Wednesday, July 8, 2009

"Take that Sharpie away from her..." my mother said

as we were talking on the phone and Annie was telling me that she was going to use it for her tattoo. Life is funny, you know. You have this picture in your mind of how life will be with children, then you have these precious wonderful (insane) children who write on themselves with Sharpies over and over and over again. Think about June Cleaver for a minute. I am the exact opposite! As we were putting on our swim suits to go to the pool after dinner because Daddy wasn't home yet, I was DONE, and the children needed something to tire them out besides Benadryl, I looked around and realized that my house is an absolute disaster. Plus the fact that I am 38 years old and my mother still loves to tell me what to do. I understand though and I know that someday I'll do the same thing. Love you Mom!

Anyway, back to the Sharpie. It is now and always has been a black Sharpie. A fat one, a fine point, a medium point, but definitely permanent. It's been on her lips. "I use dat as lipstick, Mommy," she told me the first time. "Look I make you floors pretty," another. Legs, bathroom counters, walls, paper (my personal favorite because I can throw it away), and my dining room table, to name a few. Sorry Granny. It was only a small dot on the dining room table and it is still just as beautiful as the day you gave it to me! Just think of it this way Granny, someday we can look at the table and remember, well probably not dinner, but Annie writing on it with a Sharpie. I really should just throw them all out and believe me, I've tried, but they reappear. They are like, well I can't think of anything that reappears all the time right now, but whatever reappears, that's what Sharpies are in the Chapman castle.

Then there's Beebs. Good Lord I love that child. As I'm carrying Annie through the kitchen to her room (and she's screaming at the top of her lungs because she wants me to carry her), Daddy says, "What's wrong with her?" To which I reply, "She doesn't want to walk, she wants me to carry her to her D-A-M-N bed." (I was spelling that out for him so the children wouldn't be screaming damn at day school tomorrow). So, Beebs says, "I know you just said damn." I think she just wanted to say it, but curse learning to spell!

Now as I sit on the deck reflecting on my day (and working on my fav Corona Light), I realize that, oh here they come again. GET IN THE DAMN BED! But I'm only screaming it in my mind...this time!

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