Also, I feel bad that I complain about my kids so much, and I want you to know that if I did not think they were the most gorgeous creatures ever to grace . . . hmm, I already said that, huh? Anyway, if they weren’t beautiful, I would complain that much more. Just call me Shallow Mom. (Hey, is that domain taken?)

First day of swim lessons today. Don’t you just want to take small bites out of all that smooth skin?

Look at those eyes. Dick and I have green eyes. Sally got blue from both grandfathers and Susan got brown from one of her Grandma’s eyes. Not “one of her Grandmas,” but from one Grandma who has one green and one brown eye.

I know we’re not supposed to have favorites, but this one was my favorite for three years and eight months. She’s still my favorite whenever I see her reading a book that I loved when I was younger. Right now she’s reading Andrew Lang’s Green Fairy Book. Any nightmares will be referred to Daddy.

We call Sally freckle face, and have forcibly desensitized her to our teasing enough that she takes it as a compliment. Of course it helps that Dick and I each sport a million freckles ourselves. (And that she is still young enough to want to be like Mom and Dad).

This one, I confess, is my favorite stinker of them all. No forgotten middle child in this family.

Seriously, I hear those awful commercials on the radio for kid modelling agencies, where they probably want to charge you thousands of dollars to take a headshot, and I think, if only this kid weren’t the most recalcitrant, uncooperative, recidivist child in the universe, we could be millionaires. MILLIONAIRES!

I gotta go ferbert Susan’s arm right now. Be right back.

This one isn’t indoctrinated into the picture-posing protocol yet. Also, she doesn’t like to smile on cue. But we’ll probably keep her, at least until something better comes along.

Or until we have to start supporting her shoe habit.

Spot gets her extreme self-sacrificing nurturing of her babies at the expense of her own needs from her mom. She’s picking that strawberry FOR the baby.

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So it’s a bit disconcerting that Susan, my middle child, seems to be three going on thirteen. Why would anyone want to be thirteen? Or to mother a thirteen-year old? Perhaps I am over-dramatizing. (Would I do that?) You tell me. Is she three-and-a-half or thirteen-and-I’m-going-crazy?

Susan Knows

That Mommy Is Not the Smartest Person Alive
(I thought this illusion lasted MUCH longer)

Dick: Mommy’s a genius. [Because I know where the juice lives.]
Susan: Mommy’s not a genius, she’s a mommy.
Dick: Mommy can be both a mommy and a genius.
Susan: Mommy, you’re a mommy, right?

That Mommy is still Pretty Darn Smart

Never go to sleep with gum in your mouth.

That Writing is a Powerful Thing

Susan: What starts with the letter Barbie?
Mom: “b”
Susan: What starts with the letter graham cracker?
Mom: “g”
Susan: No, that starts with the letter “bah.”
What starts with the letter trash can?
Mom: What do you want me to say?
Susan: I want you to say “d.”
Mom: Okay, trash can starts with a “d.”

Her Place in the World

Middle child syndrome? And in Sally’s Dollar Store Beer Stein? Apple juice. Of course. You knew that.

Mommy Sometimes Reacts Irrationally

Susan got the blue plastic mug today, my favorite Dollar Store mug, perfect for Swiss Miss Dark Chocolate Sensation with whipped cream on top. Susan didn’t appreciate the mug; she wanted a different cup. And Mommy lost it: Dang it, I have better things to do with my life, MY LIFE, than negotiate with you over which cup you drink your milk out of today. Don’t I? DON’T I?

But Susan Doesn’t Know

That Acting Irrationally is a Sign of Maturity

Mom: Susan, quit bugging your sister.
Susan: But I’m only bugging her a little bit.

Mom: Why did you DO that? or What’s wrong honey?
Susan: I don’t KNOOOOOOOOOOW.

Words to Describe Female Anatomy

[Mom takes off her sports bra]
Susan: I can see your elbows, Mommy!

That She doesn’t Love Everybody

[Mom and Susan looking at pictures online]
Mom: This is Mommy’s friend’s baby.
Susan: Oh. This is my favorite baby.

Jane Has Learned

Old-Fashioned Stitches are Best

They’re less likely to become infected. Also, shaving is not recommended, as it irritates the skin. Taking stitches out of a hairy person takes a long time. Mommy would rather see blood gushing out of her own [insert vital organ] than out of her baby’s head.

Mood Swings and Temper Tantrums and Sweet Beseeching Looks

Are probably just age-appropriate. Whether you’re three or thirteen or thirty.