cool beans

At the beginning of October I wrote that my daughter was barking like a seal.

It’s the end of October and I’m writing that my daughter is still barking like a seal.

There was a week in the middle where we thought she was getting better. The last few days have proven us wrong and she is hacking more than ever before. She feels fine otherwise and still wants to run around and play, but the coughing. It’s too much. I can’t listen to it anymore. On Friday I told her we’ve outlawed coughing and if she insists on coughing, she will be grounded. At last count, she’s grounded for the next 498 weeks.

The Toddler is coughing, too. We’re going to have to come up with an alternative punishment. He’s not really affected by the phrase, “You’re grounded!”

To add to the madness, I’ve been battling a really ridiculous cold all week. I feel better for an hour, then I’m wiped out again. Though we went to bed early last night and got extra sleep, I’m feeling like I’ve been hit by a truck AND kept awake for days on end.

As soon as we’re all well again (if that ever happens), I’m washing everyone and everything with powerful disinfectant and then we’re all climbing into individual germ-free bubbles.

The other night when I was at a movie with my sister and father, we saw a movie preview that none of us had seen before. Though we were sitting in the last row, we all leaned back a little to give the preview some space. Because it just felt like it needed it.

While we were trying to figure out just what the hell it was, I said to my sister, “My gaydar just exploded.”

Then she said, “OH! I bet it’s RENT!” And I said, “OH! I’m totally going to see it then!” At that, Dad made some kind of dismissive chuffing noise and my sister and I leaned forward, turned to him and said in unison, “It’s theater.”

My eleven year-old son has studied Taekwondo for several years. Yesterday he was welcomed, as his instructor put it, “to The World of Black Belts.”

All the whining about practices, the running back and forth across town two nights a week, the hours spent sitting in a room that smells like sweaty feet - it all paid off to see how pleased he was to be wearing a black belt.

To make it even sweeter, he was promoted not just to black belt, but to black belt with one stripe, which is better. There’s a more official way to say that. I just don’t know what it is.

For the last few days, there’s been a haunted house in town. My kids caught wind of it and my son asked if we could go. I’d been told it was good but not too scary and decided I would take the kids.

I asked them tonight if they wanted to go. My son leapt off the couch in anticipation. My daughter started sobbing. She didn’t want to be left out but was scared to pieces at the mere thought of a haunted house experience. After we reassured her it was okay to not like being scared, my boy and I headed out. The first room was lots of screaming and some more screaming and jumping and my boy clinging to me and at one point he gasped and jumped backward and his retainer fell out of his mouth. We left that room, got a “BOO!” kind of scare in the hallway and that’s when he decided this was NOT ENTERTAINING!

Someone ran ahead and told everyone to chill out, that we just wanted to walk through and see things without jumping. My son could not relax but had to see it through. Once he had said he was truly scared and wasn’t enjoying himself and I could feel him shaking, I felt terrible for having taken him. And though I knew nothing bad was going to happen to us, Mama Bear showed up and was on Red Alert. It was such a strange feeling.

The haunted house was very well done. It just wasn’t what my son was expecting. Thank heavens we didn’t take my girl. Like my son said, “Good thing she didn’t go. She would have had a heart attack.”

This morning I was starting a load of laundry while my kids were getting themselves breakfast. I heard my son say something nagging to his sister and I heard her say, “Shut up! SHUT UP! I never want to see you ever again for the rest of my whole life!”

So, that was going well.

He thought that she hadn’t done her chore Monday evening. Together, they empty the dishwasher. He does the bulk of dishes and she does the silverware and utensils. Monday after school, they both emptied the dishwasher but at different times. Their father came in after them and filled it back up again and set it to run in the middle of the night.

My son got up this morning, emptied the dishwasher and then laid into his sister for not doing her share.

Are you following this? Why? It’s INSANE.

Work was yucky today. I kept busy but wasn’t feeling well. I have a touch of a cold and it was making my eyes water and since my eyes were wet, I felt weepy and sad. Ugh. Make that go away, please.

My sister called before I left work and invited me to grab a sandwich and catch a movie with her and my dad. My dad is kind of weird about food - particular about what and when and how clean his hands are before eating. He’s REALLY weird about going to movies. He insists we get to the theater at least half an hour before a movie starts. And THEN he won’t get snacks before going to find a seat. He MUST get a seat in the back. If he doesn’t, the whole experience is tainted. Though he’s weird about food, he will eat at Burger King. And that’s where we ate before the movie because it was fast. The manager was yelly and gruff and kept shouting at everyone over the microphone, “LET’S WORK AS A TEAM BACK THERE!” While we were ordering, she was at the counter sipping coffee. She made three short gargly barks and I was surprised when I looked over that there wasn’t a lung laying on the counter.

Anyway, we got to the theater thirty minutes before the previews. We were the only ones there to see The Fog.

It was basically horrible unless you like making fun of movies. There were some cool hats. And the actor who played Nick? Well, there was one scene where the camera caught his face at juuuuuust the right angle and I wanted to grab his head and lick his whole face. But otherwise? Not a great movie.

I managed to get The Toddler to sleep a little more this morning so I didn’t have to get out of bed until a little after 8:00. It was chilly enough to make me look at the thermostat and feel guilty for not turning the furnace on before bed last night. My son and his friend are sleeping in the basement and if it’s only 64 degrees upstairs, the boys are probably a lovely frosty shade of blue right now. Hopefully that means they’ll sleep longer.

I was able to arm myself with caffeine before The Toddler got up. We snuggled on the couch for a bit and now he’s sitting behind me trying to make sense of all his wooden puzzles. Okay, really, he’s stabbing the pieces at the boards and then fussing when he really gets stuck about every seven seconds or so.

But it’s mostly peaceful in the house this morning. That is, if I don’t look around at the mess, ignore my daughter’s bark and remind myself there is a whole big day ahead of us and we’re not required to be anywhere or do anything all day.

Today I finished listening to The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time and cried.

I wanted to say I identify with the father. Patient with his son, tolerant of his daily needs. Not perfect, but doing his best, and doing okay*. But I saw myself in the mother. “NOT RIGHT NOW, CHRISTOPHER.” “RIGHT NOW I WANT YOU TO BE QUIET.” “I CAN’T TAKE THIS ANYMORE!” It made me feel worse that I didn’t like her and that I thought she was selfish and that nothing could ever make her happy because she wouldn’t allow herself to be content, satisfied.

How do I get there from here, though? How do I find that place where I’m relaxed and happy and content more than I’m anxious, distraught, disappointed, distracted? Even if I’m wanting more or different - which is normal and healthy to a degree - how can I be okay with NOW? How can I stop all the mad dancing and live in this moment right now and breathe?

Is it something I can change? Is it part of what makes me me and can’t be switched off or unlearned? When in the deepest blue of wintertime Melancholy grows claws and scratches at the inside of my head and heart, will it always require little pills to file down her nails and take away her sting?

I don’t not want this life. It’s a good one. I like a lot of it. But I can’t stop tweaking this and that and feeling so overwhelmed by everything that should be done that I can’t start the things that have to be done. Will I ever just be okay with this?

*For those of you who are familiar with the story**, please note that I am speaking about the father’s patience and tenderness with his son. I’m plucking out that part of his character AND the selfishness of the mother to beat myself over the head. I’m not including The Thing he did and The Other Thing he did and the way he handled That.

**If you’re not familiar with the story, you should think about changing that. It’s a good one.

Recently I said that I’m never prepared for people to ask me how I’m doing when I answer the phone at work. Now I know I’m even less prepared for people to start shouting excitedly at me over a crackling and gargley connection. Observe:

Woman On Cell Phone, Screaming: “D’YOU OWEH NEW ASS ASHUN SOPIN!?!”

My Startled Self: “Pardon me?”

WOCPS: “GAS STATION! NEW! OPEN!”

MSS: “I’m sorry. Yes. I know. Who is this?”

WOCPS: ” YOU DON’T RECOGNIZE MY VOICE? I THOUGHT YOU WOULD RECOGNIZE MY VOICE!”

MSS: “No. Sorry.”

WOCPS: “GAS HERE IS $2.16!”

MSS:

WOCPS: “THAT’S PRETTY CHEAP!”

MSS:

WOCPS: “WOW! YOU DIDN’T RECOGNIZE MY VOICE?”

MSS: “No, this is a pretty bad connect-”

WOCPS: “DRIVING A THOUSAND MILES A WEEK, THIS IS GOOD!”

MSS:

WOCPS: “I’LL TAKE IT!”

MSS:

WOCPS: “I’M SORRY! THOUGHT YOU’D RECOGNIZE MY VOICE!”

This blog is the #1 result if you Google the phrase “she was watching him shower”.

The second and only other result? Prison-Online.com -> Ensuring One-way Prison Exits

Music Mambo (CAUTION: This site is “batty”.)

1. What kind of music, songs or artists do you listen to when you want to relax and use as few brain cells as possible?
To relax: Dave Matthews, Billie Holiday, and lately, Snow Patrol. Also, The Flaming Lips - “Yoshimi Battles The Pink Robots”.

Now, the question mentions using as few brain cells as possible. I “get” the music I listed above. It’s also really, really familiar to me. If I’m really listening to music that doesn’t require brain cells, I’m not relaxing. I’m either drunk and obnoxious or I’m sober and ANNOYED.

2. Can you think of a lyric or two that makes the songwriter seem like he or she had a sudden drop in brain cells when he or she was writing the song?
I don’t know if it points to a sudden drop of brain cells…I’d say it might be characteristic of the usual number of brain cells when Pretty Ricky rhymes “right” with “right”. As in: “if lovin u is wrong I dont wanna be right so imma take my time, n do it right” I mean, come on. UH-NOYING! But really, that whole song. And most of the other stuff played on the radio before and after it. Unless you’re by the pool in the summer, there’s just no excuse. Tsk tsk.

3. Sometimes a person completely misunderstands a lyric or can’t think of the name of a song. We’ve all done it, there’s no denying that. What are some of your greatest misheard lyric moments (or moments when you completely forgot the name of a song)? If you need some help, check out this site.
This is easy. Guns ‘N Roses “Sweet Child O Mine”. The lyric: “She’s got eyes of the bluest skies as if they thought of rain…” What I thought it was: “She’s got eyes of the bluest skies and if they got a brain…”

Someone I know thought “There’s a bad moon on the rise” was “There’s a bathroom on the right.”

Just for fun, try saying “There’s a bad moon on the rise” out loud without singing it.

4. Who do you think has the sexiest singing voice? Could be male, female or both.
I dunno. I’m thinking. I can’t think of a sexiest. I think the sexiest album is Maxwell’s Urban Hang Suite. But sexiest voice? Can we give that prize away? Hmm.