The Little Mermaid Wouldn't Be So Good, If Ursula Weren't So Bad Bad Bad

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The Little Mermaid Wouldn't Be So Good, If Ursula Weren't So Bad Bad Bad

Date Created: Jan 29, 2007, 01:56 PM

I still haven't gotten a new memory card, so I am "borrowing" a picture from my sister's blog. But she takes better pictures anyway, and I can't get enough of Elly pictures, so I'm sure you'll love this one, too. She is the cutest smartest little girl! And she will be getting a new brother or sister in about six weeks so we'll let her have the headline picture before she has to share the limelight!

Things around here have been pretty much the same stress level as always. But I've found ways lately to let off some steam. Saturday night Will and I got completely wasted and had extremely lively conversation with our dear friends until 1:00 am. If only there hadn't been a sober witness (our friend who is pregnant!) I think I could have shrugged off the night as a drunken debate that was worth the Sunday morning hangover. But with an innocent bystander present I did feel a tad guilty about the carrying-on and soap-boxing and so on. I pulled my sure-thing excuse out of my pocket, though, and blamed it all on the boys as usual. ln a healthier attempt at clearing my mind and soul I went on a long walk this morning. Don't mistake me for making a good decision. It's just that drinking on a Monday morning isn't a great way to start the week and there's really no one around to drink with. Anyway, this morning was the coldest morning we've had so far this year, but I was determined. I bundled up and got my ipod going. I've exercised my entire life. Except for the last nine months in which I have done no physical labor other than hauling laundry baskets up and down the stairs and wrestling John in order to get his socks and shoes on. Even walking felt so new again! And my poor neglected ipod was so excited to be playing again. Van Halen's Panama never inspired so many steps. And when I was marching along to Shake Ya Tailfeather, I swear the man with the leaf blower could hear what it because he smiled real big and I just bopped on by. It was very cold, but the cold air was bracing in a good way. All of the camellias were blooming and I saw a woodpecker. It really felt good, and I can't wait to do it again.

As is always the case, we've had some good days and bad days around here. There was one particularly bad day last week that is pretty representative of what makes me walk in 39-degree weather and/or drink a thousand vodka-and-pink-lemonades and debate public vs private education. Some days every move I make is met with complete resistance. It's not an easy day, when you say let's brush our teeth and they all come into the bathroom right away and line up and you manage to brush everyone's teeth, wipe their faces, and clean James' glasses in relative order. So when you say let's brush your teeth and they don't line up, when you say, let's get in the car and they run into another room, when you say wait for me and they unlock the front door and go outside on their own, when you finally get them into the car and then one forgot his "axe" or "bat" or when the straps are "too tight", or when while you are driving one continues to reach over and pinch his brother, it's especially difficult. They also have NO sense of hurrying. It is torture to try to get them to put their coats on when they insist on finding their toy lizard or dumping out a puzzle box. I'm like, "WE HAVE TO GO! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE if there is a God, come and put your coats on!" And what leverage do I have? Late to school, wanh. They don't care. Momoe's going to be mad, wanh. What's new. You're going to get a spanking, wanh. Yeah right. Every move I made that morning they thwarted. When we got to school and got out of the car, I said, "Hold hands, everybody!" Against all logic I have only two hands. Sometimes one will hold onto my backpocket, but since the time they pulled my jeans down in the Chick-fil-A parking lot in front of a stand-still drive-thru line wrapped around the building, I've sort of discouraged that. John very chivalrously waived his claim at holding my hand and agreed to hold James' so George and James could hold mine. That's a small victory in itself, not having the fight over who gets my hands. So you can imagine my frustration when James would not hold John's hand. It hurt sensitive John's feelings, and he said, "No, James!" and started to cry. "Hold my hand, James." Don't forget we are in the middle of a parking lot with cars and school is starting. So I drop James' hand and tell him I'm not going to hold his hand unless he holds John's. Okay. We can do this. Only once we start walking, James squeezes the hell out of John's hand on purpose. "He's squeezing too hard," John is screaming and stomping in the middle of the road--the very busy road when parents are dropping off children and SPEEDING away to make the most of their three hours of peace. I said, "Keep moving keep moving!" And once we got to the other side of the road I fussed at James and told him that was bad and that I was going to tell Daddy. What else could I do? Beat the heck out of him? Squeeze HIS hand? Nothing makes sense! James has a honed talent of making trouble either in a place, at a time, or in a manner that leaves me completely unable to dish out any meaningful consequence. What bothers me, too, about behavior such as the hand-squeezing and the initial refusal to hold John's hand is that it's just so mean and unjust! James won--he got to hold my hand, and yet James behaves with complete and willful disregard to that fact. He has no sense of the subtleties of graciousness or sympathy, or maybe he senses them all too well and exercises complete control over them in order to make his rebellion even more pointed as usual. Anyway, we made it to school, but when I picked them up I found out that John had gotten three drops of water on his shirt, so had "insisted" and I can only imagine how quickly and clearly he made his discontent clear, on changing. Miss Jann had to put on and take off all three of the spare shirts and cut the tag out of each one but still to no avail. Finally, he decided just to go back to the original shirt: by that time the three drops were dry. Another teacher remarked that James had been "rough" that day. Then while I made lunch, they practiced their own method of stress relief. I heard this inhuman pop pop pop sound coming from upstairs. I went to check and they were beating the hell out of a cardboard box with their baseball bats. Thank GOD one of them wasn't in there. No need to recycle cardboard boxes over here. They literally beat them into a pulp. There are a few pieces of cardboard sprinkled here and there around the house, but no box or any pieces suggesting a box left. They beat it into oblivion.

The next day must have been Thursday--which is sometimes bad because nothing is scheduled and I'm starting to get tired by the end of the week. So I decided to come up with a plan. I purposely got them dressed as quickly as I do on a school day to keep 11:00 from rolling around with me still in my bathrobe and George with a diaper so heavy it's hanging between his knees. It was really cold, so I didn't want to go outside. How do people in Boston or North Dakota ever have children?! I think the boys would have been fine running around, but Lord, forgive me, I don't feel like sitting there watching in the cold! SO for the first time we went to the library for Story-Time! I've always wanted to take them, but with three I was afraid they would run around or not be able to sit still and I again by some cruel twist of fate I have only one lap. But I was desperate and against all reason trusted the guys could be good and handle it. The only time that worked for us was the storytime scheduled at the tiniest branch there ever was. It's right next door to the elementary school where I went and it's located in Battery Gasdsen that was built during the Spanish-American war. The guys were amazed by its appearance when we walked up, but when I called it a "battery" they were very confused so I changed it to "fort." I had told the boys to "stay close to Momoe" and as we walked in they did. They went inside very orderly and quietly and as we walked the two feet to the children's room which takes up most of the library, they looked around and said, "Books!" It was cute. Then a class of 4- or 5-year-olds came in and sat, so we sat, while a nice older lady volunteer read. It was so interesting to watch. I put George in my lap because he is the least able to sit still, but it was so funny because he was really the most involved in the whole process. He used to be the quiet one, but no more. The first book was about a bear, and the lady asked casually if anyone had a teddy bear and George "shouted" out in his tiny voice, "I don't have a bear. I have zebras. I have lots of zebras. My zebra's named 'Stripesy!" He went completely unheard I think by everyone but me, or at least untranslated by everyone. He doesn't really understand the idea of a rhetorical question, and in my opinion unless she wants lots of responses, the volunteer should refrain from asking any in a room of 5-and-unders. James was the least impressed with the group. He wouldn't face the reader, but instead faced sideways toward me, and when I asked him to turn and face the front so he could see he said very loudly, "There's a boy in front of me!" If James can't have the perfect view, he'd just assume not have the view at all. Instead of looking at the pictures in the books, he played with my shoe. John was a good little boy, interested and in awe of the bigger kids. But what is it about books and boogies? One little boy had to be called down for picking his nose during the story and it wasn't long after that that John bestowed on me one of his freshly harvested specimins. And what's a woman to do with a boogie in a public place in front of a bunch of people with no kleenex in sight? I dug through my pocketbook and found an old brochure from something and disposed of the boogie there. Ah, to mother is to problem-solve. There was one little boy in the class who did give me a little scare. He has apparently read every book in the whole wide world and the books the reader had chosen at least a dozen of times a piece. He just couldn't help from blurting out what was going to happen next, or in one case, even interrupting in the middle of a story to say what happens in the sequel to that book. And apparently, there is no need to summarize when you have the brainpower to recite every single word for the rest of us. Please, dear God, do not let this be James one day! The memorizer of all words, places, and events. Man of black and white with no gray in between. Man of do it with every single step or not at all. Please do not cause your teachers' eyes to roll, your classmates to snicker. If James does take on some of the annoying know-it-all qualities (he comes by this somewhat naturally I have to admit...) of little Owen, I will have to train George and John to look out for signs of its going too far and make sure they know when to sweetly nudge him, whisper, or hit him over the head when they need to get him to stop for the sake of the class and the poor teacher. Overall, though, we had a wonderful trip to the library and stayed about an hour. After the reading and the class left we sat around reading books. I am looking forward to taking them again. They have no idea we could actually check the books out and take them home. I'll save that surprise for another needy Thursday!

George has been so funny lately. He truly is my little monkey and he makes me laugh all of the time. His love for animals continues to be extreme, but lovable. He also says my name at the end of almost every sentence. The other day he told me, "Sharks have sharp teeth, Mama. That's why they're called sharks." He is quite interested in sharp teeth and uses them as a measuring stick of an animal's disposition. "Nice bears don't have sharp teeth, Mama. Mean bears have sharp teeth, Mama." He likes to watch movies but has a very short list of favorites, which include Diego because he saves animals and Charlotte's Web because the spider is a nice spider and Curious George because it's Curious George. He will watch others, but can name a "bad" animal or character in every one. Even if it's the "'Cary dog" who appears for less than 30 seconds in Sword in the Stone (which is John's favorite movie and which he of course calls, 'Tord in the Tone.'). Little Mermaid: Ursula is bad, Mama. Finding Nemo: The 'cary fish is bad, Mama. Cinderella: that cat is mean, Mama. And it goes on and on. This is a big problem when it comes time for the boys to pick out a movie to watch. John typically likes the movies with especially bad witches, bears, dragons, and lions because it means there will be someone for the handsome knight or brave prince to fight, preferably with swords or daggers.

Yesterday Will and I took the boys out to lunch and then to the bookstore. We walked into the bookstore and George looks around and goes, "Where are the books my size?" It was very cute. He ended up finding one he liked that came with a little toy firetruck. When we got home he looked at his new firetruck and said, "This is cool, Mama. I've never seen a firetruck like this before."

I think John is really craving some time with Will and me without the other two. John loves to cuddle and sleep and watch movies. Me, too, but I don't always have the time as you can imagine. John lately has been asking Will and me to "Get cozy with me," which means to curl up with him on the sofa or bed and his very nasty blanket. I know I've mentioned it several times before. It has fringe on it and a few pieces of fringe that he has stretched out and chewed on. He calls these pieces his "strings" and they are permanently wet and stinky from his spit. Yesterday morning John asked Will to, "Come sit with me and make strings." Wow, that sure is a tempting offer, John. I think we do need to do something special with him soon, as we need to do with all of them on occasion. I really need to plan to do more of that. Even if it's only cuddling up in the bed and chewing on blankets.

I better run, but let me say this has been a wonderful afternoon typing to you. You all keep me sane more than you know. Have a wonderful week and I'll write again soon!