Leanna Kay

Don’t get too excited about the title.  It’s all G-rated here. 

My five year old daughter, Lauren is mad at me.  Yeah, I know, give it ten years if I want to really feel her angst.  But today she’s upset with me because she’s not a twin.  Obviously since her older brothers are twins, this was something well within my power to grant to her.  Life is so unfair because … get this… she has a bedroom all to herself.  Mommy and Daddy get to share a room and the boys get to share a room but Lauren’s room is ALL HER’S.  This is apparently a BAD thing.  So now I’m supposed to magically produce a sibling for her who’s her exact age and gender.

Never mind she doesn’t get along with the siblings she already has.  The boys rarely want to play any cool games, like undress and dress Malibu Barbie four hundred times.  (Actually I’m kind of glad the boys aren’t interested in undressing any females, fake or not, but that’s another story).  So Lauren finds me in my home office where nine times out of ten I’m trying to draft a constitutional argument for a legal brief that was due ten minutes ago.  Right in the middle of double jeopardy plops naked Malibu Barbie.  Talk about a concentration breaker. 

So off I go to dress Barbie for her hundredth beach party today (I’m telling you that girl gets around).   I don’t complain about Barbie duties though because it’s much easier to dress Malibu Barbie than to magically produce a twin.

DH and I took the kids to a local park to see the bison today.  The kids were off school for Fall break and I’m a firm believer in making them learn something other than the number of hits it takes for the Rock to beat Jericho on their dad’s Playstation game. 

We walked back a long path past large metal fences with live electric wires running on the top to keep the bison in (or to keep us out - considering one of my twins started to climb the fence, I’m not so sure which).  All along the path were signs like “Bison are Dangerous.  Stay Back.”  And “Don’t Sit on the Fence.”  HELLO it’s electrified!!  You know they only put those signs up because some idiot tries these stunts.  So it makes you wonder about the stupid bison viewer who’s wandering around with an electrified butt.

At any rate, by the time we passed all the danger signs and actually got to the bison viewing area, I was a bit concerned about these raging mammoth beasts.   Luckily the bison were laying docilely in a field about the length of three football fields away from the fence.  In case you don’t know how far that is, it’s approximately the distance it takes to make these mammoth beasts look like “big piles of poop, Mom,” as Chris observed.  He’s seven and he would have rather been home picking his nose, or so I’m told.  (Yep, he’s gonna be a fun teenager).

Chris and his twin brother, Drew, did enjoy the spinning thing on the park playground.  I don’t know what it’s called, but it’s one of those metal things I remember having in parks when I was a kid.  The thing would go so fast it would spin you until you either threw up or were thrown off.  Back in my days, they were surrounded by concrete and if you didn’t cling tightly to the rusted metal handles, it would pitch you headfirst onto the ground at superwarp speed.  Between dangerous playground equipment and the times I spent riding in the back of pick up trucks on lawn chairs, it’s a wonder I survived into adulthood. 

My five year old, Lauren, was on the spinning thing when she decided she’d like off, thank you very much.  So she just got off.  While it was spinning.  Yep, she got pitched right onto the ground face first into the mulch (it’s a kinder gentler generation where the kids can eat a face full of mulch rather than a face full of concrete).  I dusted her off and dried her tears.  Fortunately mulch is pretty soft and she wasn’t hurt.  But she was quite offended and told me, “Mom, that thing is NOT safe.”  Yeah, but it’s better than sitting on an electrific fence.

As the mother of three young children, I realized I needed an outlet the week I came to know the poison control lady on a first name basis. Her name is Marge and, yes, toothpaste can be dangerous if consumed in large quantities notwithstanding the innocent seeming grape taste. And that large plant in front of my home office window is a hibiscus - not particularly appetizing after a meal of grape toothpaste. Thanks for information, Marge. I’ll be sending the fruit and nut basket at Christmastime as always.

In my defense, two of my three children are twin boys and they gang up on me. Plus I’m blonde. So it’s not really my fault.

In a former life, I was a full-time lawyer concentrating in criminal defense. Now I’m a part-time lawyer and full-time mom concentrating on keeping my sanity. Some days I actually succeed. (Just for the record, the week of the poison control calls was not a particularly good time for my sanity meter).

I also write fiction in my free time because I can control the worlds I make up. Hopefully someday you can join me in my fictional world. Until then, welcome to my real one.

For my first entry, I’m going to attach a poem I wrote for my kids when they were two.

ON BEING TWO

Being two years old is sitting in a crowded McDonald’s having a cow

Because that fry is touching the ketchup you wanted then but not now

It’s watching Mommy frantically make the condiment go away

And then yelling, “I want ketchup NOW,” just to see what she will say.

Being two is crying ‘til your face is blotchy on family picture day

Because you want to wear your favorite shirt which is covered with modeling clay.

It’s grumping while waiting for the photographer to throw in the towel

Then gracing all those assembled with your most magnificent smile.

Being two is sitting quietly in a packed church until all are quiet in prayer

And then shouting to Daddy that the man two pews up “HAS NO HAIR!”

It’s watching the collection plate travel far and wide

And then grabbing a fistful of money as it passes your side.

Being two is wondering why Mommy has that weird look

Right after you flush the last page of her book.

It’s splashing in the sink watching where the water will go

Oblivious to the growing puddles from the overflow.

Being two is trying to park your tricycle on a big hill

And having a fit when gravity refuses to bend to your will.

Being two is digging to the bottom of the trash can filled with muck

For the treasure Daddy so carelessly discarded - your favorite wheeless truck.

Its wiping your gooey germy squishy hands while going to the sink

On the white carpeting, the walls and the glass holding your brother’s drink.

Being two is insisting that veggies aren’t food and the sky is not blue

Until Mommy gets tired of arguing and just agrees with you.

It’s thrashing on the floor and yelling with all of your might

Because the cracker you held for hours “broke” when you finally took a bite.

Being two means having to part with your carefully crafted artwork

that you created on the window with bits of cheese and pork.

It’s getting offended that your other masterpiece in crayon

Must be scrubbed and scrubbed from the wall until it’s all gone.

Being two is becoming bored when shopping for silly, useless stuff - like food

It’s screeching and howling to tell all shoppers you’re in a foul mood.

It’s leaning out of the shopping cart and stretching to your full two foot height

To grab that candy bar which is snatched away before your first bite.

Although being two seems like life is a constant fight

this period should be seen in a more positive light.

Because being two also means stopping play to run and give Mommy a hug

Because she looks a little blue seeing the flower you just dug.

Its making Daddy really look at the unusual stripe on that bug

And the magnificent meanderings of the tiny creature he calls a slug.

Being two years old means going to the shopping place

and finding an irreplaceable magic just by staring into Santa Claus’s face.

When you’re two, it’s so very hard to fall asleep it seems

Because a man in a sled will soon come to fill all your dreams.

Being two means taking the time to see the world for all its beauty

And watching for all the little but important things that adults fail to see.

It’s believing that the earth is happy and people aren’t mean

Because nice and happy is all of the world that you’ve ever seen.

Being two is not terrible as once said by someone very unwise

What a nice place this would be if all saw the world through a two year old’s eyes.