Three is a Magic Number

Full of ordealy goodness

Back to square one. Boo and I arrived at the piercing shop and she was already nervous. She got increasingly nervous as I filled out the paperwork and we waited to be called back. I asked if both of her ears could be done at the same time and was told no, because "all of our piercers are a little bit different and we can't guarantee that both holes would be the same." Okay, seriously? You bill yourselves as the most professional, most certified shop in Big City, and you don't think two of your staff could make matching holes? Should I be concerned? Does one guy like to pierce at a 45 degree angle or something? Seriously, how could you possibly screw this up? 

Anyway, we went into the back room with Piercing Boy, whose tattoos and piercings were a little intimidating to Boo. She wanted me to go first, so I did, and it turned out my holes have not grown together; they just had a layer of skin that needed to be punctured. So I've been wearing earrings for a week now with no itching or irritation - yay! Looks like titanium is the answer. Then it was Boo's turn. She stood in the corner and said she was scared. I said I know you're scared, but it will only hurt a tiny bit and not for very long. Piercing Boy pointed out that he would not do it unless she wanted it. As if I had dragged her in, kicking and screaming. I kept trying to convince her. She was getting a little teary-eyed but she finally agreed to get up on the table. I recognized this as a huge leap for her. Unfortunately, Piercing Boy did not, and he chose this time to say "I'm not comfortable doing this." I asked if she could have a female piercer (this was an issue for her) and he said no, no one would do it today, but maybe we could come back tomorrow. Yeah, cause it's going to be way different tomorrow (sigh). 

So, I got a big chunk of my money back and probably got put on the Association of Professional Piercer's list of Bad, Pushy Parents. I guess we're going to Claire's after all. On the bright side, I have pretty sparkly earrings. Squeeeeee!

 

Smells like grade school spirit

The year is 2003. J is getting a bass speaker installed in his truck. The installer tests it with the disc currently in the CD player. J's CD holder is full of Van Halen, Police, Beatles, etc. But the disc in the player happens to be Boo's. The guy says "Wheels on the Bus" really sounds good with that extra kick of bass.

It’s too bad this didn't happen a few years later, as Boo's favorites now include Fuel, Green Day, Foo Fighters, and Slipknot. Yesterday in the car she asked me “Can you play CD 5, track 3?” Do you know what that is? It’s Nirvana, that’s what. (Yes, she's six years old.)

(Note to self: Download censored version of “American Idiot” to listen to when Boo is in the car. Quickly turning down the volume only piques her curiosity.)

Anyway, she's been nagging me to find my Boomtown Rats CD ever since she heard "I Don't Like Mondays" on the radio (thanks to my backstabbing friend Sirius). Is it appropriate to let my six-year-old listen to a song about a girl who shot up a schoolyard? Even if it doesn’t describe the actual shooting? But does mention death? If I play this song for her, is she going to end up toting a machine gun to school humming “what reason do you need to die… die… oh oh oh tell me why…”

(Note to self: If you’re not sure you want the kid to listen to a song, don’t say “Oh, I have that CD!” when she hears it on the radio. Duh.)

She does still like the Kim Possible theme song. And the sanitized Kidz Bop versions of “Kids in America” and “Complicated” (though she sings “take off all your crappy clothes” instead of “preppy clothes.”) So there’s still hope.

(Note to self: Listen to more Air America in the car. Al Franken is a better mold for little minds than Kurt Cobain.)

Cruel to be kind

It goes without saying that Boo hates to get a shot. After all, she’s (a) six years old and (b) human. So I did not warn her that yesterday was Flu Shot Day until I actually picked her up 30 minutes early from school.

“Mom, why am I being checked out?”
“Boy, you’ve got a lot of stuff today! Let me help you with that.”
“Mom, why am I being checked out?”
“What are these? Leftover snacks?”
“MO-om!” Why am I being checked out?”
Sigh. “Because you and I are going to go get our flu shots today.”

Let the whimpering begin. This would be easier to take if it were angry or defiant wailing, because that just steels my resolve. But it was heartbroken, frightened whimpering. (And it wasn’t even a total surprise. I’d mentioned to her last week that we were going to get flu shots “soon.” But, like her mother, she has a Scarlett O’Hara-like ability to not think about bad things, assuming that will make them go away – except when she’s obsessively worrying about a fire. So I guess she didn’t really expect it after all.)

The whimpering continued at the Health Department. I hugged her and told her it would only hurt for a second. I showed her how to keep her arm loose during the injection to make it hurt less. I told her about all the shots Daddy had to give me before she was born (We're talking progesterone in oil, kiddo. You don't know how good you've got it.) Finally I had the bright idea of taking some silly pictures of her with the camera phone (what a great invention!) and she was all giggles until they called us back to the nurse’s office.

Luckily it went quickly, and soon we were back in the car.

“Momma, will I get a flu shot every November?”
“Yes, honey.”
“But only in November?”
“Yes.”
“So I can enjoy the rest of the months, and know I won’t have to get a flu shot?”
(Go ahead, break my heart some more) “Yes, honey.”
“Okay. Can we do it on November 16 next year? I don’t think I want to do it on November 15 again.”
“Okay, honey.”

Hopefully she’ll forget that promise. I don’t think I can handle a week of the frightened whimpering. Better to let her live in blissful ignorance until I pick her up early from school again.

Oh, and also?

It's everything I wish I didn't know

Last week was some kind of triple-witching hour for public mourning. We pulled into a McDonald's parking lot (see: mother, bad) last Sunday and she noticed the flag. "Why is that flag so low?"

"Well, when they fly a flag low like that, it's because something sad happened."

"What happened?"

What indeed?

How do you explain terrorism to a 6-year-old? How do you tell her that people halfway across the world are angry at her country and they express their anger by killing innocent people? And that they believe this is justified because none of us are really innocent? That they are willing to die as long as it means they can take some of us with them? (And that one reason they're so willing to die is because they'll have a dozen dead virgins waiting in the afterlife to give them a hero's reward... I'm sorry, but this obsession with deflowering virgins is almost as disturbing as anything else going on over there.) How do you explain hurricanes? And people left to drown just because it was too inconvenient to get them out before the storm hit? How do you explain cancer? How do you explain all these bad things to a 6-year-old without freaking her out? A 6-year-old who is already worried her house is going to burn down and take all her toys with it?

I don’t know why she became obsessed with fire. I try very hard – very, very hard – not to transmit my fears to her (you should have heard how cheerful I was about fleeing a potential tornado this week! Isn’t this exciting! Oooh, look at the pretty lightning!). And fire isn’t one of my fears. It’s one we do talk about, because it’s one she needs to be able to handle on her own (i.e., if it happens in the middle of the night.)

How did we handle it? We said we’d talk about it after lunch, hoping that a playground and a new Tinker Bell Happy Meal toy would distract her from the things she just doesn’t need to know yet. And it did. This time.

"Mom, why does that man like big butts?"

Boo is suddeny paying a lot more attention to the media...

Today, in the car... First, she actually asked me to turn the radio up. Then, "Why did that man say he was a creature before he could stand?"

"I don't know, honey. Sometimes the words to songs don't really make any sense." (That's not mom talk... I really don't have a clue. But I do know that when Nine Inch Nails came on next, I quickly changed the station.)

"Why was Homer talking about drugs?"

"I don't know, honey. I guess he needed some medicine."*

Next I suppose she'll realize the song is called Video Killed the Radio Star, not Video Kid the Radio Store. That will be fun to explain.

And also, I haven't had a chance to watch the Six Feet Under finale yet and I just want to hide under a rock. I soooo don't want the ending spoiled for me. I just clicked on a blog and she was talking about the finale and I went "yaaagh!" and quickly backed out. Now I'm afraid to read anything. This is annoying. But I'm tired and I'm going to bed. Maybe tomorrow. Assuming the new DVR doesn't eat it, that is. Or maybe Boo and I can watch it together. "Mom, why are those two men kissing? And why did that woman call that man an asshole?"

Maybe not.

*Yes, I missed a Valuable Teachable Moment. But you know what? I have strep throat and talking irritates my already pretty damn irritated throat and my ass hurts.** So I'm going to be a bad parent today.

**Because I got a shot. What did you think I meant?

Things said while getting out of the tub

"Mom! Stop reasoning with me! It's not nice and it hurts my feelings!"

(The situation... Boo wanted to get out of the tub without washing her hair because she "really really had to go potty bad," but I refused, and once she and her clean hair finally got out, I pointed out that she didn't seem to be in any big hurry to go potty after all...)

When is three NOT a magic number?

When you have three little girls.

Boo's best friend in the neighborhood (or, as she told me recently, her "very best friend,") is a little girl we'll call Faith. Last month I took Boo to this local kid's gym that has "free play" on Fridays (well, it's not free as in you don’t pay for it, but it's free as in unstructured) because Faith was going. And Faith's friend whom we had never met (let's call her Mary), who also lives in the neighborhood. As usual, there was some clinginess on Boo's part, and not wanting to share Faith. And there was some pouting on Boo's part when Faith and Mary were playing together.  Because when you have three girls, two are always together, and one is left out. Boo was the first one left out, and I had to read a book rather than watching, because it was just too hard. Then Boo and Faith were playing together, and Mary was getting squeezed out, and I reminded Boo that Mary was a very nice little girl from our neighborhood and she should play with her, too. Then Boo and Mary teamed up, and Faith was left out. I don't think (based on my own experience) that Faith is used to being the one left out.  There used to be another little neighbor girl who was closer to Faith - they both had stay-at-home-moms, so they had more time together (and see, isn't it clever how I manage to blame myself for this whole problem, because if I didn't work, I'd be at home arranging playdates and securing best friends), and when they were together it always seemed to be the two of them vying for Faith's attention.

It was weird being on the other side, seeing Boo be the one in favor instead of the one left out. Weird and not comfortable, especially when Faith sadly told me that Boo and Mary wouldn't play with her. I explained that they were playing in a part of the gym that they really liked, and if she went over there, they could all play together. But feelings were already hurt, and I felt like crap when Faith's dad came back and she burst into tears. Then Faith didn't want to give her a goodbye hug, and hearts were broken, and many tears were wept. But the next morning, Faith came over, apologies were made and accepted (completely without prompting on my part, I might add), and Boo was happy that Faith had forgiven her. And she also made a new friend, so that’s a good thing.

Anyway, yesterday all three girls ended up at our house. They got along well for an hour (mostly because I tried to help pick out something they’d all like to do), but all three of them are a little headstrong, so things finally broke down. I hate seeing Boo distance herself from her friends because she wants to play dollhouse and they want to play ponies. I hate it when she says “no one wanted to play with me today.” Part of me knows that it’s because she refused to budge on her choice of activity, and she really needs to learn to be more flexible. But the other part of me is heartbroken.

I just don't know if I can take 13 more years of this girl vs. girl action. And I know it's only going to get worse.