Friday, November 28, 2008

Not your traditional Thanksgiving...

My mother is a force of nature. Ninety pounds (soaking wet, after a big meal), and a two-time cancer survivor, she still manages to plan and execute all family get-togethers with almost military precision. It is amazing to watch her simultaneously juggle food preparation, chase grandchildren out from underfoot, and catch up with her grown children on all the news. So as I showered and dressed yesterday, I was looking forward to another chaotic, noisy, but satisfying Thanksgiving dinner at mom's. However, a phone call from Dad informed me that it just wasn't going to happen this year. Oh, my mother had already cooked the turkey, stuffing, and other delicious dishes we were anticipating. But then my brother had called him to explain that most of his own household was busy throwing up, and therefore couldn't be doing any feasting at the moment. Dad further reported that this unfortunate and unexpected interruption to the festivities had given my mother the opportunity to go and lie down, as she had a nasty infection herself and was on very strong antibiotics. (Of course, she had been prepared to soldier on, until the vomiting came along.) With no dinner arrangements and precious little food in the house, we scrambled to arrange our own makeshift Thanksgiving meal. In the end, we sat around the table with our plates of fish sticks and macaroni and cheese, grateful to be healthy, and together...and hopeful that the stomach bug doesn't make it to our house!

Tuesday, November 25, 2008

Hopefully this is the end of it!

Remember the "donkey" story (posted 11/18)? Well, I was sitting in the kitchen with my sons a few days later, explaining how 'Boy A was as tall as Boy B...' The 5-year old started to snicker quietly into his hand, a delighted gleam in his eye. I could practically hear the little wheels grinding, as his mischievous mind cooked up something wicked to say. Sighing inwardly, and hoping to head off what was sure to be an inappropriate interjection on his part, I began to explain the finer points of the grammatical structure, the pronunciation, the usage for comparison, blah blah blah. In the middle of this, my husband meandered through the kitchen, grasped the situation instantly, and with all the logical problem-solving ability available to men, succinctly stated, "She didn't say ass, okay?" He then continued out the door, leaving the children cackling madly on the floor, since they had fallen off their chairs at Daddy's words of enlightenment. Thanks, honey! You'll be fielding the phone call from either a 3rd grade or Kindergarten teacher to explain and/or apologize!

Thursday, November 20, 2008

A Major Crisis!!!! (Averted : )

Let me first say: I can't believe I'd made it this long without suffering a massive computer-related trauma. I've been blessed with excellent cyber-health--which of course was too good to last! My laptop, which is only a year old, has never been the speediest of little machines. But it has done it's best to chug along for me as I surf and type and play. First it gave me warnings that it wasn't feeling well. It froze. It kicked me off. It locked me out. It shut down. Technological coughs and sniffles, if you will. Then the other day it just...stopped. All the pretty little pictures were there, and the cursor happily jogged around when I moved it, but nothing happened. I actually had to break down and call one of those geek-computer-doctors who make house calls! The first technician I called gravely listened as I explained all the "symptoms", then informed me, in a voiced reserved for speaking to the parents of terminally-ill machines, that I had a malevolent virus that had infected my registry and (cue terrifying music) was multiplying! But for just the low, low price of $249, he would clean it up for me! Fortunately, I didn't hire this quack. The calm, pleasant man who did examine the patient later that night had my laptop up and running in approximately 10 minutes. Turns out, it was merely a "memory shortage", and I could order some more right away for about...thirty dollars. Lack of memory I can understand! And sympathize with! Now if only I had an extra chip to plug into my own brain, all of my memory problems would truly be solved!

Tuesday, November 18, 2008

Excuse Me? (Part 2)

I've come to anticipate certain behaviors with 2 young boys in the house. Among these are random tackling, periodic whacking of each other for no apparent reason, and an inordinate amount of yelling. So it's a joyous occasion when they actually cooperate and play nicely together for any length of time. I thought I was experiencing one of these moments when they sat in the computer room the other night, taking turns on a Thomas the Tank Engine game. I grabbed the rare quiet time to make a phone call to a friend. But all of a sudden, the 5-year old came prancing through the kitchen, belting out a tune of his own creation. The words went something like this: "ASS, ASS, ASS, an ass is a don--keyyyy!!!" Merrily he continued twirling past me, as I forgot my phone conversation and gawked at his disappearing back. "Well," I thought to myself, "he's absolutely correct, but I suspect his big brother's about to be in trouble." After wrapping up my call, I went downstairs to find the little hooligans innocently plugging away at their game, all smiles and brotherly camaraderie. Without adding unnecessary detail, I explained that yes, in the Bible they often called donkeys asses, but we really don't do that anymore. The 5-year old accepted this without question; fortunately the 8-year old had the sense not to share any other 3rd-grade playground uses of the word. Parental sigh of relief. End of subject. At least for now.

Thursday, November 13, 2008

Kung Fu Panda vs. the WWF

My 8-year old is Mister Sport Guy. Give him a ball and some space to run, kick, throw, shoot, or catch, and he's ecstatic. My younger son, while he enjoys frolicking in the grass as much as the next boy, just isn't into the organized sports thing. However, he's always been dragged to all of his brother's games/practices/lessons, so I wanted to find him an activity of his own. Some friends recommended karate, and it seemed perfect--something that builds self-confidence and discipline, and gives you exercise. But most importantly, since his older brother doesn't do it, there would be no competition, and no comparison. So now we have karate-boy, proudly donning his adorable little white uniform and earnestly practicing his strikes and kicks. Then baseball ended, and Big Brother was at loose ends. It's a long winter ahead until soccer season...but wait...Mom has a brainstorm. Let's try wrestling! (Those who have actually seen my child can now stop howling with laughter--yes, he's skinny, but surprisingly tough!) Have I given my sons extra incentive (not to mention skills) to beat the heck out of each other? Maybe. But they do that anyway. At least now as they teach each other how to break holds and to block punches, I can rationalize that it's heartwarming brotherly bonding time. Can I get an enthusiastic "ai-yah"?

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

A Kid's Game Revisited

Did you ever play "Fortunately/Unfortunately"? It's a story-starting game where the first person says a sentence beginning with "fortunately...(adding something good that happened)"; the next person turns it into something unfortunate, and so forth. Now I'm going to play it by myself--what fun!
Unfortunately, it's officially too cold to ride my bike until Spring.
Fortunately, I get to read trashy celebrity mags at the gym while I slog on the stationary bike.
Unfortunately, it's getting dark really stinking early these days.
Fortunately, that means it's only about 5 weeks until the Winter Solstice, when we turn the corner and start getting daylight back...little by little.
Unfortunately, it's time to layer on the clothes to keep warm.
Fortunately, bathing suit season is over for another year!
Unfortunately, this is the first Thanksgiving I don't eat turkey.
Fortunately, who cares! Stuffing! Mashed potatoes! Cranberry Sauce! And pie, pie, pie!
Whew, I'll leave it on the very up note (and go have lunch)!

Thursday, November 6, 2008

To Infinity (January 20th) and Beyond!

The atmosphere yesterday at the college where I work was absolutely charged. Everyone was still buzzing in high gear from the Presidential election the night before. I observed clumps of people--students and teachers alike--with bleary eyes, clutching coffee as they animatedly discussed the results and their hopes for President-Elect Obama. It was thoroughly exhilarating. My 8-year old son was just old enough to pick up on the hoopla, and to be curious about it. I'm pretty apolitical most of the time, but I had a blast teaching him about electoral votes, red and blue states, and the stunning historical significance of this campaign. I like to think that on some level he gets it--that he's witnessing the first African-American man chosen to lead our country. I'm proud to be able to share an event in which citizens of the United States acted with energy and excitement. Now it's up to our new leader to channel that enthusiasm into making positive changes for the future.

Tuesday, November 4, 2008

It could be worse...

Early one morning, I was sleepily navigating up the stairs toward my bedroom to get dressed. My 8-year old son was bouncing around his own room, when I heard a sharp crack, like a bony body part connecting with a hard surface. Bracing myself for the inevitable howl of pain, I was surprised by the continued silence. But as I drew closer, I distinctly heard my son mutter angrily, "Damn wall!" Now, not to seem like Miss Goody Two Shoes or anything, but my husband and I just don't use curse words in our house. In my mind, I thought "well, I don't know where he got that, but he used it correctly!" What came out was actually, "Excuse me!?" He jumped guiltily. "What did you say?" I asked incredulously. Head down, he quietly mumbled, "A bad word." He's probably lucky I wasn't fully awake, and couldn't yet build up a head of steam, so all he got by way of lecture was a calm, "Well, don't use that word again." His shoulders sagged in evident relief as he readily agreed. And to my knowledge, he never has...yet!