all images © Meghan Boyer Photography
Showing posts with label lillian. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lillian. Show all posts

Tuesday, May 22, 2012

Shut Up...and Other Things That Grandparents Think

In case it wasn't clear up until now, Lillian is a princess.  She is currently in the Princess Protection Program.  Or so she says.  I've not quite figured out if her brothers are the protection or the ones to be protected from.  Most people assume the latter.  To the untrained eye, Lillian appears to be incapable of finding trouble.  Needing protection from her ornery brothers.  She's the oldest.  The over achiever.  Sensitive.  Determined. A leader.  She can pee standing up. Well behaved.  Mommy's helper.  A good listener.  The rule follower.  A fabulous friend to run errands with.   She's also the instigator, antagonizing the boys.  Convincing them to do things they would never have thought up on their own.  Like getting naked and  pooping in the secret hideout at the dog park.   Or flooding the bathroom for swim practice.   Sometimes I think the Princess Protection Program should be about protecting everyone else from the princess.  Today she invited me to sit downstairs with her while I worked on the computer.  When I got downstairs she informed me that my screen was in the way of her cartoon viewing.  "And actually, when I asked you to come down, I wanted you to sit over there." She told me as she points to a chair on the other side of the room.  Thanks for the invite sweet cheeks.

I'm pretty sure this is the one where Princess is convincing Grady to jump over the ledge.  At this point he's chewing on his fingernails and thinking, I probably shouldn't listen to Princess.


The princess also never shuts up  enjoys communicating through the spoken word.  Barely coming up for air.  Lillian can talk the ear off a grandparent.  How many grandparents do you know that have to hang up on their grandchild because they just can't take it any more?  I know four sets.  And they all belong to us. They've tried to commit themselves to an assisted living facility just so they can blame the staff for taking away phone privileges.  There is one set of lucky grandparents who still have children living in the home.  They get to pass the phone off to some other sucker.   Just because you passed, doesn't mean your turn is over though.  Lillian will just ask to speak to you again, once the sucker she is currently speaking to tries to get rid of her.  You must hang up.  Or feign bad reception or have a heart attack.  Something, anything.  To get off the damn phone with Suzy Says It All.  And then Suzy says some more.


One day we stopped by a friend's house.  She was babysitting a neighbor's two year old.  Lillian asked me why the child was so quiet.  I explained to her that in most families there are children who are normal quiet.  Really.  It's true.  "I'm not."  She told me.  Like I never would have known.

When we're in the van, Grady pretends he's sleeping when he's had enough.  But Lil persists.  Grade, Grady, Grade, blah, blah, blah, blah.  Grady, Grade, blah, blah?  Blah, blah. BLAH.  GRADY.  GRADE.  BLAH, BLAH.  BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH.  I look in my rear view mirror.  Grady's eyes are starting to roll back into his head.  His tongue is hanging out the side of his mouth.  Drool is dribbling.  This.kid.is.brilliant.  She moves on to Dempsey.  He's still too dumb to know any better.  He blubbers back incoherent responses.  Then he's had enough too.  And just starts screeching.  It's at this point that I drive straight to the assisted living facility.  And drop off the kids.  Nice try Grandma.

Please protect us from the Princess.  Send beer ear plugs.



Protective Services


Officer 1

 
Officer 2

Waiting to catch the phone




Friday, March 23, 2012

Forget About the Kids...Stand Up For the Daffodils

So there are lots of things I could feel bad about.  Forgetting to feed the kids dinner.  Losing one in the front yard.  Never remembering the blasted sunscreen...it is only March.  Throwing the ball to Finn 199 times instead of 200.  Telling people I'm not thier mother...just the babysitter.  But no...I don't really feel bad about these things.  I feel bad for the daffodils.  Every spring they are totally screwed.  And every spring I feel their pain.  These sweet, innocent flowers, popping up to make everyone happy.  A reminder that spring is here.  They emerge into unmulched beds, full of weeds.  Because no one has even considered the feelings of the daffodils. You suck daffodils...you are not worth our time.  We are united and standing up as a nation.  We will not mulch are beds until we've witnessed your demise.  Because let's face it,  the daffodils are dead and gone before anyone even thinks of making that first schlep to Home Depot.

We made our first schlep to Home Depot on Wednesday, the second offical day of spring.  Me and the triple threat.  While I know I will regret saying this in a few years, being trapped in the car with Lillian is like having a full sippy cup thrown at your head over and over and over again.  This is her one sided conversation.

Mom Bennett is allergic to peanut butter mom so he can't have peanut butter and jelly sandwiches mom he's allergic mom like when you sneeze from flowers and trees mom he can have jelly sandwiches mom but not peanut butter mom  I can have peanut butter sandwiches mom because I'm not allergic to anything mom what happens mom if i'm allergic to something mom and we don't know it mom are peanut butter and jelly sandwiches good for you mom how come peanut butter is good for you mom peanut butter is brown mom and I don't like the color brown mom how come peanut butter is good for you mom and I don't even like the color brown mom jelly is not good for you mom but pink is my favorite color mom and jelly is pink mom so how come jelly is not good for you mom if it's my favorite color mom mom mom mom mom mom mom

I was sort of afraid she wasn't breathing but eh, I was thinking about the daffodils.

I got my mulch.  I am standing up for the daffodils this year.  I am sick and tired of them being treated so poorly.  I have mulched and weeded, and I am proud to admit it.  Twenty seven bags of mulch later...my daffodils are dead.  Screw you daffodils.

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