The Mighty Sarlacc

“Be sure to get Luke Skywalker out of the pop-corn.”

After saying the above sentence to my son Isaac while going down the bread aisle of the grocery store, I wondered, in what parallel universe or in which of my many cat lives would I have predicted myself saying such a thing?  Yes, Luke had landed in the bag of popcorn, that is a 1.5 inch plastic toy version of Luke.  After telling Chris about the incident, he wondered if Luke was being “slowly digested over a thousand years” within the belly of the bag.  Unless popcorn happens to have powers like unto the mighty sarlacc, and it didn’t the last time I checked,  he would be just fine, of course after a thorough salt licking.

 

I’ve found that talking to children brings out all kinds of things one would never imagine saying or even think they would need to say in a million life times.  Such sentences ranging in topics from proper disposal of nasal expulsions to explaining how a beta fish can die from eating dried olives and honey nut Cheerios.  Children are the ultimate creators of unexpected conversation topics and if one is ever in need of something new to think about, just get a child to talk to you about their dreams or their versions on how gravity works.

Do vampires wear sweaters?

Kids are the best at pointing fingers at guilty adults while managing to come out on top, totally unscathed.  They ask the right questions, the ones that propriety forbids other adults from asking.  Most of these forthright questions pop out in the open among ears of hearing bystanders.  Questions like:  Why does your stomach jiggle?  Why do I have to where tighty-whities?  Why is she smoking?  Why do you always drink diet Coke?  You’re reading Twilight again?! 

As a side-note, they also get away with things like picking their noses in public, head-butting their parents rear-ends, passing gas, and any number of fowl things.  What these questions and comments have in common, is that instead of the child getting an odd look from a stranger, it is the parent, the mom, who get’s the burning ocular stares penetrating into the back of her irresponsible head.

 

One somewhat blustery fall afternoon, while leaving the store with Isaac, I lost the battle of the sweater.  Isaac wouldn’t put it on and I was in a hurry to get home for the other two boy’s after school arrival.  So, I figured I’d just walk really fast to the car and maybe he’d learn that mommy does have her reasons for sweater usage.  I still had mine on because I never insist upon stripping down every time I enter a store like the Immodest 3 do.  As I walked out the door, an older lady walked by and with those same accusing eyes that I usually get from my parental “irresponsibility,” she began burning, starting on my left cheek, crossing over my ear lobe, and then to the back of my head from where I could nose the scent of burning hair.  With a nasty voice she then said, very sarcastically to me “well, I see that at least you have a sweater on!”  So shocked that the usual proper responsive profanity failed me, I managed “what?!” while she scurried into the store to, no doubt, buy her perfect grandchild a pouffy down feather coat.  Ugh!! Some people’s grandmothers!  Sure, had it been anywhere near freezing, I would have done something more drastic, but in her book I should have shoved my three year olds arms, however violently it might be, into his sweater just to prove I really cared?  Sheesh!

Well, this rant actually started with the intention of expressing some well deserved guilt neatly served by my overly honest children.  The last question concerning reading Twilight again, was the one that sent a wave of chagrin and a need to admit my weakness.  I knew that they knew I liked the series and the new movie.  I didn’t count on them realizing how truly obsessed I was.  I tried to keep it somewhat under wraps as to how many times I’d seen the movie.  They’re observant little guys and I did not fool them in the least.  Upon finally getting the film and watching it at home, Douglas pointed out during one of the many times I’d told him to be quiet while I watched, “What?  You’ve seen this a ton of times!”  The feeling I had could be compared to how Jack felt in Mr. Mom when he realized Alex, his 7 year old son, had been watching a soap opera with him.

 

Alex:  Is it Kevin’s baby?

Jack:  I’m not sure.

Alex:  Kevin’s a skunk.

Jack:  Well, Kevin gets all the girls.

Alex:  He sure got Nicki! 

(Jack looks somewhat shocked as he looks over at his son).

Jack: (on the phone with Joan)  It’s gotta be Kevin’s.. Victor? How could it be Victor’s?  He got a vasectomy… It didn’t take?!

Well, they ended up watching the whole thing and I sounded like the female version of a Trekie, only instead of containing an expert’s knowledge on the subject of Star Trek, mine was on Twilight, a Twightie. 

Yes, I probably did something so sinful that it could be compared to letting my child go out un-sweatered on a blustery day.  I let them watch Twilight, and yes, I had a ton of explaining to do and was indeed grateful that I’d seen it “a ton of times.”  Had the lady of the burning eyes been there I would have probably been incinerated.  I do know that one proud moment came from the experience and that was when Douglas saw things my way, the way I’d felt throughout each book, when he asked, “Why didn’t he just turn her into a vampire?”  “Good question my son, now go outside and play and tell your brother to get his sweater on.”

What’s not to love?

Five things that make me laugh before I go to bed, that in the conscious hours of the day I might have not found such joy in. Thank goodness for bed time and also for the resulting moments of uninterrupted contemplation.

1. Being startled by a green plastic lizard. This lizard had somehow wriggled his way into my purse and as I put something back in it this evening, it’s previous surface must have given itself over to catapultism thereby launching it across the room. That kind of thing can be quite startling while deep in thoughts on how to get rid of the spider infestation in the lawn.

2. Green and pink frosting on walls. The use of this medium for cave or spackled dry wall paintings is completely new to this century. If you care to see the exhibit, you may want to bone up on hand anatomy and how finger prints reveal themselves when pressed and coated in a sugary butter texture. Sir Isaac is our leading anthropologist and understands the art better than most. He’s even willing to test the surface of the art with his tongue to verify the origins of the organic paint.

3. A trail of cloths leading to Reed and Douglas’ room now empty of the boys who wore them. I used to think that only reptiles could shed their skin in one whole piece, apparently seven year olds with no respect or regard for laundry hampers can do the same thing.

4. Bear suit markings or droppings (whichever sounds best). Isaac likes to spread out his post-worn bear suit on the floor as if he were still in it and leave it there, perhaps for the next time he wants to slip into it. He needs one of those super hero closets where the hero returns his uniform to the cast sculpture hanger of himself, fake head for the helmet included.

“Eggplant Casserole tonight? Why, yes!”

5. The massive pile of mommy’s experimental quesadillas left over from what appeared to be a hunger strike. Though, the strikers didn’t really have a moral cause involved, only a refusal to accept their role as test subjects for mommy’s sneaky attempt at disguising nutritional additives with cheese. “What is this brown thing in my quesadilla? Are those beans?” I looked at the pile of leftovers and thought about saving them but in reality I’d be the one eating them and I can only handle so many disguised refried beans myself.

Role-Confused household items

Back in the "olden" days (which, according to my kids, is when I was little), all we had to play with was rocks, sticks and dirt, or at least that's what I feel like telling the Three Bored Amigos when they say there's nothing to play with. Though it can be somewhat annoying, I feel a small sense of glee when I notice the creative cells in their brains have transformed non-toys into toys without the help of Toys R Us. Below are a few examples of toy mutations. By the way, in case those who are only in the possession of girls, ANYTHING can be turned into a sword, rocket or gun and should you have one of my boys over, don't be aghast if you find a Barbie flying in the air with the legs in splits moving in a propeller motion. Also, if Douglas seems to be glassy-eyed and the only thing interesting him is a spider web in the upper corner of the room, it's because his cousin Alyssa is waiting for him to add conversation skills to Ken's charms by commenting on Barbie's mismatched shoes.

Examples of "Transformitus" (I think that's an HP magic word for transforming or "change-o to weapino")

Exhibit A:

Is it an easel or an elegant gun?

Exhibit B:

Is it a ruler or a sword?

Exhibit C:

Are they decorative eggs or "chicken invaders?"

Exhibit D:

Is it a dowel used for crafts or a wand?

Exhibit E:

It is the Sword collection or is it a resting place for confiscated weapons or weapons with a tendency to malfunction or could it be a stockpile of WMDs?

Just like a Baby: Eats, sleeps, and does that other thing we don’t like to talk about in civilized company. Let me know if you’re not civilized and I’ll expound.

I didn’t really look like this guy here but I did feel somewhat like him.

I think my doctors were really trying to create a monster out of a marginally healthy human today.  I had an EEG and a blood test today.  For the first I had to come in sleep deprived and for the second test I had to be fasting.  So at 9 this morning I arrived at the doctor’s office tired and hungry or it could be looked at as ornery and starving, depending on one’s level of theatrics.  I really wasn’t too bad but was somewhat nervous about my performance in the EEG.  Why do physicians think one can sleep normally when they know they are being watched and examined during the process.  An errant thought led me to temporarily think they could read my thoughts with all of these wires coming out of my Medusa inspired hair-do.  If they could, my semi conscious dreams would have had them rolling with laughter as Wolverine from X-Men helped my mom do the laundry.  Dreams.  Apparently, I passed the 1 hour long sleep session as I had to be woken up. 

I watched X-Men last night as one of the methods for ensuring a state of sleep deprivation.  I was so awake after it that I wanted to watch the next one. 

By the way, this was just another one of those up-keep tests, like the MRI to make sure things are still working.  Everyone was very nice at this office and put me at ease.  Unlike my appointments at the dentist where, upon viewing the x-rays, the hygienist first, and then 15 minutes later, the dentist, exclaims, “My you’ve had some work done!”  Talking to me like I’m a 1980’s Buick La Sabre.  Yes, in my earlier years my love of sugar proved quite detrimental on my teeth, but with the help of modern dentistry I can at least hope that my teeth will stay in my head well into my 50s.  Thank goodness for dentures, oh and while we’re on the subject, let’s include depends and Metamucil in the gratitude category.

Rewards of Restroom Etiquette

Thanks to some good behavior at work, like putting the seat down on the public toilet, refilling the stapler, not microwaving garlicy entrees in the lunchroom, and for finding the bosses lost keys, Chris got a bonus.  I think there were some other things worthy of bonus-hood, but they are “way existential” so I won’t even try to explain or even think about them.  With this bonus we of course invested it into an IRA and a 401k… “as if!”  We went running wild with green leaves of money-ness in our hands toward Sam’s club where we invested in a truly valuable commodity known as a trampoline!

The child catching net was installed just hours after this part was completed, just in case you were feeling any twinge of worry, I wasn’t but I also let them eat cookie dough, so that tells you what kind of mother I am.

This trampoline has all of the safety measures fully implemented for grandma W.’s peace of mind.  We even have a doctor on call down the street; though, he doesn’t know that he’s on call, we at least know where to find him and we can call out to him should one of our children lose all contact with gravity and commence into a moon destined trajectory.  This morning we woke up to an inch of snow which ended at about 3 inches by this afternoon.  Upon looking out the window this morning, I got to witness three faces lined with disgust at the thought of their new trampoline being littered with snow.  As the reality sunk deeply into their left mesial fun-o-campus region of their brains, I knew if I didn’t provide some other seriously fun activity, that my afternoon would be the bitterest yet.  Fortunately, grandma H. drove into town and successfully deterred an afternoon of “I’m bored”s, dished out in a Chinese Water-torture styles going something like this: “I’m bored, I’m bored, I’m bored…”

The End of the Ice Age

With the end of the ice age came the discovery of frozen ancient plants, animals, and G.I. Joes.  Here in Ogden, the snow has almost all melted and has joined the cold swamp that makes any grass treading sound like walking on a giant wet sneaker- queek, queek, queek.  I just went out to get the mail and thoroughly enjoyed the short walk, the 65 degree temperature, and the qeeking.  On my way back, Isaac had followed me, we found 2 de-iced tyrannosaurus rexes.  Isaac insisted that I wash them as apparently they were pretty nasty going into the “big chill.”  This cleaning also happened to include scrubbing their nether-regions which I must say were pretty dirty for plastic toys.  Now they are all clean and have joined their plastic comrades in the living room.

This snow relief version of paleontology has revealed a helicopter (yesterday’s finding), G.I. Joes, Power Rangers, Power Ranger parts, don’t ask which ones, and a plastic poisonous dart frog. I would like to have gotten a look when someone pushed the defrost button on the ice age and I wonder if there really was a saber-toothed squirrel.