Hello, is that you Santa? PDF Print E-mail
Written by OHmommy   
Thursday, 18 October 2007 00:00

When she was born, my brother took one look at her and said .... "Now, there is a middle child." My middle child is a handful. My first born is nearly perfect. My third child, the baby, is not mobile and quite content. I write about the middle one often because I need to vent and this is a great outlet. It is between writing or screaming.

Sometimes I do both...

We were done playing school, we finished painting pumpkins, we had a snack, we washed the windows together, and then it happened. Boredom struck. Lola grabbed her blond Polly Pocket and confirmed that she needed a haircut, "She's hair is too long." Lola, you need to say HER. Her hair is too long. "Her hair is too long, I will cut it." No, you will not cut it. If you cut it - I will never again buy you another Polly Pocket. "That is fine. That is my choice then, I will cut her hair." Okay, if that is your choice. you can cut her hair, but you will never get another Polly Pocket, ever again in your life. "Okay. I will never get a Polly Pocket again. That is my choice"

CUT, CUT, CUT the blond wisps fall onto our kitchen bench. Lola looks up, surveying my face.

Lola, are you happy with your choice? There are so many cute Polly Pockets at Target. There is the Cinderella Polly, the Beauty and the Beast Polly, and so many other ones that YOU WILL NEVER have. Ever. "Yes, I am happy with my choice. it is my choice. She needs a haircut."

CUT. CUT. CUT. More wisps fall onto the bench. She does not even look up for a minute as she feverishly cuts away the blond hair.

She is so not ever getting another flipping Polly Pocket. Ever. I will make it my life mission to make sure she never gets to hold a new Polly Pocket package. I will never buy her Polly Pocket anything - not even "Race to the Mall" (which she really wants) - don't even try buying her one Uncle Mike. We are now a Polly Pocket-free zone.

"Mama? I think all of the Polly Pockets need a haircut. Look this one is all done. I need to cut all of their hairs now. Can I? Can I? Here are some more, I want to cute their hairs. Can I?" She looks up at me, shows me the flipping doll and her sizzors. The nerve. The determination. The .... trouble I will have with her when she is hiking up her plaid school skirt, just like Aunt Kash did. Our eyes meet ...
I put my camera down and grabbed the phone instead. I start dialing my childhood phone number 967-6924, saying all of the numbers out loud. As I am (pretending) to wait for the other person to answer, I gently cover the mouthpiece with my hand, patiently kneel down to her eye level, and softly whisper ....
Sweet Lola you wait one minute before you cut their hair? I am trying to get a hold of SANTA CLAUS to let him know that you really don't care too much for your toys. Hello, SANTA? Santa is that you?
"AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! MAMA ..... gasp .... MOM ..... AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH .... Mama, mama, mama, that is not my choice. It is NOT MY CHOICE! Look, I love my toys." Lola hugs all twenty-two Polly Pockets.
I know it is only October - but I had to pull out the Santa card. Nevertheless, I embraced my victory.

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Pauline Karwowski.

Is a self proclaimed globe trotting, minivan driving, SAHM stiletto ho.

Happily married mother to 3 Cleveland natives: Jay the son, Lola the daughter, and Fifi the banshee.

Now in Chicago, IL.

The content on this blog is the opinion of the blogger.


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