my two girls and the five senses

It’s been awhile since I’ve participated in San Diego Momma’s PROMTuesday, so since I am once again, in bed, in the dark, lying next to my sick baby girl, I will take a few minutes (not more than 10…that is the rule) to write about today’s topic:

Write a character sketch of someone you love (child, partner, pet, mentor, etc.). Detail this person, let us see him or her through your description. Maybe you want to “show” your loved one through action and movement, or perhaps you are viewing him or her in repose. Either way, get down to brass tacks and give us the one you love through your writing.

Lily & Lexi — my dears, my dolls, my doves, my delights , my dy-no-mites —

The color of sunshine

Music to my ears

Soft to the touch, exquisite, finer than china

The smell of rain: pure, clean, fresh, beautiful, joyful




generation gap

SC 1 – INT. PEDIATRICIAN’S OFFICE LOBBY – DAY: Mama Mary sits with her two darling daughters, Lily and Lexi, patiently waiting to be seen.

CUT TO: Young triscuit-muffin nurse walking out into lobby.

Friendly Nurse: Lexi Godwin.

Mama Mary: Oh, that’s us.

Friendly Nurse: (Addressing Lily, the Toddler) Oh hi sweetheart.

Mama Mary: Inner Monologue – Oh, we have a nice nurse today.

Friendly Nurse: You’re a cutie.

Mama Mary: Inner Monologue – Bright and perceptive as well.

Friendly Nurse: And I love your shirt, it’s adorable.

Mama Mary: Inner Monologue – LOVE this nurse!

Friendly Nurse: Are those roller blades?

Mama Mary: Inner Monologue – Oh sweet, sweet youthful nurse.  They’re roller skates, dumbsh*t darling.  As in Olivia Newton-John in Xanadu and every tween girl circa 1980.   Though you are hot and skinny and in the prime of your life, I’m sorry that you will never know the joy of leg warmers and sweaty-palmed couple skates at Aquarius Roller Rink.


Mama Mary: Yes, they are.  Isn’t that cute?


a mother nose best

If a universal handbook on parenting existed, my latest disciplinary debacle would most certainly not have made it to print.  Or maybe it would have, in the “what not to do” insert.

Ever since Lexi was born, the words “gentle” and “careful” cross my lips at least 525,600 times a day.  I absolutely love the way Lily dotes on her baby sister, but occasionally she is simply too rough.  I am constantly saying, “Lily, get off your sister please. Lily, don’t push your sister. Lily, no feet in the baby’s face.” Alas, my commands are not heeded, my pleading to no avail.

So, the other day, while sitting in the car in the parking lot of REI, Lily SHOVED her bare feet, both of them, into Lexi’s little innocent, can’t fight back, baby face.

Camel’s back, meet final straw…

In that nanosecond, a brilliant idea came to me…how about I teach her the life lesson of “Do unto others…”? You might think, a nanosecond is not enough time to process all that information and make a rational decision.  And if you thought that, you would have been right.  But I went ahead with my brilliant plan…I lifted my monstrous size 10 foot up and over Lexi’s car seat and went to stretch it out towards Lily’s face.  My intention was just to dangle it in her “personal face space” for a moment to give her a glimpse of how it feels to have a foot in her face. Well, at the same moment I had forward momentum with my foot, she leaned in and there was…contact.  My foot, ever-so-swiftly, grazed her face.

It wouldn’t have been so bad, had my nappy toe nail that hasn’t seen the inside of a salon in weeks, not scraped her cute little nose.

“Ouch, mommy, you cut me.”


I’m pretty sure, the lady in the car next to me, wrote down my liscense plate number and immediately ratted me out to CPS.    › Edit Post — WordPress

It’s teal, not blue

To the casual observer, I probably seem to be unphased by the daily “oh, what a handsome little dude” compliments paid to my 8 month old little GIRL, who is typically dressed in some shade of pink.   But to be honest, with you and more importantly to myself, it bugs the crap out of me.  In the rational part of my brain, .01% of it, I know that baby girls tend to look like little boys.  But with the rest of my barely functioning, pea-sized brain, I think, if you are not 100% certain of the baby’s sex, then either a) ASK or b) use a general address like “how old is your baby.”   That avoids all awkwardness, like me having to say, “Actually, she’s a girl,” as I not so discreetly gesture to her pink outit and/or accessories and do a weird thing with my eyes.

Today Lexi was wearing a TEAL onesie with a floral design and melon colored pants and I got the “Hi Little Buddy, you’re so handsome.”  Inner Monologue, “Oh for gawd’s sake, it’s TEAL lady, not blue!”  But I was cordial and simply corrected her with a smile and a fake laugh.

In the grand scheme of things, these cases of mistaken identity are really no big deal.  But the drama queen in me finds it an easy target for some good ol’ fashioned whining.  Okay, so maybe she has a weird boylike hairline, but seriously, what if she develops a complex?

Okay there, I’m done.


i don’t like gogs, Mommy

So, I have a parenting dilemma…

I’m afraid…of a lot of sh*t.  I’m afraid of heights, confined spaces, big dogs, creepy crawlies, free-falling roller coasters and unicorns, just to name a few.   I’ve learned how to live with these fears, but I really don’t want my children to learn these fears from me.  So, herein lies my dilemma…how do I keep from passing on my many fears to my daughters if I’m too afraid to teach them how to not be afraid?  But to that point, I wonder, is fearfulness a trait that is learned or rather is it inherent in a personality from birth?

Ever since Lily was born she has been afraid of things, even before I had a chance to teach her one way or another, so I do think some of it is genetic.  Things like loud noises and hmmm…dogs scare the crap out of her, and they have since Day 1.

It’s an interesting predicament I find myself in, when the things that scare her, also scare me.  I want to be the strong, invincible mommy, but sometimes I am having a freak-out of my own.

Case in point #1 – The other day, while at my brother-in-law Greg’s house, their GIGANTIC German Shepherd was let into the house while Lily and I were alone in the livingroom.  He ran ran through the room and the poor girl was terrified.  And I must admit, I don’t blame her.  I am scared sh*tless of this dog.


So, although I tried to calm her by saying, “Don’t worry Lily, he won’t hurt you,” I was actually freaking the f out too.

I know I inherited some of my fear of dogs from my mom who won’t come within 10 feet of a dog.  And I am also fearful because one of my younger nieces was bit twice by a dog on her lip and is scarred for life.  Nevertheless, I really shouldn’t be so petrified of my own family’s trained, lovable dog.

“I don’t like gogs, Mommy,”  she said, the next day over her mac n’cheese and tomato lunch.  Inner Monologue  “I don’t blame you, honey.”  Whatever I did end up saying, probably didn’t comfort her much because I have a feeling she can see right through my facade.

Case in point #2 – Last week at PlayWerx, an indoor jungle gym activity center for kids,


Lily went into the climbing apparatus and somehow made it all the way to the top.  When she screamed “MOMMY!’ from the tippy top I knew I would have to go in after her.  I left Lexi on the ground playing with another mommy/baby team and headed into the miniature, seemingly harmless labyrinth.  As soon as I hit the first tunnel, in which I had to crawl on my hands and knees up to the next level, I felt a rush of claustrophobia sweep over me.  My vision blurred and my breathing became shallow and fast.  Inner Monolgue – “Are you kidding me that I have to crawl through this thing right now? Breath Mary, breath.”  Once I reached the top I was fine and my anxiety attack passed.  But I thought to myself…no wonder Lily is afraid.  She’s got a chicken sh*t for a mother!

So, all you parentals out there who are kind enough to read my blog, any advice for this cowardly lioness?  I really don’t want my girls to be afraid of the simple things in life, like: thier friend’s pets, swinging upside down on the monkey bars, walking the balance beam, the hair in their 8th grade science teacher’s ears (like our beloved Mr. Boiko – RIP), science fair projects, or speaking in front of the class (yes, even though I love the stage I am terrified to speak in public).  I guess I need to tackle some of my fears first before I can be a decent role-model.  Or maybe I just send Daddy to the jungle gym next time…

mirror, mirror

This apple did not fall far…clearly.

Did you catch the last glance back at camera?

A nearly perfect day

Today’s historic event has left me hopeful and invigorated, yet at the same time a little melancholy, as I wish my Dad was alive to have experienced it with me.  Although I am quite certain he would not have voted for President Obama, or been a big fan, I still wonder what he would have thought about this day.    I think he would have had something very profound to say about him, supportive and kind.  And he would have been proud of our country’s collective unity.  Pissed off about an inevitable tax increase, but nevertheless proud.

He was always the person I went to for information regarding politics or history.  He was incredibly knowledgeable.  Beyond, beyond.  Growing up, his diatribes on political issues and historical events bored me to tears.  Now, I shed tears because I desperately miss those diatribes I once disdained.  Oh, just to hear his booming voice make a smart ass remark about CHANGE…nothing would make me happier.

Today, watching the inauguration, with my girls and husband, I was filled with pride and joy.   I dressed the girls and myself in red, white and blue to commemorate this day (no, we do not wear matching outfits to theme parks).  My parents both taught me the importance of patriotism.  Today I felt it like never before.  My heart was a tight knot in my throat, butterflies did sommersaults in my tummy and the hairs on my arms stood on end as I prayed with the rest of the nation for our new illuminous leader.  I held Lily in my arms, with our hands over our hearts and sang the national anthem through my tears.  “Mommy’s happy tears, Lily.”  It was a day I will never forget.  It was nearly perfect.  I just missed my Dad.