still in the age of innocence

Last week,  during the height of the riots, we pulled down the blinds in the group room for the first time. We also hastily hung up some temporary Ikea blinds that I've had for years, the accordion kind you tape to the ceiling, in the yoga room. We didn't have enough of them so we had to use a cotton candy pink fleece throw blanket to cover up one window. In the meantime, we put our cans in the garage along with the flammables, the tools. Even closing the bathroom window did little to block out the sirens. All night long the cars ignored the curfew, a steady stream, some unlicensed, down our semi busy street.

We watched comedies to distract. And when the boy went downstairs to fetch something, noting all the new window coverings, he said, "What's with the yoga room? Are we redecorating or something?"

"Why, yes. Yes, yes, we are."

Whoever loses the most keys wins

Jude got a gift certificate for Games by James, which we're planning on using tomorrow at MOA.

I call him at Dada's. "where is it?" I want to put it in my purse before I forget.

"In the box of presents on my desk." Yes, my kid got a box of presents for his 12th, an above average kill for his annual birthday outing to the Malt Shop.

"Do you want me to grab it for tomorrow? We can go to MOA after I pick you up..."

"well..."

What? Why not? What's the hesitation?

"Okay, but don't lose it," he says.

Me? Your mother? Lose it? I'm the keeper of things.

"Yeah, but you lost your keys," he says.

"That was one time, honey. And I didn't lose them: I just left them in Dada's car!" I don't remind him how many things Dada and TCF and Granny lose in one day and that I pride myself on my OCD. And I don't remind him that the reason I left them in Dada's car was because everyone was screaming at me to "hurry up and come on, and get out, Mama!" Or how many things I had to carry.

"I won't lose it, Jude."But he must sense some doubt. And it's true; I have been a little scattered these days. Last xmas I lost my hat at the antique shop. Sometimes I leave the packed snacks at home on the counter. But compared to the crew, I generally...

"Hmmmm...."

"Listen!" I say, "I never lose things! Of all the people in your life, I'm the one who never loses things the most."

Er...

Sibling Rivalry

Everyone here is vying for the kitten's attention. It's a circus. Who are we people?

"Mama, who's cuter me or Lola?"

Who do you think?

Who? Just tell me?

Depends on the day...

Mama! Really?

You honey. You know that.

Okay... who's cuter: Me, Lola, or Louie (his highness the bunny, Louisiana Bellevue over at Dada's)?

Hmmm....

Who Mama? Tell me... in order of first second, third...

Jude!

Just tell me!

Okay... well... you're first, Lola's second, and Louie's third....

"Louie's third??? Really?"

Sorry honey... you know who I feel about Lola...

But I'm first, right?

Yes honey.

"Here's my order: Louie first, Lola second, Mama third..."

Fight Logic

About a month ago when Granny was in town, things got pretty messy one night between me and TCF. Like most couples, we occasionally fight, but we try not to raise our voices on account on the boy.

Well we did. And out of his bedroom he came. "What the hell's going on out here?"

"Oh nothing honey. Go back to bed..."   When I checked on him when things calmed down a bit,  he was asleep so I woke him up. "Are you asleep?"

Sort of.

Are you okay?

Yes.

Are you upset?

No.

Are you scared?

No. But what the hell happened anyway?

Nothing honey. Everything's okay. We just got too loud...sorry about that. But everything is okay. Okay? Now go nightnight.


Of course the next day we had to process, explain that sometimes even adults who love each other very much get angry at each other and raise their voices and say hurtful things. It's not right and you shouldn't have heard all that and it won't happen again--not like that anyway.

"Well, what happened exactly anyway?"

Well... nothing you have to worry about. Sometimes adults just loose their cool and yell. We're very sorry.

Later TCF sat him down and apologized for all the yelling, had the same talk as we'd had earlier. And he had the same retort: "What happened anyway?"

"Well," TCF confessed, "I just got really mad at your mom."

"Oh," he said. "I thought you were yelling at Granny."

Hollywood Insight

Watching Home Alone

1. "Wow. That kid is making bad choices."

2." Jesus Mary. If you ate that much ice cream you'd become like diabetic or something."

What are they teaching him in school anyway? Doesn't anyone get in trouble anymore?


Watching Rocky

We didn't get too far. We did okay with Karate Kid so I thought we'd give Rocky a chance until we got to the steamy scene in Rocky's doorway with Yo Adrienne. By the time they fell to the floor, he was leaning in real close to the set so I thought I'd better send him to bed. "Besides," I said, "you don't want to see all this lovey stuff anyway..."

"I don't mind it."

"Shall I compare thee...?" 2

As always, he is all over Granny when she is in town. They are inseparable.  He is tactilely  fascinated with all her bags, make up, overly stuffed human sized suitcase. He likes to touch her skin, inquire about the "many chins."

Hey Granny!

Yes, dolly?

Why does your hair feel stale?

Is he grumpy?

The other night watching the Christmas Carol movie, new to us, I comment on what a bad ass Scrooge is. Dang.

"Is he grumpy?" I ask Jude, not taking my eyes off the set; it's a good movie and I want Jude to attune to inferences, as brilliantly suggested by his fourth grade teacher.

"What am I, six?"