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Watch Auntie Jump!!
Friday, August 25th, 2006 06:50 pmIt's been an interesting day so far. First off, the Impertinent Daughter rode her bike to school for the first time. It was one of the hardest things I've ever done, but I did it. I let her ride her bike. What I wanted to do was snatch her back and shout, "No, no, no! You can't ride your bike, you have to stay here, and let me keep you safe and take you to school!!" What I did was kiss her forehead, ruffle her hair and say, "Be aware of your surroundings. Look both ways before crossing streets. And be careful."
She rolled her eyes, threw her arms around my waist, hugged me so tight she made me squeak, and said, "You know I will! Thanks, Mama! See you after school!" and she raced out the door. And no, I didn't watch her ride off. I stood in front of the door, clenching my fists and forcing myself not to, because if I had, I would have given in to the urge to stop her. So... I let her go. And she was just fine.
Then I had to get the Impossible Son ready.
You know, if there was an Olympic event for dressing a somnulent, completely limp five year old child while having your feet attacked by a determined four mounth old kitten, I'd win the gold. Totally. The Impossible Son likes to sleep until the very last possible second. Really. I mean, there have literally been a couple of mornings when he has shuffled behind me to the car, one little hand fisted in my jeans as he sleepwalked to the car, climbed into his booster seat (because we are all small people) and went right back to sleep as I buckled him in. Then, when we're maybe two blocks from the school, those little green eyes pop wide open and *bing* "Wow, Mama, did you see that car?? It was going really fast! and Mama, lookit those birds!! Will they get fried if they land on those wires? Mama, did you bring my toast? Mama, will you walk me to class, but don't come to the door, because my friends will see you and think I'm a baby, but will you walk me close? Don't kiss me where they can see me, that's not cool, but you can kiss me by the library, adn Mama? What's in my lunchbox?" The punctuation is a courtesy to my readers.
The kitten, on the other hand, attacks me because she does not approve of Little Man's absences from the house. He is Her Boy, and she does not like it when Her Boy is not where she can see him. She has correctly identified me as the culprit in these unbearably long absences, and recognizes that when I start the "Love, Hina" theme song on the computer, that I'm going to make him Go Away Again. Thus, she engages in battle to prevent this horrible event from occurring. I guess she figures if I can't get him dressed, then he can't Leave The House. So, she attacks my bare feet with tooth and claw, pouncing and nipping me. She doesn't bite me, because I am the Source Of All Food, and she's fairly bright for a cat. So, she nips me and swats me and complains mightily at the coming separation. This means I'm practically dancing as I dress Little Man, until I finally climb on the bed, and call Ed, the 14 pound Siamese, to come sit on her and make her behave. You'd think I'd figure this out and just automatically climb on the bed to begin with, but one, this makes dressing the child that I am steadily tickling, and shaking, and singing loudly and off-key to, harder, and two, I am not a morning person, so I am not awake myself. My brain doesn't kickstart until at least 9 am, even with caffeine. (you see where Little Man gets it from now, don't you?)
All of this has made for a very interesting morning routine. It's going to get even more fun when soccer season starts. Woooo-hooo.
I also hope at some point to stop jumping like a scalded cat when my cell phone rings. Well, it doesn't ring, actually. What it does is play an extremely obnoxious little song that always startles the heck out of me. I chose it because, while it startles me, at least I recognize it as my phone ringing. I had a song that I found pleasant, and liked, but when anyone called, I would just go on with what I was doing, blissfully unaware of what was going on until someone poked me and said, "Hey, lady, I think your purse is ringing." This happened way too many times, so... I changed it to the obnoxious song. And please do not suggest setting it on vibrate. If it's in my purse, I won't know about it, and if it's in my pocket, or clipped to my belt, well... Auntie's rather ticklish, and it wasn't pretty. Let's just say I completely scandalized some old ladies in the pharmacy. I couldn't get that thing off fast enough!
I was at the track this morning, doing my rounds, lost in thought as usual. Hey, I'm a writer, it's what I do. So, while I was aware of my surroundings, I was actually thinking of where I want to go in three pieces I'm currently working on, how much fun last night was, worrying about my oldest sister, trying to remember if I'd balanced the checkbook, pondering when would be the most appropriate time to get a dog, and then, that blasted cell phone started with the music, and I jumped three feet sideways. I slammed right into a guy who was jogging to pass me, and he caught me before I could hit the ground. "Are you okay? Was it a snake?"
Auntie, beet red: "Er, no... it was my phone."
"New user, huh? Better answer it, then," and he continued on his merry way, while Auntie blushed even brighter red, and sheepishly answered her phone.
It was a wrong number.
Nothing like a wrong number to make your day a little more surreal. "Hello, is this David?" A man's voice.
"No. Do I sound like a David?" I mean, really, most of y'all heard my voice on my voice post. Twelve year old girl (okay, Alex, thirteen year old girl, but still!!)
"Is David there?"
"No, you have the wrong number." I prepare to hang up.
"NO, wait!! I really need to speak to David!"
"Then you really need to find his number." I again, prepare to hang up.
"Is this ..." and he rattles off a phone number, wrong, of course."
"Nope, you're off by one digit."
"Oh. So... David's not there?"
"No. I'm hanging up now." And I did. Like I said, surreal.
One of these days, I'm gonna get used to that thing. Until I do, if you're ever in this neck of the woods, and you hear an obnoxious cell phone ring tone, and you see a woman flail and jump before answering it, you'll know it's Auntie!
She rolled her eyes, threw her arms around my waist, hugged me so tight she made me squeak, and said, "You know I will! Thanks, Mama! See you after school!" and she raced out the door. And no, I didn't watch her ride off. I stood in front of the door, clenching my fists and forcing myself not to, because if I had, I would have given in to the urge to stop her. So... I let her go. And she was just fine.
Then I had to get the Impossible Son ready.
You know, if there was an Olympic event for dressing a somnulent, completely limp five year old child while having your feet attacked by a determined four mounth old kitten, I'd win the gold. Totally. The Impossible Son likes to sleep until the very last possible second. Really. I mean, there have literally been a couple of mornings when he has shuffled behind me to the car, one little hand fisted in my jeans as he sleepwalked to the car, climbed into his booster seat (because we are all small people) and went right back to sleep as I buckled him in. Then, when we're maybe two blocks from the school, those little green eyes pop wide open and *bing* "Wow, Mama, did you see that car?? It was going really fast! and Mama, lookit those birds!! Will they get fried if they land on those wires? Mama, did you bring my toast? Mama, will you walk me to class, but don't come to the door, because my friends will see you and think I'm a baby, but will you walk me close? Don't kiss me where they can see me, that's not cool, but you can kiss me by the library, adn Mama? What's in my lunchbox?" The punctuation is a courtesy to my readers.
The kitten, on the other hand, attacks me because she does not approve of Little Man's absences from the house. He is Her Boy, and she does not like it when Her Boy is not where she can see him. She has correctly identified me as the culprit in these unbearably long absences, and recognizes that when I start the "Love, Hina" theme song on the computer, that I'm going to make him Go Away Again. Thus, she engages in battle to prevent this horrible event from occurring. I guess she figures if I can't get him dressed, then he can't Leave The House. So, she attacks my bare feet with tooth and claw, pouncing and nipping me. She doesn't bite me, because I am the Source Of All Food, and she's fairly bright for a cat. So, she nips me and swats me and complains mightily at the coming separation. This means I'm practically dancing as I dress Little Man, until I finally climb on the bed, and call Ed, the 14 pound Siamese, to come sit on her and make her behave. You'd think I'd figure this out and just automatically climb on the bed to begin with, but one, this makes dressing the child that I am steadily tickling, and shaking, and singing loudly and off-key to, harder, and two, I am not a morning person, so I am not awake myself. My brain doesn't kickstart until at least 9 am, even with caffeine. (you see where Little Man gets it from now, don't you?)
All of this has made for a very interesting morning routine. It's going to get even more fun when soccer season starts. Woooo-hooo.
I also hope at some point to stop jumping like a scalded cat when my cell phone rings. Well, it doesn't ring, actually. What it does is play an extremely obnoxious little song that always startles the heck out of me. I chose it because, while it startles me, at least I recognize it as my phone ringing. I had a song that I found pleasant, and liked, but when anyone called, I would just go on with what I was doing, blissfully unaware of what was going on until someone poked me and said, "Hey, lady, I think your purse is ringing." This happened way too many times, so... I changed it to the obnoxious song. And please do not suggest setting it on vibrate. If it's in my purse, I won't know about it, and if it's in my pocket, or clipped to my belt, well... Auntie's rather ticklish, and it wasn't pretty. Let's just say I completely scandalized some old ladies in the pharmacy. I couldn't get that thing off fast enough!
I was at the track this morning, doing my rounds, lost in thought as usual. Hey, I'm a writer, it's what I do. So, while I was aware of my surroundings, I was actually thinking of where I want to go in three pieces I'm currently working on, how much fun last night was, worrying about my oldest sister, trying to remember if I'd balanced the checkbook, pondering when would be the most appropriate time to get a dog, and then, that blasted cell phone started with the music, and I jumped three feet sideways. I slammed right into a guy who was jogging to pass me, and he caught me before I could hit the ground. "Are you okay? Was it a snake?"
Auntie, beet red: "Er, no... it was my phone."
"New user, huh? Better answer it, then," and he continued on his merry way, while Auntie blushed even brighter red, and sheepishly answered her phone.
It was a wrong number.
Nothing like a wrong number to make your day a little more surreal. "Hello, is this David?" A man's voice.
"No. Do I sound like a David?" I mean, really, most of y'all heard my voice on my voice post. Twelve year old girl (okay, Alex, thirteen year old girl, but still!!)
"Is David there?"
"No, you have the wrong number." I prepare to hang up.
"NO, wait!! I really need to speak to David!"
"Then you really need to find his number." I again, prepare to hang up.
"Is this ..." and he rattles off a phone number, wrong, of course."
"Nope, you're off by one digit."
"Oh. So... David's not there?"
"No. I'm hanging up now." And I did. Like I said, surreal.
One of these days, I'm gonna get used to that thing. Until I do, if you're ever in this neck of the woods, and you hear an obnoxious cell phone ring tone, and you see a woman flail and jump before answering it, you'll know it's Auntie!
