Thursday, September 24, 2015

It’s good that time travel isn’t a real thing. Otherwise I’d worry that he’d go back in time and construct a pre-nup solely to limit my trips to Target. But when there is one day that Halloween costumes are 40% off and your wife is spectacularly negative crafty……well Target wins!

I’d like to take this time to thank the brain trust at Fox Sports. They decided that Fight Song should be the anthem for the Women’s World Cup which inevitably led to every little girl on her way to a soccer tournament this summer blasting it in her car. This, in the case of this family, inevitably led to a toddler tyrant demanding Fight Song on a repeated loop until all other family members are irritated to homicidal levels.

I shouldn’t complain. At least it’s not Shake it Off. That is SO last season. But Cinco is less cute than she was last season. Or at least, she’s more insistent than she has been. For the sake of all others in the car, I announced that we would no longer listen to infinity Fight Song and allow each person in the car to choose a song. And by choose a song, apparently I meant “torture Cinco with the cruelest mean ever in the history of all the things.” Judging by her reaction.

Cinco tried to out wail the song that Baba selected. That was SUPER fun. For Baby’s selection, Cinco bellowed “No” repeatedly. She does not tire easily. When I asked Mac what he would like to listen to, Cinco just announced firmly “No only Cinco’s songs. Only Cinco!” That didn’t convince the rest of us. Which left her completely flummoxed.

How could we not drop everything and carter to her every desire? This is a continuing question in Cinco’s world. She has not handled X-Man’s enrollment in school well. She is convinced that we are taking him to the super-secret land of awesome. This led to X-Man lying on the stairs weeping because it was a school day, not a pool day, and Cinco weeping because it was a school day. So for the hours that X-Man is away, and I am trying to teach some very reticent learners, Cinco is busy putting on the “LOOK AT ME” show. It involves dancing on the coffee table, threatening to dump coffee on her head and sprawling across my lap as I try to teach Baba algebra. I am not a fan.

And me not being a fan is a surefire guarantee that Cinco will continue. 

Monday, September 21, 2015

I’m not dead. I’m actually functioning fairly well. But there is plenty on my plate. I have 100 students this year. And I went ahead and fully enrolled my three kids in their school. This, while they are still at home, means that they all have multiple assignments to turn into other teachers over the course of the school year. Yay accountability!

X-Man is attending preschool. He is terrified of School Buses. He gleefully heads into the classroom with his teacher and classmates and hyperventilates when it’s time to go. Until he sees me and remembers that no one is shuttling him up on the yellow bus of horror and death. Or whatever it is he thinks occurs on those buses. Gotta wonder about after school specials these days.

Happily, I suppose, school has not put a crimp in X-Man’s sensory experiences. We were sitting on the sidelines on a soccer game when a little boy wandered up. He looked like he emptied his water bottle on his head. He asked X-Man is he could play with his toys. See X-Man’s mom had it together enough to actually bring toys to this one game. Write it down on a calendar, because it might be the last time.

Anyway, the wet little boy asked to play with X-Man. X-Man looked at him skeptically, very very skeptically. He said “you need a towel.” The boy responded “That’s because I am wet.” Boys….their conversations don’t tend to get too deep. The little boy began to play with X-Man. X-Man continued on, but still skeptical. A few minutes later, X-Man leaned in slowly and very carefully and took a gentle bite of the boy’s shirt. Just his shirt. He leaned back and muttered to himself “Still wet.” The other boy said sternly “Don’t do that again” and X-Man nodded soberly. And did not do it again.

While he was playing, X-Man happened to look up and excitedly began to shout “BABA! It’s BABA! Mom look BABA playing soccer.” And apparently, for the first time, put it together as to why we run all over two states every weekend. The following day he made a similar realization while at Baby’s game.

Once the connection was made, X-Man put his newly acquired vocabulary skill to good use. Bellowing “Go Baba!!! Kick da ball! Go fast! AW MAN!!!!!!” There is nothing the boy does without enthusiasm.

Including wearing clean underpants. I finished up with students this morning and walked out of the office and into a wall of wailing. Constructed by the most indignant X-Man. The father figure explained that he put clean underpants on X-Man while getting him dressed for the morning. This was not actually the first time that X-Man introduced to the concept of fresh underpants every morning. It was, however, the first time he strenuously objected.

The father figure and I have differing parenting approaches, which is why we are complementary in our efforts. X-Man grabbed my hand to lead me upstairs. I assumed that the father figure had misunderstood what X-Man was trying to say and that I would solve everything. Being the competent mother I am, having remembered to bring toys to a soccer game once or twice. Clearly I would resolve this issue.

My hopes diminished when he led me into the bathroom. They disappeared completely when he actually fished out the dirty underwear handed them to me and tearily begged me to put them on him.

I’m really grateful that I have five children. Because it took to child number four to experience gnawing on stranger’s shirts while wearing yesterday’s underpants. And who would want to miss out on that?

Tuesday, September 1, 2015

I had to give a talk yesterday. It was entitled “Ordering Your Life.” I did not choose the title. My co-presenter did. We had never officially met, which explains why he thought this would be an acceptable topic.

While preparing my talk, about ordering life, I discovered every necklace I had was broken. They all hung under a mirror in my bedroom. They looked lovely there. And apparently they sang the song of Cinco’s people, because although they were all still hanging, each one had been carefully dissected. 
Or used as slingshots for small, stuffed animals.   

So there I was, observing that my outfit really required a necklace. And I did not have one. But Cinco solved my problem; she came up and grabbed a hold of me. With her yogurt covered hands.

I chose a clean shirt that was better accented with a scarf.

I left various children with various grandparents, because it being a day that ended in “y” there were activities to get to. I managed to find the location without being late and gave my talk. College grades indicate that I perform best with an off the cuff winging it approach and last night was no different.

The problem with doing things in tandem is that there’s always a second act. And you should pay attention to the second act. Which I would have, if the father figure hadn’t texted me. The father figure, who knew I was giving a presentation, texted me “call me as soon as you can.”  Clearly one or more children were in the emergency room.

Or, the refrigerator was threatening to go on strike.

This is totally something I could handle while in a different state. Quite literally. At least the different state part.

So there I was, clearly ignoring my co-speaker, reading the various messages from the father figure. He has the kids empty out the fridge into the outside one. And…..well that’s all you can do when your fridge is throwing a fit at 9pm at night. That and text your wife and stress her already genetically defective heart.  

Next talk I give will be entitled "Entropy in Your Life......How to Roll with It."