Belated Oscar Thoughts

I noticed a lot of ears this year. I suppose they've always been there, but they seemed bigger this year. First it was Michael Arndt's Spock ears (sorry, I'm sure you're a really nice guy but you've got Dr. Spock ears)...then Will Smith presented soon after and I had never noticed how big his ears are. It was amazing. I think I've just always seen side shots before.

And the lovely Anne Hathaway: The See's Candy Lady Dresses Up. (I couldn't find a pic of an actual See's lady, so the famous See's Barbie will have to do).


















I actually know one of the nominees. Back in the late 80's, I shared an apartment with a graduate student in mechanical engineering. We shared the Loma Prieta earthquake, an Erasure concert, and lots of movies. She bought me blue-stemmed wine glasses to replace the ones I had from my mom that fell out of the cabinet and shattered in the earthquake. She wrote short stories at the time, and let me read some of them. Now she's been nominated for best original screenplay. How cool is that? Every time the camera went to someone in the audience, I peered at all the people behind him/her to see if I could see her. I think I did, but I could be wrong. Anyway, congratulations, Iris. You deserve every moment. And the gift bag.

But Wait, There's More...

G. was getting all snuggly one night, and then he found the TTFTE classic short story, "A Crack in the Track" stuck under the pillow. He said in his huskiest voice, "I wanted to read you some passages from "A Crack in the Track"...

Which started me thinking about other kids' books that could double as erotic novels/porn. The best I came up with was "There's a Wocket in my Pocket."

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A. is stealing money. He doesn't think of it as stealing, of course, he thinks of it as going on a "money hunt," where any change he finds is rightfully his. There's some good English blood in that boy. Sometimes he even draws a treasure map.

Anyway, I think he knows that the money isn't really his, or wasn't to begin with, so he makes stuff up. Every night he wants to count the money in his teddy bear bank, and he tells whichever parent is with him that the other parent gave that day's take to him for helping Ben. He told G, "Mama gave me this money for doing chores. And I helped out Ben." Riiiiight. G. told me about it that night and I replied, "Since when does he do chores? Or help Ben?"

So I was prepared the next night when he told me, "Papa gave me this money for giving Ben a drink." I said, "Gee, we don't usually give you money for handing a drink to Ben. Are you sure that's what happened?" He stuck to his story, and we're actually not entirely sure where he's getting the money. I think he's now up to $1.80, which he says he'll hold on to until he's older.

I think if it's on the floor, it's fair game, but he shouldn't be lying about it. On the other hand, I think we've found a real motivator to get him to use the bathroom instead of his pull-up at night.

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Have I told you all about the "I Spy" game? We basically play memory with the I Spy cards. It's not easy - there are 25 matches and they're different photos with the same object - in the photo, that's a match because both cards show the clown. A. wipes the floor with both me and G. Occasionally, if he's really off his game, we'll win, but seriously, the kid is scary good.

Anthropomorphism

You know you're supposed to ask the computer, via that little symbol with the arrow in the task bar, if it's OK to remove peripherals? Everytime I ask my laptop if it's OK to remove the external hard drive, it says "Drive: Generic Volume cannot be stopped right now. Try again later."

And each time, I unplug it anyway, and have this feeling that I'm showing the computer who's boss. Like it's going to be impressed and realize who's really in control. Or, that I'm not it's bitch, dawg, depending on your generation.

I have about 5 half-written blog posts in my head. They usually come to me while I am driving or falling asleep, which are not the best times to write them down. At some point in the next few days, I will have a blog-o-palooza and get them all out of my head, where they are taking up valuable brain space.

I read this as "Hugh Hefner Escapes, Leads Police on 5-hour Chase." Imagine my disappointment.

Music

A few years ago, when I decided to stop living beyond my means, I discovered the library. What a place! They'll let you take books home, for free, and read them! And all they ask is that you bring it back. Who knew?

They also have CDs - I currently have 2 Diana Krall, 1 Frank Sinatra and 1 Dean Martin in rotation. On Valentine's Day G turned on the CD player in our room to set the mood. "Really? Lullabies?" I asked. He shrugged. Fortunately I had one of the Diana Kralls nearby.

G is hopeless when it comes to music. It's odd, because he has a good ear for it. We were remembering old TV shows and I brought up the "Bob Newhart Show," G immediately started humming the theme song, and in my mind's eye there was Bob, walking through Chicago with his briefcase. He can also hum, on demand, almost any commercial theme you can think of, like the DeBeers diamond music. It's weird.

He's liked the music I've introduced him to well enough, but it's just not that important to him. He also doesn't read fiction, which to me is the weirdest thing EVER. He'll read professional psychology books sometimes and he brought the Windows manual on a camping trip once, but I've never seen him buy a book just to enjoy it. How I ended up with a guy who doesn't read I'll never know. But that's Love. He also doesn't surf the web.

Anyway, when I met him, he had about 10 CDs to his name, and 3 of them were by Yanni. One was John Tesh. Another was Jon Secada. Poor guy. And here comes me with over 500 CDs of pretty much every genre, knowing the lyrics on pretty much all of them. Needless to say, I picked out all the music for our wedding.

Today he went to Borders to look for a book (a professional book), and actually bought a music CD. I don't know that he's bought a CD for himself since I've known him (11 years this month). He brought home this one: Frank Sinatra. Which really surprised me. Turns out it was playing while he was browsing and he asked what was playing. It was actually a really romantic move for him, I thought. Very unusual. Way to shake things up. It's a great CD. And we don't have to give it back in 2 weeks.

During dinner, I was singing along with "It's Almost Like Being in Love," and he said, "You really know the words to these songs?"

I stared at him. "Don't you?"

"Well, I've heard them before, but I don't know them."

"Guess it's all the Lawrence Welk I watched growing up."

His grandma watched LW too, but I guess it didn't stick. He can't figure out, however, why I can't remember numbers. Why I tell people who ask that our jogging stroller was $200 when it was actually $300. I really can't keep numbers in my head and he'll look at me like I'm crazy. And all I have to say to that is, "Dude. Before you met me all you knew was Yanni."

On a completely unrelated note: Diet Coke with Splenda. Blegh. I was forced to buy a case when they were out of my Caff-free Diet Coke. It was Not Good. And I'm not all that picky when it comes to my diet colas. So be forewarned.

A. and Ben were running around the house with sand toys, saying they were catching butterflies. Awww. Then A said,

A: Yeah! We're catching butterflies to cook and eat for dinner!

Me: Oh...I'm not sure I know how to cook butterflies.

A: It's easy. You put them in a pan, put some roast beef on top and cook it for 15 hours.

Well. OK then. I think I'll still take charge of dinner, OK?

Later, playing "Jungle," in which he hides in a bush outside, and I watch the leaves move and wonder what animal could be hiding in the bush; then he pops up, announces what animal he is and we have a conversation:

A: I'm a tiger!

Me: Oh dear, I'm a little scared of tigers.

A: Well, tigers are scared of moms, dads, boys and babies but they're not scared of humans.

Me: Oh, OK. Tiger, you don't have to be afraid of me, even though I'm a mom. I won't hurt you. But watch out for the red-headed boy around here.

A: Well, A and Benjamin are already my friends. They give me food.

Me: Really? What kind of food?

A: Carrots. And skunks. And rocks.

Me: Rocks? Are you sure you can eat rocks?

A: Yes, I have very sharp teeth and I take the rock and I just crunch it like that! And then it comes out my front.

Me: And skunks too?

A: Yes, I plunge the tail and then it doesn't smell anymore.

Me: You plunge the tail? Into what?

A: (looking a little uncertain) I plunge it into the smell. Goodbye! (ducks back into the bush)

He was also a zebra who ate lions, a turtle who ate hippos (maybe I should have given him a bigger lunch because eating to be on his mind), and a giraffe who hid behind mountains when it rained.

Since A. is such a big fan of paperwork, he always has papers to bring home when I pick him up. After getting his "paperwork" out of his drawer*, zipping up his jacket, buckling him and Ben into their respective carseats, all of which I can do in my sleep now, he said, "Mama, did you get my money?"

Me: "Your money? What money?"

A: "The money I bringed for show and tell."

Me: "No, I didn't know you brought money for show and tell. Was it in your drawer?"

A. (heavy sigh and eye-rolling): "No, it was in the show-and-tell basket."

Me: "I didn't know you brought money to school, so how could I have known to get it?"

A: "Well, I didn't tell you because I wanted it to be a surprise."

Me: Long discourse on how if it was a surprise, that means I didn't know about it, which means I wouldn't have known to pick it up out of the basket, and they don't even have show and tell, they have "bring something that begins with the sound of the week" and this week's sound is "L" so what was he doing bringing money anyway?**

A: (silence, of course, because what are you going to say to all of that?)

Me: Well, what did you tell everyone about the money?

A: That I got it off your desk.

Excellent. So many different directions to go with this one.

• You know you're not supposed to take money off my desk.
• If you want money, tell me and I'll probably give you some.
• This week's sound is L. What sound does "money" start with?
• What did the teacher say when you showed her the money?
• What color were the coins (I don't leave paper money on my desk - I'm not that stupid)? Silver and big or brown and smaller?
  

But he's a smart cookie. He changed the subject and started asking me questions like, "What do whales drink?" (I don't know, Sex on the Beaches?) and "Why don't fountains get flooded?" and "Why do we have crabs?"*** and "Why do we have astronauts?"

He's only four now, which scares me. I have a PhD****, but I don't think I can keep up with him.


*How many connect-the-dot snowmen can one kid do? So far we're up to 12, I think. God forgive me, I'm throwing most of them away.

**Sometimes I imagine what my kids are going to tell their future therapist. "My mom...she was always really logical but she didn't really make a lot of sense most of the time. I don't think she really heard me."

***The kind that live in the ocean, smart asses. Why DO we have crabs?

****Having a PhD means you took lots of precious time out of your life and put up with a ridiculous amount of B.S., not that you're smart. I still call myself "Dr." on my office voicemail, though, damnit. I earned it.

Today's PSA

While looking for a local Music Together workshop for Ben and I, I came across the story of Harrison, a local 2-year-old fighting leukemia. He needs a bone marrow transplant to survive, and his parents and older brother are not matches. He most likely will need a donor of mixed Asian/Caucasian race. I'm not Asian, but it is a good reminder to get sampled so I can be part of the world registry.

Getting Ready for V-Day

A. is a true romantic at heart. He has been unbelievably focused on making valentines this week. I really thought he'd make three or four and then get bored, and it never occured to me that he would make a handmade valentine for everyone in his class, let alone our family and friends, but he can't stop. In fact, he got so into it last night that he didn't stop to go potty until it was too late. Good thing it was bath night.

He could not be prouder of his valentines. He knows which one goes to which person, and, a true gentlemen, made hearts for all the girls first. Since we took this picture, he's probably made 5-6 more. I bought a kit of 30, and it looks like I might have to get more.

When G. has to buy me a present for some holiday, say, Valentine's Day, he tends to take the boys to the local drugstore and let them pick out whatever they want (as long as it's under $10). That's how I got Softsoap in a jungle animal pump bottle for Mother's Day last year.

I came home from work last night and A. told me, "We bought you a Valentine's Day present, Mama!"

Me: "Oh yeah? What was it?"

A: "Well, we got you a lipstick!"

Me: "Oh yeah?"

A: "Yeah! And it's a color you don't have!"

Yay! I know G. wouldn't buy me a lipstick without my input, but he'd let A. pick one out, I'm pretty sure. I wondered what I'd do when A. wanted me to wear this lipstick, which was likely to be an blue-ish orange.

Me: "So, what color is it?"

A.: "Lemon!"

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and, for Sarah, as requested, the boys frolicking in the new bed: