"Change, when it comes, cracks everything open."
Dorothy Allen

Saturday, May 14, 2011

Adventures in Sawyer Land

An 80's throwback
 My daughter, Sawyer is 2.  She is a handful.  She is energetic, and smart and headstrong.  She is, as my friend Val puts it, a "spitfire".  The things that she does makes me laugh, and I want to remember them.  Here are some of the stories of "Adventures in Sawyer Land."

Story #1
A couple of weeks ago, my mom and I were in my kitchen talking.  Sawyer was running around, playing and making a mess.  I don't recall that my mother and I were being exceptionally loud, but soon we became aware of Sawyer yelling, over and over again, from the living room.


Since, as I said, we weren't actually being loud, we ignored her and kept talking.  She kept yelling.  Except now, she's moved 3 feet in front of me, and is yelling in my face.  I stopped talking to my mom, and tried to explain rationally and sanely to a 2 year old that 1) I am not being loud, 2) It is ok for Mommy and Grammie to talk, and 3) it isn't polite for little girls to tell their mommys to be quiet. 

This rationale, sane conversation soon degenerated into her in one room and me in another, yelling back and forth.
(her) QUIET!
(me) NO, YOU be QUIET!
(her) I SAID, QUIET!

This continues for a minute or so.  Then, suddently, she very purposefully stomps out of the living room, arms crossed in front of her.  Over she stomps and WHACK, WHACK, WHACK.

She spanked me.

She steps back, looks me in the face with a severe frown, shakes her little finger and says, in a low ominous voice, " I told you.  Quiet."
Story #2
Always a lady, she exhibits quiet and demure behavior at all times.

The day of Kit's funeral, I was rushing around, trying to get the kids dressed and ready, do my hair, and make sure everything was together.  Sawyer had had toast with jam for breakfast and so, of course, she was covered in it from ear to ear.

I went to her room, with a wet facecloth.  She is playing nicely, dressed in her pretty, bright dress and tights.

"Sawyer beanie, I want you to sit down, so that I can wash your face."
Without looking up, Sawyer responds.... "And I want you to get out of my room."

I was already moving into the room, getting ready to sit on the floor behind her.  It stopped me in my tracks, because I really wasn't sure that I had heard what I thought I heard.  So, I ask her. 
"Sawyer, what did you just say?"

Now, she looks up.  "I. Said. OUT!"

The last word is shouted.  I literally have no words.  My mouth might be hanging open at this point.  I ask her again.  One last time.  In the future, I am hoping that she will learn that this is the point to shut up, say she's sorry and take her lumps.  But for now, she's 2.  She doesn't know any better.
"What did you say, Sawyer?"
"Out.  Out of my room."

Geoff is in my bedroom, getting ready.  What he hears at this point is:


Sawyer looks at me, eyes wide.  That teetering point, between shock and crying and anger and yelling.  She picked option 3.

"Ok Mommy." And plunked her butt down.

An artist.  She works in many mediums.
Story #3
This week, I wasn't feeling great.  Stomach upset, general queasiness, you get the picture.  On Wednesday, I worked from home, 'cause I just couldn't face getting dressed, feeling as horrible as I did.  I stayed in my pjs all day, didn't shower, didn't even brush my teeth, since I couldn't handle anything hitting the back of my tongue.

On Thursday, I had no choice, I had to go to work.  I got dressed, did my hair and got my toothbrush out.  As I bring the toothbrush to my mouth, I catch a weird smell.  Not bad, or gross, just different.  Now, I don't normally smell my toothpaste, and I thought that because of my stomach troubles, maybe my sense of smell was a little off.  I started to brush my teeth.

It was like a Bugs Bunny cartoon.  I was foaming at the mouth like a rabig dog.  Bubbles were floating out of my mouth.

I had a sudden flashback to the day before.  Something about Sawyer, a soap pump and the bathroom sink.  I am pretty sure that Sawyer tried to clean it all up with my toothbrush. 

Lucky, luck me.

Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "Never stops".  And by that I mean the fun.

1 comment:

  1. Seriously still howl reading these! Love you, thanks for sharing :)