May 29, 2008

my god she’s 39! that’s nearly DEAD you know!

This is the kind of post that requires a back story, and for that I apologize. My friend Caroline and I have known each other since high school; one year we double dated to Winter Ball. And then we grew up and found ourselves living in Oklahoma City, with kids who were about the same age. Small world!

Also, Caroline is a year younger than I am. That’s important later. You know, when I get to the actual story.

First, though, there’s a little more back story: a while back (no I don’t remember when but not too long ago) Caroline and I met at the Omniplex or the Oklahoma Science Museum or whatever the hell they’re calling it these days to try to distract us from the director who was stealing stuff and the anatomy exhibit that turned out to be the illegally acquired bodies of Chinese laborers.

Nope, still not to the back story! I’m getting there.

So we took the boys to the science center place which they all love and we kind of tolerate, which is easier to do when we’re there together and not alone with our kids pretending like we care about the echo tunnel and the mirror maze. They’ve recently added a new feature called the Gadget Tree, which is a gigantic indoor tree house, the kind of place where little boys can play for hours while their mommies sit on the bench near the AC vent and gossip. It has a huge twisty slide that is seriously two stories tall and apparently VERY FAST, according to my son. The last time we were there, Caroline — who is a MUCH cooler mom than I am — went down the twisty slide with the kids, and reported that it really was VERY FAST.

The boys thought that was SO COOL. They asked if I were planning to go down the ginormous twisty slide; I believe I said something akin to HELL NO.

End back story. Mostly.

Today I took the boys to the science center place and on a total FLUKE we ran into Caroline and her boys, which may have saved me from trying to kill myself by, uh, I can’t think now but I’m sure the science museum has SOMETHING dangerous enough to put me out of the misery of an entire morning of chasing my kids from exhibit to exhibit while they demand, “What does THIS do?” over and over. Anyway, the boys played and played and played and Caroline and I got all caught up and it was a great playdate even if it wasn’t planned.

And now we’re to the actual story! Thank god.

Tonight at dinner the boys were recounting their day for Wade and Charlie was describing the Gadget Tree (too simple to say “It’s a tree house! With slides!” Oh no he has to lovingly linger over every single nail and piece of wood until we were all glassy eyed and comatose) and eventually he gets to the Great Big Twisty Slide.

Henry says, “Today I went down the big slide with my hands and feet in the air, and JUST my bottom on the slide, like this (demonstrates) and it was REALLY FAST!”

“I’ve heard that slide is fast,” I say.

“It IS!” Charlie says, “The last time we were there, I went down the twisty slide and bumped my elbow right HERE.”

“I’ll bet that hurt,” I say. “You have to be careful on the fast slides.”

“You did NOT go down the slide,” he says, very seriously.

“No, I did not. It’s too fast for me.”

“How do you know?” he asks.

“Well remember when we were there last time and Caroline went down the big slide? She told me it was pretty fast and kind of scary and I believe her.”

“WAIT A MINUTE!” he yells. “You’re going to believe some OLD LADY instead of your OWN SON?”

And then he repeated it about thirty five times because Wade and I were laughing too hard to stop him.

May 26, 2008

it’s not a party until someone bleeds (or worse)

We had my in-laws to dinner tonight, which is something we don’t do nearly enough, partly because we usually go to their house for Sunday dinner and partly because dinner at my house always seems to involve some sort of almost unbelievable chaos.

Take tonight, for example.

We planned a simple dinner, something we are fairly confident serving (flank steak, roasted vegetables, sourdough bread). I made an antipasto platter and a cheese plate with fruit.

Look how prepared we were! Oh I wish.

You can’t buy alcohol in Oklahoma on a bank holiday, because you might get drunk and, uh, rob a closed bank? I have no idea but we completely forgot to deal with this on Saturday because we were too busy taking turns napping on the playroom floor playing with the kids. So at 3:00 this afternoon, Wade called his parents and said, “We have no beer or wine! If you want a drink with dinner, bring some. Please.” Best hosts ever.

My father-in-law showed up with a cooler. See why I love this family?

We spent the first half hour sitting in the kitchen drinking wine and noshing on the various cheese offerings while the kids played happily upstairs. So far, so good.

We were cooking everything on the grill, which meant that my part involved getting it all cut up and seasoned and marinated and ready to roll and then handing it all to Wade for the actual cooking (my mom: How do you cook the vegetables? me: I wrap them in foil and hand them to Wade …). Tonight I gave him so many things that our wee little grill was jam packed, which made it harder to get everything cooked.

Whoops.

The kids’ chicken came in first, and since they weren’t going to eat it anyway, I fixed their plates (chicken and veggies and bread) and they sat down at the table with my in-laws to complain about their dinner eat. Charlie’s nose was running, so I grabbed a tissue. He said, “Mimi, watch me blow my nose!” And then he blew so hard that his nose started to bleed.

We stayed at the table, trying to staunch the blood, until my mother-in-law pointed out that he was bleeding on the piece of bread that he was trying to eat while I was trying to stop his bloody nose. Then we excused ourselves because really that didn’t seem like the kind of good manners I’m always encouraging the kids to use.

While we were sitting in the kitchen, having a nice chat about the bloody nose (Charlie: Eeew gross! me: You said it, son.) Henry came charging in. “I have to use the bathroom!” he announced. Wade was going in and out muttering about the steak not being cooked and the grill being small and Wade’s parent’s were sitting all alone in the dining room sneaking bites of the vegetables because they were starving to death.

Charlie’s nose was still bleeding — in fact, a gigantic clot of bloody snot has just come loose in my hand (Charlie: GROSS!!! me: Oh my GOD) — when Henry calls from the bathroom, “Hey I have some diarrhea! Can I get some help?”

It is possible that I took the Lord’s name in vain at that point. But really I don’t think Jesus himself would have blamed me in that moment.

Eventually the steak was cooked and the various bodily fluids were, uh, dealt with, and we all returned to the table. I brought the wine to the table with me, but in the chaos I had lost my glass. My father-in-law looked at me and said, “Are you just going to drink from the bottle?”

“YES,” I said, “I have earned it.”

It is also possible that I ate the last piece of chocolate nut pie while I was cleaning up the kitchen. Let me remind you that I EARNED IT.

Still want to come to my house for dinner?

May 22, 2008

the American dream

“I’m starting to hate that job.”

“You hate all your jobs.”

“No I don’t!”

“Yes, you do.”

“Huh … I think you’re right.”

“I am.”

“Maybe I should quit.”

“Yes, but then? They stop paying you.”

“Well yes.”

“I like the getting paid part.”

“Yeah me too. But really I’m starting to hate that job.”

“I would like to get paid but not work.”

“Only Paris Hilton gets to do that.”

“Well yes.”

May 20, 2008

a little perspective

Chris: Here’s the thing about being 40 …

Me: Yes?

Chris: When you’re 40 and you do something big, like write a book or get a really great job, people say, Oh that’s great, but they really just expect it from you, because you’re 40.

Me: Right.

Chris: But if you DIE? They say, Oh she was so young.

Me: I hadn’t thought about that, but you’re right.

Chris: 40 is only young when you’re dead.

Me: That makes me feel good. Thanks.