Wednesday, February 5, 2014

ice cream

There are three rules in our family that can never be broken:

            1.  No screaming unless you are on fire or are being kidnapped;
            2.  Always think of the family before you make plans;
            3.  When Mommy is hungry, feed  her.  If she is really grumpy, give her ice cream.

Mommy is the kind of Mom that does everything.  She fixes cars, plants gardens, sings and plays the harp.  She makes all of our lunches (mine, Holly’s and Bristol’s), by giving us sprouted bread with organic cheese and veggies that she puts in Tupperware and kisses.  She says our lunches will fill our bodies with love, instead of chemicals, which the pre-packaged stuff will fill us up with.

When Mommy wakes up in the morning, Daddy has just gone to sleep.  He is online with China all night, solving their problems and they expect him to keep their schedule.  Mommy puts on the ambient noise machines so that our Great Danes, Venus and Mars don’t wake him up with their complete madness. 

After she gets us in the car, she drives us to school and sometimes helps us in class.  When she picks us up, she drives us to gymnastics and talks with the other Moms while we tumble and twirl.

Then, Mommy gets us all together after she chases Bristol around when she doesn’t want to get in the car.  On the drive home, sometimes Mommy tells us things like “Money doesn’t grow on trees,” or “You should listen,” or “I work very hard, you know.”

Since these are all things we know, I  assume that Mommy is saying them because she is tired and hungry.

I have learned how to send Daddy a text that says “Mommy is hungry,” or “SOS” when she can see that I am not listening to her. 

Hopefully Daddy can see his phone and will have dinner ready by the time we get home.  He usually drops what he’s doing and goes to make spaghetti or beans and rice before we can get home.  That way, when Mommy walks in the door, he can say “Welcome home, Honey!  Sit down, dinner is ready!”

Mommy is always pleased and surprised.  Daddy winks at me, or else he gives me a high-five, and we know our secret communication has been successful.

Sometimes, the dinner plan is not enough.

Mommy will come home and trip over our shoes that are near the cubbies instead of inside of them and then yell at us that we must keep the area clear.  Before Daddy has a chance to tell her that dinner is ready, she will ask him why he is the kitchen or she might even say “How is China today?”

It’s bad when Mommy asks Daddy how China is.

In these cases, Daddy has a secret weapon.  He will reach into the freezer and pull out a frosted glass bowl he has hidden behind all of the frozen breads.  He will take it out of its ziplock bag and reveal a beautiful vanilla heaven: three scoops of organic ice cream just for Mommy that she doesn’t have to share.  He’ll sit her down and place the bowl in front of her and put a spoon in her hand.  He tells her to start eating and he will feed the girls. 

She will not eat right away, in fact many times Mommy will ask Daddy where he bought the Ice Cream (she will not eat fake cream).  Mommy will eventually eat the frozen love offering, starting slowly and lifting the spoon to her mouth in slow movements.  Then, she’ll get a look on her face that is both silly and sleepy at the same time.

As soon as we are all settled at the table and Mommy is eating the creamy vanilla scoops, Daddy will sometimes bring her other things like fresh pineapple slices or butterscotch topping. 

By the time the girls are finishing our dinner, Mommy is making romantic looks at Daddy and feeling a lot better. 
“I do believe that this is my favorite way to end the day,” Mommy says dreamily. 

I love our family. 

I know we have rules for a reason and I am willing to live by those rules. 

I know that Daddy and Mommy try their best and they make mistakes.  I even know there are times when Mommy tries her best not to yell or say bad words.  But when she gets close to those times, I’m all for feeding her ice cream. 

After all, if Mommy ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.

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