Monday, March 09, 2009
I Can See The End Of This Long Road But I'm Not There Yet.
That is my new mantra. After this upcoming weekend, the Big Secret Activity That I Can't Blog About will be over for the year and I will be a free woman. No longer will I wake up in the middle of the night thinking, "Wow! A lambswool dusting tool would make an excellent tail for that costume!" (I swear to God, that was the actual dream that woke me up at 2 a.m. on Saturday morning, and the most frustrating thing is that I can't say ANYTHING - not a single word - to the kids about my awesome creative dream ideas.) In other news, there is not much to tell. Pepper is doing her usual cut-rate Sybil routine, which starts with being sweet, then cycles through anxiety ("What if a coyote bites me??!") and pissiness and total brattitude, and then shows up after 10 minutes in her room back in sweet mode. She's 9, for crying out loud, and I can't believe how often we are knocking heads already. It's exhausting and brings out the worst in me and makes me sad. Peanut has decided that he loooooooves being tickled again, and I have spent more time rolling around on the floor with him this week than I have since he was 3. He seems to be in one of those transition stages of development where they are still babies and scarily mature at the same time. He has discovered Calvin & Hobbes, and as he was reading the first one, I said, "Do you understand that Hobbes is Calvin's stuffed tiger, and so whenever you see Hobbes as a real tiger you are in Calvin's imagination?" He looked up and said, "Oooooh, that makes more sense!" and then proceeded to plow through 3 huge anthologies over the last 10 days. 50% of the time he is throwing toys and crying like a frustrated toddler and then the other 50% of the time I find him doing something like... quantum physics. I actually went to check on him at one point last week and found him yapping to himself about the theory of relativity, which he'd apparently absorbed watching tv with Daddy. Lest you get the wrong idea and are thinking you've heard enough about my pwecious wittle genius, I'm offering full disclosure here: this conversation took place while he was naked from the waist down and wearing a giant Mickey Mouse glove on one hand, trying futilely to hold his toys in the giant hand and getting progressively more frustrated. I was like, "DUDE! Put the toys in the other hand, or take off the glove!" and he kept trying and crying and trying and crying again. And then, later? I totally caught him eating a booger, so I'm under no illusions - he's a work in progress. (Just like the rest of us, right?) I just had to update this because after I reread what I'd written, I realized that I kind of made it sound like I was also a work in progress because I eat boogers. Which I don't. Just so we are clear on that point.