The (old) Mama

The Kidling just walked in the door with her father. She didn’t see me, so I walked over to say hello.

        “Oh, you surprised me!” she exclaimed. She stopped, cocking her head and studying my face. Moments passed, then finally, “You look old!”

I laughed. The Dada laughed. She continued,

“Well, in those glasses, you look old.”

I laughed again. The Dada laughed harder. She went on. Again.

“You look like Carol. An old Carol.”

At this point, The Dada was struggling with his effort to contain his mirth. The Kidling ran from the room, heading toward the bathroom. She came to a sudden halt around the corner, then turned around and screeched back into the kitchen.

“At least you look like Nana. An old Nana.”


And as much as I love her beautiful, kind, and wise Nana Carol (though occasionally I am less fond of her mocking offspring, The Dada), I do believe I will be returning to my regular specs. This 30-something mother doesn’t need to look like anyone’s grandmother.

Also? The Kidling is a total shit.

Just like her father.


The Kidling had the good fortune to spend the better part of two weeks with two different sets of grandparents. Yes, she is the luckiest Kidling in the world. No, she was not happy to be home. The fact that she hopped out of the car upon arriving home to find a stack of her artwork in the recycle bin did not ease her re-entry.

Unfortunately, at the top of the stack of recycled masterpieces was a wocket-less pocket. The Mama, being the horrible human being that I am, tore off the feathered head of the wocket before tossing the remainder-pocket and headless wocket- into the stack.

The Kidling was understandably heartbroken. Fits and tears ensued. I held her and talked with her about how we can’t keep everything, blahblahblah. The recycling creates more paper for her to use for her art, blahblahblah. There are more trees in the world when we recycle, blahblahblah.

She wasn’t buying it.

Alice: (crying) Why are there so many noes? Why is it always ‘no’?

The Mama: (calmly) Alice-

Alice: (wails) Why is it always ‘no’? Why, from parents, is the answer always ‘no’?

The Mama: (more calmly) Alice, it isn’t always ‘no’. Mom and Dad say yes to you-

Alice: (interrupts, again. wailing, again.) Why, from parents, is the answer almost always ‘no’? Why is the answer almost always ‘no’? (continues into perpetuity. Seriously. I am pretty sure she is still talking about it, and this was 10 days ago)

I need to learn to cover my tracks.

greetings from Nanaland (or Papaville, as the case may be)

First of all, apologies. My lack of kidling-isms this week is due to my lack of The Kidling. She has spent the past few days in Nanaland, a place with sunshine, flowers, dessert, extra bedtime stories, field trips, constant attention, and puppies.

Fine, there’s really only one puppy. Whatever.

Alas, just when I was starting to seriously lament the lack of silliness in my life, I chatted with The Nana on the phone. She relayed a few stories that are classic Alice. The first was at dinner time. Alice was starving and cleared her plate of tilapia, fresh green beans, cottage cheese, and who knows what else. Apparently we don’t feed her enough at home. The Nana commented on her appetite, assuming that The Kidling must have just been delighted with the offerings. Nope.

Regarding those fresh green beans, Alice told The Nana, “I thought they were yucky, but sometimes I eat yucky things because I know they’re good for me.” 

That’s my girl.

Now, The Papa and The Nana have had The Kidling for several nights, so you can bet there is another story where that one came from. As you know, dear readers, The Kidling is working on becoming a reader herself. She sounds out everything (yes, everything) and loves to talk about letters and sounds. As they all discussed phonics, Alice told her grandparents, “I say ‘sink,’ but I don’t mean like in water. I mean I use my brain. … It’s hard to make that sound without my front tooth!”

Indeed it is. And guess what? We get my toothless, sinking, health food eater back tonight. Whew!

no more fun


The Kidling is a lucky little munchkin in more ways than I can count. Most importantly, she is safe, her basic needs are all tended to, and she is loved.

By safe, I mean followed around and hovered over. A bit.

By basic needs, I really mean “and then some.” A little bit because we work hard, but mostly because we are fortunate and the world has been kind. Don’t go getting any crazy ideas. She doesn’t have her own iPad or anything, but when she needs new shoes, she gets them. And they’ll probably be cute.

And by loved, I mean worshipped (hence this blog’s name).

You know what puts the lucky-Kidling-o-meter over the top? Alice adores horses, and Grandma and Grandpa have three. Notice I didn’t say we have horses. That would require an acreage we cannot afford, tack we have nowhere to store, farriers I know nothing about (as evidenced by the fact that I spelled it with an “e” before autocorrect saved me), and far more time than we have to ensure they have adequate care and attention.

No, having horses at Grandma and Grandpa’s is the best case scenario for The Kidling. Not unlike a niece or nephew, we get to have all the fun and hand them back when the diaper gets dirty…

But with much messier accidents.

So dear darling child had a fantastically good time yesterday with Grandma and Grandpa’s equine friends. Too much fun, it turns out, because at bedtime she declared, “I will only go to sleep if I can ride a horse right now!”

That settles it: no fun for you.