Day 26: For funny kids. I always dreamed of laughing with my future kids the way me and my sibs laughed with my mom, and that dream has come true. There’s no better feeling than laughing with your family. More about that in this post. (which includes some photos which will probably make you laugh too).
Day 27: For Abundance. With a capital “A”. So much of my speech and thoughts come from a place of scarcity. “I don’t have enough space”, “I don’t have enough money” “I don’t have enough energy” “I don’t have enough time” “I don’t have enough sanity”, “I don’t have any family living on this continent”, “I don’t have enough hair”.
This is a great pity because I really am blessed with extraordinary abundance and I would be so much more content if my focus lingered on that rather than constantly chronicling what I feel I lack.
I don’t have “enough” space because my warm and cozy home is overflowing with beautiful, happy, healthy, kind children, warm clothes to wear, books to read, toys to play with, beautiful things to look at, comfortable furniture to rest on and more than enough food to eat. Regarding my lack of “enough” money, my husband has a stable job in his field, a great education and a stellar work ethic. We are blessed with so many generous people in our lives. A kind sister who bailed us out of an unforeseen and potentially devastating crisis this year without a hint of judgment, only compassion, who together with other generous family members helped to buy the exorbitant plane ticket on short notice so that Aaron could fly home to be at his beloved dad’s funeral. Friends who are constantly passing along useful items so we don’t have to buy them, who come up with creative ways to allow us to earn extra money or to barter for opportunities for our children to do extra-curricular activities. I have a handful of jobs, some of which are extremely fulfilling to me, which allow me to make some extra cash while still enjoying the incredible blessing of being a stay at home mom.
My deficits in sanity, energy and time are made up by an amazingly willing, capable, kind and patient husband, by long-suffering and thoughtful friends who drive my children hither and yon, often without reciprocation, who offer childcare for Ella when they know I am stressed, even though they may be equally stressed, by family and friends both near and far who are always available with a listening ear, a shoulder to cry on, an endless supply of love, counsel, comic relief, prayers, advice and encouragement. I am blessed with good healthcare and insurance to preserve and protect my health, both physical and mental, and that of my family. I have access to resources, medication and education to help me when I am dealing with depression and anxiety.
I have an ever increasing myriad of ways to stay in contact with my far-flung loved ones, and angels who step in as family in their stead.
And well…who needs good hair, right? I have product and hats are totally making a comeback.
I am indeed abundantly blessed in all things and for that today, I am truly, truly Thankful.
For laughter and Abundance day 26 & 27
Benj the Pariah, Finny and Yo Mama
Hello good people! I’m fed up with school and decided catch up here instead. Ah…there’s so much to tell but I was thinking about things that have happened recently that I particularly wanted to journal for posterity and I realized that I had not yet recorded the story of Finny Vs The Hecklers. It is a heartwarming tale of a boy defending his mama and arising victorious. An older brother’s pride for his younger brother, and good triumphing over evil. You will laugh, you will cry. (We are currently in talks with Disney and Hallmark.)
So last Saturday (like the one before the one that just passed, I never know if that is last Saturday or this Saturday or what…I’m always wrong though, it’s stuff like this that will always make me feel like a foreigner wherever I am, wait where were we? ) Finny had a game and Benj happened to be the referee for it. Unfortunately, this coincided with Gabe’s first game of the season and Aaron and I felt that we should be out in force to support him for it, so we sent Finny and Benj on their way.
Throughout the game I got texts from my awesome friend, Carolyn. Our team was up! But boy, the other team was dirty! And oh my word…their parents..out of control! Oh no! Our team was down! Still down. Shoot. Still down and time rapidly running out.
It seemed inevitable that we were going to lose to Mean Team. Sad trombone. Oh well. I turned my attention to Gabe’s team, things were getting exciting as they were in a tie. It ended that way. Oh well. Better than a loss!
Suddenly I get a text from Carolyn! They won! They won! Stunning comeback. Amazing! Benj is going to need a police escort out of here. Story to come.
We were done earlier than anticipated so we drove over to the field to pick them up. Benjamin darted into the car looking furtively around. “What are you doing here? I was supposed to get a ride with someone else! Nobody can see that I’m related to Finny!” Suddenly the car was surrounded by a bevy of red-faced sweaty,excited little friends and big brothers who had been watching, they were all clamoring to tell me the story. “Finny won the game! He scored 2 goals in the last 30 seconds!” “It was so awesome! “ “The other team was so dirty!” “Oh man they are so mad!” Carolyn told me, “I have NEVER seen a kid so determined to win a game, he was crazy, he was on fire! You need to get Benj out of here though.” Benjamin continues to slouch down into his seat, as Finny approaches. Finny looks mildly gratified by the praise and glory being directed his way but distracted, and certainly not as animated as I would expect. He seems a bit grim in fact. He asks if he can ride with his friends as they go for celebratory ice cream and so we leave with just Benj, the Pariah/Exquisitely Fair Referee (depending on which team you are on) in the car.
As we drive away Benj says, “that was the most exciting soccer game I have ever seen”. He seems quite sincere. Then he says, “I had no idea Finny’s team was so phenomenal! And wow, Finny-he’s really, really good!” Aaron and I look at each other and smile. Benj is an understated kid, not given to superlatives or gushing. And honestly, he’s not that easily impressed by amateur soccer antics. He spends a lot of time watching professional soccer. Certainly, I have not heard him lavish praise on his younger brother’s soccer skills like this before. It is all very endearing.
Then he launches into the tale of how Finny’s team was down by one point when the other team took down one of our players in the box. So Benj had to call a PK for our team. (Benj is an extremely fair ref, who for the record, called out Finny on his fouls too, but given all accounts of the conduct of the other team, I don’t think he was crying inside about having to call a PK.) The other team was of course, outraged. Players, coach, parents. There was much, much outcry.
Benj described some of the enraged yelling the coach was directing at him and adds casually, “And then finally I had to say, Coach, that’s enough.” He added thoughtfully, “come to think of it I had to tell a lot of people ‘that’s enough’ during that game.”
I don’t know, maybe you have to have a 15 year old boy but it is so fascinating and amusing to see/imagine them in the role of unruffled disciplinarian. Then he adds, “and so Finny got ready to take the shot, and I have NEVER seen an opposing team heckle a player like he was heckled. It was really bad. But Finny ignored them, took the kick and landed it so solidly. Then he calmly walked up to the kid who had really been heckling him and does this (miming him jerking his face close to the kids’ face in an aggressive sort of way). Then he walked away, immediately got the ball back, and made the SICKEST goal (the winning goal), with his left foot..and didn’t even react..didn’t celebrate..just jogged away! Man he is going to be SO good. I loved Finny so much today”
He continued to regale me of tales of Finny’s soccer prowess for the next hour, repeating the tale as I ironed his clothes for Homecoming that night, and I realized that although I had been crushed to have missed seeing them both perform in this epic battle, it was so much better to hear my distinctly ungushy son’s admiring account of his little brother. My heart grew three sizes. It will probably always be in my stash of fondest memories.
(Here’s my big kid all ready for Homecoming that night.)
But it gets even better. Later that night when Finny returned home, he was giving due credit to all the other amazing players on his team for the assists that made it possible for him to score, and praising their awesome defensive playing, but I noticed he wasn’t talking much about his goals. I said, “you know Finny, Benj thought you were amazing in your game tonight. "
(I was still wondering why he seemed so uncharacteristically understated about the whole thing, and even a little bit down still. I just couldn’t figure it out, given the jubilation of everyone else who watched it, and the contrast in his usual enthusiasm in giving me play-by-plays.)
I recounted Benj’s retelling of the story to him, including Benj miming Finny’s post-goal head jerk at the other kid. Finny flushed, looked a bit sheepish, and said, “Benj said I did that?…well…actually.. I did something worse…” then he bursts out, “MOMMY THEY WERE BEING SO, SO, SO MEAN!” A little alarmed now I said, “Finny! What did you do?” He says, “well when I was getting ready to take the penalty kick, they were all clapping their hands, and saying “miss it, miss it, oh! oh! oh! you’ll never get it” and all that stuff, and that was annoying but it was ok… but then this one kid who had been trash talking me all game comes up to me and says,
“How is your FAT LITTLE MOMMY going to feel when you miss it?”His voice catches with rage, “MOMMY I was just SOOO MAD! (I observe his clenched fists in the mere remembrance of it)… I was like OHHHH NO HE DIDN’T and I kicked that ball so hard into the goal and then I ran over to him and did this (mimes shaking a fist). I know that was wrong..but he just can’t say that about my MOM! MOMMY I WAS JUST. SO. MAD!”
At this point I am (shamefully, yes I know) doubled over with laughter. I’m sorry, I just couldn’t help it. I’m never going to be Appropriate Wise Mother who manages to conceal her emotions until the kids aren’t watching. The idea of these little 9 year olds trash-talking is so funny to me, and the idea that my kid was actually getting heckled with a “yo-mama” was so ridiculously, fantastically, wonderfully, old-school classic. And “your fat little mommy”? It undid me. Something in the phrasing, or the way he retold it..I don’t know, it was just so hilarious to me.
But the idea that he was so incredibly outraged about it was, I am slightly ashamed to admit, completely heartwarming. Even though he really shouldn’t have made the aggressive gesture, I couldn’t bring myself to lecture him for very long about it. He knew it was wrong and I think that given what he had been through all game long, he actually behaved with remarkable restraint. (Undoubtedly more than I would have). The best part to me was the vision of him, grimly and decisively taking that game back, or die trying, to avenge his mother. My heart grew 3 more sizes.
I pointed out to him that this kid had not ever seen me so he didn’t know whether I was fat and little, or tall and thin or somewhere in between, so it really was just the silliest thing and he shouldn’t let that stuff get to him, but his little face set in hard lines again. “No mommy, he just can’t talk about my mom. He just can’t do that. “
And then I realized that there is a reason “yo mama” has endured all these years. There is something primal that is triggered within a boy when you disrespect even his theoretical mama.
I think it’s the same thing that is triggered within a big sister when you diss her little brother. Or within a mom when you mess with her kids. It’s just…well, primal. That rush of adrenaline that could move a mountain, the surge of outrage which leaves you weak and shaky in its aftermath.
And when I think about it, it was probably divine intervention that I was not there to witness the abuse and triumph of my two boys that day, because I would probably have ended up in jail. Instead, I got to bask in the glow of reflected glory and hilarity of the retelling, and to stash this sweet memory away for the next time an older brother is acting like an immature jerk, or a little boy is getting on his mom’s last nerve. These guys are alright.
I have “May Stomach” aka: Mayday!Mayday!
On the night of April 30th I felt it creeping up on me..May stomach. I spend the entire month of May with a this weird unsettled feeling in my stomach. It’s not entirely unpleasant and it’s not entirely pleasant. It’s a mixture of stress and excitement. May is BONKERS. With good things. But bonkers all the same. It’s like we all lie around all Winter doing nothing and then.. BAM. It’s May, we collectively wake up, sit bolt upright and universally agree that we absolutely need to stuff everything that we ever wanted to do into one month…aaaaand GO. Included in the day to day MAY-hem (see what I did there? See that? Sometimes I impress myself)…where was I? Oh yeah ok so..this is just some of what we have going on in May….
1.Travel soccer for 4 kids…’nuff said.
2. Track.
3. The entire yard just woke up and became a giant tangle of weeds and long grass. That and we still have a tree burying it. And if you want to plant a vege garden or flowers and stuff…you must do it THIS MONTH. HURRY!
4. There is enough sunshine now to illluminate the fact that my house is absolutely disgustingly dirty.
5. We’re PRETTY sure we now need to be wearing summer clothes but we’re not ENTIRELY sure so our miniscule house is cluttered with bins of clothing from different seasons down from the attic.
6. The following events to celebrate and..you know do stuff for: May Day, Finny’s birthday and birthday party, (my mom’s birthday too but this does not add stress to my life…thanks mom), Mother’s Day (poor Aaron), our anniversary, graduations of various friends, the multiple field days, walkathons, DARE graduations, end of year class class parties, piano recitals, teacher gifts etc.. etc..
7. Ella now wants to be outside every minute of every day (which is great, but keeps me from doing stuff like cleaning the house etc while she is awake.)
So yes, May. It’s wonderful month but it’s a LOT. Particularly when you are out of shape..organizationally speaking. It’s a shock to the system. I feel like my adrenaline is constantly flowing because even if I have a minute of downtime I’m pretty sure it’s only because I’m totally forgetting something. And I’m usually right. Case in point. Yesterday:
I’m sitting calmly in a Dr.’s examining room, waiting for him to come in at any second. Glance at phone. See text from friend informing me that she will be picking up my son from our home in 20 mins for a far away soccer game that we logistically cannot take him to ourselves. I realize that said son is still at track practice at school, oblivious to the fact that he has a soccer game at all…far from his soccer uniform…and he will be there..for the next 40 mins.
Did I mention I’m stuck in an examining room? Place frantic call in urgent and hushed tones to husband to “figure it out!!!” with poor long suffering, even more busy and stressed friend, who is doing us a FAVOUR here, just before Dr. comes in.
Miraculously I am able to escape Dr.’s office sooner than anticipated. Sprint to reception desk to make next appointment before I leave. She is new…so it takes a while. Sprint to car, husband on the phone all the while trying to figure out logistics. Turns out poor friend has been informed that she must now backtrack across town to our house, pick up oblivious son’s uniform (which other kids have been commissioned to assemble) and then go back across town, find son in track practice and break the news that he must leave early and come now, immediately to drive to soccer game. I realize en route from Dr. that I will be home in time to do the uniform delivery part myself. Have husband tell friend to go directly to school for son. Sprint into house, grab bag, shake wailing Ella off my leg…sprint to car, jump out of car at the high-school parking lot, leaving car door open and make the drop. Send bewildered son on his way with sainted friend.
Drive off thinking…”Wow! whew….we pulled it off…I can breathe now!” Wait! No I can’t!
Race home to pick up daughter for piano lesson which will be starting in 5 minutes. Drop her off.
Think whew! I can breathe now.
Casually glance around for prescriptions I just got at Dr.’s office, so that I can have them filled. Can’t find prescriptions. Look again. Nope they are gone. Cue panic attack. Race home to check if I left them there during brief uniform grabbing expedition. Nope. No sign of them.
Omigosh, I bet they flew out of the car when I was throwing the soccer uniform at my dazed son. I BET THAT IS WHAT HAPPENED. Envision prescription for tightly regulated ADD meds floating around high school parking lot. Envision high schooler thinking he has just found a really great way to make some extra cash. Envision being blacklisted by Dr. and pharmacies as being a drug addict when I go back and ask for more..envision lots of bad, hysterical things.
Shake wailing Ella off leg to race back out to car to try to track down errant prescriptions. Except I’m not sure where.
Call husband and shriek hysterical things down the phone. Call Dr. to see if maybe by some miracle they are still there. (I know they are not. I remember LOOKING at them as I walked out to the CAR). No answer there. Decide to drive there, hoping they will still be open, so I can tell them my terrible tale in the flesh perhaps it will be more convincing and they will be less inclined to think I am a junky/pusher).
Run wild eyed into Dr.’s office (yeah…definitely not making a great case for the “I’m not a junky pusher” thing. ) Receptionist looks up. “Hey did you leave some prescriptions here?” “YES AND I HAVE BEEN FREAKING OUT!” “umm…yes somebody found them in the waiting room and brought them to me.”.The waiting room! What? How? I was never even in the waiting room? Was I? Maybe..I don’t remember? (I have ADD..ya think?). File that under: Notes from Irony Land.
And that was just round one. The evening continued in a similar vein. Really, it did.
Seriously, if I didn’t have a highly functional husband and a handful of highly functional, extremely kind and willing friends on retainer at all times…I don’t even know. I shudder…I shudder. I know blogs can often given impressions of
“everything is lovely and serene here with too much time on our hands on our little home front what with our May day basket making and our matching Easter outfits”…allow me to disabuse you of that notion. It’s freaking crazy town here in May. Every day. All day.
Speaking of traumatic experiences…a story I wrote entitled A Little Horror Story was featured yesterday on the epic blog, “I Just Want to Pee Alone”. Well that was not the traumatic part that was the totally cool exciting happy yay part. I feel very honoured. The story itself was the traumatic part. It’s not something one simply walks away from. You should go there and read it and comment and stuff.
How’s May treating you so far?
Dear Winter
Ok so I’m just going to say this. It’s really awkward but it’s been a long time in coming and I think we both know where I’m going with this.
I feel like it’s time we take a break.
For, like… a year, at least.
It’s not you, it’s me. No actually, it’s you.
It’s just that you aren’t making me happy anymore.You haven’t for quite a while now. I don’t really think you even want to.
At first things between us were romantic and exciting. Sure, I was disappointed when you totally left us hanging at Christmas. Yes, you showed up the next day with that big showy present of snow but it wasn’t the same..you know? Nobody is dreaming of a White Boxing Day. Too little too late…and it kind of went downhill from there.
And now…you’ve just gone too far. You’re really cold, there’s no warmth, there’s no give and take. It’s all about you and your wintery mixes and your “Grey Days”. You don’t seem to care about my feelings at all. You don’t care that when you have a grey day, we all have one. You are just so completely self involved.
And then there are the boundary issues. Aka: Straw that broke the camels back.
I think you and I both know that this was supposed to be Spring’s time to shine. I feel like we’ve all been very patient and fair about the fact that you didn’t warm up the way we’d hoped. You almost never do, but this year you’ve been particularly bad. There’s been very little said over the fact that when Spring was supposed to be doing her thing, you lingered obnoxiously, making things a full 10-20 degrees colder than usual.
You know how Spring is. She’s not going to assert herself. And I feel like you totally took advantage of that fact. You kept slithering around, like a dark cloud, actually not like a dark cloud you WERE a dark cloud, and every time she got the courage to have a good day and put herself out there just the littlest bit you just had to shut her down.
And now there’s this. Seriously? This is in bad taste. It’s one thing to be a bit chilly, we’ve even come to accept dreary..I mean…it’s you after all. We all know how insecure you get around this time of year. And it’s ok to have your feelings.
But to go and throw a big, fat dramatic, hysterical snow tantrum a couple of weeks ago when a lot of people are having their Spring break and a lot of people were starting to feel a little bit hopeful is just low. I feel sorry for you. You’re pathetic. You know how people get in March.
And now it’s April. And if you just looked outside of yourself for one second you would be able to see that a lot of us are just hanging on by our finger nails. We hung in there with you pretty good naturedly I’d say, in November and December. Heck, we even smiled indulgently in October when you made your premature appearance. I held my tongue when you got all weird and were a total no show for Thanksgiving (which a lot of people liked, but I found non-cozy and untraditional.) I think we went out of our way to embrace you and make you feel special and welcome. We dug deep in January and February. Sure there were some words, but all in all, I think we really tried to be grown ups about it.
But people are at the end of their rope now. They are done. And you just don’t even seem to care.
If this was the first time you’d done this it would be one thing, but you and I both know it’s not. And it won’t be the last.
I’ve tried to be supportive. I have. I put on the extra 10lbs to keep me warm. I did the whole hot chocolate thing. The whole Seasonal Affective Disorder thing. I know how the fact that I have to use the Lamp makes you feel important. I played along. Did I not ensconce myself in that stupid ubiquitous North Face quilted jacket you love so much? Every. Single. Day? But it’s never enough. It’s never enough for you. You wanted long johns and fingerless gloves in the house, you needed constant reassurance with the whole hat head thing. I know you think the wearing the wool cap in the house thing is very hipster and all that, but it makes me look like Where’s Waldo and I’m not going to do it anymore just to please you.
And then there was Easter. You know.. pastel dresses and sandals? Easter egg hunts among the tulips and daffodils? Photos in front of the forsythia? I would think you’d be a little bit embarrassed to hang out where you are so obviously not welcome. But you did. The egg hunts were chilly. The bare legs were purple. The pictures were really hideous. There were no flowers, no leaves on the trees…it was really obvious what you were doing. I am embarrassed for you. You know, I’ve really tried to move on since that time in ‘08 when my cute little Easter canvas wedge shoes got so encrusted in ice and snow that I went ice skating on the hardwood floors. It didn’t end gracefully. It’s a painful memory in a lot of ways. I’ve tried to forgive, but at times like this, when you act this way, it all comes rushing back and it’s hard to forget, to heal.
I didn’t mean to go on this way but I’m hoping maybe you can take a hard look at yourself and think about making some changes. I don’t hate you. I just hate the way you act. It’s not just me who is feeling this way. You can ask practically anyone.
I’m going to suggest that you take some time. Take a trip… go away and just.. be. The Southern hemisphere is nice this time of year and I’m sure you could do a lot to change that. You need go where you belong right now. These last hurrah histrionics are exhausting to all of us.
It’s over ok? IT. IS. OVER.
Accept it.
PS:
Fooling around with my husband
One from the archives. Happy April Fools Day!
I am a compulsive
liarjoker. Some people (particularly men,) are somewhat unnerved by me because (amongst several other reasons I suspect,) they "never know when you're serious."
All this to say that my husband, after almost 14 years of marriage, is now wise to me and does not even do a double take when I flash a red Sharpie amended "positive" pregnancy test at him anymore. Bummer. However on one glorious Spring day a couple of years ago, when his guard was (foolishly) down, I had my moment.
At about 10am on April 1st, I called him at work and engaged him in some disarming chitchat.Then I lowered my tone into one of hushed urgency, "Aaron, this guy called and he said he needed to speak to you immediately. It sounded really serious, please call him right away and let me know, because I am stressing over what it could be!"
Aaron, being the obliging and obedient fellow he is, agreed to call promptly. I gave him the phone number of the local Zoo and told him to ask for "Mr. Lyon" (I even spelled it for him with the misleading "y" -ha! I have a criminal's eye for detail, folks).
And this is how it went down:
He called the Zoo, and dutifully asked for Mr. Lyon. He was informed that no such individual was available. He pressed them, "are you sure? I am returning his call, he said it was very urgent". A pause. Finally the resigned voice replied dead-pan, "Sir, this is the Zoo, it is April 1st, someone has fooled you".
Here's the best part, gentle reader:
My sweet, guileless, (momentarily) trusting husband then called me in great indignation to inform me that we had been tricked! It was only when my apoplectic laughter caused me to snort (in a genteel manner), that he finally....finally cottoned on.
"YOU!", he gasped aghast with shock and outrage. He had been had, and it was by she to whom he was wed. His sweet and loving wife, the very one!
His workmates still call him Mr. Lyon. One guy went so far as to call in a growly voice, identifying himself as Mr. Tiger.
Here are some of my other April Fool’s Triumphs from years gone by.
PS: WINNER of the movie night giveaway (no fooling) is Samantha! She said, " I follow you here. This is such a cool prize... I like packages of related things like that."Congratulations! Send me your mailing deets asap.
And these are the times when it behooveth one to laugh..
Sometimes it’s raining and it’s Tuesday and your back hurts and your stomach hurts and it’s really grey and cold, and you just can’t get warm, you just got done hearing about how the massive tree looming menacingly over your house is really, really, irrevocably dead (“yep, that’s the deadest tree I have ever seen!”) and you (and/or your property) are in imminent danger of said tree crashing down upon it, (“yep any time now” ) and also did I mention that it is virtually impossible to get close enough to said tree to remove it, (“yep that is the most inaccessible tree I have ever seen!”) without first removing the house, the neighbour’s houses, the gazebo and your garage. And if (!!) indeed you do, (but surely only by divine intervention),manage to get close enough to remove it, the pieces of it (the massive, exceedingly dead pieces) will no doubt fall upon your house, your neighbour’s houses, your deck, your gazebo and for good measure…your garage.
Oh that once charming shade tree, now irrevocably deceased, is going to cost you some big money to remove. (If indeed you do, miraculously, figure out a way to remove it.) Some big, big money. Not to mention all the money in replacing the houses, desks, gazebos and garages.. Money which you (obviously) don’t have. I imagine that even rich people are bummed when they have to use their money to do something so totally unrewarding as removing a dead tree. Damn you emerald ash borer. Damn you to hell.
At times like this, I find that it is best to focus on funnier matters.
Such as this blog post. Oh dear me. How I laughed. Whilst squirming uncomfortably since I identified so completely. I too was a weird little kid/adolescent. I’m sure this shocks you since I have developed into such a thoroughly normal and well adjusted adult...
Given half the chance I am quite confident that my sweet daughter Gracie would develop an obsession heretofore unparalleled. (It is for this reason that I have so far shielded her from the slippery slope of the empty tic tac box. It’s the gateway to a dangerous addiction, the first step to seeing her on a Hoarders episode in about 2022. Of this I have no doubt.)
And this movie. You know how most movies put together a 2 minute montage of their funniest stuff for their trailer? Well this one really showed some unfortunate restraint in that regard. I.e: the trailer is totally lame and unfunny in comparison to the movie. Trust me.It.Is.So.Hilarious.
And this blast from the past. A couple of summers ago, Ellabeth found herself in a bike basket with Nathan at the helm. The similarities are quite uncanny I think. I like to call it “EB Phone home”. Poor Ellabeth.
And then there’s this:
which is not unlike my mother who this week wrote on my wall “ please send me a friend request, and I will happily accept!”
But what my mom lacks in social media savvy she makes up for in general coolness. When I saw this it was impossible not to see her in about 30 years or so…
And then of course, there’s Ella who makes me laug all day, every day. She found the iPhone costume we made for Finny a couple of years ago, and she was terribly dismayed when the youtube icon would not yield “buppies”.
How is your Tuesday going? What are you laughing at lately?
Lucky 7’s Gratitude
Today I am grateful for
1. Tolerance. People who truly want to find common ground and work to create peace in their world, starting in their immediate sphere of influence. I think almost everyone craves a sense of cooperation and camaraderie with those around them. Thank you for the kind and positive feedback on my post earlier today, it has been truly touching and humbling. I have been encouraged by the number of positive posts I have seen today in the midst of the gnashing of teeth and gloating that is par for the course one day post-election.
2. The absence of political ads. Even the Real Housewives seem positively civil in comparison. I don’t think I realized how toxic they were until I found myself physically tensing and bracing myself at the beginning of an ad last night that turned out to be a benign ad for insurance. Hooray for the end of vitriol and lies. In my fondest dreams, the next four years will bring about a change in the way elections are run in the future.
3.Fresh starts. Even if the fresh start is taking a deep breath and saying a quick and urgent prayer after I lose my mind with my kids.
4. There’s this new type of yogurt. It makes me happy. (Caramelized almonds…need I say more?)
5. This. I laughed for a straight 2 minutes over it today. I don’t know…maybe I’m just tired but really…come on now. (I’m cackling right now..)
(thanks pinterest)
Parenting a toddler tip # 7: Overreact….
Say what??
(A recent episode which involved an earnest request for multiple hair accessories and wearing my jewelry, quickly followed by great frustration over having multiple hair accessories and wearing my jewelry. We call this piece: “from zero to nero in 10 seconds”.)
Miss Ellabeth is a very dramatic young lady. She is constantly “on”. Her fake cry/smile/concern/fear/remorse are all Oscar worthy. She’s a ham. She s a big fat faker. And we love every minute of it. We think it is hilarious and adorable and cute. Right now. She is 18 months old and pretty much everything is cute. Talk to me in say…6 months when she is two, and it is obnoxious and hugely off-putting. But right now, it’s pretty cute and so I work with what I have.
I have recently found that the best way to react to Ella’s ever more frequent episodes of overly dramatic displeasure or disapproval are to react in kind. Yes, that’s right. Match her. Freak out for freak out.
(I realize this flies in the face of every parenting manual you have ever read, and what do I know. Nevertheless…read on.)
For instance: yesterday I took Ella to Hobby Lobby. Of late I have been a stupid and overindulgent mother, (I blame the head injury) and have allowed her to escape the confines of the cart in certain stores which has pleased her greatly. (Truly short sighted and shoddy parenting, yes, I am aware.) But yesterday, I was feeling strong, well fed, well rested and fairly emotionally stable, and so I decided I was going to pretend to be a good parent and that being in Hobby Lobby aka Land of Breakable Glass Tzotckes was as good a time as any to reinstitute Ella Stay in the Cart Rules.
Well. Ella was shocked and dismayed. Understandably so. Rightfully so.
She screamed in protest as a deposited her little round bottom firmly onto the hard plastic seat and bucked like a bronco as I awkwardly fed her fat little thighs through the leg holes. And when she saw I remained unmoved, she graduated to heaving sobs of deep despair.
We had the attention (and commentary) of the entire store, but instead of doing what I generally do in these circumstances (fake being the calm and rational adult with a frozen smile who distractedly says, “ssshhhh..shhhhh….inside voice” whilst skidding around the store on two wheels, throwing random things desperately into the cart), I decided to call her bluff. And raise her one.
As she threw her head back and bellowed like wounded young rhino, I put on my most genuine expression of empathetic horror and with all the sympathy I could muster cried, “Oh NO you POOR THING, I feel so bad for you! This is not what you thought the new rule is. This is truly unfair, but unfortunately it is necessary. I’m really so very sorry my baby.”
Now of course, she did not understand most of the content, what she did understand was my unexpected display of seemingly genuine sympathy in stark contrast to my usual display of indifference or detachment (even though I assure you I feel neither detached or indifference at these times). For a moment she was distracted from her earnest endeavor to enter the Banshee Hall of Fame, and stopped to stare at me, quizzically. I did not break character.
Then she resumed crying. This was my cue to gather her into my bosom (not a particularly easy feat with her remaining in the cart understand, but I find if you lean forward far enough…) and again murmer through a strangled sob of my own, “oh, my poor poor baby, I feel so bad for you, your life really is very, very difficult and I feel so bad about that”.
At this point the angry wails lowered several decibels, and became mournful sobs as she snuggled into my bosom. We must have been quite a sight, groaning in anguish together, locked in awkward embrace, my bosom growing ever soggier, as we strolled the aisles of discount Halloween décor…
In an instant, something magical had occurred. We were not the victim and the bully, we were co-commiserators. We were not in conflict, we were on the same side. She saw me as someone who felt her pain, deeply and was possibly even more regretful about the situation than she was. She was appeased. Perhaps she even felt an ounce or two of sympathy for ME. In a few minutes she lost interest in the mournful sobbing, and lifted her head off my chest to glance at her surroundings. Indeed, she had to employ her considerable acting skills to remember to throw in a sad hiccup or gasp every now and again as her interest turned to all the pretty shiny, yummy looking things that were juuuuust outside of her grasp.
I have continued this response ever since. Don’t want your diaper changed? I can quite understand! Who would?! It moves me to tears quite frankly! Feel that the wait for oatmeal is ridiculously long? Me too! It’s an outrage! I mean an infant like yourself could easily STARVE as we wait for the water to boil! Bubble Guppies not on the TV? I couldn’t be more angry about that either! I beat my breast in protest!
Now people, look, I have five kids. The oldest is 14. If there is one thing I have learned about parenting (and truly, I have only learned about 3 things in all this time so I ‘aint no expert), is that nothing works forever and one thing most certainly does not work for every child. I have a kid or two who would have become even more enraged and/or encouraged into even worse behaviour with this approach. But for this kid, at this time, exaggerated empathy is the answer.
Not to mention that it is a heck of a lot more fun than pretending to be calm and mature.
In closing I leave you with the tail end of a lengthy and loud tirade Ella saw fit to bestow upon her elder brothers, who had been involved in some sort of altercation. I look forward to Broadway.
My Incredible Journey Part 2: Johannesburg, coming home,my new nephews and how my baby sister tried to kill me.
Have I mentioned how much I love watching the little map as we fly. I mean really. It’s pretty much my favourite thing !
Before I know it we were landing in Johannesburg, I was off the plane and my luggage had arrived and was not even the last one out of the carousel (!!) It was a festivas miracle!
Then I was met with this welcome sight!
Yay!!!!!! Mom and Dad!
I was driven to my parent’s beautiful house which they built since I was last there (so I had not seen before). It was gorgeous and new but with plenty of familiar touches which made it feel exactly like home.
Even though it was pretty late, I got to meet this little angel,
Who I wasted no time in tucking under my ample arm (and begged to keep him there for the night-I think I was a chicken in my former life, I love nothing more than a baby tucked under my arm at night). I also love that you can see my 5 little peas in the pod right next to him in this picture 
I also got to schmooze with this adorable fellow. He really liked me on the first night and gave me tons of cuddles and flirty giggles that night but kept a polite distance thereafter. I feel that he may have been using me to delay bedtime. A cheap trick with which I am familiar. I do feel a bit dirty now, but it was totally worth it. I mean, look at him! (Can you tell he has a penchant for things on his head?)
This is his handsome dad (ie my little brother Seth-he just hangs around the house in a tux. Just kidding, he had just arrived home from some sort of fancy ceremony where he got some sort of fancy award.
It was so fun to watch him be a daddy in person. He’s really good at it.
I also got to see the happy (very tired couple)
I spent the next few days on a eating tour of South Africa, (PS: the food in South Africa is so much infinitely better than that in America it’s hard to even call what we have in America food in comparison. That is all. Carry on.) hanging out with my nephews and helping my mom with wedding stuff here and there. Here I am having my first long awaited grapetiser (demented gleam in my eye explained?)
My mom made up the cutest little room for me in her office. It was so sweet and cozy. She even left a note from and photo of my kids which I read every night. So sweet.
So here’s the story you tuned in for: One night I went out with my sweet baby sister Thalia. We were both beyond exhausted having about 3 hours of sleep between the two of us, but we were determined to make good use of the time available. We arrived at our destination and Thalia realized that she’d left her bag with the money for parking in the boot (trunk) of the car. She asked me to jump out and get it since we were hemmed in on all sides by other cars waiting to get into the parking garage. I dutifully jumped out and teetered to the back of the car in my heels. I tried unsuccessfully to open the boot and when I could not I gestured frantically to Thalia who gestured frantically back. When the frantic gestures back and forth did accomplish anything, she jumped out to assist me…ran to the back, opened the boot and peered inside saying, “oh no, my bag is not here”. I said, “what, it isn’t? And peered further into the boot to see. And then suddenly I felt a tremendous crack to my head, and I saw stars. Seriously the blow to my head was not like anything I have ever experienced before and at first I was sure I was dead. Quite frankly, I was finding heaven disappointing. Then I looked behind me and saw a guy, sitting in his car, staring at me, agog. Then I saw the the car beside me filled with people who were apoplectic with laughter, and I realized that I was not dead, or if I was, I was in hell. Then I heard myself screaming, so I realized I was alive. Thalia, had it turns out, not seen that my giant noggin was firmly placed in range of the boot of the car, before she slammed it upon me, with all the force of her surprisingly strong little self.
After I ceased screaming and making her check me for concussion and assuring myself that she felt sufficient guilt for her actions, we parked and stumbled to our restaurant. I chose a sufficiently nostalgic meal and settled in to enjoy it when suddenly we heard the sounds of drumming and a shouting crowd. Thalia turned to me and said with a slightly panicked look in her eye, “oh no! It’s a riot!”. Thalia is not usually an alarmist, in fact she is pretty chill, so I was vaguely concerned until I realized that it was not in fact a riot, just the South Africa Monte Casino Spur’s version of singing “Happy Birthday” to a guest. (Thalia has recently made a career switch to journalism which makes her a bit twitchy I guess). After our meal, we made our way over the movie theatre. How often do I get to go see a movie with my little sister? Never! That’s how often. So we were excited. What awesome, memorable, slap your knee funny, tear jerkingly tender, life changing chick flick would we see? Ummm…our choices were: Total Recall and something starring Tyler Perry’s Medea. Due to my Near Deadly Head Injury and our collective fatigue and my general hatred of movies like Total Recall, I was not feeling up to Total Recall, and so we unenthusiastically settled on the Medea show. About 1/2 way into it with the people around us leaving in droves, we could not even to be enjoying it ironically anymore. It was that bad.
And so we left that train smash, we made our way out to the food court, where I thought I would have a midnight waffle from the Milky Lane, complete with allll the syrups on it for old time’s sake.
That procured, I sat at a table alone tucking in, in the nearly deserted mall while Thalia went to the loo. It really was midnight so it was not unsurprising when what to my wandering eye did appear, but a party of 5 well dressed toddlers marching jauntily and purposefully by. Not an adult chaperone in sight. The oldest was maybe 4, and she looked like a solid little character but was still a surprising choice to supervise five toddlers, alone, at midnight. I watched this with some amazement, and went on to chomp on my waffle, thinking to myself, “wow, I really have forgotten what South Africa is like. Apparently toddlers hang out in malls by themselves at midnight..” When Thalia returned, I casually commented on this to her, whereupon she looked at me with horror and said, “well did you follow them? Where did they go? No parents?! Really!!!?” We then shuttled around looking for the toddlers, who were by now, nowhere in sight. Maybe I imagined the whole thing? Due to the head injury? I am haunted still. I am hopeful that they too were on a guided trip to the loo and had since reunited with the parents. Still…not something you see every day.
Somewhat sobered by this experience, we staggered to the parking garage to find the car and soon realized that due to the drama surrounding our arrival (my massive head trauma) we didn’t have a clue where we’d left it. We wandered around fruitlessly for some time until we got the attention of some sharp security guards who asked us if we’d lost our car. I wonder what gave it away? They asked us some questions, told us to stay put and went off to find it. As we sat for a while Thalia said calmly, “I’m pretty sure it’s been stolen”. To which I replied, “of course it hasn’t, we just lost it”. To which she reminded me that we were in South Africa and she was pretty sure it had been stolen. We continued to chat about other matters when after some more time, I noticed her staring into the distance. I asked her what was wrong to which she said, “I’m just a bit sad..because I think my iPad was in there, and it’s not insured, and I really liked it….” and then we went back to chatting about other matters and nodding at drunken strangers who were bidding us a variety of greetings….
Eventually (about an hour had elapsed since we’d first attempted to leave) the security guards came back triumphant and led us to our car, which against all odds (apparently) had not been stolen and was in fact just a few yards away! Hooray!
So that was a night to remember. Or not. It did however, make me realize that I was not really familiar with South Africa anymore, and that I feel slightly more like an outsider every time I visit…sad…(but I feel like even more of an outsider here…so….) Anyway…
At the end of the week, my sister Shona and her husband got back from their quick trip to Swaziland (by way of Australia and South Africa) to run a half marathon (no big deal) to join us just in time for Thalia’s bacholorette party.
That’s up next…
The Bite Pin
I called my brother yesterday to wish him Happy Birthday. Our conversation drifted to our babies, his Samuel will turn 2 in August, and my Ella just turned 1. I mentioned that Ella seems to consider my arm a convenient snack. Whenever she gets hungry she bum scootches over to me and takes a bite of my arm. I feel like a bowl of mixed nuts. My arm is covered in bruises. It is not her most endearing quality.
Seth: Hmmmm….and when she bites you what do you do?
Me: Well I usually scream and then I say, “please don’t bite me! that really, really hurts!”
Seth: Hmmmm….yeah, well we used this thing called the Bite Pin when Samuel was biting. Somebody bought it for us. It works well.
Me: Bite Pin? How does it work?
Seth: Well it’s this wooden disk with a pin in it. When they bite, you just prick them with it.
Me: What do you mean you just prick them with it?
Seth: You prick them with the pin part.
Me: WHAT? You prick your baby?! Does it draw blood?
Aaron listening on speakerphone (mutters): That’s messed up, man.
Seth: No it does not generally draw blood. And it works really well. Somebody gave it to us, soo….
Me: Well yes, I understand because someone gave us this thing called The Sass Belt. When our kids sass us, we just slap them across the face with the Sass Belt! It works really well…. ARE YOU CRAZY?! How can you prick your kid with a pin??!
Seth: We prick him on the soles of his feet…and the skin there is tougher, that’s probably why he doesn’t bleed….
Aaron: (muttering) that’s even worse! that’s even worse!
Me: SETH! THE SOLES OF HIS FEET!
Seth: I’m joking, I’m totally joking…..
And this is why I enjoy talking to my siblings.
My kids. They make me laugh.
(My kids “snailing” in unison when it was time for family prayer)
Some of my best memories from childhood consist of sitting at the table for hours after Sunday lunch, talking and laughing with my family. I come from a funny family. Humour is our life-line. It is who we are. So many times when I was growing up, I would be doubled over, with tears running down my cheeks and I would gasp, “we should be a sit-com!” I just found my family, and the ridiculous situations we often found ourselves in, endlessly hilarious (when I wasn’t finding it utterly exasperating). While my dad was never at a loss for clever, dry wit, my family was presided over in the humour department by my wickedly irreverent, spontaneous, endlessly energetic mom. Life surrounding my mom is one big colourful party. Born of a Greek father and an Italian mother she was made to entertain.
My funny family in South Africa-2009 (laughing 
with my hilarious brother Seth to my right (who was missing in above photo), Luke and Thalia
Goofing in a public restroom at 1am with my hysterically funny sisters-2009
Shopping with Thalia. 2009 (I was the baby who wanted the beautiful pink polyester nighty. She was the mommy who said I could not have it)
When I created my own family, things were, by design, a lot more staid than they were in the home of my birth. I am not a natural entertainer. I need my space and I crave solitude more than I crave social interaction. Let’s call a spade a spade, I am a heck of a lot more boring and less social than my mom. But I do love to laugh. Life in my home is more predictable, and in some ways less chaotic (although let me be clear- my mom is much better at house-keeping than I).
And it works for me. I value the predictability, the slower pace, the regular pockets of quiet time. But I have long feared that it would mean that I was also going to lose the colour…and most importantly, the laughter.
Deep in my heart, I feared that my kids would not be funny. That we would not enjoy the same hilarity as we had when I was growing up. Although I find my husband quite hilarious, and I pride myself that I have brought out the funny in him, my husband’s family, Idahoan, salt of the earth types, have a vastly different sense of humour to mine, one I don’t really relate to, and frankly, I worried that my children would inherit it. I worried that we would not find each other funny. What would we do on Sunday afternoons? How would we deal with family crises? Would I even be able to tolerate the teenage version of my children if I could not laugh with them? The more I thought about it, the more concerned I became. I communicate through humour and irony. I really don’t know how to interact without it. If I had one sense of humour and they had another…or heaven forbid, no sense of humour at all…it would be like living in an international exchange program. IN MY OWN HOME.
But as they grew, my fears died down a little. You know how I love and adore a baby, but I have to say, for all their squishy adorability, their humour doesn’t go much beyond slapstick. Babies have their limits.
Older kids though…they start to get it. And when they do…it is magic. Benjamin seems to have inherited my brother Luke’s ability to tease me mercilessly while I laugh hysterically at him. He is dry and wry. He is a master of irony. He can mock me without insulting me. Which is something of a gift. (I am fairly easily insulted).
Gabe has inherited my brother Seth’s gift of imitation…accents and impersonations…he nails them effortlessly and frequently has me rolling. Gabe also has the cutest, most contagious laugh. It is impossible not to smile when you hear Gabe laughing.
Gracie has the slow, deliberate delivery that I find so intensely hilarious in my sister Thalia. But her sarcastic and quick wit is also reminiscent of my sister Shona who has made me breathlessly beg for mercy on countless occasions.
Finny is still funny without meaning to be. He is so wide eyed with wonder and amazement at everything. He also finds pretty much everything funny and laughs all the time. It is most endearing. On the way to the dentist today he told me with much righteous indignation, “Mommy! Did you know! At Dairy Queen they have this POSTER. And it says, ‘It’s not heaven-It’s Dairy Queen’. Pause for effect. WELL…..DUH!!!! Heaven is MUCH CLEANER than Dairy Queen!”
Last night, we were trying to squeeze in the Family Home Evening that we’d missed on Monday. It was late. We were tired. I was beyond burned out from Ella’s antics all day. Finny conducted the meeting. He welcomed everyone, I mouthed to him to especially welcome Ella. Just because she was being so extremely shall we say…challenging at that moment. A small joke. He burst out laughing and could barely complete his sentence, “welcome everyone to family home evening….esp…especi….especially ELLA”. Ella sat staring at him, unblinking, teething, chubby and irritable. This obviously struck him as even funnier. His blue eyes flashed and twinkled, he chortled, practically doubled over but managed to invite Benjamin to choose the opening song.
“How about we sing along to my new piano piece”. This too was a little self-deprecating humour, since he has been playing Pachebel’s Canon pretty much non-stop lately. “Sure, let’s do that” I said and then went on to ad-lib church lingo as he played. You could tell he wanted to laugh but that’s part of what makes Benj so funny. You can see a hint of a laugh around his lips and eyes but he plays along….stoically pounding out the canon while I trilled along slowly to the funeral cadence, with Chooooooooose Thhhhhhheeeeee Riiiiii-ghhhhhhhhht, Endureeee it We-ell…..Chooose the Riiiighhhhht…..sooooo youuuuu don’t goooo to he…….(and things of that nature.)
My other kids chuckled appreciatively at some of the more irreverent moments in my lyrical stylings, and suddenly I had a flash of joy in the realization that it was just as I had always hoped and dreamed. I will never be the life of the party that my mom is, but I will do almost anything to make my family laugh. They appreciate my whacky humour and I appreciate theirs. We will, without a doubt have our problems, our conflicts, our worries and our stressors. But we will also have laughter. And laughter makes just about anything doable.
I love the expression on Benj and Gabe’s face here. They were not expecting this development.
In my mind I echoed a sentiment my mom once expressed. It was during a very trying period for our family, one that might have destroyed a family with less humour.
One night some of us were literally rolling on the floor crying with laughter. I can’t remember about what. When we were all spent in that cleansing wonderful cathartic way that only a good cry or a great laugh can bring, She sat up, wiped her tears and half exclaimed, half sighed…..seemingly at random (but I knew exactly what she meant)
“Ohhhhh……..we are going to be OK”.
Yup. So long as we have laughter. Everything is always going to be OK.
PS: I forgot. Ella totally made me laugh yesterday. She was so enchanted by the fact that she had managed to balance this travel bottle of lotion on the end of her finger by sticking it into the neck of the bottle. She waved it around frantically and got my attention by doing her “baboon call” “uh-uh-uh-uh”. I’m pretty sure she wanted me to take this photo to acknowledge her great accomplishment, because once I did she went back to the very serious business of destroying the bathroom.
