Tuesday, October 22, 2013

Pretty Little Liars 1, Dora 0

I'm inspired to write at the most random times...like now...

Not even sure I'll call it writing...it's more like rambling. And all I can think about as I type this is that I hope my nails {that I just painted the most incredible color of grey} don't get messed up by the keyboard.

Like I said - RANDOM!

Right now, all 4 of my kids are downstairs with one of Abby's friends. They are all watching a show I have heard them talk about plenty, but I have never seen {and have no desire to see}. Perhaps you've heard of it? Pretty Little Liars?

Hang on...the young ones have been kicked out of the basement...Connor swears he and Libby aren't scared, even though {apparently} it's the Halloween episode. Hmmm...maybe I should offer to play with them so they are doing something more productive than watching that show...

What's this show even about anyway? No matter. I just told Abby that she had to let them watch. She begrudgingly agreed.

So here is the deal - as I sit here, I am thinking back, say, about nine years, when my oldest was 4 years old. Now I'll brag a little - Abby knew her alphabet letters and numbers up to 30 before she was 2. No lie. She walked at nine months. We thought for sure she was going to be our prodigy "Ticket to Glory."

Shows you how much we know. ;) {Just kidding. She is very smart...can't be accused of saying anything different.}

Anyway - so there she was - nine years ago - watching Dora and Barney and Bear in the Big Blue House. Learning her letters, reading stories, soaking it all in...

And then there is now - four kids - ages 4 to 13 - watching a show that is probably completely inappropriate for all of them. And what am I doing? Painting my nails. Enjoying the silence.

Enjoying the silence.
Enjoying the silence.

What the he&(*^$% has happened to my mothering skills? My teacher-self? My good example setting abilities? Instead, I'm perusing a PotteryBarn catalog, looking at things I want but will never pay that much $$ for, painting my nails, contemplating a beer {but it's only Tuesday}.

And my 4 year old is downstairs watching crap! It's crap, isn't it? I should go downstairs. Offer to read to her. Offer to play house. Or doctor. Or babies. Or a game. Or something, right???

But the silence...the silence...it is golden.
Sorry folks, but there is no way I'm ruining this moment. I don't care what that says about my mothering skills. I may think differently, however, when the 3am nightmares kick in because of something I enabled them all to watch.

But no matter, that's when I'll wake up Chris to tend to them!


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Tracey's bookshelf: read

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo
The Girl Who Played with Fire
The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest
My Sister's Keeper
Nineteen Minutes
The Pact
The Tenth Circle
Change of Heart
Keeping Faith
Handle with Care
House Rules
More Than It Hurts You
Amy and Isabelle
A Prayer for Owen Meany
A Widow for One Year
The 158-Pound Marriage
To the Lighthouse
Between the Acts
A Room of One's Own, and Three Guineas
The Help

Tracey English's favorite books »