So I told Elle that if she made and brought me a cup of coffee I’d do a tickle fight with her. Yes, I’m *that* mom. Bribe my kid for quality time and memories.

Anyhow, my kid is a doll and quickly agreed. Not only did she bring me coffee, she also brought me a cute note.

Note stated: YOUR THE BEST!

My first response was, “Awwwww, so sweet. I love you.”

My next response was, “Oh honey, let me show you something.”

And the note became a spelling lesson.

You are = You’re

Here’s proof that I’m a horribly critical mom!

Please use a mirror to look at the image. Image also shows that I can’t get my iPhone to send emails and I had to use my MacBook Pro Photo Booth to snap the shot. And Photo Booth apparently only takes photos backwards. My kid DOES NOT write her words backwards. She’s not that talented.

Elle followed my (sporadic) tradition of including a note on a napkin. Today she did this while I wasn’t looking and stuffed it into my lunch bag.

She makes my heart smile. Every damn day. So full of unconditional love.

Here are my thoughts in return: Dear Elle, thanks for teaching me that you can never give enough love, hugs and kisses everyday to the loved ones in your life.

Please notice the SDSU lunch bag…that conveniently fits a six pack of beer inside. I know, I used it for something way less fun. Except that sugar free pudding. That stuff must have crack in it. And the berries are divine too. Off to get my fix.

Elle said, “We were all just talking and hanging out in Dan’s room.”

My jaw dropped. “Elle! You are not supposed to hang out in a boy’s room!”

She was quick to respond, “Mom, don’t worry. It was clean.”

God, I love that kid. She is so very innocent.

I wonder if she’s mine.

I am one lucky fucker. I realize it everyday.

On Christmas morning, Elle always feels bad because she opens about one zillion gifts and I only have a few. I don’t mind. Because I feel blessed. Elle is so cute, she’ll sometimes ask me to help open her gifts so I have something to do besides watch her and smile and drink champagne. Don’t judge, it’s a holiday.

Well this year I decided to buy myself stuff. Frivilous stuff. Here’s what happened to be on my impromptu list:

• a case of sparkling wine – bubbly makes me smile

• two sexy pairs of 4″ pointy toed heels – my favorite shoe style
• a picture frame for my kitchen
• a wine key necklace – a local artist made it
• Botox – I realize this isn’t under the tree
• Other stuff that I wrapped weeks ago and forgot about – I like surprises too
• And whatever else I find between now and tomorrow morning.

So Merry fucking Christmas! I hope you enjoy this time with loved ones and champagne. I know I will.

Last night I was surprised when Elle decided to pull out her journal from a few years back. She’s 10 now, so she would have been 8 years old when she wrote it.

She decided to read something out loud to me.

Elle’s journal entry:

It states:

Last night my mom made the best dinner and she is not a chef at all. She made chicken, carrots, and potatoes. It was like my dad made it and he’s a chef. YUM!

I DON’T BELIEVE IT!

If I *must* cook, it’s rarely good enough for a journal entry. This makes me think Elle exaggerated. By exaggerated, I mean lied.

But I really think this story is a lie because I HATE COOKED CARROTS. I’d never make them as part of a meal.

But this post isn’t meant to be a snowy post.

So rather than share my woes of traveling to work, I wanted to share the cuteness that I left behind.

I swear my 10 year old daughter, Elle, is more maternal with me than my own mother. As I drove her to school she said, “Mom the trick with driving in this weather is to GO SLOW.” She also mentioned, “Stay off your phone when you drive to work in this weather mom.”

I reassured her that I was fine. I wasn’t scared. My car is awesome in the snow. But I will drive slow and stay off my phone.

Her parting words as we kissed goodbye. “I love you. Be safe.”

I love her with more heart than I have. I may the luckiest mom in the world. At least, that’s how I feel.

I called her shortly after seeing her text messages and told her that as long as she believes in Santa, then he is real.

She said she kinda does and kinda doesn’t. And then over dinner she told me she was going to ask Santa for a laptop for Christmas.

Now I need a fucking Santa! Laptops are expensive.

But sometimes, and by sometimes I mean rarely, can I do it using elementary school humor.

This can only be verified by hearing a kid laugh hard. And I mean hard! You know, the guttural hearty laugh that kids can’t fake.

Elle: [brushing her hair] My hair is so knotty.

Me: Then tell it to behave.

Elle: [guttural hearty laugh that kids can't fake]

I want to hear it more often. So please, for my heart to smile, send silly jokes. Otherwise I’ll have to resort to tickling. And Elle will get sick of it really quick.

]]> http://www.offthechest.net/2009/09/27/laughter-makes-my-heart-happy/feed/ 12 http://www.offthechest.net/2009/09/14/what-not-to-wear/ http://www.offthechest.net/2009/09/14/what-not-to-wear/#comments Mon, 14 Sep 2009 16:00:32 +0000 Susan Mercedes http://www.offthechest.net/?p=3772 My kid is amazing. She has a talent of making snap decisions about really tough things. Like which earrings look better. Or which shoes I should wear.

So, like most mornings, I needed her opinion as I was racing out the door for work.

Me: Does this blouse show too much for work?
Elle: No mom. It looks fine.
Me: [kneeling down so my cleavage was at Elle's eye level] Are you sure?
Elle: Yes mom. You look cute.

As a female with a rack, what I see when looking down always looks more revealing than the view from the front.

So we left the house.

Once I got to the office, I caught a glimpse of this shirt in a reflection. Here’s what I saw:

Either my kid was in a rush and wanted to get to school, thought I changed professions or needs glasses.

I’m completely thankful for safety pins. This one saved my career. Or at least, my reputation. (But probably ruined my reputation of having a little style.)

My dinner on  Saturday night:

And while spaghetti may seem elementary, the sauce was made from scratch. Elle, my 10 year old, and I experimented instead doing the usual…popping open a jar of vodka sauce.

It was good. It involved sauteed onions and garlic, Italian seasoning, a can of tomato sauce, tomato paste, cream cheese, beef broth and milk. The last few ingredients were in an attempt to save what we started. And it worked.

Honestly, it sucked at first so we scrambled to find ingredients in the house to use. (Side note: I need to go to the grocery store. We had very few options to throw in.) And by sucked I mean it tasted like Chef Boyardee Spaghetti O’s. Elle was smart enough to be resourceful and read the ingredients in our jarred sauce to think of ideas. Without her, I’d starve get sick of apples and peanut butter.

So don’t go sending me fancy cookbooks. I’m not ready for that step. Plus after eating in so much this weekend, I’m ready to explore the restaurant scene again. Clearly that means, “Watch out Porcupine, here we come!”

Upside: Cooking with Elle was fun. I’d categorized that as some good quality time together.

She wanted to make playdough:

1 part flour
1/2 part water
1/2 part salt

Recipe calls for food coloring, which I conveniently don’t have. Hell I didn’t want a kid with purple stained fingers. Or a purple stained face!

Here’s what she created. The playdough and the faces. Coincidentally, they describe me over the last few days.

Yesterday was crazy. My face kind of looked like this.

But today it’s Friday and I’m starting it out right.

What would your playdough face look like today?

Just to list a few:

• boobs
• shoes
• legs
• arms
• eyes
• socks
• skis
• nostrils
• people in a relationship
• jeans (okay, that’s a stretch, but the term is “pair of jeans” which I’ve never understood)

There’s one thing that isn’t on the list. And it should be!

Kids.

Having an only child has taught me this. Case in point, last night Elle invited her best friend to hang out with us. This occurs so often that this friend is almost like my other kid. It makes it so much easier for me. They entertain each other.

I’m not good at that. For example, I refuse to play with Barbie dolls. I made that rule clear when Elle was 3. Something about making up a story about a bitch who has everything (including a man without a dick) doesn’t work for me.

But best of all, that duo let me sleep in. They woke up early (8:18 AM I was told), had breakfast (at 8:47 AM I heard), played games and started “experiments” in the kitchen. They even made and delivered me coffee in bed (at 9:52 AM).

And I need a jolt from coffee before I go downstairs and face my kitchen.

Elle gave me a friendship bracelet that she made.

I rarely wear green, yellow and pink. And by rarely, I mean never. But I still think it is the cutest thing ever. That kid makes me smile bigger than anything.

We thought it would be fun to measure it out.

1/2 cup Grape Nuts
1/2 cup nonfat milk
fresh strawberries

Elle decided to sweeten hers with honey. I opted for the super bland healthy serving although I was intrigued with Elle’s slightly sweetened recipe.

We ate. We talked. It was cute. 

I finished my entire serving. Elle did not finish hers. As I took our dishes to the sink I was tempted by her leftovers. Remember her cereal was sweetened with honey.

So I did the unthinkable. I dipped my spoon in her dish and took a full size bite.

Elle: Mom, did you just eat a bite of my cereal? 

Me: [nodding while chewing a mouthful] 

Elle: You know I had that bite in my mouth, sucked on it, then spit it back in the bowl, right?

Me: [cereal spewing from my mouth into the sink] Uhm, no. Ewwwww.

I couldn’t decide if it was worse that I ate my daughter’s leftovers off her plate and spit them out or that my daughter sucks her cereal and spits it back in the bowl.

And check out the note:

To Mommy,

HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY!

Have a good and enjoyable day!

Love your daughter, 

Elle

All this was brought up to my room at 10 am. She let me sleep until 10 am! Crap, I can’t believe I slept in until 10 am.

Huge smiles!

Happy Mother’s Day love to all of you. This includes everyone who has every mothered anything (kids, pets, significant others, plants, cars or whatever). Enjoy your day. 

Now I must get out of bed and see what my kitchen looks like. But it was worth every dish I must scrub.