DadaMama

Popcorn is a metaphor.

I made some today, on the stove, the old-fashioned way. As I listened to the kernels knocking around inside the pot, I imagined taking the lid off to let them escape: a fountain of popcorn falling like white feathers, piling up in the dusty corners of the kitchen. It would sound like miniature hailstones when it hit the tile, but it would crunch underfoot like snow. I think cleaning it up would just make me laugh; such an extraordinary mess. God, it must be so liberating. It may even be necessary. 

And what if I did the opposite? What if I let it pop and never removed the lid? I happen to know the answer to this one: it pops and pops and makes a small, moving, powerful popcorn mountain under there, until the lid just slides off by itself. Like a reverse avalanche pushing up and out, completely unable to contain itself.

Either way, the lid has to come off.

Here Is Your Happy Thought

Joy

Today was a shitty day. I don't like to use that word, but there it is. I mean, today had its high points but mostly it sucked and so I leave you with this:

Child

Your clear eye is the one absolutely beautiful thing.
I want to fill it with color and ducks,
The zoo of the new

Whose name you meditate --
April snowdrop, Indian pipe,
Little

Stalk without wrinkle,
Pool in which images
Should be grand and classical

Not this troublous
Wringing of hands, this dark
Ceiling without a star.

--Sylvia Plath

The First Day of School

Today is the first day of school. It's the end of the freedom we've very much enjoyed this summer, but it's also the beginning of more time for me to Get Stuff Done. As wonderful as my boys are, and as much as I like to be with them, I'd be lying if I said I was sad about the first day of school. I'm not.

Instead, I'm looking forward to having a clean-ish house again and grocery shopping with just one child. Oh! And maybe! When I clean the bathroom, it will stay clean for more than 5 minutes. Don't say it, I know what you're thinking. My Life is riveting.

I'm also looking forward to the time this will afford me to work on my blog and pursue my photography business. Plus, I like picking happy kids up from school. I think it's good for some of their adventures to not include me.

Gus is in the first grade this year. He's pretty sure they're going to learn myths there. His genius mother forgot to pack his scissors and erasers this morning, and we couldn't find the bike lock, but it's all good.

 

Will started VPK. "Mom," he said on the way in this morning, "I just CAN'T BELIEVE they have Legos at my school."  Me neither, kid.

 

If you need me ...

 

Summer lethargy has set in. Don't watch this space. Unless you have nothing else to do--in that case, have at it.

Updates!

1. Gus lost his first tooth this week. The tooth fairy, who may or may not have been watching a movie that evening, forgot to drop the money. Oops. Mom FAIL.

2. All three children went for a check-up today. Gus has grown 4 inches in the last year. FOUR INCHES. My tall days are numbered, I can feel it. Will is in the 80th percentile for height. No wonder there is never any food in the refrigerator.

3. It turns out Superbaby is running a little on the small side. The pediatrician recommended we fatten him up. This means pretty much all the cheese and avocado he can eat.

4. We got a cat. She never, ever shuts her mouth and she likes my husband the best. Gus named her Pearl. She's cuter than an Olympic gymnast (though about the same size). Fat Leo has decided she's, like, SO annoying. God.

 

5. I am starting my own photography business, which is why I have spent so much time in absentia. Look for me in situ soon! I'm working for free, which is fun AND incredibly time consuming. Here's hoping people will pay me to take their pictures, which will fulfill my dream of a creative career that also leaves me time for my children.

6. I got an 85mm f/1.8 Canon lens in the mail yesterday (see #5). It's an investment and a toy. See? Starting your own business is full of unexpected expenses and happinesses!

7. If you're local and need a family portrait, I am one of the photographers for BOLD Gainesville. They're having a fundraiser on June 7th, so come on out and get yer picture taken to support mother-friendly birth practices. Seriously, people, this is a group of intelligent and beautiful women, and I am pretty excited to be working with them.

Useful Sayings I've Learned From My Mother (Now With Updates!!)

My mother is an intensely practical person, and I am reasonably sure she knows everything. She has been right an alarming number of times about an equally alarming number of things. The following are all phrases I remember from my childhood. Some read like advice, some read like jokes, and others are straight from the mouths of my grandparents.

Life's a bitch and then you die.

That went over like a turd in a punchbowl.

He didn't know whether to shit or go blind, so he closed one eye and farted.

I hate it for you.

Sit down and prop it up.

Shittin' in high cotton (a take on "life is good.").

You're killing me, Smalls.

Shit in one hand and want in the other and see which ones fills up the fastest.

What's it like to want?

You people (this one is a preface to any number of things, but usually ends with "are making me crazy"). 

This too shall pass.

I could be dead by then (this one usually followed a request to do something in the future, for example: "Mom, can we go swimming this weekend?" "I don't know, I could be dead by then.").

Save your money.

Kill 'em with kindness.

I love you.

*************NEW**NEW**NEW******************************

My sister submitted the following:

Love you like mad.

It ain't happening for you.

Sakaraminski (my mom usually uses this word as an exclamation, kind of like "WTF?!" or "OMG!", but I maintain that it is not a real word and that she totally made it up).

My aunt offered up the following, which I sadly have never heard my mother say, but which I personally will be looking for more opportunities to use:

It just makes my ass want a soda cracker.

God, that's brilliant. I wish I could figure out what it means.

Also:

That must be jelly 'cause jam don't shake like that.

Please, my dear readers, jump in, the catch-phrase water is warm. Got any good ones to share?

More Things I've Been Meaning to Tell You

I was in the middle of writing yesterday's post when the keyboard began acting strangely. Like it was tired.

Should it bother me that it's almost 10 am and all I've accomplished is getting the kid to school, the kitchen cleaned, the baby down for a nap, and breakfast for the other kid? Oh, wait. I've also done two loads of laundry and made coffee. Maybe I'm not a slacker after all.

But Lord, I'm tired. Superbaby cried and cried and cried last night, and for the first time in his life, he was inconsolable. I ended up putting him in the car and taking him for a drive, because NOTHING else seemed to make a difference. I'm still not sure what the problem is, as he's a bit feverish and fussy this morning. We were up a lot last night. Maybe he's getting a tooth.

Anyway.

I recently replaced my razor. I had a Venus and now I have the Intuition (I think). It's revolutionary, really, what they can do with razors these days. The shaving cream is built right into the razor, which effectively turns a two-step process into a one-step process. Which means I now shave my legs almost every day, as opposed to once every three weeks. This is a testament to my extreme laziness, of course. It's easier to just skip shaving my legs than it is to pick up that can of shaving cream and go the extra mile.  You should get one.

Also, I am nurturing a small but heartfelt crush on Matthew McConaughey. Failure to Launch is a largely ridiculous movie, but Matthew is resplendent in a breezy white linen shirt and cargo shorts. AND HOW. I would totally buy a sailboat from him. In fact, if I had a Celebrity 5 list, he might be on it. Along with Matthew MacFadyen and Colin Firth (the two Mr. Darcys, if you must know). And quite possibly, Brendan Fraser. I'll get back to you.

Kicking Ass and Taking Names

1. This evening the children did not want to pick up their toys. So the mother set a timer, waited for them to goof off, and then entered the bedroom with a trash bag. Oh yes, she did. The Spiderwick Chronicles boxed set, Optimus Prime, Bumblebee, and several other prized possessions went into the bag. The children wailed and gnashed their teeth, but the mother was deaf to their cries.

If they can show some responsibility this coming week, perhaps she will see fit to give them their toys back. Perhaps she won't.

Other consequences of not cleaning your room like your mother asks: no banana bread for dessert, and no time to read a chapter from Prince Caspian. Maybe next time the children will believe the mother when she says, "I'm serious."

2. My mouth is feeling okay. I took a naproxen sodium tablet and that seems to have helped immensely. I wish I had some mashed potatoes and gravy from KFC (and also a biscuit), but for now I am making due with some butternut squash soup. Soon I will get my ice packs out of the freezer again and snuggle up with them on my bed.

3. I totally got an 'A' in adolescent psychology. I KNEW that creative writing class would come in handy.

That Was Fun

I'm home from the dentist. He used a saw, which got me thinking--for all the modern medical advancements, dentistry remains kind of ... medieval. The entire lower half of my face is still numb and will be that way for 8-12 hours. My cheeks are currently packed with gauze, and the children persist in asking questions about it. But I can't talk.

Incidentally, Dashing Husband just came in and said, incredulously, "Are you blogging about this moments after it happened?" Why yes. Yes I am.

Does anyone know what happens to all the spit they suck out of your mouth at the dentist?

The Sun Proceeds Unmoved

Last Wednesday I arrived home late in the evening, around bedtime, fresh from the job fair for teachers whose contracts have not been renewed. I was happy with myself and feeling content after picking up dinner at Chic-Fil-A (health food!). My chances of getting a job, I thought, are good.

But Dashing Husband greeted me with sad news--his paternal grandfather had suffered a heart attack and was dying. We have to go, he said. We have to go tonight. I packed while he carted the dogs off to a friend's house (thank you, Lorena!) and the children gorged themselves on Spongebob. Dashing Husband was worried and drawn. It was late; we were all tired.

We arrived in town at midnight.  The children were asleep, despite the novelty of going for a car ride after dark in their pajamas. We'd be staying with Dashing Husband's parents; the kids call them Nanny and Grand-daddy. We unloaded the car and put the kids to bed. For once they did not argue.

Dashing Husband shared his fears with me over cold slices of pizza at his mom's kitchen table. Grandpa hasn't been doing well this past year, he said. Maybe it's his time. I wanted to be supportive, but always feel helpless in the face of my husband's tears. I'm sorry, I said. Over and over, hoping to smooth the kinks in his heart, the lines on his face. Wishing I could make it all go away.

The next morning I stayed with the kids. Dashing Husband went to the hospital. Grandpa was not going to make it. He's old and frail, said Dashing Husband. It's his time. Knowing this did not make it any easier to let go of this man he'd known his whole life. I'm sorry, I said. And Dashing Husband replied, It's not your fault. Not that it was anyone's.

Last night we went to the beach at sunset. The children ran off into the surf, giggling, and it struck me that in the midst of a life that was ending, many others were only beginning. How? I thought. How does the sun continue to rise? The tide to come in and go out again? There is something healing about the sea, something big and constant, but full of tiny miracles.

These are long thoughts to have in the presence of small children--one cannot sustain them long around such wild abandon. They were splashing, running, shrieking. Then my niece found a tiny starfish, all burnt sienna and curling arms in the palm of her hand. Then she found another. And another.

Tiny miracles.

Grandpa died last night. I don't know what time it happened, only that the previous day he'd been disconnected from his ventilator and finally slipped away. Peacefully. We're grateful for that, and grateful that he is no longer the prisoner of a body that's failing him. He will be missed. I didn't know him well, but my husband's grief is mine as well. It hurts to see him hurt.