First, the Halloween pics that I mentioned. Aren't they just the cutest! Olympians and dogs. Now that makes you want to sing "We Are the World," doesn't it?
So I've had two very interesting things transpire in my psyche over the past couple of days.
Wait -- I just reread that, and hopefully more than 2 interesting things have happened in my psyche. Let's just say that there are two that are blogworthy.
The first happened yesterday, when I was at the grocery store. The cashier was a college-aged-looking kid whose nametag revealed that he happened to be named Micah, the name of my 6 mo. old son. Before it could occur to me that old Micah (as I shall call him) may not have any interest in young Micah, I said something like, "Whadya know! I have a son named Micah! I bet you don't run into a lot of people with that name, do you?"
Old Micah grunted an indecipherable response back, but it was enough that I knew that my chitter chatter was both boring and beyond him. I was someone' s self-identified mother, attempting to engage him. It was.....aging. It also caused me to have momentary, but life-altering, flash-forwards (approx 20 years or so....), wherein young Micah attempted to address me with the same "Leave me flippin alone, Ma!"demeanor. But in my imagination, I wrestle young Micah to the ground and, with spit drops flying in his face from my venomous lips, I verbally reenact the gory details of his birth so that he *knows* how I have paid for him.
Actually, with the exception of this varicose vein above my left knee, there's no lasting damage that I can come up with now. But I will make some up when the time comes. Oy. And it will remind him that I will NOT BE PRESUMED IRRELEVANT!
The second trauma transpired a couple of days ago when Annemarie, after being told that she could not wear summer clothes outside on a cold day, erupted into a tantrum. Her meltdown was fueled by the fact that she was tired and hungry, no doubt, but I was particularly bothered when she screamed "But I won't look cute if I don't wear that. I want to LOOK LIKE A BARBIE!"
Shudder.
I wanted to scream back, "But honey, we're feminists in this house! And one of the major reasons why we're feminists is so that no one ever has to feel like they have to say what you just said!" But that's hard to get through the brain of a five year old, so I made something else up, something that i can't remember now but that was no doubt insufficient.
Second shudder. Jovi, weren't we just talking about this? Third shudder.
In other news, please don't leave a rotisserie chicken on the counter with the lid off. Your cat may eat it. So we're having spaghetti.
Wait -- I just reread that, and hopefully more than 2 interesting things have happened in my psyche. Let's just say that there are two that are blogworthy.
The first happened yesterday, when I was at the grocery store. The cashier was a college-aged-looking kid whose nametag revealed that he happened to be named Micah, the name of my 6 mo. old son. Before it could occur to me that old Micah (as I shall call him) may not have any interest in young Micah, I said something like, "Whadya know! I have a son named Micah! I bet you don't run into a lot of people with that name, do you?"
Old Micah grunted an indecipherable response back, but it was enough that I knew that my chitter chatter was both boring and beyond him. I was someone' s self-identified mother, attempting to engage him. It was.....aging. It also caused me to have momentary, but life-altering, flash-forwards (approx 20 years or so....), wherein young Micah attempted to address me with the same "Leave me flippin alone, Ma!"demeanor. But in my imagination, I wrestle young Micah to the ground and, with spit drops flying in his face from my venomous lips, I verbally reenact the gory details of his birth so that he *knows* how I have paid for him.
Actually, with the exception of this varicose vein above my left knee, there's no lasting damage that I can come up with now. But I will make some up when the time comes. Oy. And it will remind him that I will NOT BE PRESUMED IRRELEVANT!
The second trauma transpired a couple of days ago when Annemarie, after being told that she could not wear summer clothes outside on a cold day, erupted into a tantrum. Her meltdown was fueled by the fact that she was tired and hungry, no doubt, but I was particularly bothered when she screamed "But I won't look cute if I don't wear that. I want to LOOK LIKE A BARBIE!"
Shudder.
I wanted to scream back, "But honey, we're feminists in this house! And one of the major reasons why we're feminists is so that no one ever has to feel like they have to say what you just said!" But that's hard to get through the brain of a five year old, so I made something else up, something that i can't remember now but that was no doubt insufficient.
Second shudder. Jovi, weren't we just talking about this? Third shudder.
In other news, please don't leave a rotisserie chicken on the counter with the lid off. Your cat may eat it. So we're having spaghetti.
3 comments:
dude, this was an AWESOME blog entry. cracked up, then read it all to robert.
yes, i believe we WERE just talking about cuteness and barbies and the like. my mom wouldn't let me have barbies until i was 6 or so (oh the years i suffered!)- she told me, even then, that she didn't want them to give me unrealistic expectations about women's bodies. go mom. i had no idea what she meant at the time, of course.
I love reading your blog! I've been a little crazy and out of touch, so it is just now on my blog list on mine.
Ok, about the cashier guy....that happens to me too sometimes and my reaction is so much different! I immediately assume he has no social skills and clearly needs to find another line of work. I think the same thing about drive through workers...if you can't spit out of your mouth for me "thank you" and "have a nice day", then you are need to find another hourly job. That is really snotty of me, I know. I have lived in AR too long I guess. When we moved to OH I really noticed a difference and it bothered me....I love friendly people, whether they are faking it or not. It makes my day so much better! When we are juggling 3 kids and trying to be superhuman 24-7....give us some love, people!
it's more than a varicose vein, babe. very boy you give birth to takes, statistically, 3 years off of your life.
enjoy!
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