GUEST BLOG TODAY BY MY ONE-YEAR-OLD, EMMA.
Hi, folks. I understand that Mommy has been telling you some stories about our family. WHATEVER. You wanna know what really happens in a house with two semi-competent parents, a sweet, lovable (let’s-just-go-ahead-and-use-the-word) brilliant one-year-old and the four-year-old they keep around for my entertainment? THE WAIT IS OVER.
The time has come to expose the seedy underbelly of . . . Mommy, why are you looking over my shoulder while I type? That’s just rude. As I was saying, I’m here to tell you what really goes on in our family. Let’s get started. A day in the life of Emma.
5:00am. STRRRRETCH. Rise and shine, people. Hmm. No one up yet? No worries. I’ll just lie here in my crib and make some adorable cooing sounds. I know, I know, it’s a delightful way to start your day. YOU’RE WELCOME.
Emma: Lalalalala. Dadadada.
5:01am. DO YOU EXPECT ME TO WAIT IN HERE FOREVER?? I let you sleep in. How about a little appreciation?!? Now, MOVE IT! This diaper isn’t going to change itself.
5:03am. Still no service? What kind of one-star hotel is this? (Just wait til I do my review on TripAdviser.) Fine. I’m going to stand up and throw this random rubber object on the floor. (Plunk.) Now where’s my pacifier? OHMYGOD. IT’S ON THE FLOOR.
5:03 and 5 seconds: Hi, Mommy. You up too? Fabulous. Diaper change, please! And make it snappy. I’m starting to chafe.
5:10: MMMMMmmmm, first bottle of the day. A rich, full-bodied milky flavor. Tasting both whole and unexpired. Delightful but not overbearing in its simplicity.
5:13: Okay, what’s next, Mommy?? Breakfast? Reading me stories? Building a block tower for me to knock down? Maybe we get the big kid up? He’s always good for a laugh. Mommy? Mommy? Why are you just sitting on the couch with your eyes closed. (I grab Mommy’s shoulders and try desperately to pull her up.) Geez, Mommy, you weigh a ton. GEDDUP, GEDDUP, GEDDUP. Do I have to do it? Don’t make me do it. I warned you.
5:14 (Mommy carries me to the kitchen): I think we both agree we’re happier now. Cereal? An excellent choice.
A bowl of cereal, a small banana, two stories, one destroyed block tower, six walks around the living room, and two diaper changes later . . . it is now 5:30am.
Why are we going back upstairs, Mommy? Wait, you’re giving me to Daddy? And getting back into bed? Is it your nap time already? Weird. Anyway, good morning, Daddy!!!
Emma: Dada! Dada! Dada!
Dan: Ohayou gozaimasu, Emma-chan.
Did I mention that Daddy speaks to me in Japanese? (When are these people going to realize that I’m only fluent in Swahili and Mandarin Chinese?)
Daddy carries me downstairs. What’s that, Daddy? No, no. Mommy fed me NOTHING. Do you see this hungry face? What are YOU having for breakfast, Daddy? Yeah, I’m gonna need some of that.
6:00am. We hear the big kid yelling upstairs.
OH, GOODY! Upstairs, Daddy. Take me upstairs to see the four-year-old. He’s HILARIOUS. (Daddy carries me upstairs to Jacob’s room. And puts me down on the floor. I run– which is the same thing as waddling and falling down a lot– over to Jacob’s bed. Mommy is standing next to the bed. Trying to convince the big kid to get up.)
Jacob: Mommy, it’s too bright! Turn off the light.
Mommy: I thought you yelled for me because you were ready to get up.
(I reach up and grab two fistfuls of Jacob’s hair. He LOVES it.)
Jacob (Pulls covers over head): Mommy, turn off the light!
Peek-a-boo game? AWESOME. (I pull the covers off of Jacob’s head.) PEEK-A-BOO!
After this, things get a little confusing. There’s a lot of what Mommy calls “negotiating” with the big kid. About three forevers later, he’s finally dressed and ready to go downstairs. And then Mommy and Daddy start tossing me back and forth while each one of them disappears for awhile to do something called “showering”. It’s annoying. First of all, it means that they come back all soggy. Second, it means is that once I’ve broken one of them in, they give me to the other one. I pretend to desperately want whichever one is leaving. I’ve noticed this makes the one who gets to play with me try harder. (Maybe I should be a personal trainer . . . ?)
7:00am. Jacob is drawing with his markers. Every time I take one- just ONE- he snatches it out of my hands. And every time I put one- just ONE- in my mouth, Mommy snatches it out of my hands. RUDE, PEOPLE. JUST RUDE.
8:30am. I’m feeling a little bit emotional. What?!? Like YOU never cry because you can’t get the little plastic person into the little plastic school bus. (HOW WILL THE LITTLE PLASTIC PERSON EVER GET AN EDUCATION?) Or Mommy reads the book too slowly. (AND NOT EVEN IN CHINESE.) Or you CLEARLY indicate with a gesture that you want the gorilla puppet but Mommy gives you the firetruck instead. I CAN’T WORK UNDER THESE CONDITIONS, PEOPLE.
8:32am. Daddy is carrying me upstairs. Thanks, Daddy. I could use some Daddy-Emma time. Maybe you could let me ‘accidentally’ delete stuff on your phone? Or we could play on your computer? Wait a minute. What’s this? Why are you bringing me back to my room? No I will not put a paci in my– (Suck-suck-suck-suck-suck.) What’s that? Putting me in my crib?!? OH, HELLS NO.
Emma: WAAAAAAAAAANNHHHH. Hmph.
10:00am. I feel oddly refreshed. What just happened?
10:02am. Hiya, Mommy. Whassup? Where’s Daddy? The big kid? Actually forget that, where’s my snack!?!
10:04: Mmmmm. Applesauce. A full-bodied Macintosh blend with overtones of Honeycrisp leaving a refreshing but tart aftertaste. More, Mommy, More. Shovel it in. Wait, I’ll open my mouth even wider so you can see directly down into my stomach. See down there. There’s an empty spot. Fill it with the sauce, Mommy! MORE, WOMAN. MORE!
10:34am: Outside the house. Finally some fresh air. WOAH, NELLY. What do you think you’re doing now, Daddy? Sticking me in the box on wheels? I suppose, as usual, I’ll be facing backwards. Hmph. No problem. I’ll just sit here quietly in the back seat planning your nursing home. Don’t expect a view.
10:42: We’re at the grocery store? SUH-WEET. Don’t worry, Daddy, I’ve got my list right here. Oh, dang. I think I left it in my other pair of pants. No worries. I’ll just point to things that I want and screech like a banshee. Grapes, Grapes, GRAAAAAAPES!!!
Emma: Daaaaaah Daaaaaah. (Loud whining noises and much flailing of hands)
10:43am: MIIIIIIIIIIIILK. HELLS, YES. Wait. They make it in CHOCOLATE? Why is this the first I’m learning of this?!?
10:45am: Hmm. Time to greet my public. Gotta keep the fan base happy. (I peer around Daddy and smile at the sixty-year-old man buying vitamin supplements. And thirty-five-year old woman in exercise clothes. And the five-year-old standing on the front of his mother’s shopping cart.) Helllllo, America. (Daddy pushes the cart down the aisle and I give a nod to a few regulars. And smile at some new fans.) How you doin’?
Random shopper (smiling): How old is she?
Dan: A little over a year.
AND PURE ADORABLE. Go ahead, Daddy. Say it. Really, people. Don’t hold back. Gush if you must. The Emma understands.
11:07am: Leaving? Already? But my public . . . THEY. WANT. MORE.
11:21am: Back home. Thank GOD. I really need a chance to unwind.
11:45am: I’M. SO. BORED. How many times can a girl gnaw on the remote control, pull all the books off the bottom book shelf and topple over Jacob’s carefully constructed block ‘castle’. (If you ask me, it looked a lot more like a barn, but whatever.) Hey, where’s Mommy?
Emma: Mama? Mama? Mama?
Mommy: I’m right here, Emma.
*GASP* Mommy, who told the big kid he could sit in your lap?!? That’s MY spot. UNACCEPTABLE, MOMMY. UN-ACCEPTABLE.
(I try to push Jacob off Mommy’s lap. Oddly, he doesn’t budge. In fact, I think I even heard him giggle a little.)
THIS. IS. AN. OUTRAGE. Hey, big kid: GEDDUP. GEDDUP. GEDDUP. FINE. Stay there. But don’t think I’m going to forget this. It’s ON, brother. It’s ON.
Stay tuned next week for the rest of my expose on life with my fumbling parents and the big kid.