Just like her Mama

Well, we’ve hit another milestone today. Fiona made a boy cry. I’m not entirely sure what happened, they were kind of like riiiiiight out of my line of vision, over to the side of the chair I was sitting on. But, yeah. We went to a new playgroup today, one we hadn’t been to and didn’t know anyone, so as usual it was kind of awkward at first. The other mothers were nice enough, the kids were all right around Fiona’s age (which meant nobody really wanted to play with anyone else, they all just kind of played in the same general area), and we were having a pretty good time what with the goldfish crackers and the coffee. (It doesn’t take much to make Fi and I happy, obviously)

Anyways. The incident. It may have actually been nothing, maybe she bumped into the kid, maybe she grabbed, maybe she tried to “share”. All I know is that by the time I turned around, his snack cup was on the ground, amidst a small pile of goldfish crackers that Fiona was promptly hoovering up for us. She’s good like that. This kid looks at her, and just dissolved into tears. He didn’t seem like a particularly whiny kid up to that point, which is why I’d put money on her grabbing those fishies away from him like the little pint-sized bully she apparently is. I wasn’t quite sure how to handle it, though. We removed the fishies from the situation, and the little boy’s mother came over and was just like “looks like somebody’s getting tired” and picked him up, it was really a non-event. But I kinda felt bad. I mean, she’s small, and from experience I know that you’ve got to have a certain level of toughness to combat that, but I don’t want her picking on boys when she’s in the fourth grade, stepping on their feet or elbowing them when they’re behind her in line, thus making them cry and calling them crybaby in front of everyone, or hitting them in the face with a windup Ghostbusters toy when they sit behind her on the school bus (repeat crying and namecalling). Not that I did anything like that when I was little. Poor kid. He really was a crybaby, but he probably just had a crush on me, and I used to torment the living crap out of him.

But I digress.

So, we’ve had our first bullying incident. I’m hoping that the next time something like this happens, I’ll actually see it and be able to better gauge the seriousness of the situation, and deal with it appropriately. Cause she’s gonna have to learn to be nicer. I don’t want her biting the baby. Again, not that I did that to my sister or anything…

Today after playgroup we got home for naptime annnnnnnnd…. no nap. So I got her up from her crib, and we ate lunch and played and sang and danced and played and read stories and I though for SURE she’ll sleep now annnnnnnd she slept for like 45 minutes. Which is not nearly enough. So tonight was a cranky evening for us here at the LaMartina household, even more so once Nate called and said he was gonna have to stay at work a bit later than normal…

But I still somehow managed to get dinner on the table! Cause I made one of the recipes out of my new crockpot cookbook! And since dinner was already halfway made by 1pm, it made it much easier to just throw together some mashed potatoes and microwave some carrots once Nate did get home. So, we had a delicious homecooked meal for the second night in a row. That’s right, y’all. I cooked last night, too. Shake-n-bake chicken and oven roasted potatoes and broccoli. AND made banana muffins for this morning’s playgroup. With whole wheat flour, none the less! Look at me go.

Now babygirl is sleeping, and the boys are downstairs having a beer/halo/microwave pizza/”forget we are husbands and fathers and kick back like we’re in college type” of evening. I’ve been banished to the upstairs lest I break that fantasy, but it’s all good. I’ve got my cup of tea, I’ve got my little stack of shortbread cookies, I’ve got my book. I’m gonna chill out and then go to bed early. And I’m not gonna lie, I’m pretty excited about that.

edited to add: My cup of tea got cold as I typed up this post. So I went downstairs to throw it in the microwave and ran back upstairs to take out contacts/wash my face/change into pajamas while the tea heated up again. I hear a knock on the bathroom door, it’s the hubs. He saw me put the tea in the microwave and walk back upstairs, and, since he knows my tendency to forget about it and leave it in there until it’s cold again (gah, yes Mom, I do that too now, sorry for making fun of you all those years), he brought it upstairs to me. So even on his guy’s night in he’s looking out for and taking care of me. Love that man.