January 22, 2007

I taught them the Interrupting Cow* joke–I’m sure their teachers will thank me

The boys have gone back to school today, and the ice is melting, and my house is blissfully quiet. So desperate was I for the quiet that I turned NPR OFF this morning, even though Diane Rehm had Roy Richard Grinker on, the anthopologist who wrote Unstrange Minds, a book about the rise in autism. Grinker’s argument, according to Judith Warner, who has read the book while I have not, is that “the dramatic rise in the incidence of autism in the past few decades is mostly-– if not entirely-– the result of more and better diagnoses.” I buy that, and initially I was looking forward to hearing Grinker talk about his book, but a few minutes into the interview I realized that all I wanted to hear was the sound of my empty house, and perhaps the kettle boiling.

The boys were also ready to return to the status quo. Last night, Henry was telling me how tired he was, and when I said, yes, it’s been hard to be off our regular schedule, he said, “But HOW do we get the schedule BACK?” I told him that we would get up in the morning and eat breakfast and get dressed and go to school, and that would get us back on track, and he nodded and said, “That sounds good. That sounds like the schedule.”

Charlie, of course, woke up this morning and immediately (before he was even out of BED for god’s sake) announced, “I DO NOT WANT TO GO TO SCHOOL.” He always says that and he then he always goes, happily, to school, and almost always greets me at the end of the day by saying, “I LOVE my school.” But as Wade points out, you have to give him credit for trying. Every. Single. Day.

I spent the morning crossing things off my to-do list: I lined up a contractor to do some major work on the house (moving us two weeks closer to actually SELLING the house), and ran errands (new contacts, tailor), and did laundry (oooh the millions of sandy towels). I made a longer to-do list for the next few weeks, mostly of house-related stuff (why oh WHY didn’t I paint the bathrooms LAST week, when we were iced in? WHY?) and I balanced our checkbook and paid bills.

I drank tea and read the New York Times and listened to the silence.

I’m surprised, these days, at how much I rely on having this block of time to Get Things Done. This is the first time that BOTH of the boys have gone anywhere outside the house for any extended period, but I have a hard time remembering what I did when they were home. I think the answer is NOTHING; I didn’t take clothes to the tailor or paint bathrooms or read the Times or drink coffee while it was hot. I did things with the boys, all day every day, and in between the things I tossed laundry in the washing machine and emptied the dishwasher. Or, sometimes, I didn’t, but it all got done somehow.

Kathryn and I were on the phone one day, and she described the full-on mommying as “this five minutes of my life,” which I thought was so very smart, especially for a woman whose kids are still IN the full-on phase. But she’s right; I don’t know how it happened but here I am, five minutes later, with two children who go to school ALL DAY, and who come home from school and play together (often without me, at their own request) and dress and undress themselves (multiple times a day) and feed themselves (and clear their own dishes) and THEN sleep all night in their own beds.

I blinked, and here we are.

Henry has been asking for me to lie down with him at night, in his bed. “Get under my covers, Mommy,” he will say, and I’m always happy to oblige, if only to be lying down for a minute. Lately, in this crazy window of complete unscheduledness, he has started to worry about not being able to sleep. One night last week, he said, “I used to not sleep at night, and you would come and get in my bed.” Yes, I said, I did. “You slept here every night.” Yes, I said, for a while I did. But now you’re sleeping better, and so I sleep in my own bed. “But what if I CAN’T sleep?” he asked, clearly worried. Then you come and get me, I told him, and I will lie down with you.

He sighed, relieved, and said, “Lie down with me now and then I think I will go to sleep.” And he did.

*Knock knock.

Who’s there?

Interrupting Cow.

Interrup–

MOO!

January 21, 2007

the storm that wasn’t, and the week that will be

The Blizzard of ‘07 was a bust; instead of the predicted, nay guaranteed, ten inches of snow we had more like ten flakes (and a day of not-quite-freezing rain). Bottom line: SCHOOL IS BACK IN SESSION.

Thank god.

Wade asked tonight if I wanted to meet him for lunch one day this week, and I said no! not this week! because I have a million things to do! like get a new watch band and find the paint for the master bathroom and wash the millions of towels we have been using to wipe our grimy shoes off and . . .

And he laughed and said, yes that watch band is going to take you ALL WEEK.

It’s an odd size watch, you know. It could take a while.

January 19, 2007

why I married him

Tonight, as we pulled out of the driveway to go to dinner, Wade said, “It’s like Prince William Sound out here, with the glaciers and the ice floes and . . . . What? WHAT???”

He’s right. But it made me laugh anyway.

January 17, 2007

oh for the love of . . .

I know you’re all good parents, all trying to do what is best for your kids. I know that you recognize that not every child needs the same thing, particularly when it comes to schools. I know that some of you are wondering how it works when you have kids in different schools.

Well, I’m here to tell you.

After agonizing about your school choices, you will finally decide on two (or three!) schools that are perfect for whatever it is that each of your children needs. You will have thought about class size and curriculum and location and whatever else matters to you. You will have interviewed and asked all the right questions. You will pay the gigantic, non-refundable deposits (or, in the case of certain really wonderful public schools, you will buy a house in a specific neighborhood, JUST for the school). You will sign your soul away for the Right School.

You will breathe deeply and make peace with your decision. When people ask why on earth your kids aren’t in the same school, you will work out an answer that you can live with, one that doesn’t make you sound crazy or make your kids sound troubled. You will smile politely when people are baffled by your choice. Because it’s the RIGHT choice and it is going to make your life so much easier.

And then you will get the school calendar. And you will notice that your two (or three!) children don’t always have the same days off. At first, you will be happy about this; you will tell friends and family that you look forward to the chance to spend quality time alone with each child. You will imagine fun outings and lunch dates.

But wait.

One day, it will snow. Or ice, whatever. And school will be closed. But only for ONE of your children, although you won’t realize this right away and will tell BOTH of them that they don’t have to go to school in the morning. Then you will get up and check the weather first thing in the morning and realize that, no, ONE child’s school is closed but the other child’s school is only on a one-hour delay. And he will cry at breakfast because his school is open, while his brother will cry because his school is CLOSED.

And you will wonder what the hell you were thinking, sending them to different schools. Also, you will think seriously about having a stiff drink with breakfast. Because of the crying.

And if that weren’t bad enough, there will be a SECOND day of one kid in/one kid out! Of course, that will come on the cusp of the Worst Snowstorm Ever To Hit Oklahoma, which will of course mean that BOTH kids will be out of school all of NEXT week as well.

But I digress.

Charlie went to school today, an hour later than ususal. God bless those Catholics; they take their education seriously, unlike the Oklahoma City public schools* which will be out AGAIN tomorrow. And probably Friday! And next week, too, because we’re going to get TEN INCHES of snow this weekend! Dammit.

Molly has called me two days in a row to tell me that school is closed; I think she likes to hear me swear. We’re having a playdate with her in the morning (shhh, don’t tell Charlie!) which will consist of tossing the kids in my backyard and saying PLAY NICELY while she and I drink coffee and moan about how these kids are NEVER GOING BACK TO SCHOOL.

Although I’m getting my money’s worth at Charlie’s school.

I swear that this will be the last post about the school closings (although WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS?). I’m thinking about other things, really, like how 39 is the new 40 and, uh, some other things that escape me now because I’ve been IN THE HOUSE WITH THESE KIDS ALL WEEK.

Sheesh.

*Henry goes to a private school, but they’re on the OKC public school’s schedule for snow closures. The Catholics make their own call about school, and since God is on their side, a little ice isn’t going to stop them from teaching my son to write his name. Amen.

January 16, 2007

cannot. form. coherent. sentences.

Things we are out of:

milk
On Friday, we had two and a half gallons; now we’re down to like two cups.

toothpaste
That should totally be on the Emergency Preparedness list.

deodorant
Okay, only ONE of us is out of deodorant. But combine that with no toothpaste, and you really DO have an emergency on your hands.

Swiffers
What? I have a lot of time on my hands, I might as well dust the hardwood floors. But I can’t.

patience
There has been at least one other person within smacking distance arms reach of me since Friday morning.

booze
Perhaps THAT’S why I’m out of patience.

Things we have in surprising abundance:

cookies
Also, carrot muffins. My ass will remember this ice storm for years.

coffee
In lieu of booze, I suppose.

ice
Everywhere! And more coming this weekend! Holy hell!

time together as a family
Dear god, please let the schools open tomorrow. Please.

January 15, 2007

I have lost the will to live, so here’s a recipie!

We’ve left the house twice in four days. Yesterday, I stayed in my pajamas all day. At bedtime, I changed into clean pajamas.

Sloth: it’s the new black.

I have pretty much just been eating non-stop since Friday; today (after I SHOWERED, thankyouverymuch) I put on the same pants I was wearing on Friday and it was a little bit of a struggle to get them zipped.

To celebrate, I made chocolate chip shortbread. I can always replace those pants, right?

3/4 cup (1 and 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter, room temperature
1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar
1 and 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 and 3/4 cups all purpose flour
Pinch of salt
1 cup semisweet chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 350. Butter two 9-inch glass pie plates. Beat butter and sugar in large bowl until fluffy. Beat in vanilla. Mix flour and salt in medium bowl. Add to butter mixture; stir just until blended. Mix in chocolate chips. Divide dough in half. Press one half into bottom of each prepared pie plate. Bake until light golden, about 20 minutes. Cool for ten minutes; cut each pan into eight slices. Cool completely. Store in airtight container.

You know, if there’s anything left to store. Makes 16 wedges.

School is cancelled tomorrow. I will most certainly be eating whatever is left of the shortbread. They’re delicious with the Starbucks creme liqueur. Which I’m out of.

Goodness.