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FamilyI am sitting in the bar at Wolfgang Puck’s, waiting for my step dad to land and mom to pick us up on the way to the funeral home. I just got the call I’ve been waiting for and now know to stay put until one finds me and we go to meet the other (oops—he just called one terminal away so I will type fast).
When I said where I was, mom was all, great, you’ll be drunk before the wake, and I was all, not the way you drive, and she was all, look up the funeral home address so we can put it into the GPS, and I was all because you don’t know your way around, and she was all, we get to stay at Aunt’s L’s tonight which is good for you because you were going to be sleeping on the floor in my apartment in Gary, IN, and I was all yippee because you know how I hate Gary, and she was all okay I’m hanging up now, and I was all okay, screw you too!
God, I love coming home.
FamilyThere’s nothing like a pre-dawn crawl round the nether-world under one’s bed to kick-start to the day.
I’m traveling light—just tomorrow’s dress and wrap in a tote with make-up and small purse—and plan to wear my knee-high boots that will go with both the slacks tonight and the long sweater dress tomorrow. I’m determined not to check bags, and my other carry-on is the laptop. I mean, I have better uses for my time while waiting two hours to be picked up on the way to the wake. “Bring a good book!” Mom said. That, and a pile of help documentation to comb through and rewrite.
So there I was (in the congo), crawling around in the space between the wall and the side of the bed (about the width of the night stand) reaching around with my arm into the Pit of Dust and Lost Toys, when I thought I saw patent leather (shut up) and went for it. Just as I did, my pj top pulled up over my belly button, and I lay full across the heating vent.
Aye caramba.
FamilyThere should be flags on certain prescription refills. Some people just shouldn’t have to jump through hoops or wait overlong for their meds. I submitted my prescription refill online yesterday, showed up at noon today, was told they didn’t have it, came back at four, waited thirty minutes for service, they hunted around for it some more, and finally came back with an alternative, but the same! drug.
Phil had driven down to check on me, and I took that opportunity to go without the kids. Of course that meant I only had to take one child with no shoes. I was standing there with a chattering Daphne in my arms, behind a couple with four missing teeth between them (that one was for Meghan—you called it, sweetheart), waiting with forced composure, praying for calm, so that I could just COLLECT MY ANXIETY MEDICATION AND GO HOME so I could clean the house and feed the kids and pack for the funeral tomorrow.
So NO, everything is not okay, and NO, there is nothing anyone can do, but THANK YOU for offering. Thank everyone who actually offered, that is.
Like my eldest, for instance. Logan offered to “babysit” the other two so I could mop floors. Apparently this consists of pushing eveyone around so that they all come in at thirty-second intervals to complain of injustice. I collared him and said, “The challenge and responsibility of babysitting is to NOT lay hands on your charges, and to PREVENT or RESOLVE problems.” He burst into tears and ran off to his room, shouting that he was a HORRIBLE babysitter.
Gaaaarrrrrggghhhh.
And then he came back to sit next to me and cry and I finally said, “Look, you’re doing fine, I was just giving you direction. If you want to be successful you have to take the high road and not get involved in the fighting.”
“I’m a terrible babysitter. WAAAAAAAAAH!”
“You did a fine job, in fact, having you babysit was better than having you cry next to me while I’m cleaning and working. This is worse than the other.”
“AAAAHHHHHHHH that’s a terrible thing to say. YOU’RE SO MEAN! It was bad enough being a bad babysitter, and you just said this was WORSE! WAAAAHHHH!” All down the hall. Good grief. I’m not so much with the tact today, am I?
And just now? Daphne asked for nail polish. Like that’s the perfect way to unwind. Arsenic Hour is only starting to get rolling. Maybe we can pop in a tape of Barney and pipe it through my stereo speakers. Then we’ll go feed the ants.
FamilyIf your ex-wife calls and asks if the kids can stay over because she has be on the road at seven to catch a plane home for a funeral, you say:
A. Sure thing, Buttercup. I know you’d do the same for me.
B. I don’t know, you’re calling at the last minute, but I’ll see what I can do and call you back.
C. Sorry, I’m playing poker tonight six doors down the block from your house and won’t be home until late.
FamilyEver get in one of those grooves when you know you have a million things to do and you aren’t showered or dressed for half of them?
Let me re-phrase that: Ever get in one of those grooves when you know you have a million things to do and you ARE showered or dressed for them? If so, please send me detailed instructions on how you got there and what it looks like. It must be pretty.
It’s been a strange couple of days, and I guess that’s why I haven’t felt like posting. I had the kids for a longer stretch than usual because I switched out a night to attend a barely-post-dawn conference call and couldn’t have the kids in the house. Funny how you can really feel that one extra day.
I am going to Chicago early tomorrow to attend my great-aunt’s funeral. It’s especially sad because she is the last of that generation in my family. And it’s not just the loss of a person, it’s also the loss of the last of the great family gathering places. They sold up last year. We are finally at that point: instead of gathering for all the holidays and birthdays, we gather for weddings and funerals. It’s like a final wave flowing over us, tugging as it passes.
I’ve also heard from three different friends, each with their own twist. Each contact was transforming in its own way; one has left a relationship, one is leaving, one is embarking. I didn’t see any of it coming—how could I, with all this distance and time between us? It’s sobering. I’m still grateful for the ties, as there are so few strong ones left.
Also? The ants are back. Not in hordes like before, but one at a time, strolling across the table or my desk. Never more than one at a time. It’s like they are trying to be unobtrusive, hands in pockets, whistling and saying, “Who, me?” when I see them. *FLICK across the room*
Their re-emergence coincided with a groveling letter of apology from the exterminator company. I sent them a scathing, two-page letter firing them a while back.* They tried to call once and then sent a letter offering to make it up to me. I thought that was funny. I actually saw the number on the phone and didn’t pick up so I know they only called once and didn’t leave a message. I think no one wanted to actually speak with me after reading my letter.
Just now, I took my daughter’s blankies and doll over to preschool so she’ll have them for her nap after lunch. Dad couldn’t find them as he was rushing around getting all three ready for school and I was on my three-hour call. I tiptoed in the door and left them in her cubby, peeking over at the story circle just in time to see her pink-headbanded head turn toward me. I slipped out before she knew I’d been there.
FamilyI’ve been playing with Notebook for Mac to see if it’s a good way to organize my manuscript; it isn’t, but it’s way impressive. I used it to organize all my notes and press for the book and loved how how powerful it was. For instance, you can import a six hundred page document with a click of the mouse and not only will it import with fidelity, it will index the hell out of it. There are indices for individual words, capitalized words, links, numbers, you name it. They all appear in a separate section along with the number of times the item was found, in parenthesis. Fascinating.
So, of course I checked the word index to see how many strange words I used. Interviewers have said that I have “a way with inventive words.” Friends claim to have needed to learn “Mindese.” I scoffed until I got a load of my word index. Did I use any real words? I pasted a selection—only a selection, mind you—of mumblyjumbly into the extended entry. Go on, have a look. And have fun scrolling to close it again—it’s a long list, but it had me giggling.
I have several things to say about what I learned about my writing this morning:
- For starters, I was raised by an English Professor mom. I think we can safely say that she taught me to speak.
- She was also a publisher. And an author.
- She is also my editor. She’s read this manuscript several times.
- She left all of these words in the manuscript. There’s a whole other mess of stuff that got cut. This is the stuff approved to be left in.
- I should be writing comic books instead.
- I should NEVER be allowed to make an audio book. There will be no listening to Mommy Confidential: Adventures from the Wonder-belly of Motherhood on a road trip. No sir.
- Anyone who has heard me laugh would agree.
- I hope my kids learn to pass the malarkey on down the family tree. I have been laughing my ass off.
FamilyAs we all lay in my big, warm bed this morning, Logan was thoughtful. “Let’s try to have a calmer day today.”
I was immediately on board. “Great! What are some ways we can do that?”
“Well, we could not fight.”
“Brilliant. Tell you what—I’ll make it interesting: whoever has the calmest day gets a special prize.”
“What’s the prize?” Daphne wanted to know.
“How about… a dinner out with me, just the two of us?”
Dylan scoffed. “Mom, you just told us the surprise.”
Logan asked, “And could you please not say ’Marshmallows!‘ this time? Because someone could just pick us up and eat us.”
“Okay, let’s focus. How about I say ‘Pillows!’ when you get rowdy to help you remember to be soft and gentle? And whoever is the calmest today will get the prize.”
Dylan said, “Yeah it could be a race! What if it were a baby and daddy race?” This is a game they play where the baby and daddy race and the daddy always loses and throws a tantrum.
“Yeah, and what if the baby won?” Logan countered from the other side of the slightly ajar bathroom door.
“Heh.” I could see Dylan’s gears spinning.
I was expecting him to escalate the game when he completely threw me with, “I once lost a race with a shoe.” I froze, not wanting to miss this, not wanting him to jump to something else. “Do you know how?”
“No, I truly don’t.”
“Well, I put the shoe at the starting line, which was also the finish line because the track was a circle, and then I took off and ran around the track and when I got to the finish line, the shoe was already there.”
FamilyI just read something that will allow me to go to sleep in peace, confident that I have done as well as anyone could have done by my children and my job and myself. Not that I needed this level of affirmation, but every little bit helps. At least I was in the room with them today while I was wondering if I could lock them up for a ten-hour stretch. Hat tip to http://www.Blogging Baby for reminding us once again that it’s a looong way down.
She has now been sentenced to 30 days in jail and lost custody of her kids, all for a crime in which she and her boyfriend left the kids in their apartment at about 3 p.m. and did not return until nearly 1 a.m. the following day. Cook told authorities she thought she would return earlier.
FamilyIt’s been forever since I’ve done a meme, but Amber had me spitting coffee this morning. Have to go check out Hula Doula, too.
Ten Top Trivia Tips about Mindy!
- Mindy has a memory span of three seconds.
- Mindy can’t sweat.
- Mindy cannot swim.
- On stone temples in southern India, there are more than 30 million carved images of Mindy.
- There are roughly 10,000 man-made objects the size of Mindy orbiting the Earth!
- In Japan it is considered rude to talk with Mindy in your mouth.
- If the Sun were the size of a beach ball then Jupiter would be the size of a golf ball and Mindy would be as small as a pea!
- If every star in the Milky Way was a grain of salt they would fill Mindy.
- The risk of being struck by Mindy is one occurence every 9,300 years.
- It is impossible to fold Mindy more than seven times.
FamilyIf anyone knows the secret to turning back time, or to magically reuniting torn pieces of paper, I would be delighted to hear from you. I just sent my son to bed at seven p.m. for a screaming tantrum resulting from a temporary insanity-induced shredding of his Emperor penguin drawing.
And then I accused my daughter of lying when she asked if she could have an apple and I said no, and then she produced an apple with a bite missing. Now that I think of it, it was in Logan’s lunch. He must have taken a tiny bite out of it before deciding he didn’t want it. But my daughter is crushed. At least I know she’ll stand her ground when wrongly accused!
And BY THE WAY, where the fuck are these ants coming from if I didn’t order them for the Xtreme! Ant! Torture Device! My computer armoire is black, and occasionally a lone ant will saunter out and I won’t see him until he’s crawling on my hand, or blotter, or mouse. And don’t even get me started on the mice.
Have to go tie my children to their beds now.
Haaaaaa! I just apologized to Daphne and told her that I thought the bite was from Logan’s lunch and that I knew she didn’t do it. She said, “I know. It’s ok. Wait. You mean Logan just took a bite out of it and then put it on the table?”
“Yep.”
“EW! That’s gross! Mommy, I said I didn’t take the bite and I said I wasn’t lying but you said it and said it and you didn’t believe me. Why did you did that?”
“I’m sorry, baby, I just didn’t know it was Logan’s. I’m very, very sorry.”
“That’s okay.” And she gave me a hug.
And just now the phone rang—it’s Phil, and I just handed the phone to Daphne. She’s wandered off… ahhh I suppose I should go rescue him. He’s been giving finals all day.
FamilyI have been baffled at how worn out I feel… it’s all I can do to keep from hiding under my overpriced duvet. Phil was ready to shoot himself just to liven up our phone conversation.
And then, just as I was sweeping up that last dustpan of dead pine needles and carrying the ornament boxes out to the garage, sorting my notebooks and configuration documents from our big presentation today, giving the kids TV dinners, switching the third load of laundry, and putting away the mop and hose and trusty, always-close-at-hand 409 bottle, it occurred to me that I had reason to be tired. I was in conference at seven this morning, and hadn’t stopped until now. And that’s only so we can start the Bataan Bath March.
Then again, the tired feeling might be coming from the Amazon.com box sitting on my kitchen floor, full of lovingly selected and packed Christmas gifts for our framily from Len and Amber in Belgium. We opened the first box, and it was… Tinker Toys for Dylan! Biiiig hit.
Then we opened the smaller box, and it was a Fairy Tale Dora doll for Daphne! Eeeeeee!!! We spent an hour combing her hair.
And then… and then. We opened the big box, and I became convinced that no matter how much you think your friends love you, they love a good laugh better. Inside that last box was a gift for Logan:
An Xtreme! LIVE! ANT! HABITAT!
- See live ants play in their own extreme sports park!
- Awesome 360 degree live ANT tunneling zone!
- Includes mail-in coupon for LIVE ANTS!
- It’s ANTRAGEOUS!
- Antrageous Skate Loops
- Radical Rock Climbing Wall
- Ragin’ Street Luge Speedway
- Big Air BMX Biking Arena
- Max Velocity Bungee Jump
I sent their children fun little art supplies, and they sent us the stuff of nightmares. Go on over and give ‘em some love from me. Go on. They can take it.
FamilyWell, Daphne gave me hope in the car at pick-up today when I lobbed something she asked for over my shoulder.
“Mommy, when you throwed that, it went right into my face. But that’s okay, because it was funny when you did that.” Physical comedy: the great panacea.
Picking up the boys at after school care was a trip in itself. They were at worship (must remember to come before or after that fifteen minute window), so Daphne and I tiptoed in and sat at the back. I just wanted to see them sit still. After the story, when it was time to raise hands to show faith, Logan was like Horshack on one side of the church, and there was Dylan on the other, checking his fingernails. When it was time to say the blessing, Logan screwed up his eyes and prayed with his forehead on his folded hands while my other son slouched in his pew, head tilted back, eyes closed. Dylan was too cool for school.
FamilyStill very much in head-down position (where have I heard that before? Can’t remember.) Anyway, there is no shortage of cuteness around here. I’m just glad I was looking up at the right times.
FamilyMost of my coworkers stayed up past one this morning working on our project. I logged in at two a.m. and tried to brag about it but someone called me on the three hour time difference. Still! I’m the one who got up for a 7:30 conference call.
Since the children came at noon today home covered in mud from the park (neither of us has the day off), they have spilled two entire cans of Diet Coke in the living room (and were sufficiently wary of my need for concentration to be shy about telling me), “delivered” each other to me sixteen times in the box my new sheets and quilt came in, had three push-ups, three frozen go-gurts, five Tilapia filets, six chicken nuggets, and four fights.
Dylan has made five phone calls, one of which connected to his father’s house, to ask for toys left behind over the weekend. He also earned one time out for calling me “stupid Mommy” after I cut him off at one push-up.
I have no time to write, not even the piece I owe DotMoms for my twice-weekly essay. My wrist is numbing the rest of my arm and… oh God, Daphne just wet herself for the second time today.
Update: I just clued in that both times, she was wearing jeans with fancy belts. The leopard print and colored jewels are stone-cold bitchin’ but the buckles and zippers are hard to undo in a hurry…
I write. A lot.
I also design stuff and collect funny things kids say. Oh, and please buy my book. It's very funny.
I also review books and keep track of them in The Mommy Blog Amazon Book Store.
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To Mom about Political sign, “Mom what is that?”
Mom to Sam, “That is a Green Party sign.”
Sam, “Can we go?”
Mommy, you have a big bum! It’s not little like mine…
Ethan, 2
Sammie: Whats in the box mum?
Mum (Whispers): Uncle George.
Sammie: Well what’s he doing in there! I always knew he was a loony!
(Said during the minute of silence at Uncle George’s funeral service)
There’s a yellow S.O.B.
Erin, 3
(pointing at a yellow S.U.V. as we are driving through a parking lot.)
Alix: “Mom, did you hear the hearth quake last night? There was a rumbling…”
Hugo: “Yeah…that was my stomach!!”
Hugo, 6
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