Sunday, October 18, 2009

Black-Eyed Peas

This afternoon, I laid down on the couch in the delusional gesture of taking a nap in the living room while J read a book, oblivious to the kids re-enacting the storming of Normandy. Why I didn't go into the bedroom? Aparrently, I didn't really want to sleep.

It all started out innocently enough; H in a time-out for repeatedly doing what he was asked not to, and Charlie meandering around the living room looking for something else to bash into so that he could be told 'No!', laugh at me, be told 'No!' again, comply, and then stand in the middle of the room and start bawling because he doesn't like being told 'No!'. The fabric of our lives.

I closed my eyes for a second and asked J that if, by miracle or stroke of luck, sleep should find it's way into my body, that I be awoken by four so that I could make dinner before escaping to the theatre with friends.

Not five seconds later I heard Charlie toddle over. He's been big on giving kisses lately, such a sweet, sweet boy is he, so I kept my face slack and in peaceful repose only to be rewarded with SMACK! Yep, shattering smack of the hard plastic crocodile xylophone (not a small toy, mind you) to my cheek bone and eye socket. Nothing feels better on a Sunday afternoon.

About five minutes later, I was treated to a crack along my temporal lobe with a sippy cup. Showing mama some lovin', eh? Parenting is most definitely its own reward.

But at least I didn't actually get a black eye...unlike my senior citizen mother who fell and hit her head a couple of weeks ago on the corner of a pressure cooker box and got a shiner. Or my dad, who two days later tripped over the wheel barrel that my mom moved 'out of the way' as he was hauling her faux wishing well (circa 1985) on a handtruck so that it would be in a more asthetically pleasing area of the lawn. In case you're wondering if he's alright, I can't be sure, I could barely make out the story through my mother's hysterical laughter in recounting the tale to me. And they wonder where I get it.

Speaking of gnarly bruises...Whip It (with Juno's Ellen Page) was a fun movie and had a great ensemble cast, including Drew Barrymore, Jimmy Fallon, Eve and Juliette Lewis. The coach, Lazer, is the 'other' Wilson brother, Andrew (who sounds eerily like Owen, which is how we figured he must be a Wilson even before the credits rolled). And, triple bonus, I finally found out the object of roller derby.

No comments: