Loren Wins Lovely Award, Despite Being Covered in Mucus

Elizabeth gave me the Lovely Award, so from this moment forward I'd like to be referred to as "Lovely Loren." Thank you very much Elizabeth, I think you are a very classy lady.

Big Brother's Sticky Situation

I am Big Brother and I will only take my medicine if it is the cool, yummy orange one that I love. I do not like the red medicine for robots. I am not a robot; I am a boy. Mommy says I have to take the red Robitussin, and my face makes many horrible shapes, because I hate that stuff. I shake my head no! Mommy backs me into a corner in the kitchen, and I fall on the ground, (on purpose), because the smell of the robot medicine knocks me over.

Mommy is starting to "freak!" She says she's waiting, and thinks she's starting to "age." I will keep my mouth closed until she is 134 years old because I am not a robot. I am a boy. Mommy sits on me, the spoon touches my lips and makes them feel all tingly. I scream and Mommy gets out the sugar. She says I can have a whole spoon of it if I swallow the medicine, but I don't take that deal. I try for a milk shake from Carvel instead, but Mommy says, "I do not negotiate with terrorists!" Mommy's going to jump off a cliff if I don't take my medicine, but I remind her that there are no cliffs in our town. She will have to go to where the cowboys live, or maybe Mars, to find one. Mommy begs me to take my medicine, but I am not a robot, and my mouth is shut tightly.

Next, Mommy is looking out the window, and she thinks she sees one of Santa's elves, but I don't care. She can see the dentist elf knocking on the glass with a tooth brush, and I still won't open my mouth. Now the phone is ringing. Mommy picks up with the hand that is not holding the spoon filled to the brim with robot medicine. She looks worried. It's the police department. A policeman wants to speak to me about taking the robot medicine! "NOOOO!" I shout. I'll open my mouth. Mommy hangs up and puts the spoon in my mouth, but something really bad happens. My lips can't hold in the sticky, smelly robot food. It sprays out of my mouth and all over mommy's shirt. OH, she is not happy. She just threw the spoon across the kitchen into the sink. "Nice shot, Mommy!" I say. I tell her she can be like one of those Globetrotters, but she is grumbling, walking away from me. "Mommy! Does this mean I don't have to take my medicine?" Looks like mommy was the sticky one this time.

Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Doctor?

I'm a strong princess with pink lip gloss, and the mommy of a tiny baby named John. Once I dropped baby John on his head and he did not cry because he's plastic. I'm not afraid of the doctor like Big Brother. Today Big Brother is sick and we have to go there. Mommy says that if he opens his mouth, and lets the doctor take some of his slimy spit then we can get any kind of ice cream in the world. Big Brother says "No deal, Mom."

Mommy tries to make another deal anyway. She says that if Big Brother opens his mouth and beez good for the doctor he will get to pick out any snack in the world from the store later. Big Brother says "No Deal," but I tell him to take that one. Then we can get the cereal that Daddy buys and eats when mommy is not looking, because she thinks it's evil: Cookie Crisps.

I like Cookie Crisps, and I think the doctor is evil, but I'm not scared. Today Big Brother has to open his mouth and say "AAHH" so we can get the deal from Mommy. "Do it!" I shout, standing on the doctor's step stool to reach him. He's ripping the paper on the doctor's table. "It's not scary! The doctor is a nice lady, Big Brother." (Shh! I not telling the truth.)

She examines my baby John, and that's okay, but when her snaky scope comes after me I whip out my magical wand that Mommy bought at the Disney store. "Hey, put that snaky scope down," I warn. I do some spells on her, but they don't work so I scream and kick. The doctor calls her gang of nurses who fly in and hold my arms down. In the meantime, Big Brother is saying, "Don't be afraid. Open your mouth. Remember the deal." Then the doctor asks me what I want to be when I grow up. I tell her "a boy." I don't know why she and Mommy are laughing a lot. I ask when I will start growing into a boy, like my brothers. Big Brother tells me all the time that I can not be fast-est, because I am a girl. Mommy says that with advances in modern science I should be able to become a boy sooner or later, if my health insurance will cover it, but the doctor doesn't think it will. I wonder if Big Brother will let me play with him and his friends when I become a boy? I squirm away from the nurses and clamp myself to the doorway.

Now all deals are off. I'm not afraid of the doctor, but this is ri-dick-oo-lus. She was ACTUALLY, ACTUALLY supposed to check Big Brother and my plastic baby John. I pull out my wand again and stop that doctor with magic for once and for all. Who is afraid of the doctor? Not me. I'm an action girl hero. "That's not SILLY!" (laugh) Just look at my sparkling lip gloss.
-by the Princess of this house

Potty-Hopping

I've always avoided public restrooms, because usually they're visibly dirty. I'll turn green before I use one, always waiting to get home. I drove through three states while pregnant and didn't use one. I guess the fear stems from an unhealthy over-awareness of germs. Having children has only made this phobia worse. Now that the princess is almost fully potty-trained, she's on a quest to visit all the public restrooms on the East Coast of the United States. As you can imagine, Reader, this is not good for me.

In the fast food restaurant, the princess tells several people on line about her Tinkerbell underpants. They act fascinated. After we eat, she immediately has to use the restroom. I bring her and her two brothers into the Women's Room, having to first convince big brother that it's okay to go in a door marked "Ladies" even though he isn't one.

Once inside, from the corner of my eye, I see myself doing a nervous, crazy dance in the mirror, shouting, "Don't touch the seat! Don't put your mouth on that dirty wall! GET UP OFF THE FLOOR NOW!" I have a toddler in one arm, I'm pulling up the princess' underpants with the other, and holding big brother against the wall with my "mommy glare." When we finally exit the restroom, princess is beaming and I'm exhausted. "That was FUN," she shouts.

We go through the same routine at Barnes & Noble, only this time she has broken the bookstore golden rule. She brings a book in the bathroom. "You read this to me, Mommy?" Princess shoves a paperback in my face as I sit her on the seat that I've meticulously covered with toilet paper. It's titled: Chimpanzee Politics: Power and Sex Among Apes. I put it down on the counter. "Let's save this one for when you're interning with Jane Goodall," I joke. Big brother and the baby laugh hard at my quip that they did not get. The baby drops my cell phone in the toilet just as the princess flushes. Without thinking, I stick my hand in the water to retrieve it. Then my brain realizes where my hand is and I scream. I think, "This is why I had kids, to be challenged."

"Once you become a mother you're the frame, not the picture." -Unknown