The Upstory

Once upon a time I was a full-time, boots-on-the-ground Mom. Mommy. Mama. Mother. I didn’t get to be a Mom right away. First there was school. Then there was work. Then there was a husband. By the time I got around to being a mom, I was in my late 30s. By the time I mom’d again, I was in my early 40s.

My firstborn, Cody, taught me how to be a mom. Then Holly came along and she taught me how to be a really busy, stay focused, stay-on-top-of-things mom. For several years I wrote weekly letters to their grandparents, Lester and Enola Orgeron, who lived in New Orleans and liked to know what their desert-dwelling grandchildren were up to.

Now I’m turning these letters into a book for Cody and Holly. The book is titled “Stories about Me: As told by my Mother.”

From time to time, these letters will be posted in The UpStory. In celebration of Mother’s Day 2020, here are the first of these letters.

Cody’s school struggles, Holly’s home adventures
Nov. 10, 1998

I haven’t caught you up on our news for a while so here’s the latest and greatest.

The children, also known as the Fearless Few, the Dynamic Duo, and the Peerless Pair are right on track with their growth and development.

Cody is six and Holly is three. Cody is the one who taught me to be a Mom. Holly is teaching me to wise up.

Holly knows all the tricks of the trade and she’s invented a couple of new ones. Plus, she never sleeps. Cody takes a more casual approach to life. He plays a little basketball, watches a little TV, does a little yo-yo, hangs out, tells jokes and only has one food group: Cereal. I guess the big difference between Cody and Holly is that Cody does what you tell him to do and Holly tells you what to do.

Right now, they are in that exciting learning phase of their development. They’re learning what words are bad, how loud to say them, and when and how bad soap tastes. Now they have become good language arbiters. You haven’t lived until you’ve argued with a 3-year-old about whether “shoot” is a naughty word like “shit” is.

Cody started first grade and he’s learned all kinds of stuff that doesn’t show up on his report card. He can do tricks with his hands to make it sound like someone’s passing gas (this is a key social skill that works especially well in restaurants) and he can snap his fingers. He’s working on learning to whistle.

In First Grade there is a daily behavior traffic light: Red/bad, Yellow/almost bad, Green/good. The first couple of weeks, Code-ster was in Red on almost a daily basis. He resisted coming back from recess. He’d go to the bathroom … and stay there. He scuffled with other boys. And, he wasn’t much interested in getting an education.

But, I’m happy to say he’s been “redirected” and is almost always in Green these days. He also has distinguished himself twice now by becoming suddenly ill and barfing on the person nearest to him, which in both cases was his teacher.

Holly is 3 going on 16. It’s scary how much she knows. She listens to everything and she misses nothing. She is our social director:

“Mommy, let’s have a slumbee (slumber, she ends most words with “e”) party. That’s a good idea.”

“Mommy, let’s go to McDonalds and get a white ice cream. That’s a good idea.”

And picture this: She has these supreme expressions that go with every “good idea.” She’ll slap her hand to her forehead and her eyes will get big and her eyebrows will arch.

My mom, Holly’s Grandmother Sarah, would be very proud of Holly for being the animal person she is. Holly is the only one who can get near the two rabbits. They have an outdoor “rabbitat” and can evade all of us. But she spends so much time forcing carrots down their tunnels and talking to them and insisting they be petted that they have come to accept her. She also is the Chief Boss of the woofies. She decides who gets a dog treat and who has to have a time out.

The other day I couldn’t find the dogs, so I went to Holly’s room. For once they weren’t there. (She will call them into her room, get them settled, and then leave telling them to wait until she gets back. While waiting they usually fall asleep.) I wandered around calling their names and heard this bumping noise coming from her walk-in closet. Sure enough that’s where she had stored them.

They had been sleeping in comfort on a pile of sleeping bags and they came out stretching and happy to say hello.

Then I found Holly and asked her, “Why did you put the dogs in the closet?” (I know it’s pointless to ask the “why” question, but I still do.) Anyway, she had an answer. She told me it was because she wanted to have them handy for when she wanted to pet them. I kid you not.

Bad words
Nov. 30, 1998

Got your note and what a riot that “sarcastic” is your friend’s daughter’s bad word! And that it’s bad because she’s wearing it out using it all the time.

Cody’s bad word is “dammit.” I didn’t think Holly had a bad word per se until this weekend. She watched Glenn wham his head on a beam (he’s re-doing the patio to bring it up to code) and the poor guy stood there holding his head, eyes closed, and biting his tongue. So, Holly said it for him: “What the hell!” she said. I about died.

Holly’s wardrobe choices, Cody’s friends and fights
Dec. 12, 1998

We are in the midst of trying to sell our domicile and buy someone else’s domicile. That means we are in a state of perpetual model-home splendor. Everything is dusted, vacuumed, picked up, and put away.

The dogs are not allowed to slobber on the windows. We have cinnamon air filters so the whole house smells like a kitchen on baking day. It’s a great way to live if you like that sort of thing.

Meanwhile, the children are doing just swell.

Holly’s first waking thought is, “What am I going to wear today?” And her second waking thought is, “How am I going to get Mom to agree to it?”

Of her wardrobe collection she has exactly two (2) outfits she likes to wear. One is a Barbie swimsuit with a matching sarong. The other is a purple spangled ballerina costume that she got for Christmas.

I’m not your “go with the flow” kind of Mom so, in the time-honored tradition of moms everywhere, I keep insisting she wear things are a) appropriate to the weather, which has been none too warm lately, and b) laundered. This works somehow for her and she wears the swimsuit under her jeans and sweater and the tutu over the jeans and sweater.

Cody is such a Young Man. He has a large collection of close friends that we either hear about or see on a daily basis. Sometimes he gets in scuffles with these people and a couple of weeks ago he ended up in the principal’s office as a result.

His teacher told us that he really makes her day because he’ll come up to her and announce, “Miss Sullivan, I’m happy today.” Probably he says this on the days he’s not visiting the principal.