Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Endurance Marathons

If you're wondering what happened to your notcinnamon, I can tell you simply, it got sucked into the vortex of time and money that is my master bathroom.
I will be posting at stage of life regarding the saga of the bathroom renovation, but for now, suffice to say that the score is now: Thirty Year Old, Unpredictable House: 5, Me: 0.
Remember when Diedre Hall was possessed by the Devil on "Days of Our Lives?" about 15 years ago? The demon has moved on to S. What was previously an occasionally sweet and lovable boy has become a bizarre distortion of himself.
This morning, I offered to color in the coloring books (with his new pack of 120 crayons...I love new crayons) and he body slammed me. He got up on the ottoman (I thought he was going to grab Clooney) and he turned and jumped on to me. Unsuspecting, coloring Pluto a lovely goldenrod color, completely defenseless, Me.
I thought I was going to have to get a new ribcage.
Did I get an apology? "Gee, sorry to have nearly killed you, Ma. Are you ok?" No. Nothing. Just a very quick attempt to try to do it again. Which I foiled. Where did THAT impulse come from? Why was he trying to smush me flatter than a pancake? What did I do to him?
S is certainly in a monkey phase now. I find him climbing on banisters and barristers (if they let him), he even does this weird spider crawl thing halfway up a wall. Yes, for real. My son is LITERALLY climbing the walls. (How often can one use that sentence correctly?)
I cannot get him to play outside, play by himself, play with his brother (without committing a misdemeanor), play with his dog (without committing abuse), or entertain himself without an adult fully clothed in that dog training protective gear that you sometimes see Police K9 units wearing.
I don't even know what day for sure his preschool is supposed to start: it is usually one week after public schools start. Which means that theoretically, both my kids could start school the same day, and that day is only 19 days away. And, per Guinness Book of World Records, a group of Chinese karaoke lovers sang 6, 281 songs over 19 days to set the world record in non-stop karaoke singing.
If some poor souls can listen to and sing karaoke for 19 days, then I can survive until the first day of school. Right? Maybe.

Sunday, July 26, 2009

Music to my ears

Worst sound at 4:32 AM (Sun): that hollow, churning, rhythmic gulping sound that dogs make right before they puke.
Worst sound at 3:30 PM (Thur) while people are tearing up your bathroom: Clunk, "I ain't never seen THAT before."
Worst sound at 4 AM (Sun)after being up with puking dog: "DAAAAAAAAAAADDDDDDDDDDDDDY. (Scream whisper) SHHHHHHHHH. Don't wake up Mommy. Is it time to go to Waffle House yet?"
Worst sound (FRI) while bathroom is in throes of demolition and the pool man is cleaning the pool: "(doorbell) Ma'am. I just don't think this pool liner is going to last much longer. We can maybe pull through til the end of the summer, because we're just about done...but it isn't going to last through the fall. It's got to be replaced. We can do that for you...the price is just...."
Worst sound at dinner time (SAT): Clink clink--empty gin bottle.
Best sound yet: 7:30 AM (Sun): beep beep--coffee's done.
The dust is an inch thick all through my house from the sanding and finishing of drywall. I need a respirator just to sit and think about cleaning it. (The only thing I can think of is Darth Vader on a mad cleaning spree.)
Bathroom re-do is becoming a THING. In related news, court grants M easy divorce on grounds of INSANE wife.
Oh, well. Coffee's made.

Thursday, July 23, 2009

Stormy Weather

There is a folk legend that says you can count the seconds between a flash of lightning and the initial clap of thunder to determine how far away a storm is. This piece of information stems from the very real fact that light travels faster than sound. Pretty basic.
There is a lesser known corollary to this rule that says the volume of the thunder clap is directly related to the speed of the footsteps from a child's bed to his parents'.
This morning at 5, that flicker of light woke me, so that I was already braced for the subsequent thunder and the subsequent patter from S's room to mine.
Of course, then, the bed was more like a pit of snakes than a bed. S is wiggly, especially when he is trying to manipulate his body into such a position that he can cuddle the dog. The dog, already startled and uneasy about the thunder resists cuddling, and perches himself on my head. This brings the child closer to me, and in a cascading chain of events, everyone is suddenly ON ME.
Which happens to be one of my least favorite things EVER. I hate having my personal space invaded, which is partly why I hated being pregnant so much, but that is a different (and much longer) story.
So, after about 5 minutes of being kneaded in the kidneys by S's ankle, I sent him back to his room to weather the storm alone. I suppose he fell asleep again, but I can't be sure, as I waddled into the bathroom to pee, and promptly went back to sleep.
M woke up early this morning, as he was expecting a call from a service person, which (surprisingly) never came. So, S and he did their early morning business while I slept in. I have had a cough for about 5 weeks now, and it is migrating to my sinuses, so I slept 'til 7. Then, the subcontractor I was expecting to demo my bathroom came. And demolished my bathroom. Did I mention DIY reassembly of bathroom? Perhaps that was a tactical error.
An early start to an annoyingly out of synch logistical day. And more storms expected tomorrow...it's a metaphor.

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Crazy is as crazy does


My boys were anxious about finding jellyfish in the Gulf again this year. Last year, the population of jellyfish was out of control, and there were at least 4 or 5 within reach everywhere in the water. This year, thankfully, there were none of the pesky critters (although of course this year, I bought divers' jellyfish repellent.)

Nonetheless, my children are inclined to the melodramatic, and require something to complain about. E was in the water, insisting that something was attacking him, and the ensuing conversation boasts some of the most apt dialog for my family ever:


E: Something is stinging me! It's jelly fish, I know it.

M: There are no jellyfish. I think it's time to explain to you what psychosomatic means.

J: Don't bother. I explained it to him yesterday.


That my children would experience psychosomatic ailments, that we would explain said condition to my 7 year old, and that we would attempt to explain it TWICE says a great deal about this family.
I'm feeling especially proud at this moment.

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

Squirrel: It's What's for Supper

Sometimes, as a parent, I am aware of how well I've handled a situation with my kids. Be it disciplinary, social, or emotional difficulties, some situations resolve with a feeling of satisfaction on my part. As the boys' problems are eased, if not solved, I can tuck them in to bed knowing I have done my best for them, and they feel better about themselves.
Then, there are other times.
Last night, I sent the boys out with Clooney. I was preparing dinner, and setting the table. Way too quickly, all three of them were back in the kitchen. I turned around from the sink to find S holding a dead squirrel in his tiny little fist.
That was it. That was the moment where my mothering instinct failed, my urge to protect my boys' feelings failed, my impulse to put their feelings above mine, failed. It all failed right then at the sight of that bloodied, limp squirrel drooping from Sam's hand.
I screamed.
A lot. I might have even jumped up and down a little bit. I screamed some more. I ran out of the room to hide. I ran back into the room to see if they had left. I screamed again. I ran out. I screamed for M. I screamed at S. I kept screaming.
Of course M was right there. He might have been in the kitchen when the whole thing started. I am not sure. But he was calm. He took the squirrel out. He took the boys out. He took off their possibly rabid clothing and washed their hands and arms and legs with diluted bleach.
I screamed.
He determined that E told S to bring the squirrel inside. And that E had also handled the squirrel despite his protests to the contrary.
I screamed.
M wrapped the squirrel in funerary Target bags and deposited it in the trash. He examined the squirrel to determine that the cat had killed it and that it had not up and died, foaming at the mouth and hydrophobic.
I sat in the kitchen. Trying my best to console S. He was distressed that a.) the squirrel had died b.) he was stripped down and washed in hot water c.) I was screaming
He was totally baffled. From his perspective, his compassion for the squirrel had gone horribly wrong, and through some fast and very noisy events he was standing naked in the kitchen fully assessing for the first time what happens when good moms go bad.
I drank a gin and tonic. More gin than tonic and hastily stirred.
Dinner's noodles were overcooked, as was the asparagus. S never really recovered. I kept drinking.
Last night, when I tucked S into bed, I apologized for freaking him out. I told him I handled it badly, that I wasn't expecting to see him with a dead rodent in my kitchen. That I was sorry for scaring him.
Sometimes my best behavior is not my first behavior. And apparently, my anti-deadsquirrel-impulse is stronger than my protect-S's-feelings-at-all-cost impulse. Who knew?

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

What's Your Mantra?

I read an article yesterday outlining how to survive--even enjoy--your family road trip. I find survival probable, however, I am still skeptical of enjoyment. It seems to me, that when we were young, and we took many family road trips, that the only way to survive was to sleep. Nowadays, kids have the DVD player, and the handheld game players, and even (as the article suggested) iphones to load up with things to do, that I can't imagine that survival is that hard. After all, how many hours can a family drive in a day? Maybe 8 or 10? My kids could easily go zombie in front of an electronic babysitter for that long.
MT and I drove for only 4 hours last week each way. The way up was easy--DVD, stop at Chic Fil A to get the antsy pants out, and we were there. No problem. For whatever reason (mostly I think logistical) we didn't put out the DVD on the way home. I thought for sure that after S's restless night of kicking me in bed, and the late bedtime, and the early rising, combined with a full 4 hour walk around the zoo in the heat, that four kids would get into the backseat of the car and pass out.
Wrong.
Those kids talked, played games, fought, hassled, complained, wrestled stuffed animals, listened to music, and asked incessant questions the whole way home. At the last exit, S started getting really restless. I said "shit" as I was changing lanes to exit the highway for the last little stretch home, and S started repeating it. Like a mantra, "shit shit shit shit shit shit" until the other 3 joined him. By the time we pulled into the driveway, the kids had established a harmonious little round, and I thought MT was going to pee herself from laughter. I guess it takes only four hours of being constantly peppered with questions to go insane. Has anyone talked to Dick Cheney about this enhanced travel technique?

Monday, July 13, 2009

All or Nothing

It seems as though I would skip a week of posting if my life were incredibly boring...as if I had nothing to post about except for laundry and whining kids. In fact, I was surprised to find the reverse to be true. There has been so much activity chez nous these days, that I don't even know what happened to the last week!
Aside from my Bejeweled addiction, we have been to Birmingham for a few days. My girlfriend, MT and her two kids, my two kids, and I went for just an overnight trip. Which, as usual was a mixed bag. We took the kids to the Science Center and to the Birmingham Zoo. Both of which I thought were worthwhile destinations. The annoying part is that I kept having to remind the kids that we were on this vacation FOR THEM. It's as though the whiners think I dragged them to the zoo because I was dying to see the lemur exhibit and do my King Julien from Madagascar voice. (Which, of course, I kind of was, but certainly would have been content to do my voice from, say a spa whirlpool somewhere). This was also the first time that I have ever traveled with some one from outside our family. That element of the trip was really successful. I want to give full props to my friend MT. She was, as usual, fantastically organized, and tolerated my (as usual) slight lack thereof. She is earnest in disciplining her kids so that they do not run around like wild things. She is also comfortable giving my kids a stern talking to, which is helpful when parents are outnumbered by kids 2 to 1. She was a great sport while navigating the insanity that is the inner highway loop around Birmingham. And, this is no surprise, is a great martini partner.
In fact, as I was lying in my bed at 3:30 in the morning--sleeping S seemed to be able to locate my kidneys with his feet with consistency--I was thinking how great the trip would have been with a non-kid-friendly destination. Like a casino. Or spa. Or tropical beach with cabana boys. MT would be a great tropical beach with cabana boy travel companion. Maybe next trip, we can convince the hubbies that a girls' trip to Biloxi, Point Clear, or St. Croix is absolutely essential. I promise not to complain about the heat, the walking distance, the food, the sleeping arrangements, shower arrangements, sibling issues, the long car ride, the fading batteries in the hand held game, the reflection of the DVD player screen, or anything else that kids find interfering in their vacation enjoyment.
If MT comes with me on a girls' trip, I promise to shut up, drink my margarita, and not get lost. Now THAT sounds like a vacation...
Thanks, MT for a fun trip despite the kids, and here's hoping for a grown up one soon. Cheers!

Monday, July 6, 2009

BA--Bejeweled Anonymous

I have never been much of an addictive personality. I like certain things, don't get me wrong. I mean my nightly cocktail is pretty essential. Of course, I have my obsessive crazies, but addiction has never been one of them.
But tonight, I post out of fear of addiction. I have that hand-trembling, stomach churning need right now. I am worried about myself. I am worried that tonight when I go to sleep I will be dreaming of my next fix.
One of my Facebook friends got me hooked. I blame her completely. I will forever be an addict. Even if I stop tomorrow, I will be an addict.
I am not trying to make light or minimize the pain of addiction. I think there are places where the symptoms of addiction are enumerated.
A frequent symptom cited is an "inability to perform normal responsibilities." Well, there is a pile of dishes in the sink, a heap of laundry in the laundry room, my house is a mess, and M tells me it is very hot in here as I forgot to adjust the thermostat when I came in this afternoon.
Another symptom is that the sufferer continues to use substances or engage in behavior even when it is dangerous. Ok, maybe not dangerous, but certainly negligent to my children.
Suddenly, I have a fresh empathy for gamblers or compulsive porn watchers.
I want to come clean now. I want the cycle of addiction to break.
I am hooked on Bejeweled. I need help. Some one has to remove that tantalizing bookmark icon from the bottom of my Facebook page. Hours, days of my life are going to swirl down the drain of Bejeweled. The eternal challenge of a higher personal best--the humiliation and disappointment of all-time lows. This is my future--unless something can be done, I will be lost to Bejeweled.
This is a cry for help.

Thursday, July 2, 2009

Fake TV Shows I Suspect My Children Are Watching

I carefully monitor my children's television intake: they watch only Noggin or PBS or Nick Jr. Sometimes, if E is desperate, I will let him watch something violent on Cartoon Network. (I swore I never would.)
There are all kinds of studies that demonstrate children are deeply affected by what they see on TV. Violence, behaviour modeling, every aspect of their personality is altered, however minutely, when they watch TV.
But, I am beginning to suspect that my children are watching TV that I have not approved. I am not sure when they find the time (in between pestering me and pestering me?) to find these shows, but they must be--for I can think of no other source for some of their more "colorful" behaviour.
First, How to Throw A Celebrity Tantrum. There must be a show with a bunch of starlets whose names I only vaguely recognize and aspiring leading men who have that floppy, ridiculous hair and somewhat effeminate faces (probably because they are barely pubescent) who show their bad behaviour when the clerk at Gucci doesn't have the belt/purse they are so desperate to drop a couple of grand on. But, my children have this petulant whine and stomping foot combination that reeks of spoiled star. S will lay on the floor and in total monotone, repeat endlessly, "But I'm still hungry," until he is either yelled at or fed. Ridiculous.
Second, Becoming A Lawyer in 30 Minutes per Day. This must-be infomercial-type programming was hosted by Billy May until his recent passing. The show teaches lawyer-ese, negotiation methods, and how to appear as though you are offering a service when really you are giving your client the shaft.
Third, I Live Like a Millionaire, (but make no money). The kids have parties, playdates, swimdates, and restaurant luncheons behind them, and three vacations ahead of them. They wake up and ask, "what are we doing today?" E claims that we are eating out less often, until I remind him that I take him and his brother out to eat lunch three days per week! They have full housekeeping, laundry, chef services, companionship and entertainment budgets. They have nearly any Netflix movie a kid could dream of, a Blu Ray disk player and big screen to watch it on. And the words "Thank you" are becoming less and less a part of their vocabularies.

So, I am thinking of pre-programming the DVR with some shows I'd like them to see:
SuperNanny/Nanny 911. I'd like them to see what it would be like to have some one whip them in to shape. It'd be nice to have a lovely British woman who doesn't take any BS come and whip my little darlings into shape. I picture jaws agape and defiance. But slowly, that triumphant conclusion where a child no longer treats his mother like a short order cook is so enviable.
Second, Any Soap Opera. I'd like them to remember that there are always going to be children who will need therapy more than they.
C-Span. My children need to learn that not everything in this world is entertainment for them.
Dirty Jobs: As a friendly reminder that if they don't love us, treat us nicely, and respect us, we will spend their college savings on a 365 day long cruise, and they will find themselves shoveling pig manure into heaps for some energy product that THEY could have invented if only they had treated their parents better.

I think I need a programming gig at Fox, no?

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

And I Thought I was Crazy...

I found this on one of my favorite sites, Awkwardfamilyphotos.com. I will read this everytime I start to go overboard for any occasion ever again. This is a mass email sent to Marney's family, prior to Thanksgiving:


From: Marney
As you all know a fabulous Thanksgiving Dinner does not make itself. I need to ask each of you to help by bringing something to complete the meal. I truly appreciate your offers to assist with the meal preparation.
Now, while I do have quite a sense of humor and joke around all the time, I COULD NOT BE MORE SERIOUS when I am providing you with your Thanksgiving instructions and orders. I am very particular, so please perform your task EXACTLY as I have requested and read your portion very carefully. If I ask you to bring your offering in a container that has a lid, bring your offering in a container WITH A LID, NOT ALUMINUM FOIL! If I ask you to bring a serving spoon for your dish, BRING A SERVING SPOON, NOT A SOUP SPOON! And please do not forget anything.
All food that is to be cooked should already be prepared, bring it hot and ready to serve, warm or room temp. These are your ONLY THREE options. Anything meant to be served cold should, of course, already be cold.
HJB—Dinner wine
The Mike Byron Family1. Turnips in a casserole with a lid and a serving spoon. Please do not fill the casserole all the way up to the top, it gets too messy. I know this may come as a bit of a surprise to you, but most of us hate turnips so don’t feel like you a have to feed an army.2. Two half gallons of ice cream, one must be VANILLA, I don’t care what the other one is. No store brands please. I did see an ad this morning for Hagan Daz Peppermint Bark Ice Cream, yum!! (no pressure here, though).3. Toppings for the ice cream.4. A case of bottled water, NOT gallons, any brand is ok.
The Bob Byron Family1. Green beans or asparagus (not both) in a casserole with a lid and a serving spoon. If you are making the green beans, please prepare FOUR pounds, if you are making asparagus please prepare FIVE pounds. It is up to you how you wish to prepare them, no soupy sauces, no cheese (you know how Mike is), a light sprinkling of toasted nuts, or pancetta, or some EVOO would be a nice way to jazz them up.2. A case of beer of your choice (I have Coors Light and Corona) or a bottle of clos du bois chardonnay (you will have to let me know which you will bring prior to 11/22).
The Lisa Byron Chesterford Family1. Lisa as a married woman you are now required to contribute at the adult level. You can bring an hors d’ouvres. A few helpful hints/suggestions. Keep it very light, and non-filling, NO COCKTAIL SAUCE, no beans of any kind. I think your best bet would be a platter of fresh veggies and dip. Not a huge platter mind you (i.e., not the plastic platter from the supermarket).
The Michelle Bobble Family1. Stuffing in a casserole with a serving spoon. Please make the stuffing sans meat.2. 2.5-3 qts. of mashed squash in a casserole with a lid and serving spoon3. Proscuitto pin wheel - please stick to the recipe, no need to bring a plate.4. A pie knife
The June Davis Family1. 15 LBS of mashed potatoes in a casserole with a serving spoon. Please do not use the over-size blue serving dish you used last year. Because you are making such a large batch you can do one of two things: put half the mash in a regulation size casserole with lid and put the other half in a plastic container and we can just replenish with that or use two regulation size casserole dishes with lids. Only one serving spoon is needed.2. A bottle of clos du bois chardonnay
The Amy Misto Family (why do I even bother she will never read this)1. A pumpkin pie in a pie dish (please use my silver palate recipe) no knife needed.2. An apple pie in a pie dish, you can use your own recipe, no knife needed.
Looking forward to the 28th!!
Marney

Passive Aggression to the Rescue!

Of my many flaws (and, oh, there are many) one is passive aggression. Sometimes I enjoy my misbehavior: a couple of days ago, I stopped in at TJ MAXX for a few minutes on my way to pick up the kids from camp. I wasn't late--camp doesn't consider you late until 7:30--but I was later than usual. I was there at twenty minutes past two, two being my usual pick up time.
Sometimes my behavior totally backfires: M calls me out on it and accuses me of sabotage all the time. (It's happened.) And despite my best efforts to put something off, I wind up undressed at the disputed occasion and highly embarrassed. And sometimes, it simply pays off. While I was originally very enthusiastic about having a swim date for E's outgoing Kindergarten class, I have grown lukewarm since the original planning date. This morning, I am outright unenthusiastic. So, today this disorder (?) character flaw (?) is going to help me out. I am not going to clean my house. I am not going to pressure wash the pool deck. I am not going to garden before hand. I am going to make the cake, provide drinks as promised. I am going to make sure my pool and yard are clean, and have as much shade as I can provide. I have activities so my pool is not a crazy free for all.
By the way, I cannot finish this post because S is throwing a full fledged temper tantrum because we cannot BOTH have a party today AND go to the movies. Off to a tremendous start.
I will have fun. I will have fun. I will have fun. I will have fun.