Browsing Tag

Sisters

JoJo Just Said, So Says Sloppy Joan, Spike Speak

Sisters say what? (Vol. 6)

November 15, 2017

These sister sayings have been piling up in the notes app on my phone and it was time for a massive dump. In recent months, Sloppy Joan has started calling babies “hunnies” (which is super cute when we see baby bunnies) and Spike has become obsessed with all things private parts and Mother Nature. From our house, to yours … Enjoy!

He’s Indian. No, like his DNA is Indian. – JoJo

I’m gonna volcano in your tub! – Sloppy Joan
You’re gonna what?
Volcano, mama! In there!
You mean cannonball?
Yeah!

Shakin sisters from Courtney Leach on Vimeo.

I jugged that whole water so hard. – Spike

You know when I was little, I thought a plank was like a diving board, but now I know it’s like a pirate thing. – Spike

It said “B-I-T-C-H, please” in that wooden ship on the playground. So, “bitch, please”. – Spike

[Doing Zumba]
“Whoa, what does sexy mean , anyway?” – JoJo
“Um …”
“Is it a kind of dancing or exercise?”
“No! Don’t go to school and tell you friends we did sexy last night.”

“I’m going to miss being 5, but I think I can get through it.” – Spike

I like the pink shorties [underwear] but not the kitty shorties, because the kitty shorties are flaking and get into my butt. – Spike

What are those things called … chicas? – Spike
They’re called boobs. – her cousin

She probably didn’t recognize you because you have glasses now. – Hank
Yeah, maybe. But I have the same face and skin. – Spike

I know what that thing is – Spike
What thing? – Hank
That thing that you and Ryan have.
Oh?
It’s called a penis.
Really?
Yes, boys have a penis and girls have a private.
Actually, do you know what a woman’s private is called?
What?
It’s called a vagina.
Ew.

I don’t like jeans. – Spike
No? Why? – Hank
You know how sometimes your butt has like a crack in it? Like there’s a bump and then a crack?
Uh. Huh.
Well, the jeans get into that crack. That’s why I don’t like jeans.

Dad, I pooped in my underwear upstairs. Why don’t you check it out. – Sloppy Joan

G’night Sugar Lips! – Sloppy Joan

Diarrhea from Courtney Leach on Vimeo.

“What are those bras called?” – Spike
“What honey?” – Hank
“You know, the bras.”
“Um, there-a, well,”
“The hairs that hang in your face.”
“Oh, bangs! Bangs! You mean bangs.”

It’s a dob bobblin … I mean a sob dobblin … I mean a nob shobblin – Spike
It was a hob gobblin – Hank

You know how you get a tickle in your throat? Well, I do not like to be tickled in my mouth. – Spike

Jack, you’re going to love the lake. They make the best watermelon there. – Spike

I saw firebees! – Sloppy Joan, chasing lightning bugs

Do you pick one out or you just have one come out? – Spike asking about babies

Oh, her name is Mary Berry? I thought it was madame Blueberry – JoJo

I was drawing on the sidechalk – Sloppy Joan

Owls are nocturtle – Spike

What do you want to eat? – Me
I want something that’s like too bad for night and too good for the day. Like not too treaty but not too dinnery. – Spike

Hey! Sloppy Joan has something to say! All you hunnies get off my mom! – Sloppy Joan

Do we have bath-is tonight, or no or yes? – Sloppy Joan, every night at dinner

Oop! I’m sorry – Spike
For what? – Me
I’m sorry I … kicked you, you know … in the penis.
Honey, I don’t have a penis.

They’re building it with an instruction truck. – Spike

Mom, you know the best part about dying? You turn into angel after you dust. – Spike

Mama, is it fun to be enormous? – Sloppy Joan

Don’t you dare look back from Courtney Leach on Vimeo.

I decided I like being more brown because Pocahontas was pretty brown. – Spike

When I like to learn about nature is when it’s beautiful. When it’s not pretty, I don’t really care to learn about it. – Spike

She leaned back and kissed the bologna star, I mean the Blarney stone. And then the leprechauns came and they started making messes. – Spike

Jimmy said I don’t matter and I said you don’t care about God’s creation. – Spike

I have a friend and their grandma is 100! Yeah, I think she knew Jesus. – Spike

I stronging! – Sloppy Joan, lifting weights

Damn it, I left my coat at the farm! – JoJo, makin’ mama proud

Oh. My. Gosh. from Courtney Leach on Vimeo.

See: Sisters say what? (Vol. 5) and Sisters say what? (Vol. 4)

Kids

My daughters’ differences

March 20, 2015

 

As I watch the ladies in my home grow and transition, and bicker and prod, I realize with absolute certainty that my frazzled, thirty-something mind will never comprehend the ancient complexities of how two human beings, created by the same two human beings, can be so completely, drastically different. Hank and I are opposites, no argument there. It is frequently pointed out to me that the older two pull their dominant qualities from the maternal side, but it’s hard to tell with such a sprawling spectrum of genetic attributes in both directions.
JoJo is inquisitive. She worries and ponders and seeks the truth. She cries often, and asks about things that people my age don’t understand or only contemplate when they’re really, really stoned. She has concerns and she likes to direct action and take the lead when she feels comfortable.
Spike is my wild card. She, too, is emotional, but it’s more for dramatic effect and from frustration. She demands to be heard and she doesn’t have much patience for parenting. I don’t worry about Spike when it comes to friends or the pursuit of her dreams. I think all that girl needs is a compass and she’ll be on her way.
While I celebrate these beautiful, mystifying differences between my babies, they are often the culprits for our sibling domestic disputes. The girls are the only players in a tireless game of tug-of-war … the yin and the yang … the opposites that often don’t attract. They would move mountains both to defend each other and to defeat each other. The fights. The crazy, yelling, name-calling, remote-throwing, door-slamming fights. About whose turn it is, or who was telling the story, or who gets the green plate. It’s exhausting, but common. I’ll catch myself tiptoeing toward losing it before I plant my feet, take a beat and remind myself that my actions become their reactions. That sisters fight. That this is life in our house right now, and it looks like this sometimes in ours and all the other houses with little firecrackers running around.
But a shaken soda settles eventually, and bitterness dissolves with distraction. And that’s what I adore. It’s then I like to slow the narrative and commit it to memory. It’s in the moments when, unprompted or pushed, they hug, or tickle or have those amazing conversations when you turn your back and laugh from your heart, out through tiny tears in your eyes. And my soul feels so full and I think,
I love these little humans. And I love that they have each other
. They talk about the planet and God and monsters. They solve the day’s problems and only ask for my confirmation at the very end. “Right, Mama?” Sometimes I correct them, and more often I let their little imaginations govern the day. Because, really, wouldn’t we all be a little better off with thoughts of smiling moons and horses named Kiyango at the front door?
I simultaneously dread how quickly the time will pass, and eagerly anticipate the day when Sloppy Joan joins her sisters at the kitchen bar. If my predictions are on point, she will be her father; the calming rhythm that steadies the noise. I’m sometimes wrong about these things, but I see a peace and joy in her little eyes that reminds me of the man I married, and also why I married him. And it’s reason No. 5,986 why I love her so much.
So, this post is dedicated to the slower, happier moments. To dancing to Beyonce’s “Girls” in the basement, and imaginative time playing mermaids in the tub. To saving each other from the top of the slide and falling asleep holding hands. To reuniting after school and smothering hugs. Here’s to my delightfully different, dynamic, amazing girls and the perfectly imperfect sisterhood they share.