Category Archives: Monkey

Monkey

They make you pay…

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My mother always used to say that she really paid for it anytime she left the house without her kids (namely… well, me and my brother.) She would go out for an evening of wine and frivolity and inevitably return to stomach flu, or a head injury, or weeks of clinging, needy children.

I always thought my mother had a flair for the dramatic. There was no way we were that bad.

Ha…. ha ha …. HA!

I got home from many wonderful hours in NYC with my Dad, lost in the humorous and magical world of Broadway’s SPAMALOT. I was calm, mellow, relaxed. I had conversations uninterrupted by the anyone chirping the word “Mommy?”. It was divine.

Then they made me pay.

The baby nursed…forever. Okay understandable, and snuggly, and cute.

I can deal.

Then came bedtime, and the screaming, kicking, crying thirty or so minutes of torment devised by my six year old. You see… she had something in her eye. She needed some Visine to help get it out. However, she didn’t want me to put the Visine into her eye, so after much screaming and fighting, I agreed to give up and let her go to sleep without Visine. This decision resulted in thirty or so minutes of screaming, kicking, and crying about how much she needed the Visine.

Sigh.

Then, the cat threw up in the laundry room.

And my bedroom.

And her bedroom.

And the Living Room.

Right… and under my desk where I stepped in it when sitting down to blog.

Because my mom is not overly dramatic. She is right.

They really do make you pay.

Monkey

A Marlena Moment….

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We were watching National Geographic’s Six Degrees could change the world last night. Monkey was really interested in watching it, and begged to be allowed to stay up. We agreed to let her watch the first hour.

She was really upset by the possible effect of global warming. We explained to her that this was a projection, and one that would occur after her lifetime, but she was still worried.

When I asked her what she was worried about, she told me she was really worried about Otter. I asked why. She said she wanted him to grow up and have a full and happy life, and she was afraid that wouldn’t happen if global warming got too bad.

I was incredibly touched by her concern for her brother. I think it’s funny that she views herself to be so much older than him that she doesn’t have the same concern for herself, but it is very sweet to be so worried for him.

I explained to her that she and Otter should both be able to grow up without these intense environmental conditions, but while I was doing so, I realized I could no longer make the soothing assertion that their children could as well. We will likely see the increased storms and drought conditions, along with some of the other scary climate changes, within our children’s lifetimes, as for their children, who knows?

I don’t see our world making the necessary changes in the immediate future, there are still people out there who don’t believe there is anything going on.

Monkey, parenting

The Argument…

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The scene opens on a slightly cluttered but serene living room where a young girl watches television. She is about fifteen minutes into a half hour episode of the Wonder Pets. A contented mother is peeling apples in the kitchen, with a baby crawling around at her feet…

“Monkey, after The Wonderpets are over, you have to go clean your room.” I say from the kitchen, where I am tackling an apple pie.

“Okay Mom!! I will.” She happily responds, adding the finishing touches to her latest work of art.

Twenty or so minutes later, after hearing Monkey happily run upstairs to begin cleaning, I curiously poke my head back into the living room, having noticed the top of her head pop up from the depths of the couch.

“Monkey, why aren’t you cleaning your room? Didn’t I say you needed to go clean it after Wonder Pets?

“Look!” she says happily, pointing to the t.v.”It’s still on, there was another one.” She settles back into the couch, confident in the security of her position.

Sigh. “Honey, turn off the television and go clean your room please.”

“But Mom! You said after the Wonderpets!”

“I meant after the last Wonderpets, and you knew that, as you went upstairs to clean when it was over. Please stop delaying and go clean your room, you have been putting this off all weekend.”

“Okay Mom.” She grumbles, shooting me a look that clearly indicates I am currently playing the role of Evil Stepmother in her personal daytime soap opera.

About thirty minutes later, after following the faint jumping sounds into the living room…

“Monkey honey, what are you doing downstairs? Aren’t you supposed to be cleaning your room?

“But Mom! I am not watching T.V.!!” She says as she hops lightly from foot to foot, clearly engaged in an invisible game of hop scotch.

Shaking off the tangent, I point out the obvious “True, but you are also not upstairs cleaning your room.”

“But I am NOT watching T.V.!!” She sallies back, hands now resting on her hips, in an unconscious mimicry of me at my most irritated.

“I agree. However, you are NOT upstairs cleaning your room.” I respond, fearing that maybe in my sleep I began speaking French or Russian and am therefore no longer communicating in a language she can understand.

“MOM! I AM NOT WATCHING T.V.!!” She yells, stamping her foot at the unfairness of the universe in general and me in particular.

“Monkey” I exclaim, much closer to a bellow than I like to get “You will go upstairs now and clean your room or there will be no play-date with Mariah tomorrow. Do you understand?”

“Oh!! Yes mom!” She says as she dashes up the steps into her Cinderella role once again, finally having enough motivation to tackle her most hated chore.