Friday, March 14, 2008

This Week (Good and Bad)

I unplugged the TV. Life has been quiet. Free time filled with books, puzzles, creative play, and more mischief. Now, instead of hearing the drone of Diego in the living room while I cook dinner, I hear the insistent sounds of my inquisitive domestic helper. "What can I do next, mom? I need a job!" Dinner prep is messier. Afternoons seem long after the third round of big-big-tower construction or GI Joe playing, but overall, this TV-less life is an improvement. (TV Plug-Pull: Harder. But Better.)

Here's how our GI Joe play goes down. I fly Joe around in the helicopter, patrolling the living room for villanous foe and all manner of evil doers. I pretend to spot invaders. "Intruders!" I warn. "Back to the tower!" Then Henry mimicks my play. Only instead of spotting villans and bad guys, he sees...(gasp!) "A bug! (very scary in his world) Quick, hide to the tower!" (His imaginary scenarios: Funny. To me.)

We rediscovered the Curious George soundtrack. Thank you, Jack Johnson (and friends,) for providing the musical track to our dance parties in the kitchen. I mostly dance. Henry mostly watches in amused disbelief at my uncoordination and lack of rhythm. (Spontaneous dance parties in the kitchen: Good. Mom's moves: not so good.)

Wednesday night Nate told me that my attitude smelled like a b-u-t-t. It did (and I'm sorry that was crass.) Hard to hear, those jagged little granules of truth are. I had a severe, and mostly unexplained, bout with snarkiness Tuesday and Wednesday. (Ironically, made worse in the evenings. By Nate's presence? Isn't that a funny cruelty of life, how we can be most ugly to the people we love the most? Ew.) Decided that (among other things) maybe my doldrums had something to do with the fact that I haven't exercised regularly for approximately five months. (BAD.) Resolved to move more. Went for family walk last night. (Good.)

Talked to my husband (on family walk) about issues ranging from locally grown produce to prostitution (induced by the news-monopolization of Eliot Spitzer's supposed-to-be-private, but oops! went public, folly.) (Talking: good. Issues: complicated. Family walks: always good. Infidelity: always bad.)

This morning: Henry's first request, "Mom, can we snuggle on the couch and read Curious George Makes Pancakes?" Sure. We did. (Starting the day with a story: good. Henry's bed head: cute. Henry's morning breath: almost as bad as his father's. Only cute to his own mother.)

And then, feeling like kind of a cutesie mom, I made wheat pancakes for breakfast. Just as I was about to sit down and eat mine, Henry spilled his brimming cup of milk. All. Over. My. Plate. Then I reacted in a way that was not very cutesie. (Not so good, but milder than previous reactions to spills, so not so bad, either.)

Then I thought of a satisfactory solution: make Henry a bowl of yogurt and eat his pancakes.

And that's exactly what I did. (Delicious.)

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