Bravo No! Where Did My Free Time Go?

I have an unfortunate habit of settling into bed and cuddling up next to whatever is on Austin Time Warner Cable channel 62: Bravo. A gaping maw of vapidity. A complete vacuum of substance. Scandals about pet food and crown molding! A bustier of coffee filters! Number 124 of 513 episodes of Law and Order!

The new Salman Rushdie novel idles on my nightstand, collecting dust alongside my good intentions of learning Portuguese and watching PBS. Sorry, Sal, Kathy Griffin's on.

The Mom Song

While we were in the car this weekend, Jason and Lucy were nice enough to improvise a little song about me. They took turns singing each line. I don't remember the tune, but it was quite an homage...

J: "I like Mom. She smells nice."

L: "And she knows all of her friends' names."

J: "She's funny and she's smart."

L: "And she knows how to match her clothes."

I guess when you are four, these are major accomplishments?

Morning Funnies

Friday was Jason's birthday, so he treated himself to an early morning round of golf. Which left me alone to get Lu out the door. We were moving really slowly, but she said enough funny stuff for three whole blogs posts.

After returning from a timeout: "Mom, I just threw a little fit, right?" Holds fingers up about two inches apart: "About this big."

Amid dogs barking: "Mom, can we take Ramona and Clifford back to the pet store? I want some new pets. These ones are too loud."

While reading the cover of an US Weekly about Madonna and A-Rod: "Mom, this says 'Alex,' right?"

Responsibility

Lucy has a magnetic Responsibility Chart, where she gets to win magnets for doing things like Being Nice, Not Whining, Cleaning Your Room, etc. When she gets it all filled up, she will be able to buy a baby stroller for Megan, the newest addition to her imaginary family.

On Saturday, she made a colossal mess of her room. In what seemed like an effort to ward off my inevitable request that she clean her room, she brought me the responsibility chart.

"Here, Mom. I don't want this anymore."
"Babe, what's the deal?"
"Well, I don't want to do my responsibilities anymore, so can you please put this away?"
"But that's how you will get your baby stroller, by doing your responsibilities."
"I don't want to."
"Well, I don't want to do my responsibilities sometimes either but..."
"Well, I don't want to."

Jason managed to convince her to clean her room Sunday, but it took lots of threats and bribes and about three hours. The responsibility chart is hanging from our bedroom doorknob, untouched since Saturday's shirking.

To My Health

Dad started having chest and arm pain around 11 p.m. Wednesday. We went to the emergency room at the Heart Hospital, which I highly recommend — they have a full-service ER for non-heart-related problems, but it's a well-kept secret, so there's rarely someone with a stab wound in the waiting room.

In the ER, he sat in a snarl of wires and tubes and detailed his long — and not great — medical history. After a three-hour work-up, they decided to admit him and do an angiogram the next day.

While his bill of health is not exactly clean, he has no apparent heart problems! Twenty-two hours and one negative angiogram later, he was back at our house smoking a cigarette. Meanwhile, I went for a run in the dark, appreciating the strong legs that propelled me and the healthy heart that fueled every step. Thanks, body.

Perfect Birthday

Even though being 35 sort of sucks, what did NOT suck was my actual birthday. Small gathering at the Bickler Road Water Park with some great folks. Presents. Cake. Pie. Sparklers. Lucky me.



Thanks again to Frank for the gorgeous photos.

Fairy Fury

Lu: "DAD, I need to cut that fairy out RIGHT NOW."

Jason: "No, babe, you need to eat your toast."

Lu: "Okay, well, Dad, you need to cut that fairy out. And you better be done cutting that fairy out before I finish eating my toast. Or else."

Jason: "Or else what?"

Lucy: "Or else I am going to be angry with you."

The man was done cutting the fairy out before she finished eating her toast.