When I was getting dressed for work, The Rooster walked in, pointed at my outfit and said,
"Mom, when I'm grown up, as big as you and you are dead... can I have that shirt?"
[This made my mother, who often heard things like this from me at Roo's age, laugh like crazy.]
That night after the kids went to bed, I sat at the dining room table letting my shoulders finally sink into a relaxed position.
Work day. Check.
Family dinner. Check.
Bedtime routine. Check.
I looked up at the corner shelves and noticed my Grandmother's sugar bowl and creamer.
I coveted the cream and sugar bowl when I was little.
Both are shaped like two little Franciscan monks.
One day when my Grandmother was babysitting for me, I said,
"Granny, can I have these when you die."
It's funny, of course I now realize I don't enjoy owning them nearly as much as I thought I might when I was four.
If only returning them would undo the circumstances of their being mine.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
When I was getting dressed for work, The Rooster walked in, pointed at my outfit and said,
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
It started last night at midnight.
First one, then the other child vomiting (and then some)!
The dreaded, DOUBLE stomach virus.
We recently purchased a new set of bunk beds for The Mayor and The Rooster.
Being the eldest, The Mayor sleeps on the upper bunk.
No one warned us about the perils of bunk beds and tummy flu prior to our purchase.
My poor daughter...
Saturday, January 16, 2010
The distinguished gentleman behind me in the airport security line reached for my boots as they came through the scanner.
I wasn't sure if he absent-mindedly thought they were his shoes or if he intended to chivalrously collect them for me, but when he realized I was reaching for them he pulled his hand back.
Because I am so incredibly jocular and downright hilariously fun to meet out there in the wide world, I joked,
"I know, I know. You want cool boots like mine."
He gave me a sideways, look (of horror) and in a tone just shy of snide responded,
"Oh, yeah. That was totally it."
Then, as I bent over to put on my very cool boots, I made a very impressive THUNK noise by slamming my forehead into the edge of the conveyor belt.
Everyone wants to be as cool as me.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
A young woman and an older one were arguing when they got in line behind me.
As far as I could tell, there are only two automated check-in kiosks for Delta Airlines at Washington National Airport and this afternoon, one of them was broken.
The broken kiosk was frozen on the final step of the check in process and a large, red button at the bottom, right-hand corner of the screen said "PRESS HERE WHEN FINISHED."
The older woman, muttered something about the long line, marched up to the broken kiosk and, like all those who came before her, pressed the red button.
I leaned over to the younger woman and said,
"It's an experiment to see how many people will push the button."
The older woman pushed the button again.
"Or maybe It's an experiment to see how many TIMES a person will push the button," I suggested.
The older woman proceeded to push the button eleventy million times.
I looked at the younger woman.
"Your mother, it seems, falls into the category of 'One Who Pushes The Button A LOT'."
The younger woman roller her eyes and said,
"Tell me about it."
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Tuesday, January 05, 2010
In the winter months I turn into a scaly reptile.
I am used to this phenomenon, but sometimes, forgetting that they are almost never helpful to me, I pay a visit to yet another dermatologist to see if there isn't something that can be done.
This time, the doctor suggested that, to soften my dry, chapped hands, I coat them in a thick layer of Vaseline, put on a pair of gloves and sleep that way.
[Oh, the sexy beast!]
Though I viewed the advice with a measure of scepticism, some far corner of my brain seemed to recall something vaguely Victorian or maybe Grandmotherly about the idea of applying hand lotion and sleeping in gloves.
I imagined a delicate, white pair, something cotillion-ish with a button at the wrist.
I decided I would give it a try and went searching for a pair of sacrificial gloves.
The pair I found are BRIGHT GREEN and very fuzzy.
[I AM THE SEXY BEAST!!]
As I pulled back the covers to get into bed I showed them off to my husband.
"Do you like my new look?" I asked.
"I see you're wearing THE SEXY GLOVES," he said.
I gave him a little snuggle.
"Do you like the way THE SEXY GLOVES feel?" I asked him.
"Oh, yes. They are spectacular!"
"I think it's funny that you have decided to call these THE SEXY GLOVES," I said, "considering they are so green and fuzzy."
He looked at me, incredulous.
"What other way would SEXY GLOVES look?"
[I love this man.]
"You know," K said, "the dentist says I have to start wearing a dental guard because I've been grinding my teeth. One night soon, I will bring the dental guard and you will bring THE SEXY GLOVES and we will be UNBEARABLY SEXY, UNSTOPPABLE."
Monday, January 04, 2010
There was a giant WHAM SLAM noise and then the front wheel, on the driver's side of my car, hung precariously over the side of what appeared to be a SERIOUS cliff.
At the end of my two hour stint as the appointed ADULT IN CHARGE at our local house of jumpy things, I was victoriously hurling a booster seat out the window at my friend Gail.
The Rooster, determined NEVER to go to a friend's house on a play date without my accompaniment suddenly announced that she was willing to go home with her friend Hazel, Gail's daughter.
Oh, the triumphant exaltation!
The Mayor had already invited himself over to his friend Noah's house, leaving me the possibility of the much cherished... ALONE TIME!!!
[But no! I opted for driving over a parking lot cliff so that all the other parents could snicker at my sheer stupidity.]
Gail, whose car I was basically blocking (with her daughter and The Rooster in the back seat), jumped out of her car to identify the source of the loud WHAM SLAM noise.
It was so loud she thought I had hit another car.
My car's underbelly was resting on a concrete ridge that perhaps once formed one wall of a loading dock.
The two front wheels hung over the edge like a small child's feet dangling off a pier.
While the left front tire dangled high above solid ground, the right front tire was able to almost kiss the cheek of the pavement - though only lightly.
At first I thought I'd simply drive the rest of the way over this cliff, but alas, when your car has front wheel drive the two front wheels have to actually touch the pavement to gain enough traction to propel the car forwards, backwards or otherwise.
There was no such traction to be had.
Oh, the spinning of my wheels!
I called my husband.
"I need you to come to the jumpy place parking lot right away," I said. "I've done something REALLY dumb."
"Well... uh... can you explain it to me?" K asked.
"It's just that, I'm about 45 minutes away," he said.
"Uh... I've driven the car over a... I'm stuck on a... I'll call you back."
Gail called her husband and I called our friend David.
[Oh, the feminists!]
David pulled into the parking lot first.
I had a clear view of his face as he located my car... and burst out laughing.
Similarly, when Gail's husband Doug arrived, he too saw the car and openly laughed.
"I should call a tow truck," I started.
Doug parked his car, circled mine with an analytical look and said, "If we jack it up, we can build a ramp under this wheel and back it up onto the pavement... If only I had some two by fours..."
Before anyone could respond, Doug strode off into a field adjacent to the parking lot.
"Where is he going?" his wife wondered aloud.
Doug disappeared over a small hill and shortly thereafter we heard a series of loud crashing noises.
"I should just call a tow truck," I repeated.
Just then, Doug reappeared with a giant wooden pallet.
He brought the giant wooden item over to my car and began maneuvering it around the dangling wheel.
"I have some pieces of lumber at home that might work better," David offered, "I'll just go and get them!"
As David sped away, Doug asked me for our car's jack.
I opened the trunk and found myself looking in vacantly.
Doug found what he needed, but I felt sorry for him because the tire iron was encrusted in ice.
It was the coldest day we've experienced so far this winter and Doug didn't have any gloves.
Regardless, the man was DETERMINED.
He jacked up the car and David returned with bricks and various pieces of wood.
The two of them began an elaborate exercise in ramp engineering and this attracted the attention of other men.
First, an impossibly tiny, but extremely generous man approached to ask us if we needed any help.
He took his gloves out of his pocket and started slapping them into the palm of his free hand.
Doug and David eyed the small, confident fellow, considered his offer of help and how it might factor into their solution building mission.
The next father to exit the jumpy place and notice us was a large, husky man in a bright orange hunting jacket.
He inched towards my car trying to get a better look at the situation.
I noticed him.
He noticed me noticing.
"You totally want in on this action, don't you?" I said.
Taking that as an open invitation, he took four quick, confident strides forward and said,
"You know, if we put the car in neutral, we four men could lift up the front of the car and roll it back up off that curb."
He tucked his thumb into the waist band of his pants and rolled his shoulders back one at a time so that his chest stood out to its fullest advantage.
Doug sized him up and concluded,
"He's probably right."
I put the car in neutral and do you know what those four problem solving, manly men did?
They lifted up the front end of my car, rolled the car backwards and set it down on solid ground!
As I was driving away, I felt incredibly relieved and immensely grateful.
I found myself both humbled and extraordinarily lucky to have friends who would help me overcome my own extreme idiocy on such a freezing cold evening.
But soon I returned to feeling the way I do most of the time...
Like a complete and total DORK.