Sometimes the Hazel stories come so fast and so furious that I realize I need to just sit down and write it down so I can read it all in a few years and laugh myself silly.
So, if you go to Boulder you WILL cross paths with a panhandler. They are so heartbreaking and are literally on every single corner. I've raised three kids who would give these sad people our last penny and bring them home to live with us if I agreed to it. I haven't ever agreed because I've had very very crazy experiences with homeless people not because I have any inner warnings or inhibitions. The other day one was by the exit to the grocery store so I quickly hopped out and grabbed him something from my groceries at Hazels feet and asked if he liked yogurt. He assented so I handed him a couple of chobani choco loco flips. I jumped back into the drivers seat and my dear sweet Hazel unloaded on me. "Why did you just do that? Why did you give him my favorite yogurt? What does his sign even say? Does it say "I have nothing!?" I stuttered a shocked reply that it said "anything helps" and that he liked that yogurt too. She wasn't finished. "Does he have no home or something?" I replied to the best of my knowledge "well, I don't think so." She exhaled in great annoyance and said "Never do that again! Never give him my favorite yogurt again!" I verged between hysterical laughter and horror. How had I raised this child four years and never imparted a sense of compassion for those less fortunate? How could she be one of my four? I called Jody and relayed the entire dismaying tale to him and from the back seat one more explosion blasted into the phone "NEVER AGAIN!" We both couldn't hold it back, we erupted, laughing and saying "Who is this child?"
The next day I asked her to share her grilled cheese sandwich with Elijah and she simply said "Ok, I like to share with people I KNOW."
Mind you, Hazel has a creative streak like Eden. While Eden was ceaseless with her havoc, Hazel has spurts and streaks and lulls. I don't know which is worse. While I had to stay constantly vigilant with Eden which was very stressful, Hazel lulls me into a sense of false security for weeks or months on end doing mostly harmless things. But when it hits and it always does, there is a shock that I have to work through before I'm able to react. Like the other day when I came out of the bathroom and found her at the woven coffee table with every finger paint open and large quantities poured into cups. with drips and clumps all around. Her pleased and confident demeanor did not falter in seeing my face as I surveyed her and Austin stirring and congratulating one another. I exploded. PMS ok? Gosh I'm not a saint. After scrubbing and cleaning and wiping crevices for a very long time with Q-tips I assessed her attitude... casual dismissal of the whole thing, eating her macaroni and cheese like a princess. I gave a few more ineffectual shouts and heard Austin peep "I told you it was a bad idea Hazel." The next day I opened the freezer and pulled out a cup... that clearly had paint in it.
I said "Hazel what in the world is this?"
She trotted over, smiled proudly and took it from my hand poking it with a very happy air and said "it's my experiment!"
I patiently repeated my question and she said "Oh, it's yogurt and paint!" I want to take it out of the cup! Can you help me get it out?"
At this point I had a hazy memory of sweeping a chobani yogurt cup into the trash as I cleaned up the coffee table.
I firmly faced her and told her that no, she was not to take it out of the cup and that I was very very upset about that whole entire mess the day before. I announced that I was putting it on the counter to thaw so I could throw it away and marched back to my laundry life. All of my children have always quailed in fear at my "angry voice". Not so much Haze. She just waited for my dramatic exit and picked up her cup and headed to her bedroom.
The next morning I went to Hazel's bedroom and went into her closet to gather things for her ballet recital. I saw a nice bathroom hand towel spread upon the floor with an upside down very very familiar cup resting on it. I might have said a bad word or two. I scooped it up and headed to the kitchen howling like a werewolf. By some wild miracle the "experiment" did not penetrate the towel.
I will end that tale here. But it IS recorded so when she has little monkeys she will never ever be able to say "I never..." or "I always..."
There was also the day that I was running all directions and Hazel went in my room and closed the door. I popped in and she was perched in my bed seemingly innocently enough with her kindle. Later, at dinner Jody asked her what was all over her. I looked over and realized her whole shirt was brown with chocolate and her fingernails were full of chocolate and her entire face was covered in chocolate. I still didn't really process. I just tipped my head and asked where she got chocolate.
Where my other children have exhibited shame, she just revealed a hopeful smile and said "mommy's chocolate in her bedroom." It was a very large bag of ghirardelli candy cane chocolate bars.
My eyes got large and I said "how many did you eat?"
She dipped her chin like the best of liars and said "three".
Jody and I looked at each other and I said "how many did you REALLY eat?"
She raised her chin and looked into my eyes like I had really busted her and said "four."
I was really going to press on for the truth but I dissolved into laughter and so did Jody but somehow he managed to look mad while he laughed and say "I don't know what's so funny, I'm only laughing because your mother is." This put me into a complete melt down shrieking laugh.
If I hadn't been camping out in my bedroom at night eating chocolates and littering my nightstand with the wrappers, I suppose we could have counted the wrappers to confirm her confessions...
Other super freakin adorable phrases "I want to pet the boxing turtle, Mommy has a cricket in her neck" followed by tears that were only stemmed by Jody's assurance that it's just a crick.
Yesterday Hazel and I found a new chobani yogurt at the store called "Haze Craze."
So, if you go to Boulder you WILL cross paths with a panhandler. They are so heartbreaking and are literally on every single corner. I've raised three kids who would give these sad people our last penny and bring them home to live with us if I agreed to it. I haven't ever agreed because I've had very very crazy experiences with homeless people not because I have any inner warnings or inhibitions. The other day one was by the exit to the grocery store so I quickly hopped out and grabbed him something from my groceries at Hazels feet and asked if he liked yogurt. He assented so I handed him a couple of chobani choco loco flips. I jumped back into the drivers seat and my dear sweet Hazel unloaded on me. "Why did you just do that? Why did you give him my favorite yogurt? What does his sign even say? Does it say "I have nothing!?" I stuttered a shocked reply that it said "anything helps" and that he liked that yogurt too. She wasn't finished. "Does he have no home or something?" I replied to the best of my knowledge "well, I don't think so." She exhaled in great annoyance and said "Never do that again! Never give him my favorite yogurt again!" I verged between hysterical laughter and horror. How had I raised this child four years and never imparted a sense of compassion for those less fortunate? How could she be one of my four? I called Jody and relayed the entire dismaying tale to him and from the back seat one more explosion blasted into the phone "NEVER AGAIN!" We both couldn't hold it back, we erupted, laughing and saying "Who is this child?"
The next day I asked her to share her grilled cheese sandwich with Elijah and she simply said "Ok, I like to share with people I KNOW."
Mind you, Hazel has a creative streak like Eden. While Eden was ceaseless with her havoc, Hazel has spurts and streaks and lulls. I don't know which is worse. While I had to stay constantly vigilant with Eden which was very stressful, Hazel lulls me into a sense of false security for weeks or months on end doing mostly harmless things. But when it hits and it always does, there is a shock that I have to work through before I'm able to react. Like the other day when I came out of the bathroom and found her at the woven coffee table with every finger paint open and large quantities poured into cups. with drips and clumps all around. Her pleased and confident demeanor did not falter in seeing my face as I surveyed her and Austin stirring and congratulating one another. I exploded. PMS ok? Gosh I'm not a saint. After scrubbing and cleaning and wiping crevices for a very long time with Q-tips I assessed her attitude... casual dismissal of the whole thing, eating her macaroni and cheese like a princess. I gave a few more ineffectual shouts and heard Austin peep "I told you it was a bad idea Hazel." The next day I opened the freezer and pulled out a cup... that clearly had paint in it.
I said "Hazel what in the world is this?"
She trotted over, smiled proudly and took it from my hand poking it with a very happy air and said "it's my experiment!"
I patiently repeated my question and she said "Oh, it's yogurt and paint!" I want to take it out of the cup! Can you help me get it out?"
At this point I had a hazy memory of sweeping a chobani yogurt cup into the trash as I cleaned up the coffee table.
I firmly faced her and told her that no, she was not to take it out of the cup and that I was very very upset about that whole entire mess the day before. I announced that I was putting it on the counter to thaw so I could throw it away and marched back to my laundry life. All of my children have always quailed in fear at my "angry voice". Not so much Haze. She just waited for my dramatic exit and picked up her cup and headed to her bedroom.
The next morning I went to Hazel's bedroom and went into her closet to gather things for her ballet recital. I saw a nice bathroom hand towel spread upon the floor with an upside down very very familiar cup resting on it. I might have said a bad word or two. I scooped it up and headed to the kitchen howling like a werewolf. By some wild miracle the "experiment" did not penetrate the towel.
I will end that tale here. But it IS recorded so when she has little monkeys she will never ever be able to say "I never..." or "I always..."
There was also the day that I was running all directions and Hazel went in my room and closed the door. I popped in and she was perched in my bed seemingly innocently enough with her kindle. Later, at dinner Jody asked her what was all over her. I looked over and realized her whole shirt was brown with chocolate and her fingernails were full of chocolate and her entire face was covered in chocolate. I still didn't really process. I just tipped my head and asked where she got chocolate.
Where my other children have exhibited shame, she just revealed a hopeful smile and said "mommy's chocolate in her bedroom." It was a very large bag of ghirardelli candy cane chocolate bars.
My eyes got large and I said "how many did you eat?"
She dipped her chin like the best of liars and said "three".
Jody and I looked at each other and I said "how many did you REALLY eat?"
She raised her chin and looked into my eyes like I had really busted her and said "four."
I was really going to press on for the truth but I dissolved into laughter and so did Jody but somehow he managed to look mad while he laughed and say "I don't know what's so funny, I'm only laughing because your mother is." This put me into a complete melt down shrieking laugh.
If I hadn't been camping out in my bedroom at night eating chocolates and littering my nightstand with the wrappers, I suppose we could have counted the wrappers to confirm her confessions...
Other super freakin adorable phrases "I want to pet the boxing turtle, Mommy has a cricket in her neck" followed by tears that were only stemmed by Jody's assurance that it's just a crick.
Yesterday Hazel and I found a new chobani yogurt at the store called "Haze Craze."
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