Emily loves the park.
for exactly 38 seconds.
and then she gets too hot and too bored and too tired and too hungry and too hot and too thirsty and swings are for babies and Josh and Bella are embarrassing her.
It’s not just the park, either. She had the same reaction to the ZooAtlanta and the Toronto Science Centre and the Imagine It children’s museum. Complaints mixed with a dash of folded arms and angsty looks.
See…this is the problem with 8 going on 18. The things she *wants* to do…like go shopping and secretly watch episodes of the OC and America’s Next Top Model on the dvr when I’m not home and gossiping and putting on lip gloss and watching Wizards of Waverly Place and talking about Joe’s breakup with Camilla and getting her nails done and doing the Hoedown Throwdown and emailing her friends back home and ironing her hair ARE NOT age appropriate for her siblings, who are respectively 6 and 4. Heck, most of those activities are not even age appropriate for 8.
But, it’s my fault really. She has always been an old soul. I had her when I was still an infant, just shy of 23. She and I watched Regis and Kelly and soaps, not Elmo and Barney. She and I listened to emo rock, not DJ Lance Rock. She and I went to the mall, not to the park. Very few of my friends had kids, so Emily became very mature, very quickly. It wasn’t until Joshie came around that I had that I had that holy shit moment; that one where I’m all ZOMG! I am a MOTHER! I have CHILDREN. I better put on some fucking Blue’s Clues and sign up for some Mommy and Me classes and take my kids to the park and the zoo!
But I kind of HATE the park.
And I kind of hate the zoo too.
there’s the rub, it seems. I guess it wasn’t only the Jewish pulkes I passed down to her.
If you want more of me, and I know you do, you can find me over here at Aiming Low on u (still in shock that they want me to write for them…so please BE KIND) and you can find me over here at Juice, as always.
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