Sountrack of her life

02.18.08

Ode To My Daughter

 

I have a girl child.

She makes me tired.

The end.

 

It is unbelievable how one small being can turn a household upside down upon its right ear.  Who would have ever imagined? Ach, but she’s loud. That’s maybe the number one thing I want you, my readers, to understand throughout the next few paragraphs. My child is boisterous and impish and exceptionally loud all the time. Loud when she’s happy. Loud when she’s unhappy.  The days of peace are… well, I was going to say few and far between, but really, what days of peace? 

 

Here is the soundtrack of my daughter’s life at this moment in time: “Stop climbing on the lamp and get your jacket on, stop waggling that sassy butt at me, because I’ll spank it, I will, I’m not kidding, stop kicking me and let me get your boots on, stop talking to me in that sassy voice, get out of there, leave my things alone, hey, that’s MINE, put the scissors down because we have to go, c’mon, now, get your jacket on, no, leave the scissors alone and get your jacket on, get your boots – no, your jacket, wait… aarrrrrgggghhhhhh!”

 

That’s before we ever leave the house.

 

Then at the grocery store it sounds like this:  “No, we don’t need the little kid cart, last time you nearly broke someone’s ankle with it, I said no little cart, no, no, are you listening to me?  I said no. We’re not buying Kool-aid, we’re never buying Kool-aid, no, we’re not buying it next time and we’re not buying it for next summer, do you know what’s in that stuff? Get over here. Get. Over. Here. Watch out for that cart, don’t get run over, get out of the way, get over here, not those cookies, they cost $6. Yes, apples are fine, pick out some apples, all right, fine, I’ll pick out the apples, what, watermelon?  Ok, yes, you can have watermelon, no, not right this minute, we have to cut it up at home, no you can’t eat the bulk candy, no, I said no, and you didn’t eat the bananas the last time we bought them so we’re not buying any today, we have apples and watermelon, we’re good on fruit… yes, we need an onion, oh for god’s sake, stop screaming, I’m not going to make you eat it, I know you don’t like it but there are other people in this family who eat, you know. Yes, you can pick out the ice cream, yes, you can have one cupcake but you can’t eat it until after dinner. After dinner. No, not before dinner, after dinner.  I don’t care that you haven’t had a snack, you’re not eating a cupcake before dinner. No, you don’t need a candy bar, you have a cupcake, yes, I know you can’t eat the cupcake until after dinner, but you won’t be able to eat a candy bar until after dinner either, no, you can’t have a candy bar, you’re getting a cupcake…aaaarrrrrrgggggghhhhhhh!”

 

 “Get in the truck. Just get in the truck. Wait, there’s a car coming, okay, now get in the truck, don’t yank my ponytail out while I’m buckling your seat belt, I said don’t, when I say don’t what I mean is Do. Not. Do. That. I’m not crabby, you’re driving me crazy, can you stop talking for 5 minutes? Stop talking. Shhhhh. If we play the Quiet Game will you please stop talking? I can’t turn the radio down because you won’t stop talking and I’m losing my mind. What? How do babies get out of their mommies tummies? Oh good lord, I’m not prepared for this. Do we have to talk about this now, because I swearwe were playing the Quiet Game. Well, ok, the doctor helps them out. No, I can’t explain any more than that because it’s kind of involved, involved means it’s a long story. Oh thank god we’re home. No, you can’t have that cupcake until after dinner. No, after dinner.”

 

It continues, but I just can’t.  I’m exhausted from recreating one snippet of one day. Her eyes sparkle with merriment, her quest for knowledge (as well as for her own way) knows no boundaries. She is infused with joy and intensity from morning until night. I love her madly, laugh at her frequently, and most assuredly cannot remember life before her.