
This is a good thing, because if there is to be a lot of screaming in my face? I would like it to be fresh and piney-scented.
We took the girls out bike-riding yesterday. The girls rode their bikes. Mark and I walked.
By the way, if you even for a second imagined Mark and me all helmeted and dressed in tight-fitting biking clothes to join our girls on this adventure? Then you have not been paying attention. Because . . . not even.
Anyway, Mark and I are walking and the girls have disappeared ahead of us on their bicycles. For a few lovely moments there is silence. I hold Mark’s hand, and realize as I do that we don’t get to hold hands that often. There is always a girl in between.
And then there is the far-off sound of screaming. The screaming approaches us. Because it belongs to us. Duh.
And then there is a girl between us.
Screaming. All piney fresh.
Sigh.
It is Maj, and she is furious and outraged and covered in dirt and sticks.
“Kallan hurled me into the bushes! I could have been killed! She crashed into me and then she just hurled me into the bushes and the prickers!”
I have this mental image of Kallan all Incredible Hulkish, lifting Maj above her head and tossing her into the brambles. And I fight back giggles.
“She hurled you?”
“Yes, Mother! She hurled me! I am probably covered in poison ivy and poison oak and you don’t even care! She is horrible! Punish her!”
That is another thing that Maj learned at camp . . . the world is covered with poison ivy and poison oak that look just like regular ivy and regular oak. Maj has to be on constant guard against evil plant life disguised as friendly flora.
I stoop to brush off the worst of the dirt and plant-life that is clinging to Maj, and Mark asks, “So you just left your bicycle back there on the path? Why didn’t you pick it up and ride back to tell on your sister?”
Maj turns to him and speaks slowly, as though he is perhaps a small and stupid child, “I LEFT MY BIKE BECAUSE KALLAN HURLED ME INTO THE POISON IVY. I COULD HAVE BEEN KILLED. WHY ARE YOU WORRIED ABOUT THE BIKE?”
We walk together to where the tragedy occurred. Kallan does not ride back to meet us, and is in fact riding in lazy innocent circles when we arrive. She waves at us as she makes another loop, “Hi! Just so you know? Maj fell.”
Maj’s bike is lying in the thick weeds and blackberries that line the path. Both of its wheels’ spokes are choked with vegetation, suggesting a fair amount of speed when she left the road. The whole area around the bike is trampled down, and if I was able to read the emotion of the scene? I would say there is much rage here.
Maj gestures angrily, “Do you see? She could have killed me! I am probably covered in poison. She tried to poison me!”
“Maj, there is no poison here. You fell and you are dirty, but you are not poisoned.”
“She could have poisoned me. I could have fallen into a pit of poison ivy and been killed!”
“Yes, she could have thrown you into a pit of metal spikes, too. But she did not. You are going to live, unpoisoned.”
Mark helps Maj clear the bike’s wheels of green, and I head over to talk to Kallan, who is still making lazy innocent loops with her bicycle.
“Kallan?”
She stops in front of me, as adorable as she can be, “Yes?”
“You want to tell me what happened here?”
“It’s a small path, Mom. It’s skinny.”
“Go on.”
“There’s not much room for passing.”
“Uh huh . . .”
“So I was trying to pass her, but her bike is bigger and it goes faster, so I was trying to race past her.”
“So far so good.”
“And then she was calling me a baby. She called me a baby on a baby bike.”
“Mmmm hmmm.”
“And so I passed her and then she fell.”
“Seems like maybe you skipped something there.”
“Maybe I called her shortie.”
“Something else.”
“Maybe I called her midget on a clown bike.”
“Something else.”
Kallan looks at me, “OK, I pushed her over. But she was all slowed down to name-call at that moment, so she only crashed a little. But then she got all dramatic and crazy and stomped around dragging her bicycle in the weeds screaming about poison.”
“OK, so apologize, and then you will be walking your bike for a while.”
“Oh, man! Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
And then Maj rides ahead, all pride-injured and stiff.
And Kallan walks with us. In between.
There is always a girl in between.
So Kallan’s punishment is short-lived. We send her on her way, and ahead of us? We can hear Maj’s screams of incredulity that her sister is riding again so soon after trying to poison her.
We walk and hold hands.
It is lovely.
And our breath? Piney fresh.
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P.S. Guess what? I am the guest blogger today for a series entitled Maternally Insane Week, over at Babe Chilla’s blog. Check it out! And comment . . . because you love me!
You know you do.
Dang – now I have to go home and chew on pine needles. LOL
Lucky pine needles look nothing like poison ivy or oak.
They are actually quite tasty. Choose the high branches though, as the lower ones?
Are sometimes covered with dog pee.
Maj learned that at camp as well.
Ok the fact that you linked up the Hulk TV series puts your ass firmly on the succession list
Bill Bixby and Lou Ferrigno, all the fucking way.
I will figure out where you live. I will find you and whisk you away. Consider this your only warning.
I am here in Lake Oswego, all whiskable.
See you soon!
Bratchild and I learned at camp that tapping your hands together will keep stinging flying insects away.
Maj has not shared that with us, but that would be a good skill to know.
The girls and I? We are mosquito magnets.
I feel like I was probably Kallan, when I was a child. That kid leaves me laughing – always.
I know! As I typed her words . . .
“Hi! Just so you know? Maj fell.”
I could not stop giggling.
She cracks me up.
Will you let the girls play hide-and-seek with sharp blades in the closet like Tiffany did?
“Hi! Just so you know? Maj cut her head off.”
Poor Tiffany and her missing finger tip. Just so long as she doesn’t give me the finger… I’ll keep the kicking to a minimum.
~~LOL~~
And you win the award for best words strung together in a comment for this . . .
“Hi! Just so you know? Maj cut her head off.”
So funny.
I am not allergic to poison oak/ivy. Which was awesome when my older sister would be covered in it and itching like mad. It was good revenge for all the mean things she had done to me lol! She so much as looks at it and she is covered. Me and Rob hold hands all the time, but we only have one kid, and he can’t walk or talk yet lol.
Immunity to poison oak and poison ivy would be an awesome sister superpower!
I am so glad both of my girls are allergic to both of those plants, because each of them would so love to guide the other into the poison without having to worry about getting a rash. Snort.
Holding hands is lovely.
You have wonderful daughters! That Kallan is a hoot! And the guest post…priceless. Thank you for all the uncontrolable giggles today.
I love uncontrollable giggling!
And I agree . . . Kallan is way hooty.
Double dose of you today. I may explode from the excitement. Your stories show me what I have to look forward with a daughter. I should probably be frightened.
Mostly it is fabulous!
It is better if you spend the time with your daughter in denial of the scariness that is to come.
Because there is not much you can do to prepare.
On the upside? There is all kinds of giggling.
If you ever run out of the pine air fresheners in your car…I suppose you could hang one of your children.
BTW, does Maj EVER get tired? The dramatics would make me tired.
Maj does get tired. And she reads endless books, and so spends large chunks of her day in silence.
Those times are not as fun to share.
They are lovely, but not as hilarious.
Seriously? Pine needles are OK to munch? Like chew on or actually consume, because that’s some pretty hardcore fiber there. Maybe they’re ahead of the game, maybe a new gum flavor? I don’t know why I keep thinking of Pine Sol cleaner. Nothing about pine trees makes me think of being clean. I remember pine trees being all drippy with sap that gets on your hands or on the car if you park under a tree. Yuck.
I’m tired today. Seriously dragging ass. The crappy dog (truth to be seen in a minute) is potty trained. He sleeps indoors and shakes in the middle of the night if he has to go out- his tags make a jingling sound to wake me up. He’s trained me well by now over the years to wake up and sleep walk downstairs to let he in/out. All was well until last night… well, he just sprinted down the stairs- no jingle, no stretching… just a like a greyhound after a rabbit. I thought, well shit, I’ll be right down… apparently he had a bad case of the explosive shits. Ugh! I thought baby poo was bad… somehow he even managed to get some on the walls at the base of the stairs… and by the china cabinet… and by the diningroom table… and about 2′ up on the wall. WTF?! There I am at 2am cleaning liquid poo with paper towels and carpet cleaner in my hand. I get back to bed a little past 3am. Damn it. New dog name- shit head. Fuckin’ Shit Head, it has a better ring to it.
Mostly? The girls spit them out after they have extracted all of the goodness. Mark and I tried a couple yesterday, at the girls’ urging, and they taste? Like Pine-Sol. Fresh, though.
I have a dog story to share as well! Not as hideous as yours, though.
Last night, I am watching Real Housewives of New Jersey (not as good as the NY ladies, but still, fun). The smaller bad dog is sleeping on the couch beside me. He gets up and stares at me, which I am supposed to understand means that I need to take him out to pee. OK, so I know he has to pee, but there are just 10 minutes left of this show, and the dog can wait 10 minutes, right? So I hold him by the collar next to me as I watch the end of my show.
So the dog? Pees on the couch next to me.
I am so not fucking kidding. And this dog? He is completely house-broken. He was just annoyed and vengeful.
At least your dog was sick. Mine is just evil.
Did Kallan teach the dog the ways of pee revenge?
I know, right? I didn’t post about the stupid peeing dog today, because no one would believe I hadn’t made it up to match Kallan’s story.
Stupid fucking dog.
So you have Stupid Fucking Dog and Pussy for dogs? Maybe we can have a doggie playdate one day. It’ll either be real shitty or all fucked up with names like those.
Or both. I am guessing both.
You came to mind early this morning Kris… Very quickly, our Jack is getting old, and apparently senile. Instead of waiting for us to let him out this morning, he pooed all over our bedroom floor, while Derek was in the shower. I got up to wake up the kids, and noticed… quickly cleaned it up, before Derek got out… and then, once dressed, I noticed almost too late, the one piece of poo which landed inside my clog! Was so glad I noticed before I stuck my sock-less foot in! That one I made Derek clean, and Clorox wipe for me!! Could have been a bad day, but luckily, all turned out well!
Poor Jack.
I hate when the doggies get older.
Although I am glad you did not suffer my poo-footed fate.
But still . . . give Jack a hug for me.
Sigh.
Ah, memories.
My brother tried to push me in a dryer once. Or it’s possible that I tried to push HIM into the dryer. I’m a little fuzzy on the pusher/pushee arrangements in this memory.
There was definitely a dryer.
But I do not recall attempting to poison each other, with poison, liquid, ivy, oak or otherwise.
Although my brother did have to have his stomach pumped as a child about four times for drinking things that were actually poisonous.
But I was nowhere near him at the time.
I have an alibi. I’m sure I do. I mean, I was six…I’m sure I was occupied elsewhere.
Every time.
What the hell was wrong with your brother that he was drinking poison all the time?
Four times? Seriously? And you had nothing to do with it?
Hmmmm.
No..it wasn’t me!
It was…umm…Professor Pumpernickel…in the…uhh…Pool House with the…er…Perfume bottle!
See? Totally wasn’t me.
Except there was that time he drank actual perfume.
Still wasn’t me.
He drank perfume? How old was he when he stopped drinking poison?
That’s crazy!
I followed you over from Ian’s page and I’m so glad I did. That is by far the greatest story ever. I think I would’ve reacted much like you so it’s reassuring to see that sarcasm and parenting can go hand in hand when dealing with children. I find that it helps them to understand that their situations are as tragic as they make them to be. But then again I think back to my childhood days and I must say I was much like Maj. Maybe still am :)
At my house?
Sarcasm and parenting go hand in hand.
Hand in fucking hand.
Mark laughingly showed me some serious research the other day that stated sarcasm ruins children.
Mine are doomed, then.
This reminds me of the time I accidentally shot my sister with an arrow when we were kids, and when my mother came into the backyard to see what all the screaming and terror was about, I calmly explained that she had somehow managed to shoot herself, because duh! Girls!
Oh my God, I just all of a sudden realized: Sophie totally gets the insanity from me!
Now I must weep.
One time?
Kallan bit Maj hard enough to draw blood. Her explanation? That Maj has appeared before her as a slice of pizza, and she could not resist.
Kallan was 4 at the time.
Weeping is cleansing and cathartic.
I love your children.
I am also just a little afraid of them.
As you should be.
They are at times terrifying.
No one would have believed me, if I’d tried to pin it on my brother, since I can fall off a bike standing still. Next to it.
And in ten years of hard core Girl Scouting, no one ever told me I could chew pine needles. I know how to lash and tie my food too high for it to be eaten by bears, and I can teach two dozen Scouts to call bats out of the sky at twilight, but pine needles! Pine needles!
Also? I am so allergic to poison ivy, oak & sumac that I got itchy just reading your post.
Gotta g. I need a cortizone injection.
Although this time, Maj was actually shoved . . . she is the sort of girl who can stand next to her bicycle and have it suddenly leap at her and tackle her to the ground.
She is all kinds of accident-prone.
On my way over, this post just wasn’t enough today. Bring on the madness, something I can relate to!
One order of madness, coming up!
What no biker shorts and sporty bra? Thanks for the laugh. I’m now going to go chew on pine needles.
Snort. Biker shorts. Snort.