I am going to skip all of the awesome parenting details that led up to this moment, but my final words to Kallan as she headed out to the bus-stop this morning were as follows . . .
“YOU ARE DRIVING ME INSANE. THAT’S IT! IT WAS JUST GOING TO BE EARLY BEDTIME, BUT I AM SICK OF THIS ATTITUDE. WHEN YOU GET HOME FROM SCHOOL TODAY, YOU CAN JUST GO TO YOUR ROOM AND NEVER COME OUT. SO THERE!”
“Noooooooooo!”
And then I may have shoved her out of the house, “Have a nice day at school!”
Sigh.
Just generally, I have found that moments in which I scream SO THERE! are not my most shining mothering moments.
So when Kallan walked in the house this afternoon, we had a little talk about controlling our emotions.
Both of us.
And then we agreed on a compromise . . . Kallan had to help clean the house as punishment for the morning’s screaming rudeness, but she did not have to go to bed early.
Which is how I come to be sitting at my desk as Kallan vacuums around me, singing and dancing a happy song of slavery.
Imagine her as a combination of Little Orphan Annie and Pink.
The sun will come out tomorrow
And then that boy will call me
Because I will be acting like . . . THAT!
Which will be much better
Than my behavior of this mooooorrrrrrnnnninnngg!
Which was unacceptable.
Apparently.
The sun will come out tomorrow
I will maybe be a stupid girl
Mom dreams that I will behave like . . . THAT!
But I will be flipping my blond hair back
Plus pushing up my boobs like . . . that!
As I vacuum up the room like . . . that!
Cause maybe someone’s mom is a stupid girl.
Wait . . . what?
I get up to follow her into the other room and inquire as to those last lyrics, but she sees me and runs through the house to beat me back to my chair. She flings herself into the chair and spins as she sings . . .
I will love my mother tomorrow
Bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow
She’ll be great!
Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love you tomorrow!
Where oh where have all the smart people gone?
Where oh where could they be?
Oh look, I am so lucky!
They all live here with . . . ME!
Jazz hands!
She smiles up at me, “Hi, Mom! I am just so happy to be making a contribution to this house by cleaning and vacuuming. We all need to pull our weight, Mom. When one of us screams and behaves selfishly, it impacts everyone else in the house. I’m glad that my behavior has consequences, because how else will I learn the error of my ways?”
She spins the chair again and bats her eyes at me as she twirls, “Can you feel the obedience, Mom? I am full of it.”
“Indeed you are, babe.”
“What?”
“Never mind. Did you finish vacuuming?”
“Not quite.”
“OK, I have to go to the bathroom. Finish vacuuming.”
“OK, sweetest Mom.”
So then I am in the bathroom, sitting on the toilet, but I do not hear the sounds of vacuuming.
Instead there is Kallan, serenading me from just outside the door. A harder edgier punkier song this time . . . think Sex Pistols meet Duck Sauce . . . screamed at the top of her voice in as low and manly a tone as she can manage.
MOTHER!
PLEASE FORGIVE ME!
FORGIVE ME!
FOR ALL I’VE DONE!
MOTHER!
FORGIVE ME!
I AM SORRY!
YOU MUST FORGIVE ME!
I AM YOUR SON!
OooOooOooOOOOOOoooOooooOoooOooOooOooOoo
Barbra Streisand
OooOooOooOOOOOOoooOooooOoooOooOooOooOoo
Barbra Streisand
I . . . cannot . . . even . . . breathe.
“Oh my god, Kallan. Stop singing!”
She continues in a conversational tone, “I have discovered for myself that it is difficult to poo when I am giggling. Are you having trouble, Mom?”
Gasping . . . for . . . breath . . . unable . . . to . . . poo.
Kallan giggles, “Also, just so you know . . . I am aware that I am not your son. But as I started the song, I couldn’t figure out how to work the word water into the lyrics.”
I am dying, “What?”
“Water rhymes with daughter, Mom. Come on, keep up.”
I wipe tears from my eyes, “Babe, I am trying to go to the bathroom. Go turn the vacuum on.”
I hear her run away, and I hear the sound of the vacuum starting up. And then Kallan is back, “There.”
I try to collect myself and speak calmly, “I meant to turn the vacuum on and use it, Kallan. Vacuum the room.”
“Ohhhhhh. I thought you just needed some calming white-poo noise.”
Dead.
So much giggling.
Kallan is all helpful from the other side of the door, “You will never go poo with all this giggling, Mother. Perhaps if I sing a song for you, you will relax.”
People?
You’re lucky I made it out of the bathroom.
That girl kills me.
OooOooOooOOOOOOoooOooooOoooOooOooOooOoo
Barbra Streisand
Dead.
Teary giggles!
“Pushing up my boobs like … THAT!”
BAHAHAHA!
OooOooOooOooOooOooOooOoo
Barbra Streisand
I would not have been able to poo either.
Hee hee!
Kallan is a comedic genius.
She so is.
She drives me insane.
But she is the funniest person I know.
So much giggling.
Also?
I abso-fucking-lutely love and adore Pink.
She is awesome!
Agreed.
All of her music.
I just love it all.
While I was fighting insomnia last night? I came up with this:
{Imagine me singing}
Doing the firstie strut like . . . THAT!
Flipping my brown hair back.
I might be shaking my booty like . . . THAT!
Doing the firstie strut!
YEAH!
*jazz hands*
Hee hee!
Yes, I need sleep. Badly.
I love you, fellow insomniac.
You are insane and sleep-deprived.
Nap-time.
Seriously.
Hee hee!
You know.. I’ve never tried to poo while giggling, but I imagine it would be quite difficult. Thanks for figuring that out for me.
I got your back, babe.
Oh wait.
Ewwww.
Oh My Lord.
I want to live a day in your house! And not even the whole day…either before or after school would give me enough experiences to cause spontaneous laughter for WEEKS!!
…Cause maybe someone’s mom is a stupid girl.
Wait . . . what?
OooOooOooOooOooOooOooOoo
Barbra Streisand
BWAHAHAHAHAHA!
*snort*
Sam -
This morning was not that giggly, but then later there was extra laughter.
So much giggling.
Kallan just kills me . . . she is so annoying . . . and so awesomely funny.
A good mix.
Hee hee!
Funny can take you places. (If annoying doesn’t get you thrown off the bus…. ;-) )
OooOooOooOooOooOooOooOoo
Barbra Streisand
Sorry. I’m going to wake up with that in my head in the morning… *sigh*
It is so catchy.
The girls were in the car the other day, squabbling about something or other.
This song came on the radio, and the fight was forgotten in an instant.
They sang the whole song together, filled with sister joy.
And then when the song was done, they went back to arguing.
Duh.
Non-giggly mornings, UGH! Which make moments like these even more awesome.
Kallan is all THAT!
So, so funny, yay!
Yes, Kallan is indeed all that.
She is my bouncy, laughing, forgiving girl.
She is always ready to move onto giggling.
So, so funny.
And so lovely.
Yay!
I think my favorite line (until we got to the white poo noise) was, “I am full of it.” Oh, so much giggling at your house.
So much giggling.
YAY!
I have memories of catchy funny songs. My brother mostly wrote them. I think Weird Al stole a lot of them. And there were definite moments where fighting stopped so we could all sing to something. There is a memory of my mom looking at us like we were all crazy.
Kallan’s songs are very interesting. I notice the words can change so quickly. So as not to get in trouble.
And I’m glad you figured out that, um, giggling issue for us. Otherwise I might have had to test it and I don’t have a Kallan in my house. You see the difficulties?
Yeah, I thought so.
Snort.
Oh, I remember Weird Al! He’s still around, isn’t he? My brother used to love that guy and all of his songs.
As for Kallan’s songs . . . she is a genius at mixing the lyrics and switching back and forth and generally stopping just short of getting into huge trouble.
Generally.
Sometimes, she can’t help herself.
Snort!
Grinning from ear to ear.
If only Ethan could learn to be as funny as Kallan he would SO be able to scam himself out of a LOT of punishments. Not that he is not funny, but Kallan? Gets the prize, by a long shot.
Love you and your girls.
Since I have no daughters? I SO want Kallan as my daughter-in-law. (I believe I have mentioned this before, my desire to bring back the institution of arranged marriage. And you can see how handsome he is in my Wordless Wednesday post this week.)
Varda -
Kallan gets away with waaaaaay more than she should, because she is just so awesomely gifted at making me laugh.
I am all weak when I am laughing.
Do NOT give your son Kallan’s phone number.
You would regret it anyway.
The girl is a texting fiend, and lately?
Slightly boy-crazy.
Shhhh.
I am doomed.
I am going to use white poo noise. Everyone will look at me like I am mad.
I have to tell you I think I may have a little Kallan growing up inside my house.
Honestly, there is no real downside to having everyone look at you as though you are mad.
At all.
It is awesome!
I really don’t mind it all. I like when people stare. I just look at them, say “What?”
And watch as they shake their head and wander uncomfortably away as I giggle uncontrollably.
Exactly!
What?
Hee hee!
Oh my gosh, when I read the title I was concerned that you’d OD’d on Chinese duck sauce and had some serious bowel movement issue involving white colored stools. I have one son and
no daughters and I’d forgotten what it’s like to live with quick witted hormonal teenage girls. It’s been 35 years since I lived with my sis. WOW! So much fun. Lucky woman…
Yes . . . lucky.
Ahem.
Kallan drives me insane.
She also makes me giggle.
So we’re good.
Yay!
Be prepared to thank me for some amazingly profound analysis, because that is what I’m going to give you, OK?
Remember your deep existential angst of several days ago? Your fans tried to love you out of it, but you got all Krissy and prickly about it, so you have to turn elsewhere for solace.
Here it is: why even try to find any meaning in life (it’s all absurd) and try to accomplish anything when those two girls from Remulak or wherever they come from (I just checked, and there are no 9 & 11 yr. olds within 3.56 miles of my house who act faintly like them!) offer an alternative reality that should, if you fully indulge your inner pre-teen and relate purely on their level, leave you fully convulsed in uproarious laughter 24/7 and with a bleeding tongue (OK, maybe some poo backup as well). You can meld lyrics from Pink and “I Won’t Grow Up,” throw glitter in the air, and leave it for the girls to clean up.
I accept Blue Cross/Blue Shield and most major medical plans, and there is no charge for this initial consultation.
PS: I am the birthday boy, so you have to do what I tell you to do.
Thank you, David.
Thanks very much for that.
And Happy Birthday!
Make a good wish, babe.
Me
It’s gonna be hard to fit the pony I wished for into the garage! (but I got an iPad for consolation!).
An iPad?
That’s a pretty awesome gift.
I do like ponies, though.
Maybe next year!
BWAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAA!ohmygawdohmygawdphmygawdBWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Aside from the smart crack that was good! Very creative and snarky all at the same time.
M
Kallan takes after someone.
Creative and snarky.
Hmmmm.
Stupid Mark and his bad genes.
What?
Hee hee hee!!
I know thy name, Denial and the river named after you…
I have sailed that river without a paddle so very often…
M
Hush, you.
I am treading water just fine.
Kris, thank you for having hysterical children and always offering much needed comic relief. Kallan is too funny…and I have those same mornings.
Olivia is all sullen and full of eye rolls in the back of the car. We pull up to school, I open the door, and say, “Have a great day.” She says, “No, it will be awful.” Exhausted from a morning of arguing I just say, “Fine. Have a horrible day. See you after school.” Insulted she says, “Mother! How dare you!” GET OUT OF THE CAR, KID! WE’RE HOLDING UP THE LINE! “Have whatever kind of day you want to have. Now go!”
She is 6 and lower to the ground than I…I make her dust base boards. Isn’t motherhood fun?
Maggie -
I have had those exact conversations with my daughters!
Fine! Have a horrible day! See you after school!
Really, Mother? That’s how you want me to start the day?
GET OUT OF THE CAR!
Ahem.
I already can’t stand the fact that I’ll get mad at CJ for doing something truly naughty (shoving his sister’s clothing into the diaper genie, playing in the dog water, hitting his sister with a drumstick, seemingly drawing a drumstick from thin air, throwing *whatever* across the room) only to break down in giggles, sighs, and frustrated tears when he does something like hide his head to play peek-a-boo.
How do they learn at such an early age that they can wrap us around their little fingers . . . and that doing so means that they’ll be able to push our buttons so much easier?
John -
I know. I KNOW!
Kallan has me wrapped around her finger.
And she knows all of my buttons.
Except for the few secret ones only Maj knows how to push.
I AM GOING TO BE LUCKY TO SURVIVE THE NEXT FEW YEARS.
Ack.
At least there will be giggling.
Sigh.
Funny stuff.
If I started listing all my favorite lines, I would have recreated your whole blog entry.
You and your girls are h-i-l-a-r-i-o-u-s!
So I gotta ask … where was Maj while all this was going on?
I imagine she had some pithy remarks about how you handled the situation with Kallan.
Hmmm?
You are so smart!
Maj was off with Mark buying a skateboard (I KNOW! News of broken bones to follow.)
No way she would have let Kallan do all of this singing without comment.
No way.
That punk-like song reminds me of The Police…”Mother” ;)
I can’t poo now either.
Hee hee!
Kallan’s music is an anti-diarhetic!
Ewwww.