Matters of record, unrelated to what will follow:
The house is not yet sold.
I did mop the entire first floor this morning (with a fever, thankyouverymuch), so of course it appears that this afternoon’s showing no-showed.
The reason I did not volunteer the muffin recipe in the previous entry is because it involved a boxed mix. Hence my guilt resulting in from-scratch pizza later on. Now you know.
Today was interesting. I took the kids to a movie, so that we wouldn’t be loitering around during the showing that wasn’t, and I see maybe two movies at the cinema every year. This is not something I do very often, is my point. So I like it if the experience is a good one, you know, since it’s kind of a treat.
The children, however, had seen a movie just yesterday. So, old hat for them. Spoiled brats.
Anyway, the movie itself was pretty good (we saw The Last Mimzy). But the projector in our theater had a loose screw or something, I don’t know. I spent the entire movie with a feeling of nausea and unease, thinking that the cinematography was kind of jerky and weird… and about halfway through I finally figured out that, no, it was just that the frame kept sort of skipping.
I waited for someone to notice and fix it, but they never did. And I couldn’t go complain, because what was I going to do, leave my kids alone in the theater while I did?
So there was that.
To add insult to injury, there was someone sitting behind us who—well, at first I thought it was a little kid who was scared. Later I realized it was an adult who was perhaps developmentally delayed. There was moaning. And yipping. And soda slurping. And all manner of noises over and over and over.
Between that and the projector skipping, I consider myself lucky to have gotten out of there without vomiting.
Here’s the interesting part, though: After all of that, I did complain to a manager afterwards, and he was very apologetic and said he’d get us some free passes. So he goes away and comes back with two free passes. For three of us. I didn’t want to look the proverbial gift horse in the mouth, so I thanked him and we went on our way. I had to listen to the children argue all the way home about who the tickets were for. They only stopped bickering when I told them that both tickets were for ME.
Ah, but the movie was not the interesting part of the day. It was the evening that yielded the best moments.
Back home, Chickadee suddenly remembered that she’s testing for belt promotion at Tae Kwon Do tomorrow. So she goes looking for her student handbook to do her studying (there is an oral exam in addition to a practical), and starts FREAKING OUT because apparently part of this belt’s promotion requirement is that she write an essay. (Nothing like planning ahead.) She cried and stomped and wailed and generally worked herself into a froth, and every time I was able to calm her down she’d go back to the manual and cry, “I can’t learn it all! I’ll never be able to write anything! AAAHHHHHHH!”
And I had to try not to laugh, because it all very much reminded me of Don Music on Sesame Street, hurling his head onto the ivories every time he attempted his master composition. “Mary had a little… bicycle… oh NO NO NO, I’ll never get it right!” *slam*
In the end, we figured out that she’d read the essay bit from the NEXT set of promotion requirements, and there’d be no last-minute compositions required. Phew.
In the meantime, I’d sent Monkey upstairs to take a shower. When I went to check on him after a while, I found him dancing around his room, naked, applying lotion. It was a small victory for me when I was able to get him to do his own lotion; his eczema can be severe, and I was having visions of having to slather him with lotion, myself, until he left for college. But he’s finally doing it on his own now, which is good.
He paused when I stuck my head in the doorway. “You can brush my hair while I do my lotion,” he offered magnanimously.
“Oh I CAN, can I?”
“Yes!” And then he wiggled his butt in my direction, and so really, how could I refuse? I went and grabbed his brush and returned. This was when I discovered that Monkey’s skaterboy hair attempts needed attention. I simply couldn’t comb his hair in any way so that it wasn’t in his eyes. Straight forward, in his eyes. Swept to the side, it’d fall in his eyes.
“Buddy, we need to trim your hair,” I said after a few attempts.
“Nooooooooooo!”
“Just a little, honey. Come into my bathroom and I’ll just snip this little bit in the front so it’s not in your eyes.”
Monkey is an obedient sort. He followed me back to my room, still naked. I had him lean over the sink and I snipped away at the hair on his forehead. In about thirty seconds I could see his eyes again, and it was a decent enough job, although he now looked an awful lot like a Beatle.
“Are you sure you don’t just want a haircut?” I offered.
“Nope, this is good,” he said, patting his head, and trotting back to his room.
I put the scissors away and walked back down the hall just in time to witness him getting a handful of lotion and smearing it all over his crotch.
“NOOOO!” I ran into his room, and he was startled. I started laughing. “Monkey, you put the lotion where your skin is DRY. Is your penis dry?”
“Not really,” he said. He tried to wipe it off, with some success. I noticed there was still a large glob of lotion on his scrotum.
“Oh, well, I see you have plenty of lotion on your scrotum, there. Now it will be nice and soft and supple!”
“Good!” he answered. “Because before it was all POINTY and DIFFICULT!”
There was a brief pause, during which he beamed at me and I, inexplicably, wondered if he would remember these exchanges as an adult, and how many years of therapy he might require, if so, and then we both started laughing.
“Your… SCROTUM… was…” I could barely speak, but I HAD to clarify this, “POINTY AND DIFFICULT?”
“YES!” he bellowed, between merry snorts and giggles, “VERY!” And he resumed his dancing and butt-wiggling and I threw a pair of underwear at his head and asked him to please put them on before our conversation got any stranger. As if that was possible.
Later I quizzed Chickadee on her TKD info while she kept insisting that it was too much to remember (“Twinkle, twinkle, little… popsicle. Oh NO NO NO!” *slam*), and when Monkey wandered past (dressed, now, thankfully) she asked me what happened to his hair.
“He joined the Beatles,” I said.
“He’s a bug?” she asked.
I am laughing hysterically as we speak. You’re awesome!
Truly you have the gift of laughter. Thanks for the laughs, I needed that.
Oh I really am glad I had a girl. But watching you gives me clues how to handle my grandson. Thank you for the evening entertainment.
Cool! I had completely forgotten about Don Music! Thanks for reminding me of that. Hope Chickadee’s test goes well tomorrow.
We have lots of penis conversations here ourselves. Mostly it’s discussion about the different names my nine year-old son comes up with for it (Big Jim and the Twins, Twig and Berries, My Gentlemen) and the different ways he can disgust his older sisters with the subject.
Funny stuff! Thank you!
And I’m right there with you Cele – I’m so glad I had a girl. I can deal with vagina monologues, but scrotal discussions? Noooo!
I hear Paul and Ringo want to do a memorial concert…;)
Too funny. But properly spelled, I believe it’s SK8TR-boy. ;)
LOL!!!
Been there…
LBC
Oh, yes… the Penis Discussions. My boy is only two, and yet we’ve had many a talk already. He calls it “my penit” and *insists* on holding tightly to it anytime it’s uncovered, as if someone’s going to take it away. When he’s in the bath, he has to trade hands in order to raise his arms so that I can wash his armpits.
Oh, and many times he’s pulled hard enough on it to make himself cry REAL tears. Wha..??? I would think he’d learn, but, then again, I don’t have a penit.
Thanks for the laughs!!!
… and, just so you know, from-the-box muffins need not result in guilt which results in homemade pizza dough. At least, I hope not, because, if it’s supposed to, I might be going straight to hell.
Some days I like your kids better than mine. Is that wrong?
And…..Muffins don’t come from a box????? What is this blasphemy you speak?
Oh my goodness! I must remember to share that Beatle/bug tidbit with Phil Packer…first he’ll cringe in horror at the thought that someone, somewhere lives in Beatle ignorance. (Age doesn’t matter.) And then he’ll probably send Chickadee some Beatle cds.
Monkey? I adore that kid.
1. Box muffins are totally fine, especially when you are SICK (overachieve much?)
2. I gave my boys haircuts last night and thought about you and all the money you saved me (because you told me I should cut their hair myself instead of paying someone.)
3. You are just too funny. I could totally picture your daghter doing the Don head slam thing. It’s something I picture often when my kids act so dramatic about school stuff.
4. Your son sounds like he has a great sense of humor. I sometimes think kids are the funniest people there are. Hope you are feeling better and that Chickadee does great on her test.
Pointy and difficult?! BWAAHAAHAAHAA!!!
I’m cracking up over here….and, wishing you were my mom growing up :)
I’m glad I don’t have a boy! We’ll never have a pointy and difficult scrotum in need of lotion around here!!!
oh, i’m CRYING! at work. at 9:00am. people around me are wondering how much coffee i’ve had so far. honestly, how do you Parent without laughing? i laughed when i had to put my boychild in timeout for the first time ever this weekend.
Pointy and difficult scrotum made me snort with laughter. Man, your kids are hilarious – I hope they never grow out of their weirdness.
First, I hear a very similar refrain, “I can’t learn it all! I’ll never be able to write anything!” from my seven year old almost everyday at homework time. Now I will just chuckle and think of Don Music and not lose my shit.
Second, I am so thankful for this on a rainy Monday. LOL and feeling a lot lighter. Thanks!
What’s the matter with you people? Have you never seen a pointy and difficult scrotum? I’m sure that’s what my first husband suffered from. It’s probably the root cause of our failed marriage.
If only he’d learned to apply the lotion himself.
*snort*
Let us know how Chickie does in TKD. We just had a points test ourselves. (five more weeks to black belt. ACK!!)
*Snort* Oh, I missed you. I’ll be back tomorrow. Right now I have to deal with MY naked six year old, who is leaping about yelling something about itching his weenie. Ahem.
Oh Mir I’m sorry you still have a fever, I sure hope you’re on the mend ASAP! So you can go take those tickets and see yourself two nice movies. You deserve it! :)
And your kids – hysterical! The penis discussions have begun around here with my 3 year old, and I’ve got a 6 month old son as well to look forward to many years of those awkward moments too. Cheers!
Monkey and my son should meet…the fondness for naked dancing and penis talk, and of course the “I want to grow my hair long”. My son definitely looks like a Beatle, but he does know who they are, we started the brain-washing young. He may finally give in to a haircut, since his hair makes his head hot when he wears his bike helmet.
BTW–Monkey takes his own shower?!? How and when did you accomplish that? My son is 6, and a shower on his own seems so far away.
LOL! Are not little boys just the funniest?
My daughter (5) calls my son’s (2) penis a “Wiggly Bottom” He loves jumping around before his bath-watching it wiggle!
My sister overheard her sons, 4 and 6, discussing penis size. The older one said, “When I grow up, mine is going to be as big as DAD’S!” The younger one replied, “Well, when I grow up mine’s going to be so big I’ll need a WHEELBARROW to carry it around!” They are now fully grown and I’ve yet to see a wheelbarrow parked by the dinner table.
I am simply speechless. Is this what I have to look forward to as Big Red grows up?
I’m with Marissa in asking: Monkey takes his own shower?!? My 6-year-old doesn’t either!! Heck, I can barely get the kid to dry himself off afterwards. We are working on it. Just the other night, I was telling him to dry himself off and said “You dry your penis off. I don’t know how because I don’t have one.” His jaw dropped and he said “You don’t have a PENIS?!?!” It was all I could do to not laugh as I changed the subject…. :)
The wheelbarrow comment cracks me up!
OMG!!! Peeing my pants here at work.
I have yet to see a “pointy and difficult” scrotum in my lifetime. Who knew.
Suddenly so glad I have girls.
Little boy butt wiggles. Too cute!!!
And I swear to you I was transported to being 7 yrs old when you referenced Don Music. Lovelovelove Sesame Street.
Ah yes, Boys and their pointy difficult parts. Boy 1 and Boy 2 once had a discussion at breakfast about what to do when you wake up to a pointy penis. My plugging my ears and singing “lalallallalalala” didn’t bother them in the least.
I am leaving my current job next fall for a grade that (THANK GOD) doesn’t require teaching sex ed. I’m laughing so hard I just snorted Diet Coke out my nose, and it’s not pointy. Er, pretty.
and this is why i shouldnt read these at work. snorting doesnt seen so dignified in front of the patients.
Don Music! Thank you for that memory—my very favorite from my SS days. And ‘pointy and difficult’ is priceless.
And, Heidi, that wheelbarrow comment made me snort out loud.
I have to confess, I just (giggling like a school girl) asked my husband which part, specifically, of male anatomy is the scrotum (OK, we are not big on correct terminology)… He told me. I then asked him how it could get pointy and difficult? (still laughing and giggling like a school girl) He didn’t know. I can’t wait to have kids and have to experience these things and keep a straight face. How do you moms do this?? Thanks for your blog, I love it! It always makes me laugh out loud!
Am dying. Last night in the bathtub I finally explained the little angel that she shouldn’t call her vagina a bottom any more. It is a bahgina, get it right. Her father then dropped dead.
Don Music! I had completely forgotten him and your post just brought it all back to me… Hilarious! Also hilarious, the mini-tele-screen which seems to play in your head whilst you watch the drama du jour of your children’s lives. Thanks for the giggle.