The Story of Bumpie Pumpkin...

Ok, to make this story make sense, you have to understand that my son calls my sister "Bumpie," and not "Auntie."  This came from a mis-typed word in a text on an old T9 phone, where I was trying to type "Auntie" and I hit 286743 instead of 286843 and it changed Auntie to Bumpie.  My sister thought it was really funny, and told me, "I've decided that when you have kids they will call me Bumpie." A couple years later, along came Andrew, and thus began Bumpie.

Another thing to know is that my son forms attachments to things that you wouldn't think he might... Getting rid of clothes and toys is quite an ordeal because everything is "my favorite," or "it's so important to me Momma!"

On his pre-school field trip to the pumpkin patch, he got a small pumpkin, and he was instantly very attached to it.  Then at his friend's birthday party we also got some more pumpkins from their patch.  He got 2 medium sized pumpkins and 1 very small one. When he brought them home, he and his Dad decorated them. We didn't carve them, they just drew faces on them.  Andrew named them Mommy Pumpkin, Daddy Pumpkin, and Baby Pumpkin.  They lived on my dining room table for a week or so.

Halloween arrived, and I noticed that Mommy Pumpkin, and Daddy Pumpkin were starting to rot, and being as they lived on my table, I decided it was time for them to go. I took them out and dumped them in the yard waste bin, and didn't think anything of it.

Later on, Andrew noticed their absence and asked where they went.  I told him they had started to rot and I threw them away.  Apparently I should have phrased it in a kinder gentler manner.  My poor son started to cry.  It wasn't just a little crying either, it was full on crying with lots of tears, sobs, and asking "Who is going to take care of Baby Pumpkin now?"

I tried to calm him down and tell him that everything was just fine, and that Baby Pumpkin would survive just fine.  He was not buying that. I was not about to bring the rotting pumpkins back inside, so I knew that I had to come up with an idea, and fast because the tears were not stopping.

Suddenly an idea came to me, and I dashed off to my pantry and retrieved a butternut squash.  Luckily I had one on hand, and I know that squash can last for several months in the pantry.  I grabbed it and said, "Hey Buddy, look who I have! This is Baby Pumpkin's Auntie Squash, and she will take care of Baby Pumpkin now."

He was a little uncertain at first, but then he and his Dad drew a face on her, and I was really trying to talk up Auntie Squash.  I said, "She is Baby Pumpkin's Bumpie!" Andrew decided that she should be called "Bumpie Squash."  Dad and I agreed, happy to have the tears and the agony come to an end.  He decided that Baby Pumpkin, and Bumpie Squash should live up in his room where he could keep an eye on them and know that they were safe.  Later on that evening, he decided that since squash and pumpkins are related, Bumpie Pumpkin had a nicer ring to it.  

Bumpie Pumpkin

Baby and Bumpie Pumpkins

Andrew, finally happy now that we had a happy resolution to the situation.  You can see his eyes were still a little puffy, and there might even be tear tracks still.

So the Pumpkin Family settled into his room, and a few days later he started asking me what was going to happen to Bumpie Pumpkin.  Was I going to throw her away too?  Not it, her.  I explained that Bumpie Pumpkin could stay for awhile and take care of Baby Pumpkin, but eventually that would come to an end, and I was going to take Bumpie Pumpkin and use it for the intended purpose before it was too late.  He asked me what that meant, and being as I strive to be as honest as possible with my son, I told him that meant I was going to cook Bumpie Pumpkin some day.

Every day for the next week or so he would ask me, "Are you going to cook Bumpie Pumpkin today Momma?"  And I kept telling him no, not today.  After a few days, he said, "Ok Mom, you can cook her now." I told him that I didn't need a squash yet, so he could keep Bumpie Pumpkin a while longer.  Then after a few more days, he rescinded the offer and cooking Bumpie Pumpkin was off the table again. 

Well, flash forward to Wednesday night of this week, and we got a box from Blue Apron.  I opened it up and the meal we were making that night had a roasted butternut squash. I washed it and had it sitting next to the cutting board, and was getting ready to start cooking, and Andrew walks into the kitchen and says, "IS THAT BUMPIE PUMPKIN???? ARE YOU COOKING HER???" (Again "her" not it." I said, "No, it's not Bumpie Pumpkin, it's a different squash."  He demands, "WHERE IS SHE???"  I told him she was safe over on the buffet by the windows.  He ran off to check on her. 

I have a feeling that I am going to end up throwing away the Pumpkin Family some night while he is sleeping, and then telling him that they moved to a farm upstate somewhere.  

Darn right I want a medal!

Yesterday I worked around the house. I folded laundry, I worked in my garden, I grocery shopped, I cleaned up after dinner, I put all the laundry away, and I vacuumed. 

As I worked on vacuuming my stairs I had a number of things running through my mind. 

First of all, "Man there is a lot of dog hair on these stairs." Then came, "Why do you let the stairs get this bad before vacuuming them?" And then, "Some day there won't be dog hair on my stairs any more," and then I had to fight back tears while I scrubbed and vacuumed. 

Then I got to thinking about how good it feels when I get all these things done, and I feel like I've accomplished something. And then comes the negative jerk voice from the back of my mind "What do you want, a medal or something? You did the things that needed to be done." And last night I fought back against my inner critical jerk and said, "actually yes, yes I do want a medal!" 

It doesn't really matter that it's things that needed to be done anyway, I still did them. I don't know if I'm the only one who has these inner monologues, but I'm tired of mine and have decided to loudly (in my head) proclaim that I do deserve some recognition and to feel accomplishment for doing the things I needed to do anyway. 

Yes, the garden needed weeding because I hadn't touched it since last fall. Yes I could beat myself up for having neglected it, but instead I am choosing to feel proud at what a couple hours hard work accomplished. And besides, who am I kidding, this fall I'm going to leave the detritus of my Summer's work laying there until next spring. It's who I am. I know it and I'm ok with it. 

The laundry needs to be done, and I know I'm not alone in this one, putting away laundry is the worst! I'll gladly sort it, wash it, dry it, and even fold it, but man do I loathe hauling those heavy baskets up the stairs and having to put it all away. I'm actually considering getting myself some stickers or ribbons or something because doing the laundry deserves recognition!!

And then there is the vacuuming. It's amazing how much accomplishment and contempt can be rolled up into one task. It's a well established fact that I don't like to vacuum. And I have one of the most prolifically shedding dogs that has ever walked this earth. My house, and car, are constantly coated in white dog hair. And I look around and see it and think, "I really need to vacuum this," and then life happens, and dinner needs to be cooked and dishes need to be done, and I don't get to vacuuming and then I really beat myself up over how bad it looks. So when I do vacuum and it looks so nice and I want to congratulate myself, the inner jerk immediately starts in with, "if you hadn't let it get so bad to start with..." 

So I've decided to say "Screw you Inner Jerk! I DO want a medal. I don't care if I'm doing the things that needed to be done anyway. I still did them!"

Once again, I don't know about the rest of you, but I am so hard on myself for stupid things and I'm tired of it. The time has come that we give ourselves credit where credit is due and tell our Inner Jerks to pipe down. From now on my criteria for giving myself credit for doing something is "Did you do it?" and as long as the answer is "yes," then Good Job! 

So if any of you see me walking around wearing my medal from the Color Run 2 years ago, you can assume I've done a mundane task and I wanted my darn medal!