Mrs. Sippi

Emma asked me yesterday if she could google "7-8 year boys whose last name is Sippi." She wanted to find one to marry so that she can be "Mrs. Sippi." Just say it out loud, you'll get her drift...

Tonight I asked Audrey for a kiss. She sweetly grabbed my chin, looked in my eyes, and said, "No thanks."

Dates that Don't Count....Part 234

Lately I've been complaining about how Nathan gets to go on lots of yummy power lunches while I'm at home eating Power Bars. So tonight he "treated" me to dinner at the Walmart deli counter.

Images I never want to forget - part deux

Yesterday in primary Ry was chosen to come up front and play the rhythm sticks during the chorus of a primary song. He stood there quietly holding the sticks, so darling in his button-down shirt and corduroy pants, with his belt wrapped around twice to keep them up. And then when the chorus of the song came, he unleashed the beast! He banged those rhythm sticks so furiously that every teacher in the room giggled. I never want to forget him up there with his face as red as his hair as he beat those sticks to a pulp, to the chorus of "Follow the Prophet."

"I'm also available for weddings and bar mitzvahs..."

So the other day I heard insane noises coming from outside. (Oh - and I also heard every dog in a 1-mile radius barking and howling.) I finally discovered Ry on my master deck putting on a concert for the neighborhood. He'd dragged Emma's karaoke machine out there, got himself up on a chair (not the safest thing he's ever done, but not the most dangerous either) and was doing witch cackles, etc. with the microphone on full blast and maximum echo. And yes, he was in his pajamas.

Mini Me

I think Emma has officially become more like me than I am like myself. Uh, whatever. What I mean is that she does a lot of stuff to me that I remember doing to my mom. Her newest thing is writing me notes. (I know I wrote you some doozies. Sorry, Mom.) Here are a couple of her recent ones, original spelling and all:


"I burlie can breath and my lieft eye hurts and my nose. Emma."


"Dear Mom. I'm glad your my mom. I sorry abuot all the mishif I made and all the fighting and all the mad stuff and the thing I did today. Love, Emma."

I had to include this photo because it shows another habit Emma and I share - wearing our sister's clothes. She organized this photo shoot of herself, wearing Audrey's dress as a shirt. I wasn't too thrilled about my 7-year-old borrowing clothes from her sister who is not yet 2, but I gotta give her props for at least making sure she had "sleeves."

One morning recently Ry Ry had the garage door clicker and closed the door on my car as I was backing out. I heard the door crash on my car roof and yelled at him to stop and give me the opener NOW! He thought he was in big trouble and began to whimper, as I angrily assessed the damage to my car. Then I peeked in my rearview mirror and saw him buckled in his carseat. There was my darling five year old – red hair, freckles, his spiderman outfit sticking out from under his elastic-waist jeans…. And I crumbled.

I pulled him into my arms for a love.

When I asked him why he had the clicker, he told me it was because he didn’t want his blanky to get stuck inside the house. Then we discussed all the ways we could get his blanky out of the house, even if it was locked and the garage door was shut. His five-year-old logic was so tender. I should have guessed it was about his blanky. This is the boy who doesn’t let me wash it without him giving it a kiss and a hug.
I am not tooting my own motherhood horn, but I am so glad I was able to see through the frustration to realize what was really going on, when he shut the garage door on my car. Just a sweet little boy who wanted to make sure he could get back to his blanky

Oh please be a visit from the chocolate fairy

Today I walked into Audrey's room and found all over her and her crib what could only be melted hershey bar or a diaper disaster. Since I was pretty sure I hadn't put her to bed with a Hershey bar, I prayed it had been a visit from the chocolate fairy. Of course, no such luck. Hello Hazmat!