Pink vs. Blue

Is this not the best thing you've seen? Ever?

By Katy England

My weirdo roots go deep. When I was young, I was into bugs in a big way. I’d dig up worms, play with salamanders and snakes, and frogs. If it creeped and crawled I liked it. And I had a unicorn collection. My favorite dress was one that was made up of rainbows – I would probably have worn it every single day if my mom had let me.

My dad encouraged my love of computers and technology. I have very fond memories of helping build a solar-powered hotdog cooker that focused sunlight against metal to cook the dogs and soldering solar-powered cars. To this day I enjoy video games and catch and release all non-bloodsucking bugs into the wild (except for those blasted carpet beetles – you suck and you know it! Enjoy toilet life.).

So, it wasn’t a huge deal when one of my daughters got into trains and trucks in a big way. I mean, there’s plenty that stuff – and Thomas’s marketers were savvy enough to throw in a few girl trains to match with the new millennium. When it comes to clothes, she loves things with stripes, my other daughter is a huge fan of blue, my son claims to like green and yellow, but never fails to ask for the pink bowl if it’s available for breakfast.

I’ve actually had to learn about large-scale construction equipment to keep up. And that’s really how it should be – a sharing of ideas. Here’s what I think is cool – oh, you like that? Awesome.

But there’s been many a line drawn in the sand over what is for girls and what is for boys – and most of it is silly. I’ve never met a person who, while growing up, never pulled at the air over their head while a big rig rolled by to get him to blast the horn. It’s practically universal.

So, my little daughter vacillates between liking bugs (it’s so CUTE!) and squishing them in a fit of rage and fear. I’m working on the whole, “They’re more scared of you than you are of them…” line. It’s a process. My son plays with my old My Little Ponies alongside his extensive collection of dinosaurs.

When one of my daughters developed a taste for lemon-zinger tea, my head was filled with thoughts of tea sets. I still have my porcelain tea set I got for Christmas growing up. It was a Big Deal. And the idea of being able to have tea parties filled me with giddy anticipation. And so I started cruising the internet for tea sets, but I wanted them to reflect some of her other interests. Like dinosaurs or trucks. But to my dismay, there were not many dinosaur-themed tea services. Which was both a surprise, and a bummer.

There were some leads – Deviant Art pieces, ghost images on Pinterest, but nothing I could buy. So I started skimming Etsy for tea sets and came across a goth-inspired tea service. It looked like any of the elegant porcelain sets, gilded with gold scrolling and trimmed in pink – with a gothic skull enameled where flowers would normally be. And then there were the magic words “Reques a Custom Order.”

So, I messaged her about the option for dinosaur skulls, trucks and train engines. Well, now a special order is in the works. I probably won’t end up getting it until they’re a couple years older. I like to stockpile presents in case of emergency, that way we’ll still have something.

I’ll probably be visiting that shop again for her collection of insect plates. In the meantime, I can’t wait to start planning a tea party.

Enjoy the enjoyable

Savoring the little things while they're little

By Katy England

There will always be something that is frustrating going on in your life – especially if you have kids. Because if it’s not happening to you, it’s happening to them. They will fight, whine, hit, sulk, get sick, be nosy, break things, have accidents and more. And if they aren’t, you are – be it a vehicle breaking, unexpected bills, needing to get work done, needing a break – the list of things to get stressed about is literally endless. You can drive yourself nuts – I have.

Which is why it’s important to make note of some of the nice things that go on in your life. Especially when it is passing so very quickly before our eyes.

The kids have always like the bus – the ritual of waiting for the bus has been filled with excitement since day-one. Pictures of the kids with grins lighting up their faces the first time the bus arrived is enough to lift me from a dark funk. If only we could all be so excited about our daily routine, right?

And since those first few days of clapping, and squealing with delight, things have evened out.  There is play, there is a bit of bickering – you know normal level stuff. But always enthusiasm when the bus arrives.

Lately though there was a change – right as the bus rolls up, all of the kids want to give mom and dad hugs and kisses. Which is something I love – I mean who wouldn’t right? So, I know it sounds like bragging – but hold on, it’s less bragging and more record keeping. Because here we are, in 2016 with walking, talking, mostly potty-trained human being who five years ago didn’t exist. And then they were babies and then toddlers and now they’re mini people.

And I don’t want to wax too sentimental, but I know that I won’t always be getting these hugs. I know that there will come a time when waiting for the bus becomes a chore (I remember waiting for a bus, my memory problems don’t go that deep). I just want to remember these things. I want to remember brushing their thistledown hair, and their full-on body-slam hugs when I pick them up. I want to remember the dance parties/exercise romps we have pre-bedtime. I want to wrap them up and put them in a box, because that’s as close as I can come to getting them to slow the heck down when it comes to growing up.

My son can already count to 18 and knows that’s when he becomes a grown up (let’s not spoil that little illusion). He also loves dragons and dinosaurs and Vikings. He was so excited about Smaug being able to talk, which was only trumped by his excitement about how people were able to kill Smaug – and you should hear him pronounce Smaug – it’s amazing.

And the girls hug each other. They will exclaim how they miss the other one if they aren’t in the same room. They will say goodnight (even after they have gone to the potty nigh on a dozen times after bedtime) and it never gets old.

Recently, after months and months of telling me not to sing, the girls are making requests. Requests! I could die.

And I know this is a screed of sentimental crap. But I need it to exist – because like the thistledown hair, and the hugs, and the raucous laughter – it might be gone, but I never, ever want to forget it. So I write it down – and it will go in my little box of memories.