Confessions of a Chart-Challenged Mother and the Permanent Repercussions to her Oldest Daughter.

Ok. So Lily’s always coming to me with these “theoretically” great ideas about how to organize things. Anything. It could be about cleaning, or cooking, or discipline, or practicing the piano, or anything, really. I usually give her a smile, a enthusiastic “Good idea” and then drop it, because, I guess I’m not much of a chart mom. Lily should’ve been born in my sister Daisy’s family…because she’s great with charts. Here’s an example of one of Lily’s charts…no kidding, she comes up with this stuff on her own. It’s pretty good. (Disregard the handwritten rules, these were written in by some unruly uncle)



So I was lamenting about this one day to my sister-in-law, Trieste, about how I was not a good mom because I couldn’t be the organized chart lady that Lily obviously thinks I should be. So Trieste decided that for Lily’s birthday she was going to make her a planner. Just something that an organized 2nd grader needs. So we had a wonderful birthday for Lily and she got, among other things, Trieste’s planner. She was polite about all her presents and thanked everyone…but I was unsure of how the planner was going to go over until the next morning. Lily was already ready for school and was waiting on Canyon to get ready and I saw her in the living room, without her knowing that I was watching, hugging her planner. I guess it’s official. Lily did inherit something, besides her freckles and red hair, from her dad.

Princess Alice

I know that Alice is much a topic of interest on this blog—but she’s at an extremely interesting age and she’s funny and difficult and she makes you want to cry with laughter or with pure frustration. This is, once again, another Alice story…so take it for what it is. We were having a particularly lovely morning which included the mandatory fits of uncharacteristic rage for dressing and combing hair and general getting readiness. However, after we were finally dressed in a pink dress and, what Alice likes to call, her glass slippers (they are really some pink ballet flats that Hannah got her for Christmas), we were ready to go to COSTCO. As we were walking in the door the lady that checks the validity of the Costco card, said: “Well, aren’t you the prettiest princess I ever saw.” Alice gasped. How could this random lady know that she’s a princess? Was this one of her secret, but loyal, subjects? Perhaps she was a lady-in-waiting who had been banished to Costco by a previous princess.

At any rate, the question begged to be asked, and so I asked it: “How did you know?”

Costco lady: “Oh, I know, I have a princess of my own. She’s thirty-nine years old.”

I got a little emotional at this admission. I’m not sure if I was nostalgic for this woman and her now grown little princess, or if I was in utter despair at the thought of waiting on Princess Alice, hand and foot, for at least thirty-seven more years.

Alice: “Look at my glass slippers.”

Costco lady, with much attention and with very accurate and majestic intonations, fit for a princess: “Those are the most beautiful glass slippers I have ever seen.”

Alice graciously beamed as we pushed into the store, talking merrily of her glass slippers and the “sprinkles” in her hair (leftover glitter from her haircut). She really is a princess. Now when do I become the queen?