Valentine's Day is upon us and I've been meaning to share my Valentine's philosophy, because it's a good one. We are stuck with this Hallmark Holiday that makes half of us really happy and makes the rest feel left out in the cold. I say, take Valentine's day back! Make it a family and friend day as well as a day for "luvvers. Or better yet, be your own best Valentine. Get yourself a little something. And don't wait for the half-price candy available on February 15! You are worth full price!
Not counting the past ten years of my total of 44, I never had a romantic Valentine (well one, and no, it wasn't Peter Frampton). I grew up in the days when teachers didn't make you bring in a little folded Fat Albert Valentine for EVERYONE in the class ("Hey! Hey! Hey! You're the Greatest!"). You were at the mercy of the mothers of your classmates. Some, like my own who insisted that I give a Valentine to everyone (which led to merciless teasing about me and a kid named Dewey "sittin' in a tree"). Then there were the other moms who threw a pack of valentines at their kid and went back to watching Merv Griffin or sloppin' the hogs or whatever they happened to be into. These days, teachers insist on Valentines for all--yay, teachers! Nipping the early feelings of Valentine's Day inadequacy in the bud and having an easier day with happier children to teach.
If school was a disappointment in the Valentine department, I must say that in an unusual display of consideration for the feeling of it's members, my family turned Valentine's Day into a family holiday. I grew up in a household where I was the only person who wasn't a widow. If we had been waiting for cupid, we would never have known the sweet taste of Russell Stover's Nuts and Chews. My Mom and Grandmother always bought me a heart-shaped box of chocolates and a card and I gave them little gifts, too. My Aunt even got into the act, and we exchanged candy Valentines with my cousins. So, aside from the slings and lack of cupid's arrows coming at me in grade school, I learned early that I didn't have to sit around "with my hand on my ass" (expression ala my Mama) waiting for a guy to luuuurrrrve me on February 14.
In college, when Valentine's Day and having a boyfriend became more important, my cousin Fancy and I became each others Valentines. Neither of us had a love interest, so we would send one another candy and cards from our respective colleges. Once we even went out to dinner on Valentine's day and you should have seen us at our table for two right next to the kitchen and witnessed the lousy service extended to the one non-hetero couple in the place. But we had a great time and laughed ourselves silly. And we didn't have to deal with any sexual pressure, either! Thanks, Fancy!
After college, even though, through either death or estrangement, my family Valentine connection had dried up, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I became my own best Valentine. I made sure that bought myself something smashing for valentines day, usually earrings or a book I wanted. I made Valentines for my girlfriends in the spirit of Valentine inclusiveness. I remember some guy kind of giving me a pitying line because I wouldn't be getting any Valentine attention. I pointed to my sensational new earrings and said, "I get my own Valentines." He thought this was crazy and not a little pathetic. I think what was really crazy and really pathetic was that he was married and didn't bother to wear his ring or mention his wife or numerous children the whole time I knew him. I bet he was a great Valentine.
Okay, then there was the one time that I did have a boyfriend (pre-Gameguy) on Valentine's day, but by Valentine's day the relationship was unraveling and no amount of gifts, roses, and candlelit dinners could make it better. So, while it was a minor romantic victory to have an actual boyfriend on Valentine's Day, it more disappointing than romantic. Blerg. Thus proving that having a love interest on Valentine's Day does not insure happiness and can even be a little sad.
So, skip ahead two years and I meet my Gameguy and now I get a great, usually weird Valentine gift book that's about death or parasites and a Cadbury fruit and nut candy bar and it's fab! He gets a gift chocolate and we order Chinese and watch a dvd and it is all I want in a Valentine's day. With Comet added to the mix, and I get a terrific handmade surprise and another person to induct in the family Valentine tradition. We make Valentines for grandma and Fancy, and add his favorite General Tsao's Tofu to our Chinese order.
And I haven't given up on being my own Valentine, either. Yesterday, cruising the aisles of Whole Foods, I spied a pair of freshwater pearl and crystal earrings that called out to me, "Happy Valentine's Day, you groovy gal, you," and I bought them on the spot. "The greatest love of all..." and all that.
So, along with being my Valentine (no gifts or cards required), I challenge everyone to put a broader spin on this little thing called Valentine's Day. It's here and it's everywhere. Instead of hanging your head or beating yourself up for lack of a love interest, make it your own! Get yourself a little something, get together with your friends! Delight a child with some candy. This is your Valentine's Day party, and you can invite everyone, if you want to!
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Things we lost in the move
My grandmother, lets call her "the Nanja," had a life list of the three greatest inventions ever created The list included the machine gun, the jeep and the helicopter. Her young adult years were spent during WW II, so we shouldn't judge. Those *were* some cool new creations. In later years, the Nanja had her own toy machine gun that made authentic rat-tat-tat sounds and scared the shit out my uncle on one memorable evening (nearly leading to the untimely deaths of two prankster cousins).
Well, the times the are a-changin' at least for me. I have my own list, but my motto seems to be, "make food, not war" because the two items on my list of the all time best inventions are my Kitchen Aid Professional mixer (industrial gray) and, until recently, my Braun hand held immersion blender. I'm still casting about for the number three on my list. The microwave comes to mind. Anyway, the sad part of this tale is that since we moved, I cannot locate my immersion blender. Kitchen life as I knew it is a thing of the past. No more whipping up beans for burritos in seconds. It's mash, mash, mash with a potato masher, and it's just not as thorough. I mean, there a visable beans and Comet is only "kinda-kinda" on visible beans. Also, for whipping potatoes, it couldn't be beat. The only thing I can imagine is that I left it hanging in it's convenient wall mounted holder in our old kitchen.
And an we talk about the appliances I do have and never use? Two fondue sets (par-tay), an ice cream maker, a bread machine, a meat grinding/pasta making attachment for my Kitchen Aid and a salad shooter. I'd give them away, but there's always that slim, slim chance that I'll have an overwhelming desire to throw a fondue, shredded vegetable and ice cream party, and them where would I be?
But, as appliances leave us, new appliances come into our lives to brighten and, occasionally, warm our days. I am speaking of course of my early Valentine's gift from the thoughty Gameguy. It's a sexy red electric faux woodstove with faux flames and real heat. I'm going to put it up in our palatial bedroom suite and pretend I'm Jane Austen toasting my toes in front of an open "fire" while I create my masterpieces (er, blog entries). Fantasies can come true!
I bid you goodnight and bon apetit!
Well, the times the are a-changin' at least for me. I have my own list, but my motto seems to be, "make food, not war" because the two items on my list of the all time best inventions are my Kitchen Aid Professional mixer (industrial gray) and, until recently, my Braun hand held immersion blender. I'm still casting about for the number three on my list. The microwave comes to mind. Anyway, the sad part of this tale is that since we moved, I cannot locate my immersion blender. Kitchen life as I knew it is a thing of the past. No more whipping up beans for burritos in seconds. It's mash, mash, mash with a potato masher, and it's just not as thorough. I mean, there a visable beans and Comet is only "kinda-kinda" on visible beans. Also, for whipping potatoes, it couldn't be beat. The only thing I can imagine is that I left it hanging in it's convenient wall mounted holder in our old kitchen.
And an we talk about the appliances I do have and never use? Two fondue sets (par-tay), an ice cream maker, a bread machine, a meat grinding/pasta making attachment for my Kitchen Aid and a salad shooter. I'd give them away, but there's always that slim, slim chance that I'll have an overwhelming desire to throw a fondue, shredded vegetable and ice cream party, and them where would I be?
But, as appliances leave us, new appliances come into our lives to brighten and, occasionally, warm our days. I am speaking of course of my early Valentine's gift from the thoughty Gameguy. It's a sexy red electric faux woodstove with faux flames and real heat. I'm going to put it up in our palatial bedroom suite and pretend I'm Jane Austen toasting my toes in front of an open "fire" while I create my masterpieces (er, blog entries). Fantasies can come true!
I bid you goodnight and bon apetit!
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Jesus, Mary and Joseph
I was raised Catholic. Voodoo Catholic to be exact. Voodoo Catholic is a combination of all of the regular rules of Catholicism plus things like "don't put your hat on the bed or someone will DIE!" and "don't put your shoes on the table or someone will DIE!" The implication being that you held the power of life and death in your own hands, especially if you were carrying a hat or a pair of shoes. So, you were very powerful but never in a good way. There was no "put your shoes away and always have fun at play" or "put your hat on the rack and you'll receive candy by the sack!" It was mostly dark, dark stuff.
And so, as soon as I left home, I abandoned the Catholic thing, especially the inconvenient going to Mass part. I dabbled in new ageism, but it was a little too funky for me and plus, they always wanted you to write stuff down, "take out a clean sheet of paper" I'm sorry, that's more than I'm comfortable with. Then it was onto Unitarianism, but something bugged me about that (probably the incessant church attendance, I mean every week--come on!) I learned a little about Buddhism, but by then religion wasn't sticking. I still believed in God, but who or what God is a little amorphous for me.
I like having God so that I have someone to talk to when I'm in a jam who might just throw a little magic my way, and if not, I appreciate the listening. I find it useful to argue with God with I'm angry or confused. I've had no verbal answers or burning bushes, but the listening is enough for me. I believe in karma and in the possibility that the next person you meet who is in need, could be God in disguise. I try to act accordingly, unless the person scares me. I believe the only way to live a good life is to be good to myself and other people and to do what I can to make my little corner of the world a better place in whatever way I'm able to do that at any given time. I believe that life with no kind of God, even a God of one's own devising, is a little lonelier than it could be.
And I haven't quite given up my Catholic roots. Saint Anthony helps me find things every day. (Dear St. Anthony, come around, something's lost that can't be found. Try it. I don't know why, but it works.) I also have little chats in my head with Mary. She was the mother of a challenging only son, too. And then I have Saint Jude for the really hard, scary, impossible stuff. I think I'm in it mostly for the listening and the chance of a little magic thrown in just when i need it.
P.S. I still don't allow hats on the bed or shoes on the table, just in case.
And so, as soon as I left home, I abandoned the Catholic thing, especially the inconvenient going to Mass part. I dabbled in new ageism, but it was a little too funky for me and plus, they always wanted you to write stuff down, "take out a clean sheet of paper" I'm sorry, that's more than I'm comfortable with. Then it was onto Unitarianism, but something bugged me about that (probably the incessant church attendance, I mean every week--come on!) I learned a little about Buddhism, but by then religion wasn't sticking. I still believed in God, but who or what God is a little amorphous for me.
I like having God so that I have someone to talk to when I'm in a jam who might just throw a little magic my way, and if not, I appreciate the listening. I find it useful to argue with God with I'm angry or confused. I've had no verbal answers or burning bushes, but the listening is enough for me. I believe in karma and in the possibility that the next person you meet who is in need, could be God in disguise. I try to act accordingly, unless the person scares me. I believe the only way to live a good life is to be good to myself and other people and to do what I can to make my little corner of the world a better place in whatever way I'm able to do that at any given time. I believe that life with no kind of God, even a God of one's own devising, is a little lonelier than it could be.
And I haven't quite given up my Catholic roots. Saint Anthony helps me find things every day. (Dear St. Anthony, come around, something's lost that can't be found. Try it. I don't know why, but it works.) I also have little chats in my head with Mary. She was the mother of a challenging only son, too. And then I have Saint Jude for the really hard, scary, impossible stuff. I think I'm in it mostly for the listening and the chance of a little magic thrown in just when i need it.
P.S. I still don't allow hats on the bed or shoes on the table, just in case.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Monday Erratica
1. Curve ball! Due to flash flooding, the County Schools are closed! What's a mother to do? A lot.
2. I'm trying to decide whether to keep my spare tire as a flotation device or hire a personal trainer and work it off. Hmmm, water safety versus vanity? Which will win? Stay tuned!
3. Our friends in Connecticut sent Comet a fabulous toy rocket that is as big a an ottoman (the furnishing, not an ancient Turk). The nicest part is that the friend's children searched for it and chose it for Comet themselves. Very sweet. Now to surreptitiously smuggle out a toy of equal size and weight.....
4. Speaking of toys, I tried to pitch a toy buyout to Comet. I was thinking $50 in his robot fund for half of his toys (toys he doesn't play with) and he said, "NO! If you take my toys you will have to give me $12 dollars!" I thought this was a deal until he added "for EACH toy." My child is too savvy. I guess I'll just be sneaky about it.
5. So our vehicle (the classy one) had developed a stench. It got so bad that even I could take it so longer, so I did a bit of detail work this afternoon. Okay, so it kind of smelled like moderately stinky cheese, but after examining the extent of the damage, it's a wonder it didn't smell like Limburger with anchovies stuffed in a cabbage and baked in the sun. It was rough. All I hope is that the cleansers I used will cover up the "ambiance" long enough for me to get the car to the mechanic and bodywork place and then I will have it professionally cleaned!
6. Speaking of dirty cars, we visited my cousin Fancy at her new condo home and Gameguy noted that, aside from our car, there was only one other dirty car in the whole, extensive condo complex. Different lifestyle choices, I guess. Another good reason to live in the woods!
I'm out of here!
2. I'm trying to decide whether to keep my spare tire as a flotation device or hire a personal trainer and work it off. Hmmm, water safety versus vanity? Which will win? Stay tuned!
3. Our friends in Connecticut sent Comet a fabulous toy rocket that is as big a an ottoman (the furnishing, not an ancient Turk). The nicest part is that the friend's children searched for it and chose it for Comet themselves. Very sweet. Now to surreptitiously smuggle out a toy of equal size and weight.....
4. Speaking of toys, I tried to pitch a toy buyout to Comet. I was thinking $50 in his robot fund for half of his toys (toys he doesn't play with) and he said, "NO! If you take my toys you will have to give me $12 dollars!" I thought this was a deal until he added "for EACH toy." My child is too savvy. I guess I'll just be sneaky about it.
5. So our vehicle (the classy one) had developed a stench. It got so bad that even I could take it so longer, so I did a bit of detail work this afternoon. Okay, so it kind of smelled like moderately stinky cheese, but after examining the extent of the damage, it's a wonder it didn't smell like Limburger with anchovies stuffed in a cabbage and baked in the sun. It was rough. All I hope is that the cleansers I used will cover up the "ambiance" long enough for me to get the car to the mechanic and bodywork place and then I will have it professionally cleaned!
6. Speaking of dirty cars, we visited my cousin Fancy at her new condo home and Gameguy noted that, aside from our car, there was only one other dirty car in the whole, extensive condo complex. Different lifestyle choices, I guess. Another good reason to live in the woods!
I'm out of here!
Friday, January 22, 2010
Freedom's just another word for
get me THE HELL OUT of this house! Actually, I've been singing a happier tune for the last two days since Comet went back to school, but the weekend followed by two school holidays and a Comet sick day almost finished me. I gots to get the hell out of this (or any) house for at least an hour a day, preferably alone in the car or I lose my shizzle. I have always been this way. Since I was a kid, I was the first one waiting at the door when there was even a rumor that someone was going to the grocery store. When anyone said the words "I'm going to the," I was quick to shout out "I wanna come!" before they even finished the sentence. Often the sentence ended in "kitchen" or "bathroom." Then I would add sadness to my thwarted wanderlust.
Could it have something to do with my incarceration, er, childhood, in scenic Jetersville, population no one cares? Where my nearest neighbors were Black Angus cows--their field was about ten feet from the bathroom window---who would occasionally escape and run around my house until Mr. Puglisi came and rounded them up? Where entertainment was walking over to the country store across the street and buying a soda from the machine. Big entertainment was when the phone company put in a telephone booth next to the store and you could call people up but they couldn't hear you unless you put in the dime, and guess what? We never put in the dime! Ah, good times.
Could it be because I didn't have a car until well into my twenties and was dependent upon the kindness of friends and the strength of my tough little legs in a town with (formerly) crap public transportation? Though my tough little legs were in some good shape in those days. There is a side benefit to this earlier deprivation in that I don't feel guilty about using gas. I grew up in the sticks and never went more the ten miles from home and didn't have a car till I was twenty-six. Ya'll suburban brats can feel THAT shame. I'm just using my share from the seventies and eighties!
Actually, I'm blaming my most recent hatred of humanity/bad moods on the almost recent snowfall we experienced and the internally horrifying, scarring FOUR days that I was stuck/at home with my loving family. My boys were pretty happy, but I was ready to chew off my own leg and limp down Route 20 just to see the bright lights of Food Lion before I bled out.
GameGuy is a man who could stay in the house for weeks and not even notice as long as there was enough food and people kept showing up to play boardgames, yet he understands me. Comet could stay home forever and he's only five and doesn't understand anybody. It's GameGuy who makes sure I get THE HELL OUT at least once a day. During the at home days this week, he supported me as I ran (drove) out for forty-five minutes to an hour over his lunchtime so that I could maintain. He knows that his girl has got to move, see the world, see people I don't know and don't have to talk to or ever see again. I need to be in the impersonal flow of humanity, be it ever so humble as a walk through our dubiously named Fashion Square Mall (it isn't square, either). He knows I'll never be gone long, and he really gets it when I tell him, "Baby, I was born to run (to the store)!"
Could it have something to do with my incarceration, er, childhood, in scenic Jetersville, population no one cares? Where my nearest neighbors were Black Angus cows--their field was about ten feet from the bathroom window---who would occasionally escape and run around my house until Mr. Puglisi came and rounded them up? Where entertainment was walking over to the country store across the street and buying a soda from the machine. Big entertainment was when the phone company put in a telephone booth next to the store and you could call people up but they couldn't hear you unless you put in the dime, and guess what? We never put in the dime! Ah, good times.
Could it be because I didn't have a car until well into my twenties and was dependent upon the kindness of friends and the strength of my tough little legs in a town with (formerly) crap public transportation? Though my tough little legs were in some good shape in those days. There is a side benefit to this earlier deprivation in that I don't feel guilty about using gas. I grew up in the sticks and never went more the ten miles from home and didn't have a car till I was twenty-six. Ya'll suburban brats can feel THAT shame. I'm just using my share from the seventies and eighties!
Actually, I'm blaming my most recent hatred of humanity/bad moods on the almost recent snowfall we experienced and the internally horrifying, scarring FOUR days that I was stuck/at home with my loving family. My boys were pretty happy, but I was ready to chew off my own leg and limp down Route 20 just to see the bright lights of Food Lion before I bled out.
GameGuy is a man who could stay in the house for weeks and not even notice as long as there was enough food and people kept showing up to play boardgames, yet he understands me. Comet could stay home forever and he's only five and doesn't understand anybody. It's GameGuy who makes sure I get THE HELL OUT at least once a day. During the at home days this week, he supported me as I ran (drove) out for forty-five minutes to an hour over his lunchtime so that I could maintain. He knows that his girl has got to move, see the world, see people I don't know and don't have to talk to or ever see again. I need to be in the impersonal flow of humanity, be it ever so humble as a walk through our dubiously named Fashion Square Mall (it isn't square, either). He knows I'll never be gone long, and he really gets it when I tell him, "Baby, I was born to run (to the store)!"
Monday, January 18, 2010
Monday Erratica
1. I saw Mary Chapin Carpenter (or her doppelganger) in Barnes and Noble today! I was right behind her in line and didn't realize it until I was leaving. She gave me a suspicious look. I wonder if she remembers our Whole Foods "encounter."
2. It's a four day weekend for Comet and that means Mama Gusta and Gameguy providing the entertainment. Actually, he's into playing his own version of this game where you build towers, so he has been keeping himself busy. He's in a grouchy/whiny phase and I'm going with "he's working through a developmental milestone" so I don't lose my already tenuous grip.
3. We are considering buying a minivan. We looked at two. On the one hand is the luxury model that practically drives itself AND HAS HEATED SEATS (the cup holder of the middle-aged set--it also has seventeen cup holders or something like that). On the other is a more (very) spartan vehicle that has less mileage, is a year "younger" and many thousands lower in price. It has less of everything in fact. AND THE SEATS AREN'T HEATED. So to be indulgent or sensible? My mind says go for the value but my ass says, "What about MY needs!"
4. We have a babysitter for a couple of hours tonight. A lovely girl who has very little time to babysit. Where have all the babysitters gone? (Long time passing...) Back in my day, people gave the babysitter a dollar an hour and girls were clambering for the opportunity. Most girls. I was the kid who would rather read a book than earn money and had absolutely no love for or understanding of children. I would have made a good security guard.
5. Our house looks like a bomb exploded because we are trying to finally open all of our boxes and get on with our lives. It's always messiest before the dawn.
6. I saw "Sherlock Holmes" recently. It was good, but I could never quite let go of the fact that I paid $9.50 for my ticket. Rent the DVD.
2. It's a four day weekend for Comet and that means Mama Gusta and Gameguy providing the entertainment. Actually, he's into playing his own version of this game where you build towers, so he has been keeping himself busy. He's in a grouchy/whiny phase and I'm going with "he's working through a developmental milestone" so I don't lose my already tenuous grip.
3. We are considering buying a minivan. We looked at two. On the one hand is the luxury model that practically drives itself AND HAS HEATED SEATS (the cup holder of the middle-aged set--it also has seventeen cup holders or something like that). On the other is a more (very) spartan vehicle that has less mileage, is a year "younger" and many thousands lower in price. It has less of everything in fact. AND THE SEATS AREN'T HEATED. So to be indulgent or sensible? My mind says go for the value but my ass says, "What about MY needs!"
4. We have a babysitter for a couple of hours tonight. A lovely girl who has very little time to babysit. Where have all the babysitters gone? (Long time passing...) Back in my day, people gave the babysitter a dollar an hour and girls were clambering for the opportunity. Most girls. I was the kid who would rather read a book than earn money and had absolutely no love for or understanding of children. I would have made a good security guard.
5. Our house looks like a bomb exploded because we are trying to finally open all of our boxes and get on with our lives. It's always messiest before the dawn.
6. I saw "Sherlock Holmes" recently. It was good, but I could never quite let go of the fact that I paid $9.50 for my ticket. Rent the DVD.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Old Yeller
I'd like to think that I'm a pretty good parent and that I'm compassionate and understanding of my child's needs. I'd like to think that. Then comes a morning like this one when Comet refuses, for the third day in a row, to get up for school. Okay, so I go in there with the cajoling, the understanding. "I know it's early and you're tired, but you're going to have fun at school today." Not even close. I go so far as to read him a book, "Dinner at the Panda Palace," an all time favorite. Nothin' doin'. And still the clock ticks away the minutes until bus time. I begin to get a bit terse and become a tight talker. Does this work? No. Then my voice raises and I decide to leave the room and go about my business downstairs hoping that Comet's need to pee will win out over his desire to sleep (drive Mama crazy).
And I'm right. I hear the thump, thump, slam of Comet hitting the bathroom. Then there's a wail for "Mama!" to come upstairs. But I am so done with this drama that I wait it the kitchen, making breakfast, putting the finishing touches on the old lunch box, and finally he comes downstairs and he has his clothes with him, except his socks. I have happily anticipated him/been a bad housekeeper and there happen to be clean socks on the sofa. To which Comet announces, "I am not getting dressed!" Great.
Okay, onto breakfast. And here I make a fatal mistake. There's always a fatal parental mistake on a bad school morning, isn't there? I decide it would be fun to make up a story game with the sight words he is studying, and I use the term loosely, for school. Oh, the anguish. "I can't EAT while you READ those WORDS!" Nuff said, I calmly read him from his History of the World book, cheerily relating how the early Muslims killed the Christians, and the early Christians killed them right back. How people were murdered or forced into slavery. Plus the pillaging, burning and unmentioned raping that went on. This he loves to hear about. The words "there" and "with." Not so much.
But there's more! Comet, who has eaten about a micron of breakfast, says "I want to show you a surprise!" He runs off to the dining room and brings back a Lindt chocolate truffle. "Daddy said I could eat this after breakfast!" he announces joyfully. Now, Daddy is not a fool and if anyone would have made the mistake of telling him he could eat it after breakfast, that fool would have been me. And I didn't do it. I calmly explain that he hasn't even eaten his breakfast, and that I want him to put the candy in his lunch box to eat after lunch.
ALL.HELL.BREAKS.LOOSE. Comet will not put the candy in his lunch box or put it down. In the mean time, I am trying to get him to dress and during this totally fun experience he informs me the "Ha, ha, I'm going to eat it while I walk down the driveway to the school bus!" Was it the deviousness of his plan or that "Ha, Ha!" that drove me over the edge? "You can't have the candy at all!" I declare and wrestle it out of his tight little fist. There is much screaming and grabbing and hating. (Aside: This is the boy who, after a summer spent listening to Little Shop of Horrors and learning that the plants would give you anything you wanted as long as you fed them fresh blood said, "I would feed the plants for all of the candy in the whole world!" He loves him some candy.) Okay, now huge screaming, kicking, refusal to put on shoes. And time is a tickin' away! It's after seven, the bus comes at 7:10. We have a loooooong driveway.
Finally, I call in reinforcements! "GAMEGUY" I bellow. Gameguy comes downstairs and tries to shoe and comfort our hysterical child. I try not to hit anyone. The coat is on and we have lift off! Oh, no we don't, because Comet has run back into the interior of the house. Cajoling and yelling on the part of his parents, along with a bit of physical assistance from GG and we are on the porch. It is still possible that we will catch the bus.
I try to lighten the mood. Mention the herd of deer I see up ahead. Comet is not interested. He's back to wailing about his candy and doing this robot walk every time I ask him to walk down the driveway, at which point I lose it and emit an ear piercing shriek! I partially drag him and then decide to walk. Time is going fast. We will miss the bus! I do not wish to get into a habit of driving a certain someone to school because he won't move his booty. I take off ahead of him and for Comet it's z trail of tears and recriminations down the hill. I don't think I could walk as slowly as he did if I tried. I emit another awful shriek, then decide to just shut up and walk down to the bus stop. He is still yards and yards behind me, all I can see is the little flashes of his light up sneakers, slowly blink blinking down the driveway.
The bus gets to our stop and I wave the driver on (she has to turn around and pass our house again on the way out.) Somehow, and I really don't know how, Comet makes it to the bus stop a minute before the bus comes. He's upset, I'm upset. I say, "I'm sorry for yelling and getting mad at you," to which her replies, "I'm not." Okay. I watch his little self cross the road and get on the bus and feel sad, mad and relieved all at once. What a horrible morning.
Cut to an hour and a half later when I go to his class to volunteer and he is all hugs and kisses and "I love you Mommy!" Can this be the same child on the same day?
And I'm right. I hear the thump, thump, slam of Comet hitting the bathroom. Then there's a wail for "Mama!" to come upstairs. But I am so done with this drama that I wait it the kitchen, making breakfast, putting the finishing touches on the old lunch box, and finally he comes downstairs and he has his clothes with him, except his socks. I have happily anticipated him/been a bad housekeeper and there happen to be clean socks on the sofa. To which Comet announces, "I am not getting dressed!" Great.
Okay, onto breakfast. And here I make a fatal mistake. There's always a fatal parental mistake on a bad school morning, isn't there? I decide it would be fun to make up a story game with the sight words he is studying, and I use the term loosely, for school. Oh, the anguish. "I can't EAT while you READ those WORDS!" Nuff said, I calmly read him from his History of the World book, cheerily relating how the early Muslims killed the Christians, and the early Christians killed them right back. How people were murdered or forced into slavery. Plus the pillaging, burning and unmentioned raping that went on. This he loves to hear about. The words "there" and "with." Not so much.
But there's more! Comet, who has eaten about a micron of breakfast, says "I want to show you a surprise!" He runs off to the dining room and brings back a Lindt chocolate truffle. "Daddy said I could eat this after breakfast!" he announces joyfully. Now, Daddy is not a fool and if anyone would have made the mistake of telling him he could eat it after breakfast, that fool would have been me. And I didn't do it. I calmly explain that he hasn't even eaten his breakfast, and that I want him to put the candy in his lunch box to eat after lunch.
ALL.HELL.BREAKS.LOOSE. Comet will not put the candy in his lunch box or put it down. In the mean time, I am trying to get him to dress and during this totally fun experience he informs me the "Ha, ha, I'm going to eat it while I walk down the driveway to the school bus!" Was it the deviousness of his plan or that "Ha, Ha!" that drove me over the edge? "You can't have the candy at all!" I declare and wrestle it out of his tight little fist. There is much screaming and grabbing and hating. (Aside: This is the boy who, after a summer spent listening to Little Shop of Horrors and learning that the plants would give you anything you wanted as long as you fed them fresh blood said, "I would feed the plants for all of the candy in the whole world!" He loves him some candy.) Okay, now huge screaming, kicking, refusal to put on shoes. And time is a tickin' away! It's after seven, the bus comes at 7:10. We have a loooooong driveway.
Finally, I call in reinforcements! "GAMEGUY" I bellow. Gameguy comes downstairs and tries to shoe and comfort our hysterical child. I try not to hit anyone. The coat is on and we have lift off! Oh, no we don't, because Comet has run back into the interior of the house. Cajoling and yelling on the part of his parents, along with a bit of physical assistance from GG and we are on the porch. It is still possible that we will catch the bus.
I try to lighten the mood. Mention the herd of deer I see up ahead. Comet is not interested. He's back to wailing about his candy and doing this robot walk every time I ask him to walk down the driveway, at which point I lose it and emit an ear piercing shriek! I partially drag him and then decide to walk. Time is going fast. We will miss the bus! I do not wish to get into a habit of driving a certain someone to school because he won't move his booty. I take off ahead of him and for Comet it's z trail of tears and recriminations down the hill. I don't think I could walk as slowly as he did if I tried. I emit another awful shriek, then decide to just shut up and walk down to the bus stop. He is still yards and yards behind me, all I can see is the little flashes of his light up sneakers, slowly blink blinking down the driveway.
The bus gets to our stop and I wave the driver on (she has to turn around and pass our house again on the way out.) Somehow, and I really don't know how, Comet makes it to the bus stop a minute before the bus comes. He's upset, I'm upset. I say, "I'm sorry for yelling and getting mad at you," to which her replies, "I'm not." Okay. I watch his little self cross the road and get on the bus and feel sad, mad and relieved all at once. What a horrible morning.
Cut to an hour and a half later when I go to his class to volunteer and he is all hugs and kisses and "I love you Mommy!" Can this be the same child on the same day?
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