Month: March 2010 (page 1 of 2)

This is the way youth ends. Not with a bang, but a Bedazzler.

One week ago, Dave and I spent 23.5 hours without our children at our favorite resort so we could celebrate our anniversary like sinners, gambling and having wild sex.

I found a purse I completely fell in love with during our getaway. It must have been all the sex. Or the money I won. We were supposed to be shopping for souvenirs for the girls and my parents, but I couldn’t help but notice it and want it for myself. After the fourth or fifth time I danced past and fondled it, Dave asked, “Why don’t you just buy it?’

“Oh, I don’t need it,” I said softly, turning back to reach out and run my fingers over the embroidered letters.

“But you want it?”

I gave him a coy look out of the corner of my eye, then turned away from it and headed toward the front of the gift shop.

He grabbed the purse of followed behind me.

“Buy it,” he said, handing it to me.



“Are you sure?”


“I don’t know…”

“Leslie. BUY IT.”


“And LET’S GO.”

I cradled it in my arms and examined it while waiting our turn to check out. When we were up next, I started to have second thoughts. “Dave, are you sure? Isn’t it a little cheesy?” I asked, holding it up next to my face.

“Cheesy is kind of your bag, honey.”

Literally, now it is.

The purse

Don’t worry. I’m not going to start shopping at Bonworth. I was on vacation. Remember that little exchange in You’ve Got Mail?

“People do really stupid things in foreign countries.”

“Absolutely. They buy leather jackets for much more than they’re worth.”

Of course, I wasn’t in a foreign country, just a different state.

And secretly, I still really, really love it.

Just Pretend You Didn’t Hear That Dave And I Are Staying Somehwere Tonight Where There’s Room Service And No Kids

I’m almost afraid
to say we’re going away
something might stop it

Someone Needs To Invent A Pillow Talk Translator

Last night, Dave and I crawled into bed and lay face to face for our daily status report.

“If you get up with Julia tomorrow, do not put any Fun Dips in her lunch. She’ll ask you to, but I already told her it’s not appropriate for school.”

“Alright. Are my good jeans washed?”

“I think so. Did you switch the car seats?”

“Uh huh. Oh, Picasso is out of food. Don’t forget to pick some up.”

“Okay. I rescheduled the dentist appointments.”


“Earlier in the day.”


The room fell silent.

“So,” I chimed, then cleared my throat.


I cleared my throat AGAIN. “So!”


Once again, “So,” and a very deliberate clearing of the throat.

Then Dave farted.

“Well, there goes that!” I huffed and rolled over.


“I’m not putting my nose anywhere near your butt stink. Looks like we’re not doing it tonight!”

“You wanted to do it?!?!?”


“What do you mean ‘duh?'”

“I said ‘So!’ and I CLEARED MY THROAT. Like you don’t know what that means!!!”

“I don’t know what that means!!!!”

“I know your signals.”

“And they are?”

“Conscious means you probably want to do it. Snoring means probably not.”


“You weren’t snoring!”

“The last time you said, ‘Alright then,’ and I tried to touch your boob and you yelled and cried because they were sore.”

“Yeah, that was ‘Alright then.” This was “So!” and I CLEARED MY THROAT.”

“So clearing your throat means you want to have sex.”



“Unless I’m sick.”

“Oh for goodness sake, I’ll never understand you!”

Silence again. A soft Lucy snarfle burped from the baby monitor. Picasso started to purr softly at the foot of the bed.



“So!” he said again. Then he cleared his throat.



“It’s like you don’t know me at all.”

Baby, I’m So Glad You’re Mine

After I had Julia, people often asked, “So, are you going to have another one soon?” Having a second child was expected. Encouraged, even!

After I had Lucy, less likeable people often asked, “So, you’re probably finished having kids now, right?” They began to tell scary stories that included statistics like the average cost to raise a child in the U.S. today and how the youngest is the most popular birth order in jail.

Now I just get, “Another one?” followed by an eye roll from people who will never be invited to live in my commune.

Becoming pregnant with a third child is an act of courage, you see, because one child is good, two is ideal, but three? Number three is like a threat to take over the world. Suddenly, we’re The Duggars. Or some cult. Who do we think we are procreating like this? Are we maniacs? Haven’t we heard of birth control? Don’t we realize that three is too many? We’re taking up too much space on the planet! Go away crazy baby-makers!!!

But, you can call me crazy. As I lay in the dark, belly exposed, awaiting the application of goo for my ultrasound, the moment felt no less special than the first time I saw Julia all skeletal and fuzzy on a monitor. But then again, I may be weird. I met thousands of people before I met Dave and I wasn’t all, “Ugh. Another human. Like I haven’t seen one of those before.” I was impressed by him and fell in love. There’s something about people I find interesting. I guess I’m kooky. And the thing about the baby in my belly is this: it’s an actual person. For that reason, I was pretty excited to take a look at it.

Grimmett 3.0 was excited, too, because WOW! That kid put on a show, kicking and swimming and twisting and flipping over! It was amazing. It’s incredible what you can’t feel in your uterus at 12 weeks. We were all mesmerized, including Lucy. Her eyes were so wide. She kept looking at the transducer on my belly, then the screen, then my belly, then the screen. And when the ultrasound tech gave her her very own baby picture, she said a quick, “Shanks,” then turned and held it up to Grandma and shouted, “Mama baby belly!!!”




The baby’s heart rate was 158 beats per minute. Boy or girl? We don’t know yet. I definitely have a feeling, but I’m going to wait and see as a prediction gone wrong can often be misconstrued as disappointment.

But I will tell you this: there is no way this child can disappoint me. This child is wanted and loved. Julia says Baby Grimmett knows it, which is why we saw all those jumps for joy.

Already, we have a happy baby.

There’s A New Buckaroo In Town

The moms in my playgroup and I have an ongoing joke about starting a commune. And while we laugh as if it’s ridiculous, I keep a list running in my head (or maybe on the hard drive of my computer) of the people I’d want in my perfect society. Our Haiku Buckaroo Judge is one of those people. Have you met her? Her name is Toni and she blogs at This Simple Life. I respect, admire and downright adore this woman. She’s also the reigning Buckaroo. And the reigning Buckaroo always chooses the new Buckaroo. We’ve been doing it like that since the olden days.

Here are Toni’s choices for The Haiku Buckaroo 6.0 along with her comments.

Fourth Place

I was creative
once, in a time before kids
Wasn’t I? I think.

Submitted by Amy at Motherhood…Don’t Believe the Hype

Toni says: “This haiku was obviously part of a greater whole (an epic haiku, if you will) but these three lines rung true with me. I like how the writer captured the essence of a doubtful mommy.”

Third Place

Quiet, starlit night
in the stillness before dawn
tiptoes and giggles

Submitted by Julie at Stars in my Sugar Bowl

Toni says: “We had a little girl sleepover here not long ago and this was exactly the way of it. Excellent imagery.”

Second Place

Squealing with delight
Piglet dives into the mud…
Going the whole hog.

Submitted by Tanja

Toni says: “Love, love, love puns ~ couldn’t help but give this one a place of honor.”

Congratulations to the Honorable Mentions! Feel free to grab a button for your blog.

Haiku Buckaroo Button (White) Haiku Buckaroo Button (Black)

And now, the moment you’ve been waiting for…


her eyes, clear and cool
her curls, a tangle of red
my dominant genes

Submitted by Julie at Stars in my Sugar Bowl

Toni says: “This is perfect haiku. I can totally see this little girl with her bobbing red curls and her proud mother standing beside.”

Congratulations, Julie! You’ve won:

A Magnetic Poetry Haiku Kit

A Haiku Buckaroo Mug

A Threadless Haiku T-shirt (in the size of your choice)

$25 via PayPal (or a gift card, if you’d rather)

Don’t forget to display the super-cool button on your blog, Haiku Buckaroo! Wear it with pride, Winner!

Thank you to our judge and all of the Haiku Buckaroo participants! You’re the coolest kids of all!

Love, Leslie: Haiku Letters

Dear Morning Sickness,
You are one contrary bitch.
I really hate you.

Dear Chinese Food Meal,
I wanted to eat you, but
the baby didn’t.

Dear Baby Belly,
I hope there’s two in there
to justify your size.

Dear Ultrasound Test,
It’s so hard to wait for you.
Hurry up. Get here.

Dear Baby Belly,
If there’s two in there, tap twice.
Quit making me puke.

They Don’t Call It Beantown For Nothing. You Know, Magical Fruit And All.

Lucy’s vocabularly is exploding right now. She busts out new words every day. In a thick Boston accent.

She’s always asking for “wahta” to drink.

Yesterday she asked me to, “Putah in da gahhbage!”

(Translation: “Put it in the garbage.”)

Later, she told me she, “faahhhhted.” And while I abhore the word “fart,” particularly when it comes from the lips of my dainty daughters, I couldn’t help but catch it on video.

I blame Boston for making it funny.

Lucy Plays Putt Putt At Julia’s School Winter Carnival


What’s hard about golf?
You put it in the hole, right?
But what’s the club for?

Just Think, One Day I’ll Be Posting THREE Ribbon Festival Performances

Julia participated in her second Ribbon Festival on Saturday.

(And guess what?!?!?! THIS WOMAN was there! Her daughter played Lightly Row! We didn’t speak! It was awkward! For me! Because I don’t think she even saw me! Unless she did but pretended not to or something!)

Julia wore a pretty pink dress and played Cuckoo.

Julia and her ribbon

She earned a yellow ribbon. For some reason we spent most of the year thinking it was going to be purple but whatever. On the way home, Julia held her ribbon and said to it, “I love you and I’ll tell you why. First of all, you’re yellow…” Purple schmurple. Yellow suits her fine.

The judge had this to say about her performance:

What a beautiful performance! You played so confidently with a lovely smooth touch on the keys. I especially liked your very careful hand position – you obviously have listened to your teacher very well.

You played every note perfectly and kept a steady beat. I hope you will always love the piano and that you will continue to practice and learn. Thank you for playing today. I really enjoyed hearing you!!

Yeah. There are TWO exclamation points at the end.

The whole thing made me cry. I’d blame pregnancy hormones, but the truth is, I’m like one of those parents on American Idol who closes their eyes when their kid performs and cries over how proud they are. On the inside (because outwardly, I roll my eyes at those crazy parents). Except on this occasion where I really cried. Let’s just call it pregnancy hormones!

Lucy wore a NOT PINK dress to The Ribbon Festival.


And she was sufficiently proud of her sister.

Admiring her big sister

Oh, and one more. Because I’m just a little bit proud of my girls.

Lucy and Julia at The Ribbon Festival

The Power Of A Posse

Our playgroup started in 2007. Five moms, five three-year olds and Baby Ella.

Three years later, we’re still a group. Five moms, five five-turning-six-year olds, four one-turning-two year olds and Baby Ella. (Okay, so Ella’s not so much a baby anymore, but the name stuck. Sorry, kiddo. You’re forever Baby Ella in my heart.) But now, with school, work and other obligations pulling us in different directions, our get-togethers are a bit more random.

Yesterday everything lined up, like an eclipse, and a few of us managed to hook up at the mall play area, after preschool, before big kid school pick up and on our way to run errands. The kids fell right into their groove, like musicians coming together to play a symphony. They each knew their part and played beautifully together. All was sweet as a song, until…

Baby Ella came to report that someone wasn’t being nice to Lucy. We immediately got on our feet and went to see what was going on. A boy- the biggest boy in the play area – had Lucy cornered in a tunnel. His hands were around her neck and he was shaking her. She was visibly upset and truly quite frightened. One of the other mothers in our group reached her before I did and pulled her out of there.

Once Lucy settled down, the kids went back to playing and we increased our watchfulness, particularly over the boy as his parents didn’t seem to be around. He lingered near our kids. Then, he grabbed for Lucy and said, “Come here! Come on! Come with me.” And before I could even approach him, the rest of the playgroup kids, without saying a word to each other, circled around Lucy. The older girls placed themselves directly between the boy – who was bigger than every one of them – and my little girl and told him, “You’re making her scared. She can’t come with you. Please leave our friend alone.”

For the rest of the afternoon, Lucy played with her friends around her, watching her and protecting her. And I felt so grateful for my girl to know what it’s like to be loved and valued, to feel small and picked on, but to have friends surround her, protect her, lift her up and soften the blows the world is hitting her with, because that’s how my playgroup friends make me feel. Because we all need a posse. I’m so thankful for mine.

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