Oct 11, 2003 | This Life
There is No Try
Well, you’ve got to give the boy credit. After 13 years of domestic bliss, his record is unbroken. It’s a gift, really–well, it would be if this was baseball. But it’s not, it’s Laundry. And there are rules.
I’m in charge of Laundry around here. Sometimes, I’m so in charge of the laundry that it is all washed, dried, folded and… *gasp* put in its proper place. I’ll admit that it’s rare, but it does happen. Most weeks, my the laundry is clean, half folded, sitting on the futon waiting to be worn so it can go into the dirty pile again. It’s an effective system in its own disorderly way–and sort of efficient if you count not having to climb the stairs to put piles of folded clothes away or the ability to change in your living room! I mean, I try… ok?
However, there are those weeks when I’m so far behind that the load in the washer has been washed three times and the men in my life are scrounging around for underwear and socks. That was this week. And that’s when the trouble typically starts. Because, in order to wash a load of whites, the load in the washer has to make it into the dryer. And the clothes in the washer typically are MY clothes.
In 13 years, IZ has always succeeded in shrinking something. I mean it, he has never failed. First time it was a pair of navy chinos that ended up being three inches too short. They were brand new. Brand new. They also ended up in the goodwill pile. I ended up buying only TALL pants. Problem solved… right? Oh no… Can I tell you how disturbing it is to put on underwear that has shrunk. I’m sorry, but I’m not buying JUMBO sized panties… NO WAY. My solution… I banned him from laundry duty. And that’s how I ended up being in charge. He is the master of all electronic appliances in this household… mostly because I only have to think about using them and they break. (Not to mention I still don’t know how to change the vacuum cleaner canister.) But the washer and dryer are MINE. Rule #1:They are “Look, but don’t Touch” appliances. Rule #2: Under no circumstances is anyone to use them but ME.
So, you can imagine my terror when walking into the house and seeing the futon piled high with white clothes I haven’t washed. OMG. What did I leave in the washer???? My eyes narrow… glinty look….
“What have you been doing?”
“Look,” he says in this really testy if you had just done your job this wouldn’t be happening tone of voice, “I only washed mine and the kid’s whites. I didn’t touch anything of yours.”
“Then what’s that I hear in the dryer?”
“Well, the stuff in the washer needed to dry… Look, I even pulled out your t-shirt…”
Yeah. He pulled out the t-shirt that is two-sizes too large that needs a hot dryer to even come close to fitting. Besides I only wear that t-shirt to sleep in. He missed the other two shirts that I actually wear OUT of the house.
I’ll omit the expletive laden conversation that followed. It wasn’t pretty. At one point small child came bolting down the stairs, grinning from ear to ear, “I heard everything, I want to see what he shrunk!” It’s always a banner moment when he’s not the one in trouble.
It ended with my saying… “‘Do, or not do. There is no Try.’ In your case, NOT DO!” His response? “I think you are beautiful.”
Oct 11, 2003 | Boy Wonder
The New Science
“Scientifically (slight lisp because he’s missing his two front teeth), spit is made of water and water is liquid. So, that means spit is liquid, right?” ~~from the six year old.
Oct 11, 2003 | This Life
Spa
Ok… not really. But last night I decided that I was tired! Tired of classes. Tired of talk. Tired of people. You get the picture. So, I warmed my blanket, made a cup of hot chocolate in my favorite mug, took two Tylenol PM, and went to bed with my reading list and books at 8:45 PM. I blew out my candle and shut off the light at 9:30. It almost felt like vacation.
This could become a habit.
Oct 9, 2003 | Boy Wonder
Happy Pill
Small child was in an extremely happy mood tonight! I decided to ask him about it–I was looking for inspiration.
Me: So, you are pretty happy tonight… What? Did someone give you a happy pill?
Boy Wonder: Happy Pill? What’s that?
Me: It’s an expression, I was just trying to figure out what made you so happy tonight? Was it a good day at school or something?
Boy Wonder: Oh! No, I got happy when you walked in the door.
I hope Santa is paying attention!
Oct 7, 2003 | Boy Wonder
Wisdom from the Back Seat
You love to talk. Tonight is no different. I live for silence. This is nothing new. You like to tell me everything you are thinking especially in the car. I’m not sure what the attraction is, if you have discovered you have a captive audience or if your car seat forces you to be still long enough to become reflective. But you never miss a chance. We’ve had some good conversations in the car, but tonight I am tired. Tonight I don’t want to know that worms can be cut in half and survive. I don’t want to hear about how sometimes you think you should be a vegetarian. I’m too tired to even think, much less ponder how God uses sewing machines to repair the world/s hurts. I’m needing my space and silence more than you can know. But I’m a captive audience after all, and it’s hard not to listen.
You say, “You know, Mom, sometimes I’m an excellent backseat driver!�” I can’t help but laugh; one look at you tells me you are very serious. I think, it must be nice to feel like an expert at something. Your follow-up observation makes your point, “But just because I’m really smart, doesn’t mean I don’t have things to learn.” I think, you are wiser than you know. At six you are so wise! This leads to a conversation between you and Dad about the wisdom of being a life-time learner. We’ve also learned to take advantage of a captive audience.
The road stretches out before me and I just want to be home. There is so much to do before I can go to bed. I’ve not had a moment of silence in the past 14 hours of classes and small groups, lectures and discussions, customers and strangers in a crowded warehouse. So many voices, mostly not my own, crowding in on me.
“Dad� Mom said I was really good in Costco,” you continue. “She said, ‘you have been so well-behaved for so long. Can you just be good a little while longer?�’ I was getting all worked up waiting for pizza and I decided I could be good a little while more, that was good thinking, right Dad?” I think, what an impact our words make. What a difference a little praise makes in a day. I think about how much you’ve grown up this year, all the progress at school,about how thankful I am for your teacher who can see the beauty in you.
“You are a great kid!” I say. “It’s getting late and I need a little silence. Let’s just sit back and enjoy the rest of the ride home, ok? If you can get yourself dressed for bed and brush your teeth when you get home,I will come up and snuggle and read a book even though it’s WAY past your bedtime. Deal?”
“Deal,” you say. But you cannot sit back and be quiet. It’s just not in you, even when you sleep. I listen to you talk to the stars outside your window, ” Hi, you! You are going to follow me home? That’s great! Oh, you want to bring your friends with you? Look, Dad, there are three stars following us home.” I sit back to drift past all the rest of your chat with the stars, into my own thoughts.
You do manage to get yourself to bed. Somehow. I’m not sure how it happened, but I’m not fighting miracles tonight. I’m not questioning them either. You make a space for me in your bunk-bed. I’m reminded how much room there used to be and wonder how much longer this little tradition will last. Will it last past Santa Clause and the Tooth Fairy? We say your prayers, the long list of God help mes. ( To sleep well, to listen to your teacher, to not pull at your socks during story time) and thank-yous.(for this day, for your teacher…) And then, one last thought from the backseat, you say, “Dear God, thank you for lending the stars to watch over us at night, Amen.”
Thank you, indeed, for the stars.
Oct 6, 2003 | This Life
And you?
I don’t have much to say. Or anything, for that matter. You?
Oct 5, 2003 | This Life
Don’t use Stone
Yet another way to procrastinate: plan your future. It’s a PHENOMENAL waste of time.
Oct 4, 2003 | This Life
Procrastination is a Skill–Practice Often
Ok… so I should be reading. But a girl can take only so much of the “John Wesley Trivia Hunt*” (five hours to be precise) before she is driven MAD MAD MAD. There are options to alter this reality. Visit Kat (but she is “unreachable” at the moment. ) Eat… (But my pants are already chiding me with vicious little comments like “You think we like rubbing this close to your thighs? Think again, lardo!” Or blog-bounce **. Which I do often. What am I reading these days?? I won’t bore you with the “how” of finding DANG, I’m not that cruel! But I would recommend reading him. He’s a twentysomething I don’t feel the necessity to apologize for. Heh. Go visit. Tell him I sent you. Just don’t be surprised when he has no idea who you are talking about!
*AKA: the take-home “quiz” for UMC History
** term coined by me, but you are free to use and abuse it.
Oct 2, 2003 | This Life
This wasn’t supposed to happen*…
So, it’s Thursday. I finally made it into Tower and had the new Dido in my hand… but the guy at the counter said… “NO! What you really want is the New Radiohead.”
Hmmm… now, I have to admit. I don’t really know what I want. So, when someone tells you they know… it’s hard to argue. The smart thing would have been to put down the old Sugarcube CD and bought the Radiohead instead. But being an obedient girl… I said goodbye to Dido. Tsk Tsk. This is what you get for not having a mind of your own. Oh well, NEXT payday.
I’ll let you know later tonight if the guy at Tower was right. It’s possible.
*(lyric from “hit” by the sugarcubes… which I did buy. Of my own volition and now am in considerable angst. Thought you might like the reference)
UPDATE: No, Dido was what I wanted. (grr)
