Okay, Maybe It's a Little True...

The other day, I opened my laptop to find Andy's email open, with this goofy forward from his brother, Greg:

When everybody on earth was dead and waiting to enter Paradise, God appeared and said, "I want the men to make two lines. One line for the men who were true heads of their household, and the other line for the men who were dominated by their women. I want all the women to report to St. Peter."

 
Soon, the women were gone, and there were two lines of men. The line of the men who were dominated by their wives was 100 miles long, and in the line of men who truly were heads of their household, there was only one man.
 

God said to the long line, "You men should be ashamed of yourselves, I created you to be the head of your household! You have been disobedient and have not fulfilled your purpose! Of all of you, only one obeyed. Learn from him."
 

God turned to the one man, "How did you manage to be the only one in this line?"
 

The man replied, "My wife told me to stand here!"

I read it, thinking how stupid it was, surprised that Greg would find it humorous, let alone bother to forward it.  Then I forgot its existence.

Until yesterday. 

I was cooking dinner when an incredibly annoying honking horn entered my consciousness.  Andy investigated and stated it was my neighbor's old car that was still in their driveway.  The neighborhood kids had been in the backyard next door and one of the kids 'checked to see if it was locked' setting off the alarm.  Our neighbor had been notified and was heading out with the keys.

After several more minutes of constant honking.  I looked at Andy and said "You know, it's been going on for a while. If Jackie's not able to get it to shut off with just the key, someone needs to go out there and disconnect the battery." 

So out Andy and his crescent wrench go.

After I got dinner in the oven, I walked over to see how it was going.  The first words out of Jackie's mouth upon my arrival?  If my husband had just gotten rid of this thing last week like I told him to...

"No, stand in that line."

Nearly Wordless Wednesday

For Christmas, Gremlin received a Fisher Price Power Wheels battery powered Mustang.  He's literally worn the wheels out driving it and Dad needed to order some new ones, which came the other day.

Further confirmation I chose the right person to be my sons' father:

Wordless Waterful Wednesday

Summer is a time for weeknight picnics on the boat.

(no, ours is the little one)

Let Me Hear Your War Cry!

What?  This stuff doesn't happen at your house??

Last week, I am awakened from blissful slumber in the middle of the night by the sound of my husband doing his best Braveheart immitation.  (I actually likened it to that scene in Return of the King when Aragorn says, "For Frodo,"  then runs headlong into a phalanx of Orcs at the Black Gate.  But I digresss....)

I go from sound asleep to still asleep but on my feet, running, and yelling "What? What?!" while following my husband, in full battle cry exiting our bedroom.  Here is his sequence of events:

0.0 microseconds - Andy awakens to the sound of HRH screaming. 

0.1 - Mind immediately processes "HRH is having a nightmare."

0.2  - Localizing sound...HRH is sleeping in Gremlin's room...sound not coming from Gremlin's room!

0.3 - Clearly, HRH is being dragged from the house by a kidnapper and is screaming in terror!

0.325 - Every microliter of adreneline empties into bloodstream.

0.4 - Eject from bed, issuing war cry to alert kidnapper to his approach with intent of kidnapper dropping HRH.

0.5 - Formulate plan while running down hall: Will bodily throw kidnapper down flight of stairs then land on top of him and proceed to pummel him until dead.


1.0 - Arrive at top of stairs where HRH is standing at the safety gate, alone, still asleep, and screaming.

1.5 - Processing...Child is not being kidnapped.  Child is sleepwalking, came up against the safety gate and could not compute.

2.0 - Hugging child. Adrenaline still flowing like oil into the Gulf.

2.5 - Second, totally confused child emerges from bedroom to find out what all the screaming is about.

3.0 - Still piecing it all together, Mommy ushers everyone toward our bedroom to calm everyone down, try to return to sleep mode.


3.5 - Best guess is Daddy will be prepared to sleep by Thursday.

Ten Years

+

=

Love You, Babe.  Happily.  Ever and After.

Marital Advice Monday *

Nearly a year and a half ago, I wrote this post all about when Andy and I went away for the weekend for our 40th birthdays. It was the first time in our parental life that we had together left the boys for two whole nights in a row. It was heaven. And we haven't done it since...until last Friday night.

News Flash! All that stuff I wrote about spending time away being important for a marriage and a soul? It's still there!  We're in a pretty meh place right now.  Compared to most, we're good and for that, I am eternally grateful.  But the day-to-day of winter/school/marriage/house/vitamin D deficient/job uncertainty/parenting still weighs and wears on us.

Last Friday, we shipped the kids off to Nana's where new toys, undivided attention, and late bedtimes awaited them, while we strolled off to Foxwoods for a 21-hour, anti-family vacation.  There, we didn't have deep discussions about our future; what school districts we need to look at, what needs to be done to our house and our debt ratio before we try and sell.  We didn't discuss the next phase of Andy's career or my education.

We had drinks in our hands within 10 minutes of checking in.  We ate appetizers for dinner at The Hard Rock Cafe.  We people-watched, played nickle slots and roulette, and joked about inconsequential things.  And you know what?  Underneath it all, our smiles are still there. 

And so, here is my advice to you:  Find a willing grandparent, aunt, uncle, friend, or mailman on whom you can foist your beloved children.  Leave extra food out for the cat.  Pack it up and head out of Dodge.  Everything will be there when you get back.  And maybe, just maybe, you'll get your groove back, too.


*title lovingly bastardized from my friend (and BlogHer '09 roomie) KC's hysterical Medical Advice Monday posts.

If Ever...

If ever I would leave you,
How could it be in spring-time?
Knowing how in spring I'm bewitched by you so?
Oh, no! not in spring-time!
Summer, winter or fall!
No, never could I leave you at all!

But if ever I would kill you,
It would be for this,

Another Birthday Post

Because I married you, I have:

A Bread Winner

A Bug Killer

A Cat

A Co-parent

A Date for holidays

A Designated Driver

A Dirty job do-er

A Dog

A Fellow Star Trek geek

Good Tire Air Pressure

A Heavy lifter

In Laws

A Joint checking account

Life insurance

A Mortgage

A Necklace-clasper

An Omelet Maker

A Retirement plan

Sons

A Sounding board

A Toilet Plunger

A Valentine

A Wedding date

A Family
A Friendship
A Marriage
Love you, Babe. Happy Birthday.

The Puppy Whisperer

Scene: MM and Daddy sitting on the couch, watching attempting to watch the Red Sox lose to the Tampa Rays. Our adorable Daisy-dog having bored of tearing apart yet another rattan coaster has now reengaged the parents using those wonderful serrated little puppy teeth.

I watched as Andy calmly began the training process again. Speaking softly but firmly as she nipped again and again. Explaining to me what he was doing; Alpha male, puppy tantrum, etc. It was sort of fascinating. Or maybe that was the Merlot talking.

As he further explained her motives and responses, it occurred to me. So I asked;

MM: Dude, if you can do this with the dog, why can't you do it with the kids? Now that would be impressive.

Andy (wistfully): Some people can...

** many toes were harmed in the taking of this picture.

AfterDad

To my wonderful, supportive, intrepid husband, I can't properly thank you for all that you did in allowing me this time and space away. So I won't.

Rather, I thought I would offer a little constructive feedback - both positive and otherwise on your care and feeding of our progeny and home this past weekend:

1. Kudos on figuring out the dishwasher loading/unloading scenario! Next, I'd like to invite you to view the wonders of Cascade gel in action. Said gel can be located under the kitchen sink. Simply extrude the gel into the marked containers on the inside of the dishwashing device, close the door, and press "Start". Performing this simple operation will mitigate the sour milk/syrup/smell-of-unknown-origin odor emanating each time the appliance door is opened.

2. At some point a meal was made! Or reheated! Or defrosted! Cue applause!! I am aware of this, not only through your insightful and informative guest posts but because of the melted remains for said food items coating the inside of the microwave. It is unsavory at best and carcinogenic at worst.

A Clorox wipe or even a paper towel (both located to the left of the sink) swiped across door, roof, and carousel of the microwave has been shown to prevent said food preparation residue from dripping down onto the stove top beneath. (ps: It is also a good idea not to leave things you intend to eat in the microwave until they explode. But that's a lesson for another day.)

3. You know how much I love the smell of Acqua di Gio on you. Less so on the boys but again, "A" for effort. You handled this issue of their hygiene with creativity and questionable judgment!

Again, not a criticism, just a friendly reminder for future use: If you will hearken back to your own personal care routine, you may call to mind vigorously applying toothpaste to your own teeth at regular intervals throughout the weekend. Our children, too require this action to avoid the carrion/death breath spewing from their smiling mouths when I scooped them into my arms in the baggage claim of Terminal B.

I know I've given you a lot to digest so I'll end my summary here. But rest assured, my absence and your tenure at the helm has provided discussion topics to get us through awkward silences and long car rides for years to come.

Next up: "The Broom and Vacuum: Where they live and what they do."

55 Miles. Each Way.

Signs your husband needs a shorter commute.

Actual conversation at our house:

Andy: Today, on the drive home, I pretended I was The Transporter.

Christine: Like the movie?

A: (smiles) Yeah...

C: So you were driving like a maniac.

A: No. I was just driving normally.

C: Were you pretending you had someone in the trunk?

A: Nah. I was just The Transporter if he was just going somewhere regular.

C: Like Starbucks?

A: But I could have turned it on at any minute and none of those other idiots on the road knew it...

C: What else do you do when you're driving?


Editors Note: I changed the date on this post to give it a second go. It was previously posted last week, the morning of 'the event.'

The Rhetorical Husband

1. Do we have milk?
(Hmm. If I had bought milk, where would I put it?)

2. Is this today's paper?
(Let's look at the top. Just below the words, The Boston Globe, what's right there?)

3. Do you know where I took off my watch?
(...?)

4. Do you want me to give Gremlin his bath?
(No! Please. Let me.)

5. Do you know if it's supposed to rain today?
(Well, my trick knee is throbbing...)

6. Do you know where the boys' shoes are?
(See #3)

7. Picks up phone and reads caller ID aloud: 866-222-1000?
(I'm gonna go with "telemarketer"...)

8. Should I have the boys wear their raincoats?
(Is it raining?)

9. Are you watching this?
(Uh-huh...)

10. Are you awake?


What questions do you answer (or ignore)?

The Magic of Christmas

It starts off very subtly. A brief comment, "I think I heard bells" then back to the conversation. A little while later, "did you see something fly past the window?" then back to the conversation.

Finally, after dinner, someone near the fireplace exclaims, "I think I heard something land on the roof!" Adults look expectantly at one another, "do you think?" The children can sense the magic at hand. An aunt or uncle, mommy or daddy stoops in front of the fireplace and yells up the chimney, "Santa? Is that you?" And finally, from the chimney you hear "Ho Ho Ho!"

The boys and girls are gathered around the fireplace, some nervous, some wide-eyed, all excited. One by one, each child is introduced and gets his turn to tell Santa what he wants for Christmas. Sometimes, an older brother or sister is pressed into duty for an unwilling, younger sibling.

Finally, after everyone's had their turn, Santa climbs back into his sleigh and flies off into the night. But not before leaving gifts for these good little children. Each adult in the room takes hold of the nearest child and runs to the door and out into the cold. Staring into the sky in search of a miniature sleigh being pulled by eight tiny reindeer.

It's a tradition that's been going on in Andy's family for more than a generation. It's my family's tradition. Someday, I will watch my grandchildren crouch by the fireplace while magic happens.

The Potty Whisperer - A Fable

You know how our brains forget the pain of childbirth as a way of ensuring the propagation of the species? There are some other things that our brains hide from us because if we remembered the trauma, we'd never willingly go through it again. For me, it's potty training. I suck at it. It's been two weeks and one day and as I look at RC dancing around in yet another pair of Diego big boy underwear, I think it might be okay to talk about without fear of breaking the spell.


Two Thursdays ago, as I was stepping into the shower HRH screeched upstairs at his most ear-splitting decibel that RC had just peed on the living room rug. Same shit, different day or something like that. I stood in the shower trying to calm down, taking deep yogic breaths, and reviewing my options.

I could-. Tried. Failed.

Maybe if-. Tried. Failed.

What about-? Tried. Failed.

Post shower and no more prepared to deal, I went into RC's room and grabbed two pair of 'big boy underwear' from his drawer. I stomped into the living room (avoiding the pee spot) and held up both pair. "Is it going to be Mickey Mouse Clubhouse or Speed Racer?" Huh? "Because I'm throwing all your diapers away. We. are. done."

I then proceeded to take every diaper in the house and toss it in the trash. I wasn't enthusiastic, I wasn't encouraging, I didn't begin to address the rug incident. And I would brook no argument. I resigned myself to never entering a bathroom alone until we were done, packed up seven or eight changes of clothes, and left the house. The boy went about six hours without peeing before finally giving in - in the potty.

Initially, I thought my timing was way off. We were leaving the next day for Storyland. But wait! Daddy would be along for this ride. And so it was, like so many other projects in our marriage, I started the ball rolling and my husband, God bless him, carried it through to completion! He nagged, he cajoled, he sat on the lip of the bathtub and read endless books and offered encouragement. And in the end, my boy was trained! He got his bike last Saturday.

My husband, The Potty Whisperer.

Dinner without Crayons

Andy's on his way home from dropping off my niece/babysitter. She (along with the rest of her family) just moved from five minutes away to 25 minutes away. Quite a different story. But the end result is the same: Andy and I had a date!!!!

We went to The Barking Crab and for those of you who linked over 'cause you were curious (admitted 'linking around' slut, here), when they say 'casual', they mean it. It's a paper-plate kind of place that the Board of Health has investigated more than once. But it's actually on a pier on Boston Harbor with boats parked beneath. How much better does it get than that on a cool summer's evening following a thunderstorm?

Well for starters, you could ignore the "parents of small children" aroma we give off and not sit us in the kiddy section. Actually, that is complete sarcasm - yes, we were in the kiddy section but no, I didn't mind. I'm so in tune with being the mommy, that the slow withdrawl is probably the best option. I can see the bare feet but I don't have to be the one yelling to put. the. crocs. back. on.

After dinner, we took a walk along Boston Harbor and ended up in Fanueil Hall. Definitely a tourist trap/meat market at its finest. We got a seat in an outside place and people watched/talked.

A couple of thoughts on tonight's evening:

- I love going out on a date with my husband

- I love going to some of the 'old places'

- I would not be 21 again for all the money in the world.

I am approaching (slouching toward) 40 years old, I am married to the person I should be married to, with the children (and the dog...and the cat) I was meant to have, living where I should with the friends, and the life, and the 'stuff' I should/need to have.

I look at these women and know they want what I have. I say this not in superiority; I say it in gratitude and honesty.