Tuesday, May 12, 2009


When we lived in China, I never let Chase touch anything. I was horrified when locals reached out and touched her hands, her face, her lips. I bought the strongest germ-killer I could (which is more potent than anything one can buy over the counter in the US - I'm sure it burned a layer of skin off with every application).

At any rate, none of this seems to have impacted Chase. She has no concept of clean vs dirty. None. She will touch the bottom of her shoe and then put her hand in her mouth. She will use the brush on her toothbrush to scrub the sink. She will let Tag lick her fork and then stick it in her mouth. She will use sidewalk chalk and then dig in the dirt and then put her hands in her mouth. Seriously. I don't get it. I feel like every other word these days is, "Chase, please wash your hands."

And no, I don't feel like I'm being extreme. I mean there's pig flu out there. And she needs to learn good hygiene, especially as she heads to camp in June.

But that's not the only thing I'm pulling hair out about these days. She asks WHY all-the-time. Which I honestly don't mind if she would just listen to the answer instead of asking WHY again and again. And then there's the whining and the hanging on me. I can take one of these things, but all three is like she has somehow identified the Torture Triangle, which, when combined with my lack of sleep makes me want to curl into a ball under the dining room table.

She has also identified the fact that her feet drive me crazy. She puts them on me. All the time.

But then, she will lean in and kiss me, and say, "mommy, I love you," and somehow all is bright and beautiful in the world again.

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