Category: Stella

Out of the Mouth of Stella

Kid’s say some dandy things. Stella seems to say them all the time. If I were to write them all it would look like a capital case transcript, so I’ll stick with some recent gems.

The mouth of the house

Teddy has been on a candy binge since Thursday night. It’s finally gone and I think he’s going through detox (it’s been 3 minutes since his last fix and he’s getting the shakes). He came in and asked for graham crackers. I told him to eat an apple. He asked why. Stella said, “You don’t want to be the sad fat kid.”
A Bob’s Furniture commercial came on for a marble topped bar.
Stella: Is that a bar?
Me: Yes.
Stella: I need that for my room.
Me: (exasperated) What?
Stella: I can put all my candy in it.
Stella and I were in line at Walmart today and she pointed to one of the “scandal mags” and said, “Oh my God, look at the size of her fanny! That is one plump rump.” (She was pointing at Kim Kardashian’s Instagram pic)
Fast forward 6 hours…
I was folding laundry and she picked up a pair of my underwear and put it on over clothes. She then proceeded to go on and on about my ginormous underwear and fanny.
I told her the bigger the fanny, the bigger the brain. She then said, “Well that girl on the magazine must be really, really smart.”
Walking to school, practicing smiles for picture day. Teddy showed his smile.
Stella: (to Teddy) You look like you’re pooping.
Teddy: (to Stella) You’re the one who showed me how to smile.
Stella: I didn’t show you that.
Teddy: I don’t have any teeth, I don’t want the holes to show.
Stella: The holes would look much better than that.
Breakfast conversation…
Teddy: What’s the T word?
Me: What word? (Trying to look at what he’s reading)
Stella: Tit
Me: (Trying not to fall apart) That’s not what it says. Where did you hear that word?
Stella: I made it up! Is it a bad word?
Me: It’s not a nice word and you shouldn’t say it, especially at school.
Stella: OK…tit, tit, tit!
Things like these fly out of Stella’s mouth all the time. For up to the minute Stella-isms follow The Kraus House Mom on Facebook.
For more laughs check out The Mommyhood Chronicles.

Splinter Removal



Last week Stella got a splinter. She was upstairs playing and to my knowledge, there isn’t anything up there she could actually get a splinter from, especially on the bottom of her foot. It’s wall to wall carpet up there, but however she did it, it happened and thus the drama began.
She came downstairs screaming like she had a spear impaled in her foot. I tried to look at it. As soon as I touched her ankle to check out the bottom of her foot, the waterworks were turned way up as well as the volume. I told her I could take it out with the tweezers or I could beat it out with the broom, which did she prefer? She didn’t want either option.
She was lying on my bed on the verge of death (or so you would have thought). This girl is so dramatic, I don’t know anyone like that (okay I do). I knew it had to come out so I told her if it didn’t come out it was going to get nasty and she wouldn’t be able to wear pretty shoes. Then I reminded her of the SpongeBob episode when he had the splinter. I asked her if she wanted her foot to look like that. That was the clincher, she agreed to the removal (or should I say first removal attempt).
I went and got the tweezers, alcohol, cotton balls and the “splinter pin”. I went back into my room with my two assistants. She wanted me to remove the splinter without using the tweezers, the pin or my hands. That would have been a neat trick. I swabbed up the instruments to the sounds of screams as Maizie dab, dab, dabbed Stella’s eyes with the other cotton balls. I know Maizie was only there to see the agony of someone else (like that same dramatic person). I secured the foot as best I could (she’s a kicker) and cleaned the offending area with alcohol. That did it, it set her right off. I’m surprised there wasn’t a knock on the door for a domestic disturbance, because I would have handed over my splinter removal tools right there to the officers and said, “Have a go at it.”
She wouldn’t even let me get a look at the splinter. If I touched her toe, he screamed. If I tried to look at her foot, she screamed. She refused to lie on her stomach, so she and I were in an awkward position. At this point I had a headache (probably from a heel to the forehead), so the mission was abandoned.

The next morning I tried to do a pain free method. I found on the “interwebs” that if you mix baking soda, peroxide, salt and water into a paste and put it on the splinter, it’s supposed to come out on its own. Well let me just start by saying pain free does not mean drama or scream free.  I put the goo on her foot and she sat there. It did start to come out the teeniest tiniest bit, but she wouldn’t let me go at it with the tweezers. Every time I tried, I almost got a foot to the face. Abandon attempt two.
Mix with a splash of water


Goo applied


I just told her I was going to have to use tweezers
Now we’re onto day three and it absolutely HAS TO come out, whether she likes it or not. I mixed up more of the goo and had her lie on my bed (on her stomach) and watch TV. I applied the goo and left her there for at least 15 minutes. She kept asking if it was ready and I would say it was going to take a while. As she was distracted, I loaded up my pocket with my removal gear.
All gooed up


She had no idea what was about to happen!
When she least suspected it, I pounced. I jumped on her and pinned her down (it was the only way). Oh my gawd, the screaming, the squirming and the kicking.  Now, because it had been three days since she got the splinter, her skin had started to grow over. So now I had to try to get that off before I could even attempt to dig out the splinter itself.
The problem was I couldn’t hold her foot, pull the skin to expose the splinter and pull it out so I called for Ted to come help. Finally after a few tries, it was out. I released the beast, she immediately checked her foot to make sure we didn’t remove more than necessary, I guess.
Unfortunately I was not able to get pictures of the actual removal. Ted doesn’t like to participate in most of my shenanigans and my kids aren’t old enough to take decent pictures; their pictures resemble ones you might find in a camera after a bear attack (if you want blurry pictures of the ceiling or TV shows then give them a call).
Since she was “so brave” during her terrible ordeal, Ted told her he would get her something special. So she got a pack of gum all for herself (she did share it with her brother and sister). About an hour after it was gone she said to me, “Mommy, my foot feels so much better now.” You don’t say?