I finished it on Thanksgiving day and now, three days after Thanksgiving, it is hanging up. Sadly, the picture doesn't show the quilting but I'm looking at it while I type this and I can tell you, it looks pretty.(sawtooth star)
Thirty minutes ago I sat down, after feeding everyone and just as I took my first bite of turkey sandwich, Sissy says, "Mom. What does caffeine look like alone?"
I don't know how she does it, or why. I can't even tell you if it's intentional or just extremely poor timing. I certainly can't certify the crazy crap that comes out of her mouth. I can tell you only this. When the crazy comes out of her mouth, I ignore her. Who can answer these insane questions? "Not I," says the the cow. "Not I," says the dog. "Not I," says the cat. "Nor I!" shouts this mother!
Last night I took the opportunity, after a very LONG drive home, Sissy and AB going nutso giddy, to send some crazy back her way. While playing outside at Grandma's yesterday afternoon, she decided to pick a rose off the rosebush, apparently it was a gift for me. Then, as we packed to go, she decided to put the bloom in her hair. Sometime on the trip home with all of the insanity happening in the backseat, Sissy decided every petal of that rose needed to come off and be dropped on the floor and seat, left for the clean-up fairy to come and clean it up.
I discovered this petal palooza when I returned to the van an hour after our return home, to unpack. I opened up the side door and voila. Petals. Everywhere. I breathed a sigh and gathered my wits. *think, think, think* Ok, I'll just have her suck it up with the handvac. whatevs. i won't dissect the RADical connotations. I just want the flower cleaned up.
I went to her room, she was already in pajamas. I handed her the handvac and said, "Do you know what I want you to do with this? Here's your hint. I've just returned from the van and noticed a mess."
"There's petals everywhere?"
"It's cold outside, i suggest you put on your robe before you go out. Thank you for cleaning it up without raging." (I threw in that last bit as a Don't-TRY-raging-about-this)
Two minutes later she emerged from her room with her robe on. That is to say, from the front, it was closed and sashed. From the back, it is hiked up all kinds of crazy, her bottom hanging out, the sash haphazardly tied about her rear. We've had discussions about her unwillingness to put on her clothing correctly. The robe being the most ridiculous offender to her come-what-may attitude about attire.
"Um. Sissy. Your robe is ..."
"*ahem* Well, if you want everyone to see you that way, leave it. OR, untie your robe and fix it before going out."
the rumblings of a rage were in the back of her throat. Somehow we managed to get through all of the put-down-the-handvac-untie-the-sash-pull-down-the-robe-over-your-butt-retie-the-sash instructions without an all out war and she was out the door harrumphing at the injustice of having a mother that gives a flying flip. And that's when I got crazy.
I dashed into the bathroom, stripped, threw on my pajamas and put on my robe. Only I made sure my robe looked perfect from the front and absolutely idiotic from the back. My granny panties hanging out, my robe hiked up above my waist, my sash looped UNDER my derriere. I made it to the kitchen just as Sissy was putting back the handvac.
"Thank you for putting that away correctly." I said with a silly grin. Sissy looked up and saw only my perfectly tidy front. "Just one question." I snickered and turned around, bending over for full affect. "Is there something wrong with my robe? I'm getting a draft on my bottom." I patted it for full affect.
Sissy grunted at me, groaned and then growled. "UGH! MOM!!!!"
"What?" I turned back around, looking at my front. "I just don't understand it." I feigned ignorance in my best Snow White voice. "The front of my robe looks just fine." I cinched the sash tighter to prove the point.
"yourrobeiswrongintheback" she mumbled to the ground.
"Oh? What should I do?"
"PULLITDOWN!!!YOURBUTTISSHOWING!!!!!" she hissed at me.
I turned around and did as instructed so she could witness what I was doing to make my robe correct. "Oh yes, you're absolutely right. That's much better. My bottom is nice and toasty warm now. Thank you!"
more grumbling. "Well Sissy," I turned around and faced her, coming within her invisible comfort zone as I knelt just low enough to be eye-to-eye. "That looked really dumb, didn't it?"
"I bet you would have laughed at me if you weren't mad."
"You should have. I looked stupid. I looked like an absolute idiot."
"When I ask you to fix your robe, it's because I don't want people laughing at you. I don't want YOU to look like an idiot."
"but, but, BUT!!!..."
"you've told me it makes you really mad when people laugh at you. Right?"
"So as your mom, I'm trying to help you so people don't have a reason to laugh at you. i do this because I care about you. I care what you want."
"Do you know how to put your robe on correctly?"
"So ... if you choose not to, then you're going to look like an idiot, aren't you?"
"and people will laugh."
"Then please fix your robe correctly. I ask you because I care. OK?"
she nodded her head.
"and if I ever look that stupid again, go ahead at laugh at me. I'd deserve it."
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