Friday, May 8, 2009

Because we need more drama

The boys have learned from one of their friends what it means to "put on a show". Now they gather costumes and props and rush around in hushed voices until everything is under control and then they want me to sit quietly and watch while they pretend they are a bat, a ninja, chuck norris, or a bankrobber. It's pretty cute. And highly entertaining for about 5 minutes or so.

I remember doing that when I was a kid with my friends or my cousins. We wrote scripts. We acted very dramatically. Our reviews were always fabulous, unless we accidentally ripped down the smurf sheets being used as curtains during scene 1 of Act 2. A minor setback.

I could be a little bit bossy. I remember doing a play with my cousins in the basement that we were going to make my aunt videotape. If they disagreed with something I wanted to do, I would react by forcing them to go along with whatever I thought, because I was full of kindness and understanding.

So far the boys have handled their disagreements about the details of the play in a much more straightforward way. Dylann does the shouting and Jack does the beating.

No matter how the show begins, it always turns out to be Jerry Springer.

Thursday, May 7, 2009

From the Vault

These are from blog posts I never published from the past 6 months.

Bird poop in the fireplace and salami handling.

There is a nest in our chimney. We can hear the birds chirping through the fireplace. Every so often a bunch of sticks fall down into the fireplace and I'm afraid at any moment that a bunch of baby birds are going to come plopping down. Then we'll rescue them and the angry parents will come flying out of the fireplace and attack us.

My least favorite job in the morning is making the boys lunches. There's something horrible about handling cold lunchmeat first thing in the morning.

I'm going through cat withdrawl. I am not a crazy cat person or anything, but we've always had a cat. We were planning to fly our cat here from the US this weekend, but they wanted to charge us over $1,000 for the flight and fees. Now whenever the neighbor's cat walks through our yard I want to run outside and steal it.


Yeah, well, I wanted it to be there.

Last night when I was putting Jack to bed, I laid down with him for a while and he asked me to tell him a story about Star Wars. I would rather tell a story about just about anything else, but Jack always wants to hear stories that involve weapons and danger. I don't know very much about Star Wars, beyond the main characters names, so I made something up about Luke Skywalker when he was 5 years old. Jack kept smiling and looking totally into it, so I thought I was doing a pretty good job of making crap up, but just when I got to the part where 5 year old Luke has to battle some other kid named Damien from gamma quadrant 5 (I think that's actually from Toy Story), who has a gold light saber, Jack totally lost it and laughed so hard he couldn't speak. I asked him what was so funny about this very dangerous, perilous story. And he said, "THIS IS THE WORST STAR WARS STORY EVER!!! HAHA HAHAHAHAA!!!!" The end.

Wednesday, May 6, 2009

Give me all your food and nobody gets hurt!

I've always been warned by people that my boys will eventually become starving teenagers that will try to eat the very house down around us. They will eat you out of house and home! They will eat and eat! You won't be able to keep the refrigerator full! Non-stop eating!!! And I believe these warnings, because I grew up around a lot of boys and witnessed the eating and the eating and the chompchomp gimme that burrito chompchompchomp.

But it seems to have started a little early. Dylann is 7 and over the past few months he seems to be increasingly starving to death. It's like living with a raccoon. He's always rummaging around in the cupboards and the fridge asking if he can have this or that and if I say no, he looks very sad and neglected and malnourished. I am continuously trying to think of things that will fill him up and keep him that way for more than an hour, but it ain't easy. Even after he eats an entire meal, he will be starving to death and wasting away two hours later. Peanut butter sandwiches and milk are my two standbys for staving off hunger, because they're quick and fairly filling. And yet, he can polish off 2 or 3 peanut butter sandwiches and a glass of milk without stopping to take a breath.

Meanwhile, he gains nary a pound. Well, I think he's gained about 4 pounds in the last year. He is growing taller and more hungry every day.

Our supplies are running low. The neighbor's chickens are growing anxious. The number of milk jugs in our recycling bin is threatening to bury the house.

I think it's his metabolism. He's metabolising and I can't keep up. Help.

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

I had a new car...

Up until yesterday my car looked brand new. And it is pretty new, it's a 2008. However, in the span of two days it has become used. Yesterday I was driving on one of the little country backroads to our house when a white van came flying by and smashed my mirror to pieces. Of course, his mirror got smashed to pieces also, but maybe he should have MOVED OVER! On these country backroads it seems like half the time you encounter really polite drivers who slow down and move over and the other half it's these maniacs who go flying by like they have the right of way no matter what else is going on around them. Maniacs. Maniacs!

Today I drove the boys to school and then went to the grocery store. When I came out of the store and popped the trunk open, I noticed that there is a dent on my rear bumper. A dent where there was no dent yesterday, even after the mirror-smashing maniac incident. I have no idea if it happened this morning parked outside the school (probably) or at the grocery store. All I know is, I don't want to drive my car anymore. I want to buy an armored vehicle or a tank or something.

I have been in no shape lately to deal with car problems or any kind of problems at all. I can't help but overreact about every frustrating thing that happens. Everything is suddenly tragic. It's like I'm a toddler with no ability to step outside the situation and be rational. I don't know what is going on, but I blame it on hormones. Forgot my keys? Hormones! Bursting into tears because my favorite yogurt is gone? Horomones! Eating the last chocolate chip granola bar? Definitely hormones! I think the children are wondering what the hell is going on around here and pretty soon they will probably start hoarding food up in their rooms before I get to it first. But I would find it. I would find it and eat it all!! And then we could cry about it.