“Something happened to Magoo on his third birthday. As he collapsed into an exhausted coma on my lap after a fun-filled day at Disneyland and slept sweetly through the singing and the candles and the cake, some crazy switch of three-ish mischief flipped on in his head. He woke up a new man and he hasn’t been the same since.”
Archives for June 2008
Dan supervised the kiddie festivities with mildly-annoyed resignation while I walked a 5K in the mud behind some of my running girlfriends. My joints are fairly bad and I once had a physical therapist tell me not to become a runner so I use that as an excuse to walk races with dignity. And I was chock full of dignity on Saturday, speed-walking along the gravel trail past the cows with my stretch pants rolled up to mid-calf to keep them out of the mud.
My original goal was to complete the 3 miles in less than an hour. By the time I finished my only goal was to not let the old lady with the cane cross the finish line before I did. She kept passing me as we walked along the trail and at first it stressed me out. Eventually I just had to face the fact that I was an amazing speed walking athlete and that if an old lady with a cane could pass me like that, then she was the freaking awesomest old lady with a cane who ever lived and thusly a worthy opponent. She was my nemesis and I could not let her win.
So towards the end of the race I ran a bit until I was a safe distance ahead of her and then crossed the finish line with a time of 1 hour and 30 seconds. I was glad to beat my arch rival but a little frustrated that I couldn’t walk 3 miles in under an hour. And then I saw a friendly face at the sidelines so I walked over to chat. After a few minutes went by, someone mentioned that although I had crossed the finish line, my place in the race wouldn’t be recorded until I walked another hundred yards and turned in my number. So yeah. Several people had passed me at that point, including the OLWAC, who was probably laughing to herself knowing that our epic struggle had ended and she had gotten her revenge.
But at least I got a free t-shirt… and a free banana… and some free water… all included in the $25 entrance fee. And I found out later that the clock at the finish line had been set to time a race that had started 15 minutes earlier so I’d actually walked the run in about 45 minutes, smashing my original goal to tiny shards of glory.
The sky is blue outside my window but I have trouble believing it. It’s been so gray and dark all day, all week, all YEAR. We have little bursts of sun and then back to weeks and weeks of oppressive grey like the sky is pressing down closer and closer, tighter and tighter until it chokes the very life and laughter out of every person, plant and rock in my little world.
Can I just tell you that today was not a good day for my mentals? They are not happy. I’m working up to being drug-free and proud in anticipation of a possible attempt at a third child and the strange fluctuations in my “special vitamins” we’re using to get there are leaving me in a bit of a rough way, complicated by the ratchin’-fratchin’ gloom of abysmal death and the fact that I’m not getting a ton of sleep.
Magoo has decided that sleeping through the night is for babies. Big boys prefer to get up and watch movies with their parents from hiding places in the hall, pass out on the floor or on the stairs. They also like to climb in bed with their parents at 2am, claiming to be afraid of T-Rex’s even though T-Rex’s are their best friends, and spend the rest of the night trying to make their elbow fit in their mommy’s nostril. Big boys are the super best.
This weekend our city had its summer festival, despite the cold and damp. Laylee begged us to let her ride her bike in the kiddy parade, claiming imperviousness to cold, bravery and fortitude beyond her years. After 45 minutes of waiting in the bone-chilling cold and rain for the parade to start with parents who had the nerve to put all the gloves and ski pants away because they mistakenly thought it was June, her fortitude waned, providing us with one of the best pictures ever taken by the camera of man.
Magoo, who insisted that his dad dress him in the non-waterproof jacket that a neighbor’s baby had left over at our house, was unfazed by the weather and left all who passed him humming “Fat Man in a Little Coat” by Chris Farley.
And then we went to a parade in the rain, full of dogs and tractors and large raccoon credit union mascots with matted fur who Laylee surmised must have escaped from Disneyland “because that’s where they have most of the people that look like that.”
Tune in tomorrow to find out about how I almost SLAUGHTERED an old lady with a cane in the 5K-race-through-the-mud portion of the festivities.
I wrote a post at Parenting today about how Laylee seems to follow in my footsteps.
Well here’s a big fat peek into the world of Laylee’s mom. That’s me. What kind of a person must I be if my daughter wakes up at the crack of dawn and creates a list of all the things she plans to get done that day? She is five years old. She is neurotic. She is awesome.
She told me what each of the pictographs meant and proceeded to work aggressively to complete all her tasks.
Play in the Sandbox. She writes this to get past my horrible tyranny. It’s been pouring rain and she’s been begging me to play in the sand/slop box. She thinks I can’t say no if it’s on a “list.” She is wrong.
Have you read the vampire books by Stephenie Meyer? The teen vampire werewolf romance books by Stephenie Meyer? Me neither.
Okay. I did read them. A bit. Because they’re set in the Northwest and Ms. Meyer went to BYU so I feel some sense of loyalty. I was just going to dip my toes in and read a bit so I knew what everyone was talking about. That was a year ago. In August when book 4 is released, I’m going to Port Angeles with some girlfriends, staying up all night reading Breaking Dawn and tooling around Forks with the other tween wannabe mom-type people, visiting the various spots where Bella and Edward formed their bond of passionate and forbidden vampiric high school love. We picked a hotel in Port Angeles because it had a bookstore nearby that was willing to stay open until midnight on August 1st.
I wouldn’t call the Twilight books great literature but they are incredibly gripping page-turners and something about them makes me squeal like a wee girl, all the while rolling my eyes and saying, “I’m way too old for this.” And then I do things like book hotel rooms and beg bookstore owners to stay open until midnight.
Anyhoo, I recently read Stephenie Meyer’s first attempt at Adult Fiction, The Host and I was pleasantly surprised. While the teen series was fast moving and an engrossing narrative, it felt like purely a brain vacation. Packed with adjectives about the magnetically attractive hunkishness of Edward’s each and every bodily feature, from his chiseled passionately pulsing pectorals to the oh-so-steamy third-from-the-center eyelash over his liquid-gold left eye, I would classify the series as fun fluff.
The Host had a different feel. Although romance was a big factor and the book had its fair share of hot moments, it focused on deeper themes. War, intolerance, human cruelty, and alien medical procedures are just a few. The book made me think and feel and consider how I treat people. It was also really inventive and kept me guessing what would come next.
Stephenie Meyer kicked it up a notch as a writer and storyteller in the Host, which made the Twilight series seem like a warm-up exercise. I’m excited to see what she does next… that is after she’s finished writing a gazillion sequels.
For Dan’s 30th birthday I trashed his office like so:
and I bought him this shirt after following an ad on g-mail for funny shirts. Yes, Google advertising executives, some people actually click through and purchase. Their name is Me.
The more I look at the shirt the more I realize that I don’t verbalize pictographic representations of transitive verbs nearly enough. I’ll try to do it more. Hence the title of this post.
One thing I didn’t realize about my blog was that it is a place where people go to look for security devices. Heck. You probably come here each day looking for tasers, pepper spray and personal alarms and I’ve left you with nothing, nothing but stories about my stupid kids and my pointless life. But now, thanks to the following email I’ve found a new direction for my blog: all security device information, all the time. I sure as cheese want to give my readers “what they’re looking for.” Hi Mom! I hope you like the new focus of my blog!
I was just looking at your site, and I have a number of clients within our network looking for stun guns and security devices. I am seeking to work with one company today. I do not work as a lead broker or a referral agency.
I’m simply looking to direct my clients to a relevant site when they’re looking for security devices.
Your site looks like it’ll make a strong fit for what they’re looking for. I am looking to work with somebody as soon as possible, so I’m hoping you are available to talk at sometime. Give me a call at your convenience.
Thanks in advance,
Name Witheld for Purposes of WHAT THE CHICKEN!?
He then included a phone number with a California OC area code. I don’t want to call him though until I post some more relevant information on the site. I mean, he says I’m already a strong fit but I want to be Hefty Cinch Sack strong. So here goes:
After missing his nap this afternoon, Magoo’s condition began to deteriorate quickly. He started to whine and cry and eventually squeezed his eyes shut tight, threw his head back and began to wail like a wookie as he stumbled around the room slamming into things and harming himself.
I bet he would have been easily distracted by target shooting in the backyard or subduing pill bugs with a stun gun, but I had forgotten to stop by my local security device shopping outlet to pick up the necessary supplies.
The local security device shopping outlet would also be a great place to pick up tasers, mace, nunchucks, brass knuckles, and other security devices. Check it out!