The Po Show

Here's a SoCal name for you

I had a person buy something from me on eBay, from CA, named Jennifer McCool.

Dude, that's awesome.

My Belated Mother's Day Present

I found a handmade "coupon book" in Matthew's backpack today, in one of the pockets he doesn't usually use so I never look in there. On the cover in green crayon (green being my favorite color) was written "Happy Mother's Day" with lots of hearts.

Inside was a series of coupons, each page saying "This entitles you to" and a special gift to be redeemed.

1. extra long nap
2. 1 clean up of my collection of 500 trading cards
3. 50 big hugs
4. I will babysit Tessa for 1 hour
5. We will not use couch cushions for a pillow fight

All written in green crayon.

On the Friday before Mother's Day, Matthew asked me, "Mommy, what do you like?"

I knew why he was asking, so I smiled and said, "I like flowers." The next day as we were in Zabar's in the city he "secretly" picked out some pink roses and Ross bought them. He was so proud to give them to me later. I told this story to several people, saying that I guessed he's reached the point in which teachers don't have the kids make Mother's Day presents anymore, so he was somewhat at a loss as to what to give me.

And yet he had made this wonderful, precious gift himself at school. I asked him today why he hadn't given it to me, and he answered, "I didn't finish it."

The very last page in the book was blank. My poor perfectionist; he worked so hard but couldn't give it to me because he hadn't filled out the very last page. He wanted it to be perfect.

Now there's a Mother's Day present for me.

Mother's Little Helper

No, not that Mother's Little Helper (though yes, "What a drag it is getting old," as the Stones sang. As Keith Richards apparently found out when he fell out of that palm tree).

My little "helper" these days is Tessa, who is on this huge wanting to help kick. It's cute in some ways, amazing in some ways how determined she is, and heartwarming in some ways.

It's also a major pain in the ass in some ways.

She insists on pouring drinks for people (shrieking at me to let her do it herself, and thus spills all over the place), getting them things to eat that they don't really want, and doing other stuff like washing dishes (leaving them covered in soap) and putting them into the drainboard with already dry dishes. But I'm not allowed to help her help in any way. Often she completely banishes me from the room. I sit in the next room and wait for the sound of shattering glassware. "IIIIIIII'll do it! IIIIIIIIII'll do it myself!" is her rallying cry.

Tonight she decided that she was making a salad for Ross and me for dinner. She spent 50 minutes chopping cucumbers and carrots with a butter knife, setting the table, putting the salad into a big bowl, getting us drinks, and then writing all our names on napkins. Ross was starving since he hadn't had much of a lunch, so he quietly had some leftover pasta. Then she insisted on pouring our dressing for us and even tried to feed me (we eat salad with chopsticks so that made it difficult for her and I had to firmly decline her offer). She wanted to know why Matthew wasn't eating with us. Well, it was almost 8:00 and Matthew had long since eaten and was in the bath.

At bedtime she had a total meltdown because she wasn't allowed to brush Matthew's teeth for him. "Maaaaashewwwww, it's time to brush teeth!," she called several times, holding his toothbrush.

"Ahhh," he told me disgustedly. "I'm tired of Tessa helping me!"

She cried, splayed on the bathroom floor, when I told her that while it was lovely that she wanted to help us all so much, and she had done a wonderful job doing things for us, sometimes people don't need help with things and it's their choice not to be helped. And Matthew chose not to have her help him brush his teeth.

So do you think she'll still want to help around the house when she's 13?

Yeah, me neither.