A Final Farewell from Daisy

Yes, it has been a long time since I have posted.  Truth is, well, the Goombas are growing up and spare moments are few and far between.  But, I think about this blog often.  I think about how it helped me through those crazy years of small children, the years that I thought would never end  The years when I thought that grapes on the floor, peeled crayons, Just-A-Viruses, and endless chicken nugget lunches would never end.  I think about how when all else was falling apart, I could dissect these crazy moments of motherhood down to a giggle, just to make it through the day.  I think about how little my Mario, Luigi, and Peach were.  And then, somehow, in the midst of... well, everything... those years are gone.  Poof.  Just like that.

Today is Mario's thirteenth birthday.  THIRTEEN.  Yes... 1-freaking-3.  Holy Hades.  And just like that -- *snap*-- we have a teenager.  Remember the time on his 9th birthday that I wanted so badly to make him a fancy pancake breakfast, but instead, the pancakes looked more like phallic symbols?  Or how about the time that out of the blue he started calling everyone "dude?"  Maybe the time I scared the bejeezus out of him by threatening to cook his socks if I found them laying all over the floor again?  Yep.  That all happened.  And I am so glad I have the blogs to prove it.

See, here is the thing...  Everyone tells you, "don't blink!  They grow up so fast!  Don't wish it away!  Cherish every moment!"  But, in reality, every day can drag on for years.  When your entire existence is cleaning up the same mess, the same laundry, going to the same park, watching the same kids' shows every single day... those days can last FOR. EV. ER.  So, when someone says, "Oh, hug them now because that won't last forever," you kinda want to kick 'em in the taco.  Apparently they forgot what life is like with 3 younglings.  Or maybe they never knew.  Either way, it is not comforting to a mom in the midst of it all. 

But, I will admit, also, that in the throes of early toddlerhood, a tired mother is apt to forget the little moments.  And so, I really encourage you moms out there to WRITE IT DOWN!  I love that you all read my little blog, but if I am going to be very, very frank with you, I wrote this for ME.  I love looking back and seeing all of those things that I maybe didn't get a picture of, or that I maybe would forget about because it wasn't a milestone.  I love that I can see how my role as a mother has evolved over the years.  I love that I can look back and see that Bowser and I made it through TOGETHER, even though there may have been times when things were touch and go.  I love that I can share these stories with my Goombas, when they someday have little Goombas of their own and they feel like no one else "gets it." 

This blog was my safe place.  My place to write down what I couldn't even always process in my head at the time.  It was a place to remind myself that we are all people, that no one is perfect.  To let myself get out the emotion that would have otherwise been bottled up inside, festering and rotting my gut away.

Anyway, the point of this is that Mario is 13 now.  Luigi is 8.  Peach is 7.  I no longer have those little minions that follow me into the bathroom every single time. Ok, Ok, they still do sometimes, but now it is more of an "Oh sick, Mom!  What is wrong with you?" than an "I will just camp out and play here at your feet until you are done!"  They are fairly self-sufficient.  They can speak to me in words that I can almost always understand.  They get themselves dressed for school and brush their own teeth without (too much) prodding. 

I still have so much more that I want to share, but the fact that they can read and be embarrassed has basically squashed the public blogging.  But, I will always try to remember to write it down.  Not just the first loves and heartbreaks, or championship games, or amazing test scores, or first cars, or whatever...  But, also the little things.  Mario loves to describe anything soccer to me in MINUTE detail.  Luigi still giggles uncontrollably if the word FART enters a conversation.  Peach still asks me to snuggle with her at night and talk about what happy dreams we will have.  I have to remember all of this, because THIS TOO SHALL PASS. 

This too shall pass.  It has before and it will again.

Signing off now,
Cheers always,
Daisy

PS-- Bowser read this and said, "What?  Are you dying?"  ha!  And just for the record, NO, I am not dying.  Just, ya know... wanted to give myself some closure.  A little nudge to say, "time to move on to the next chapter."  Love and hugs to all!  xoxo

April Fool's Day

I am not sure if I ever mentioned this story, but here is a quick preface to the actual story I am about to tell.  A few years ago, the Goombas were pestering me about dinner.  What are we having???  I don't like that!!!  Why are you making that???  What are we gonna eat???  I was finally so fed up that I said the first (ridiculous) thing that came into my head.  "You know what?" I snapped at my three little ones.  "We are having...  POOP SANDWICHES AND PEE JUICE!"  That stopped them in their tracks.  And now, every once in a while, when I am sick of the complaining or the badgering, I just tell them we are having poop sandwiches and pee juice for dinner. 

Fast forward to April 1st, 2015. 

Mario got me good.  Yesterday morning, on the drive to school, he pulled out a slip of paper and said, "Mom, I need you to sign this."  I looked at the slip.  It was a detention note.  The reason... incomplete homework assignments.  Since getting homework done has been an issue lately (homework is SO stupid, don't you know, lame-o MOM????), my blood started to boil. 

"MARIO!  How could you get a detention???  You know, you are grounded from soccer until this is taken care of, and I don't want to hear any excuses!  This is not acceptable!" 

Mario starts laughing hysterically.  "April Fool's Mom!!!!" 

Damn. It took a few minutes for me to simmer down and laugh about it.  Good one, Mario.  You got me....  this time. 

So, I went home after dropping them off at school and plotted my revenge.  So many options to choose from on Pinterest.  And that is when it hit me.  I was going to make them the dinner I had always threatened.  That is right.  I was going to make my Goombas poop sandwiches and pee juice for dinner. 

I worked all afternoon, getting it just right.  Making the poop.  Slicing the bread.  Squeezing the pee.  I had the table all set for when they got home from school.  Since all three of them had soccer practices beginning at 5 p.m., it was a perfect night to rush them into dinner without them suspecting a thing. 

We got home, and I told them to go upstairs immediately and get dressed for practice while I finished getting dinner on the table.  A few minutes later they came downstairs.  "We are hungry!  What is for dinner?" 

"Sit down and get started! You need to eat to have energy for practice!"

Luigi was the first to the table.  This is what he saw:

"Ummmm... Mom?"  he sounded a little choked up.  "What is that?"

"Well," I said, "I decided that since no one ever really likes what I cook, I would just make poop sandwiches and pee juice for real!  Sit down and eat!"

Peach stepped back from the table.  She did not like what she was seeing.  She hugged Bowser and said, "Daddy, do I have to eat that?"

Mario just stood with his mouth hanging open. 

Luigi started to whimper.  "I... don't... want... to eat poop!"

Peach followed with, "I don't think that would be good for us, Mom."

Bowser walked away.  We couldn't look at each other. 

"It's really not that bad," I said, as I picked up a piece of poop.  "I cleaned the litter box today, so it is all fresh.  You will like it if you just try it!"  I took a bite of the turd in my hand and said, "It's actually pretty tasty!"

Luigi lost it.  "NOOOOO!!!!  Mommy I don't want to eat POOOOOP!!!!"  He was crying.

Peach ran to Bowser, "Daddy, please don't make me eat it!! Please!  I really don't want to eat that!"

Then the wheels in Mario's head started to turn.  "Wait a minute.......  this is an April Fool's Day thing."  Long pause...  "Right?"

I finally burst out laughing, "APRIL FOOL!!!!"

Peach started laughing and crying at the same time.  Mario just shook his head and asked what was really for dinner.  Luigi refused to eat anything the rest of the evening.  Even after we proved to him that it wasn't actual poop. 

It was awesome.  My best prank ever.  Poop sandwiches and pee juice.  I am pretty sure someday the Goombas will be in therapy, recalling the time that their crazy mother traumatized them with poo for dinner. I am totally tucking this away to laugh at for years to come! 

Cheers! 
~Daisy

ps--Of course it is not real poop!  To make the poop, I took brownies, crumbled them up and mixed with chocolate frosting.  Put the mix in a piping bag and "streak" it on some waxed paper.

Refrigerate til ready to serve.  The bread is a pound cake sliced thin.  The pee juice is lemonade flavored Gatorade. 

On this day of... what???

Take a little trip back in time with me.  The year is 2003.  Daisy (that's me) is 26 aeons pregnant with Mario.  Ok.  That is ridiculous.  Of course I wasn't THAT pregnant.  But, I WAS 42 weeks along and feeling pretty darn miserable.  It was cold outside.  Snowing, icy, windy... typical March weather.  And, it was Ash Wednesday.  As gigantic as I was, and as wretched as I felt, I decided that church was something necessary that evening.  Zaza and Papa were there and were getting tired of waiting for baby.  Bowser was doing his best to keep me happy and comfortable.  Getting out of the house was probably a good thing for all of us.

So, everyone bundled up and headed out the door.  Well, everyone but me.  I went out in my shorts and t-shirt because for some reason, my internal body temp was about 487 degrees.  The thought of a jacket was nauseating.  We got to the church and it was crazy crowded.  Crazy.  Even the Catholics who don't regularly attend Mass, somehow always feel the need to go on Christmas, Easter, and Ash Wednesday.  So, it was crowded.  We found a pew in the back and managed to squeeze in.  I sat on the aisle just "letting it all hang out," if you will.  I vaguely remember a lady smiling and asking me when I was due, and Bowser and Zaza having to hold me back from ripping her face off. 

Mass began.  I was hot.  I had to pee.  I was starving.  I silently begged God from my pew to "Please, for the love of YOU, get this baby out of me!"

And then, something magical happened...

No, I did not go into labor.  But, at that moment, it was pretty much the next best thing.

The priest, a lovely little man from Vietnam, began his sermon.

"Today we gather here to celebrate Ass Wednesday..."

My ears perked up.  Did he just say "ass?"

"On this day of asses," he continued, "we remind ourselves, blah, blah, blah"

I couldn't help it.  I started giggling.  Because, you know, I am 10-years old and if a priest says "ass" I am not going to be able to control myself.

He went on, "When we think of the asses....yadda, yadda, yadda..."

By this time, Bowser was giggling, too.  We were starting to get some dirty looks from the people around us.

Father then said, "When we put these 'ASSES ON OUR HEADS,' let us be reminded...  bleep, blop, blorp..."

And that was the end of me.  I started laughing.  Hard.  And peeing, because you know, forever pregnant.  Also crying, because I knew I shouldn't be laughing, which of course made it funnier, which, in turn, brought on the tears. The more I tried to keep it in, the harder I laughed.  Even Zaza and Papa were fighting back smiles and snickers.  What was even more amazing to me, was that no one else seemed to notice that our priest was talking about "Asses to Asses, and dust to dust." 

I excused myself and waddled to the restroom to clean myself up and calm down.  I somehow managed to make it through the rest of the service with only a giggle here and there. 

I didn't know it yet, but church was just what I needed to break the tension and agony I was feeling that evening.  The next day I went to the doctor and labor was induced.  Within 48 hours of that service, I was holding my baby Mario in my arms. 

When I went to the service this evening, with my now (nearly) 12-year old Mario sitting next to me, I still had to stifle a little chuckle when the Deacon talked about the importance of our "asses."  I'd like to think Jesus giggled a little bit, too. 

Cheers!
~Daisy

*Just as a disclaimer...  I have been Catholic my whole life, so I do understand the solemness of Ash Wednesday.  This is not meant to offend, it is just a funny story about how a priest unknowingly helped me out of my crazy state of mind so many years ago.