March 25, 2011 Comments Off on happy birthday, c!
There’s a happy kid. C turns 11 today, and we had the first of several present-opening sessions over pancakes this morning. (I had exactly 3/4 cup of buttermilk left–it was like destiny called). Pretty good haul already: Legos from Grandparents L and (left) from Uncle C. Uncle C outdid himself this year. I told him that Nephew C was obsessed with Hero Factory stuff, and he scanned Amazon and asked which action figures the boy had. “No idea,” I told him. “A bunch of them, mostly mixed together.” So Uncle C said no worries, he’d just buy something bigger. As you can see, the nephew was pleased.
Every birthday we tell less and less edited stories of their actual birth days. C knows that K woke me up at 7:00 saying she was ready to roll, and that I rolled over and asked if I had time to make coffee. Not really the best response, apparently. And he knows that he pooped on the way out, leading to a slightly frantic airway cleaning and a really good story (the technical term is “miconium aspiration,” but to an eleven year old “breathing in your own poop” sounds a lot better).
I’m getting them both books this year that meant something to me at their ages. C gets Stan Lee’s “How to Draw Comics.” I remember something similar as a kid, though it wasn’t nearly this elaborate. I told him we could try to figure some of them out together, sort of a pre-Rome sketching course. He was totally into this, and I suspect he’ll take over my drawing board downstairs at some point. And he’ll need those skills if he does become a video game designer. So it’s not nostalgia, it’s a career investment.
We’ve usually had to make sure the girl was out of the freaking house when C got presents, but she handled this morning pretty well. Hey, she got pancakes, right? And even though she wanted the Harry Potter Lego game that Mom and Dad got him, she knows that she gets to play it, because it takes two. The sibling rivalry seems to be gentler these days, even now that they’re only “one year” apart for two months.
Of course the best present for either of them is the six hour drive this afternoon to pick up K. I have to clean the bejeezus out of the house now, so I guess this is probably the last solo DC post, at least for a while. I think I’m still cooking next week, though, while K reacclimatizes. The kids and I have discussed a week-long festival of dinner, featuring the greatest hits (or at least the most sure-fire hits) of the last three months. So no big wrap up. Just, you know, Legos and Stan Lee. And pancakes.
February 7, 2011 § 2 Comments
Destruction is imminent…the floor crew is supposed to start sometime this morning. I’m going to get the hell out of here before the skilsaws start in, but thought I’d memorialize the 84-year old oak floors in our living and dining room before they’re replaced by sleek, chocolate brown, totally sustainable and basically indestructible Plyboo. O and I got the furniture moved out last night and this morning (all except the big couch, which is going to have to wait for someone who weighs more than 90 pounds).
And where is that furniture, you ask? Next door in the dining room. We’ve moved the table over to one wall, over the heat vent, which O likes because it kept her feet toasty for this morning’s Ovaltine. As you can see, it’s a tight fit, and the week will be a little weird, but it looks like it will work.
I am sure K will not take it the wrong way when I say that I am so, so glad she is not here this week…
January 13, 2011 Comments Off on the girl’s morning–updated
Me: “Are you OK this morning, O?”
O: “Yes. This is just my usual grumpy and silent morning self.”
Me: “Oooookaaayyy…” [steps gently back into kitchen].
Update: And here’s the boy…
Me: “I’m going to go wash the dishes.”
C: “And I’m going to go destroy the world. In my underpants.”
Interestingly, he wouldn’t clarify whether he meant that he would be in his underpants, or the more disturbing possibility that the world would…
January 5, 2011 Comments Off on disaster averted
So I’m heading out the door with the boy a few minutes ago and he asks “where’s my lunchbox?” And it is, of course, where lunchboxes live, namely on top of the fridge. Totally empty.
I have been up for five hours. I have cleaned a bathroom. I have swept the kitchen. I have read a book chapter, run four and a half miles, and scouted eight different polenta recipes for tonight. About the only thing I haven’t done is the one freaking thing on my to-do list every school morning–make the kids’ lunches. C is going to kill me. K is going to kill me. O is sitting on the couch with a knowing smile on her face, looking forward to the impending hijinks.
It is time to go. C hates to be late. In fact, he prefers to be a few minutes early so he can stand outside the school door and collect his thoughts. This is not a good situation. We head in to the kitchen, and I tell him he is going to be my sous-chef.
“Never mind. Lay’s Potato Chips!”
“YES, CHEF!” (OK, he doesn’t really say that, but you get the idea).
I pull out the pepperoni and the apple. He’s OK with having it whole instead of cut up, bless him.
“Chocolate chip cookie!”
“Thermos of water!”
And…we’re out of there. Under 20 seconds. We fly out the door and he’s at school before Star 102.5’s Hollywood Trash is finished, the traditional distinction between early and late. Hallelujah.
K says that making lunches is her favorite part of the day–when she feel most like a mom. I definitely understand that. The best way to any 10-year old’s heart is through their stomach. But spacing out on that link might also be the best way to convince them that you’re a total dumbass.
The boy just shook his head all the way to school and Didn’t. Say. A. Word.