Meanest Grandma in the Whole World

People, I’m the meanest mom in the whole world. Just ask my tornadoes.

It’s true.

Well, sometimes. Sometimes I’m the coolest mom in the whole world.

Sometimes my mom is the meanest grandma in the whole world. You know, because she makes my tornadoes do their homework in their nicest handwriting, makes them pick up every toy, and makes them ask to turn on the TV or the Wii every time. So mean. Seriously, I don’t know if I could compete. Some days I only make them pick up most of the toys. But I totally am harder on how they speak to each other and having a taste of each food on their plate. And I don’t let them play video games or watch TV any time they want or how long they want.  I am so mean.

Naturally after one of these you’re-the-meanest-grandma-in-the-world, I had to ask.

Me: Who’s meaner? Mommy or Grandma?

Tornado E: Grandma!

Tornado S: Grandma!

Tornado A: Nana!

I gave her my oh-that’s-right-you-heard-it-here-first-I-rock face. She just gave a they’re-angry-right-now-but-just-wait-I’m-the-grandma-you’re-the-mom. And she’s right. She can trump my mom card any day. I have to be mean. She can spoil them if she chooses.

But I will not be brought down in my victory by mere facts and accurate guesses.

I’m cooler than my mom. I’m a cooler mom than their grandma.

So I had to brag to my dad and tell him the whole story when he got home. As it happens, I told him in front of the boys.

Papi: Who would be Darth Vader? Grandma, your mommy, or me?

Tornado E: Grandma!

Tornado S: Grandma!

Tornado A: Nana!

My dad and I exchanged smug looks. My mom rolled her eyes.

Papi: Ok. Who would be Luke Skywalker? Your mommy or me?

Tornado E: Mommy!

Tornado S: Papi!

Tornado A: Mommy!

My dad and I exchanged looks.

Papi: Ok. Who would be Han Solo? Your mommy or me?

Tornado E: Papi!

Tornado S: Mommy!

Tornado A: Papi!

Me: (to my dad) I really don’t know what to make of that. But at least I’m not a Sith Lord.

It’s all about love

On the phone.

Me: So I’m running a few errands, going to some stores.  Do you want to come?

My Mom: No.  I think I’ll stay home.

See, I have reason to believe my Mom is depressed.  She hates being at home all day.  She likes going out. but not alone.  Sometimes it takes her days to work up the energy to go anywhere alone.  I do everything alone with the boys because if I didn’t, it wouldn’t get done.  So I always invite my Mom.

My Mom: If you want, you can leave the boys here.

Me: If you would like me to.

As many of us have learned, kids slow you down by half when running errands.  But we had spent all day at her house yesterday as I did laundry because I still don’t have a washing machine.

My Mom: Ask the boys.

Me: They will say yes.  They love you.

They will.  They do.

Me: Seanny, do you want to go shopping with Mommy or stay with Grandma?

Sean: Stay with Grandma!  I stay with Grandma, and Eban stays with Grandma!

Me: Evan, do you want to stay with Grandma or go shopping with me?

Evan: Stay with Grandma!  AND I love her!

Sean: I love her more than you do, Eban!

Evan: (pause) Well, I love her more than Mommy does!

Me: (into the phone) Are you sure you want them?

Picking a favorite relative

Evan: Mommy, when you were a little girl, you didn’t have me.  You had to get older and become a grown up first.  Then you had Sean and me and Aidan. 

Me: That’s right.

Evan: And Grandma is older than you?

Me: Yes.

Evan: Is Grandma Sue older than Grandma?

Me: Yes, she is.

Evan: Is Grandma Sue older than Papi?

Me: Yes, she is.

Evan: Is Grandma Sue older than Papa?

Me: Um, I don’t think so.

Evan: Is Papa older than Grandma?

Me: Yes.

Evan: Is Papa older than Papi?

Me: Yes.

Evan: Is Papa older than Grandma-Great?

Me: No.

Evan: Oh.  Grandma-Great is older than Papi and Grandma?

Me: Yes, she is.

Evan: Is Grandma-Great older than Grandma Sue?

Me: Yes.

Evan: Ok.  Grandma-Great is my favorite!  Do you know why?

Me: No.

Evan: Because she’s the oldest!

Well, I guess that’s one way to pick your favorite relative.  Grandma-Great, please come by and pick up your prize; you get to enjoy the company of your great-grandchildren at no extra charge. Don’t you want to spend time with the people who dubbed you the favorite?

Jokes Go Awry

Lately the boys have tried to go on strike.  They don’t want to go swimming.  It’s 103 out there, and my boys don’t want to go swimming.  That is unacceptable in my household or, more to the point, in my parents’ household.  If I go swimming, they have to too because I’m not watching them.

Luckily now that my mom is a grandmother and closer to the end, she believes in bribery.  “Who wants a popsicle?  Ok, well, let’s get in our swimsuits so they don’t drip on our pirate clothes.  Ok, let’s go outside and put our feet in the pool while we eat.  Won’t that be fun?”

Yeah, I know.  It’s were I get my evil genius from.  Ok, my dad can be pretty evil too.

Grandma, Sean, and Evan sat on the edge of the pool eating Popsicles with their feet resting on the first step.  It didn’t take long before both boys were sitting on the top step, enjoying their popsicles.  Eventually Evan finished his and was playing in the pool with me.  Papi teased Sean trying to nab a bite of Popsicle like a walrus trying to get a piece of fish from a trainer.  (Hmm, that was quite an applicable description.  Not to self: must tell Mom.)

Fearing for the safety of his Popsicle, Sean hid it behind his back.  Being an evil genius himself, it dawned on Sean that he could just hide it in the water.  He popped it out of the water to wave it in Papi’s face.  Sean was shocked to find the Popsicle had shrunk.  Papi and I laughed.

Sean laughed with us and stuck the Popsicle back into the water.  He pulled it out to wave it at Papi.

We became distracted by Evan running and jumping into the pool.  We looked back to see Sean had hid his Popsicle under the water again.

He pulled it out and went to take a bite.  His eyes grew big as he looked at just a stick.  He looked at us with his eyes saying, WTF, Mommy?  Where’d it go?

If we wanted to risk drowning, we would have been rolling with laughter.  Instead, Papi and I held on to the sides of the pool, wiping our tears away.

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Learning new words

I’m going to be called in to the principal’s office later this year.  I know it.

 

I recently found out that Evan was calling his Papi “jerk” as a term of endearment.  Apparently, Evan heard his grandma calling Papi that and automatically assumed it was a pet name.  That it is for my mom is not the issue.  The fact is my son has learned the word jerk.

Ms. Principal, I would like to introduce my mother, who is responsible for Evan’s language.

 

To make matters worse, I caught Evan saying the f-word.  He was upset, and it popped out of his mouth.  The world went silent as my brain try to understand what exactly happened. 

When I finally recovered my wits, I took Evan aside and explained how that was a bad word, that we have so many good words to use that we didn’t need to say it, and how we should never use words we don’t know what they mean.

Last weekend, Evan told us that his daddy wasn’t nice.

The Husband was hurt by this and wanted to know why.  I can list off a whole list of broken promises, refusals on childish demands, the rare spankings. 

Evan told us in his quietest voice that Daddy wasn’t nice because he said f-.

While my husband sat there astonished by the turn of events, I was ecstatic.  Evan understood that using that word was a poor choice.

Then Evan used it yesterday.

Ms. Principal, I would like to introduce the boy’s father, who is responsible for Evan’s colorful language.

 

Last weekend we were at an adult party, which we stopped in for an hour with the kids because we had no babysitter in CA.  The boys amused the adults with songs, conversations, and games.

As I talked to another woman, Sean pointed to a dog figurine and said “A damn dog!”

Crap.

I tried to ignore it, hoping that he spoke in toddler-speak.

Instead, the woman looked at me and asked, “Did he just say what I thought he said?”

I nodded.

She, being a mother as well, nodded and said, “The Husband.”

Not ten minutes later, Evan said, “Where’s the damn ball?”

Double crap.

Another discussion of bad words versus good words.

 

Maybe I should just send The Husband to explain the language problem.

 

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A Few Choice Evan Stories

Evan is no longer concerned with the day I lost my keys down the toilet. Here are his NEW favorite stories.

 

Evan: Remember when we were swimming with Papi. And Papi yelled “Bee on you! Bee on you! Bee on you!” And Grandma jumped in the water. Why did she do that?

Me: Because she didn’t want to get stung. She didn’t know where the bee was.

Evan: Oh.

 

Evan: Remember when we were at the McDonald’s without the slide. And Papi took me to go potty. And I went pee. And Papi said, “Boy, you pee a lot.” Why did he say that?

Me: Because you do pee a lot.

Evan: No, I think he was teasing.

 

Evan: Remember when I threw up on Daddy the other day. It was a lot of throw up. It got all over us. And Daddy was yelling, “Mommy! Mommy!” (Pause, reflecting on the name Daddy actually used.) “Faemom! Faemom! Faemom!” He was funny. Why’d he say that?

Me: Because that’s my name and Daddy needed help.

Evan: No. You’re Mommy.

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Evan’s ABC’s

During naptime, my mom and I made petit fours for the bridal shower for my soon-to-be sister-in-law.  We left a few pieces of pound cake out for the boys, who were quite content to nibble on them with juice.  Until . . . .

Evan: Grandma!  Look!  What are these?!  (Notice he went for the easy sale.)

My mom: Those are petit fours.  They-

Evan: Grandma!  Can I have one?! Please?!

My mom: No, Evan.  They’re for Aunt K’s party tomorrow. 

Evan: But I want one!  Please?!

My mom: We’ll try save you one for after the party.

Evan: How about I have one now and save the rest for the party?

My mom: (Counts the petit fours.  To me) There is one extra.  (Evan puts on his sweetest look. To me)  We have an extra yellow one.

Evan: Grandma!  I love the color yellow!  It’s my favorite!  It’s the color of fire!  (I’m quite sure his favorite color is red for the same reason.)

Grandma: (Handing Evan a yellow petit four) That’s the only one you get.

 

My boy knows and uses his ABC’s.  Always Be Closing.

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