Category: Ruthie

Just a little slice of life…

girl has sass

“A fool thinks mischief is fun, but a mindful person relishes wisdom.” Proverbs 10:23.

I quote this verse constantly to Ruthie because she gets a total high off pushing people’s buttons. I often catch her smirking… SMIRKING… as she’s, oh I don’t know… kicking my chair over and over at breakfast, let’s say.

This morning as she smirkingly pushed buttons I was all, “Seriously? SERIOUSLY?” and told her to go write down three specific ways she could honor her mom today.

So far she has two, but can’t think of another one.

LOL – Oh, the joys of parenting.

Just a coupla turkeys. I mean kitty cats.

another kitty cat joined us for dinner! Kitty Cat joined us for dinner

The creative mischief never ends at our house, and it seems I have two children destined for tattoos in their future. Some might prefer I be more concerned about this, but I just can’t seem to get worked up over a little ink.

It washes off. Usually.

Our Thanksgiving weekend was thankfully free of horror stories. I just heard one that involved three different drama-filled family gatherings & an unmedicated schizophrenic cousin. So yeah. We were drama free and appropriately medicated.

We ate a lot, slept a lot, adventured a lot, and watched tv a lot, and we did it all together, and WE LIKED IT.

That last point is directed at me, who typically feels a tad DONE with the kids after too much togetherness. But even I, selfish grouch that I am, enjoyed four days of family bliss.

bowing before the porcelain throne

bowing before the porcelain throne

Ruthie became dehydrated twice this week as a result of the heat – and despite my constant nagging about drinking water. As she hovered over the toilet, I held back her hair and stroked her back as she heaved.

I’m not sure how I knew she was dehydrated, as opposed to actually having a stomach virus. Short of a hangover or two, it’s not like I’ve been around anyone before who was dehydrated enough to feel nauseous. But sure enough, after she hovered over the toilet for awhile, I finally gave her a tall glass of water to drink and a puke bucket to lay next to her, and sent her off to bed.

The next morning she was fine.

Someday when my kids are out on their own, I picture them dropping in on each other to share a beer and some banter from time to time. And despite how weird this may sound, I kind of imagine their relationship to be a lot like Dexter and his sister, Debra – she was always barging in on him, and giving him a hard time, and taking swigs straight from the juice carton, and bringing up memories of their dad.

Despite the fact he was a serial killer and she didn’t know it, they seemed close and I liked their sibling vibe.

Aaaaanyway…

I can imagine Ruthie barging into Thomas’ refrigerator and pilfering a beer, then flopping on the couch. As she strokes her aching head with the cold, sweaty bottle I imagine the memory coming to her.

“Hey Thomas,” she’ll say. “Remember how Mom always used to yell at us to drink more water?”

“Yeah,” he’ll say. “That was her answer for everything.”

Pause.

“She was crazy.”

summer weariness

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Isn’t she beautiful?

I’m really struggling with this little girl right now. She is a challenge, and every day is a series of battles over things as minuscule as Please Put Your Shoes on the Shoe Rack (because apparently that’s the most unfair thing I could ask of her).

And I’m tired.

I’m tired of holding my ground, of being manipulated, of staying on my toes, of the mental challenge, of the broken record, of being late to everything because I have to spend fifteen minutes debriefing a blow-up over not having just the right dress to wear (or whatEVer).

I know not every parent is going to relate to me when I say this, but just ONCE I’d like a simple request (like, “it’s time to set the table for dinner,” for instance) to be met with, “okay mom!” But it’s not. I get drama, I get stomping, I get the The Unfairness of It All speech almost every single time.

I’m the first to admit I don’t do everything right – I lack patience and compassion, I rage, I’m controlling, I throw around a few expletives my children like to repeat in front of three-year-olds and grandmas – but I don’t let her get away with this stuff, and I think that’s why I’m so tired: I’m battle-weary.

Today I actually asked her, “Would you rather I just let you do whatever you wanted?”

“No,” she said quietly.

I thought that was a breakthru conversation, even if I did have it THREE TIMES with her today. Did I mention I lack patience? I don’t like to have the same conversation THREE TIMES in one day.

Which brings up another point, which I don’t have time to get into now. But I’m working through an essay about God’s patience toward those desert-wandering Israelites that’s cracking into some dark spaces and making me feel very tender right now, so stay tuned.

car talk

Thomas: What are we doing here again?

Me: I’m picking up the canopies our friends borrowed.

Thomas: I WANNA SEE THE PEAS!

Me: The peas?

Thomas: Yeah, I wanna see the can of peas!

—

Ruthie: Mom, is the chicken we eat the same as the REAL chicken that goes BAWK BAWK?

Me: Yup.

Ruthie: So we cook the chicken that is alive?

Me: Yes, but it’s not alive WHILE we’re cooking it.

Ruthie: [silence]

Me: How does that make you feel?

Ruthie [smiling]: Good. I like chicken!

Express Thyself

note to zoe
We’re marching into the home stretch: Ruthie’s last week of kindergarten.

I remember driving through town within the first few weeks of school last fall and hearing this from the back seat:

“SSSS….. TUH… OPP… ST..OP…STOP! HEY THAT SIGN SAYS STOP!”

Bryan and I looked at each other in wide-eyed amazement that in just a few short weeks she’d learned to sound out a word. This entire year has been filled with wide-eyed amazement. One night at a friend’s house she picked up a globe and declared with confidence and animation, “MOM, THIS is the equator, and the closer you get to the equator the hotter it gets! Oh, and this is Antarctica.”

There have been similar outbursts at random moments, such as the time she declared “TRANSPORTATION IS HOW YOU GET FROM HERE TO THERE,” as we sat in traffic. And then there was the walk we took to the grocery store when she picked up trash along the way because, “WE HAVE TO TAKE CARE OF THE PLANET OR THE TREES WILL DIIIIIIEEEEEEE….”

She’s a quick learner, taking it all in and applying it in context. Though when I ask her daily what she learned in school, she will always tell me, “Nuthin’.” I find that to be the most frustrating thing of all, that I can’t be part of the sponge experience of soaking it all up.

I’m learning the best I can do is pull myself away from the multi-tasking to be in the moment with her, because that’s when she’s most open to expressing herself.

blood draw

Ruthie, post blood draw

My little girl had a blood draw yesterday, and she was very brave. The lab technicians gave her a princess frisbee as they set her up, and asked her to name all the princesses.

She hadn’t even made it past Belle by the time the vial was full, and it was so quick there wasn’t even time to shed a tear.

They were awesome, and she was a rock star.

This is why I don’t homeschool.

Me: So Ruthie, your homework tonight is to write three words in the “air” family.

Ruthie: CHAIR!

Me: Awesome. What’s another one?

Ruthie: STAIR!

Me: Yup. One more!

Ruthie: PAIR!

Me: Close! I know it sounds the same, but that’s actually spelled P-E-A-R.

Ruthie: [blank stair stare]

Me: Um, yeah. Actually, PAIR is right. Good job.

right before she fell

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To clarify, the fall came as she was arguing with me about quitting her task. When she’s got her wits about her, she’s a very careful kid. I’ve never had to worry about her on play equipment or anything – she’s always had a steady foot.

But on this particular occasion she whined about quitting her task, and I insisted she finish the job she started. She screamed at me and tried to quickly get down (read: run away in mid air), and ended up bouncing off a few drawers on her way down.

She managed to bruise only her ego, and I had the opportunity to explain why things don’t always go well for her.