jenny lewis and the watson twins
my kids are dancing with jenny lewis at the 9:30 club. at one point, jenny bends down to try and dance with jools, but he is more interested in his ear plugs. i predict he will kick himself in about 20 years 😉
Category: jools (also a beloved child)
hope you had a hell of a piss, arnold
note to DH: you understand the subject line 😉 (and the hint for everyone else.)
DH had to go away on business. he doesn’t do it all that often, as he knows we all miss him too much when he goes. but this morning, he left for a business trip to The City (which for anyone who doesn’t know what means, Manhattan.) BC, who had been cheering for days at the thought of her dad’s trip (“now he won’t be here to yell at me!”) was wailing and moaning the loudest of anyone: “daddy, don’t leeeeeeeeeeeeeeave me!” being the biggest boohoo on the planet, i was finding it hard not to tear up seeing her in such grief. DH, though sensitive and kind to his DD, was able to tear himself away, leaving me with little miss teary-deary and jools, who was more interested in dora the explorer’s computer game on nick jr.com. i spent some time explaining how daddy doesn’t go away all that often and sometimes, he just has to. she said the only thing that would make her feel better would be talking to grandma, so i even got grandma and grandpa on the phone (at 7:30 a.m., which makes them pretty damn good sports in my book). no dice. finally, i resorted to the one thing i knew would snap her out of her funk:
curious george. (or, as he is fondly known in this house, curious jorge.)
yep. i resorted to television. once again, i am a bad mom. but i knew that she really wouldn’t snap out of it unless something really diversionary came her way. (and of course, i am secretly in love with the man in the yellow hat.)
it worked.
if i weren’t so pissed off at WETA for cancelling my beloved addiction, eastenders, i would send them money for this.
everyone had a good day at school; gymnastics class was fine. and then, the deluge. it monsooned here, just as i went to pick BC up with jools in tow. it was pissing down rain so hard, i could not see. we got home and had an hors d’oeuvre picnic on the family room floor, complete with BC and i trading off making up a story that was a little departure from the hansel and gretel tale of yore. it was actually fun. i got the kids showered, i read some stories (including my aborted attempt to read the spanish book jools took out from the school library today; BC was actually translating, but jools lost interest.)
we called DH, and he was on a ferry in the east river on his way to see a yankees game. i’m not thrilled about this on so many counts.
i wish he’d come home already.
wrong day to premiere the new mascara
this morning was jools’ first day at montessori at the big school (AKA BC’s elementary school.) i had prepped BC by telling her that we needed to stay upbeat and supportive (which of course didn’t stop her from bursting into tears on the ride over when she heard that jools would start his experience with art class taught by a teacher who freaks BC out — she cried because she was so worried that she would be mean to him and that he would get in trouble or would cry). we made cinnamon buns (BC ate the tops off two of them; jools refused to eat them), readied ourselves, and we were off.
why did i even worry? the dude walked in like a champ. he greeted his teacher, and we dropped stuff off in his cubby, though he insisted on keeping his backpack with him for lineup. he wanted to look like all the big kids, y’know. BC and colleen joined jools on the montessori line for a bit, then i said goodbye to BC and told her that she had to go stand in line without me because i had to hang with jools. she understood, fortunately. jools couldn’t sit still and visited the boys room [b]three times[/b] before his teacher picked them up. he was fascinated by the urinal in the boys room (i peeked to make sure he was ok in there; fret not — no other kids were in the bathroom). fortunately, he didn’t ask me anything about it, as i am not exactly an expert on urinal etiquette.
and then, when we got on line, he looked up at me with his puppy brown eyes and said: “you can go to work now.” i was dismissed.
i stayed until his teacher arrived, but i didn’t walk him in to his class the way other parents walked teary youngsters in (and there were several boohooey kids on his line).
then i stood there and teared up as he walked away.
bad mom that i am, i forgot his blanky. later in the day, i had to return and be the stealth mom, slipping the blanky into his cubby without his knowing it. nazia, one of our friends who works in the lunchroom and in extended day, stopped me as i crept by. “julian has lots of big smiles today,” she said happily. “i saw him earlier, and he looked happy.” my heart leapt.
good thing i brought the blanky. when i arrived to pick him and BC up (note: my THIRD trip to the school today), the man who is in charge of the montessori program walked the children past me [i]sans jools[/i]. huh? “you’d better go into the classroom,” he advised. “julian is crashed out on the beanbag chair. he started napping, but then the fire alarm went off. but he’s out again.” his class doesn’t actually nap. but my boy does. i walked to his class and was greeted by the kindergarten girls, who all shooshed me and pointed to my little boy, curled up and sweaty on the beanbag chair. already, the little girls love little jools (AKA LL Cool J for “the ladies love cool jools”). i laughed, bent down, and picked up my sleepy boy.
i nearly made it outside with him when he suddenly jerked his head up like a birddog and barked: “where’s kira?” he doesn’t miss a beat that one. a minute or two later and we saw BC walking toward us, all smiles for her brother. “how was your first day!” she asked him. she was so concerned about him. i tell you, that girl likes to discuss at length how her brother’s arrival basically has ruined her existence; but deep-down, she adores him. and he her. while such occasions are fleeting, i treasure them and lock them away for those moments when i feel like i am failing life.
they don’t last long before someone is smacking someone in the head and screaming, “mommmmmmmmm!”
mr. soul
i’ve been listening to “the best of buffalo springfield” these days, thanks to the inspiration of my friend susan (who is a fairly inspirational person in her own right. but that’s about 50 whole other stories.) BC and jools seem to love it. jools mostly loves to sing the lyrics: “stop, hey, what’s that sound, everybody look what’s goin’ down” really loud. (he’s got the whole righteous indignation thing down, too.) but this morning as we rode to jools’ school, the lyrics of another song were bastardized beyond recognition, thanks to BC:
“whoa whoa whoa, mr. soul, i dropped by to pick a patootie.”
i have no idea what BC meant, but i have a feeling that neil young’s lawyers will be calling her soon.
out of the blue and into the deep-end
lots has happened since i last watched blue’s clues. for one thing, nerdy-but-hot steve has been replaced by his dorkier brother, joe. blue, once a pup who merely barked, now actually speaks. what next, the apocalypse? anyway, this morning, we watched blue’s baby brother. blue went searching for her baby brother and found him, a spotted puppy named sprinkles.
throughout the whole thing, though, i had the weirdest feeling i was listening to tommy. the whole “i got spots” music, combined with the whole “welcome to puppyland” sounded like someone fell asleep listening to pete townshend and woke up and wrote the soundtrack. even the drum roll at the very end sounds like moonie was present.
then again, i probably could do with more sleep.
bad mom, part 72
i continue to rack up the points that will ultimately send me to bad mom hell. highlights:
1) i just taught my kids how to do the time warp. (c’mon kids, it’s just a pelvic thrust!)
2) instead of instilling a respect for the office of President, i informed 7.5 year old BC that “George Bush is an idiot.“.
BC: so mama, you mean you don’t like the President?
Me: no, sweetpea, i don’t.
BC: why, mama?
Me: because he isn’t a very smart person. and because he is doing things i don’t like.
BC: like what, mama?
Me: ::hyperventilating because i can’t even try to begin here:: what would you like for dinner?
3) three-year-old Jools likes the word penis; but he has decided that he doesn’t want to have one if girls can’t have one.
Jools: mommy, i don’t want a penis. girls don’t have a penis.
Me: ::hyperventilating because i once again can’t even try to begin here:: Julian, you aren’t a girl. you’re a boy. boys have penises.
Jools: mommy, are you a girl?
Me: yes, honey.
Jools: do you want a penis?
Me: no, dr. freud.
Jools: what’s a foyd?
4) and finally, we signed BC up to dance on a local show. i’m sure she could care less, but mommy wants to see X.
sick about it
i have links to my kids’ pix in my flickr account. and i have linked to several of these pix in this blog. however, something happened today which made me pull things down and lock things up.
see, yesterday, i posted pix from the 4th of july, including my dear boy in his new big-boy-pants. being a mom, i didn’t think twice about these photos; mostly my parents and some friends look at them. anyway, while there were a few noted downloads of all the pictures, there were 45 downloads of mr. man in his undies in one day. clearly, there are some sick fuckers out there.
i actually took that picture and deleted it from flickr. the others are now only available to friends and family. if you are in that latter category and would like to be able to see the photos when you come here and click on links, you know how to find me. i’ll be delighted to grant you access.
lord. there are some truly sad people out in the world.
independence day
the kids are attempting naps at the moment in the hopes that they’ll be awake for 4th of july fireworks. hopefully, it won’t monsoon and preempt the light show tonight (although i for one would be perfectly happy settling in to WETA and watching taped festivities.) they are being separated by DH as we speak, as they are too excited to be in the same room together. at least BC put a pull-up on jools before they tried to nap together. the girl is smart.
but if we don’t get to see the fireworks, it won’t be a total loss (except to jools, who has been jonesing for them since he first saw them last july 4th). today, we set out early and snagged a space under a tree on the median of macarthur blvd in order to see the annual palisades 4th of july parade. and you know, this ain’t no typical smalltown usa sort of shindig, either. we watched the Different Drummers march (they played showtunes, of course), we watched some wonderful Bolivian children and teens dance, we saw very old firetrucks (from 1905), horses, lots of convertibles.
and we met every single candidate for council and mayor there ever was.
adrian fenty shook my hand and BC’s; and it seems as if every single other candidate was busy throwing candy and ice pops and stickers at the children (though one, a guy named orange, was also giving out actual oranges and orange bracelets). when fenty’s folks made a reappearance, they were throwing green mardi gras beads at us. (i was praying that BC wasn’t going to have to lift up her shirt to get the necklace. she certainly nearly ended up under the wheels of several convertibles trying to get candy. yes, my BC would probably sell me for candy.) BC covered jools’ shirt with campaign stickers.
of course, we aren’t DC citizens (neither were the marylanders standing behind us), so we smiled and waved at mostly everyone (except the republicans, who are like a laughable endangered species in DC.) we all cheered for the servicemen from the DC National Guard, of course. we folks of the liberal persuasion hate the war, but we do care for the men and women who are being hung out to dry in iraq by that fuckwitted man we have in the oval office.
but it’s independence day, and while i want to always exercise my right to flap my vitriol at elected leaders who aren’t fit to wipe my ass, i should probably tone things down to happier ideas. george washington. flags. the idiots here in the south who are allowed to play with their own fireworks and blow out an eye. yep. that’s what the 4th of july is all about.
perhaps one of the best points was when my little potty-training-dude had to go, just before the parade started. there is one, only one singular place open along the parade route to pee: starbucks. and yes, every potty training child in a three mile radius was waiting for that single bathroom. it wasn’t pretty. but i am very proud to state that jools made it 🙂
i hope we make it to fireworks. this patriotic stuff is so gol-darned fun.
america's favorite pasttime
no, i’m not exactly talking about baseball (though it does figure in here). i’m talking about the american assumption that the world ought to bend for you, that rules apply to everyone but yourself. this is not criticizing folks who really deserve a leg up – i fully support every effort made to level the playing field so that they get the same opportunity as everyone else.
no, i’m talking about all those people who get annoyed because they are in a particular stage of life (for example, parenthood) and feel their needs ought to always come first.
yesterday, we took BS out to the ballgame at RFK to see his beloved Phillies play against the Nationals as an early Father’s Day present. we bought one of those Family Four Pack thingies that includes tix, a drink, a hotdog, and chips for 4 and sat up in heaven. when you have fidgety kids, it’s a pretty good thing to sit way high up, as they spend more time looking for the cotton candy man and watching peanut shells sail down, down, down. if it hadn’t been so chilly; and if the Phillies hadn’t played like a bunch of geriatrics, it would have been perfect.
well, nearly, anyway.
we watched as a younger man dressed in a NY Yankees shirt pushed a stroller below us, folding it up and attempting to shove it between himself and the seat in front of him, then to the side of him, then the other side, and so on. i was waiting for the people around him to do more than just look on in annoyance, but i was also glad that there seemed to be no bloodshed around this event. “figures it’s a Yankee fan that brought a stroller to the ballpark,” BS groused. i mean, where the hell are you gonna park that thing once you’re there? they don’t have a special place for strollers at the stadium.
so i ask: what sort of person is either so stupid or so selfish that they wheel in a stroller to an arena? i have brought toddlers and babies into stadiums successfully — we’ve even taken public transport to the event — without a stroller. yes, it takes a little forethought. i have to pack diapers carefully so that i can balance them and the children, but i do it. rocket science it ain’t. ok, if it was a performance of the Vile purple Jurassic Entity or some Disney character, sure, I’d figure the place would have some designated place for strollers. but they don’t have that for baseball. should they? i guess they could. but knowing that they don’t, where do these genuises think they’ll stow these behemoths? in front of others who are trying to watch the game, of course. their needs are simply not as critical.
it’s as american as bush’s tax refund scheme.