Recital Video

My youngest boys recently played in a recital. In my official capacity as their mother, it is my duty to say they both totally rocked. It took me a while to figure out how to get the videos from my camera to the internet. More on the recital later.

Get It Together

Have you ever had a day that made you realize you needed to make some serious changes your life? A day that makes you say things like: "I can do better than this," or "I gotta get my shit together," or "I need to quit drinking," or "I'm gonna start living right." I would say all these things except I rarely drink more than a glass of wine every few months, and I was perfectly sober when all this occurred. So I can't even blame it on alcohol.

It was errand day, and we had a full schedule ahead of us. We'd just left the therapy center where the boys had speech, and I did a very solid phonics lesson involving the long-o sound with my daughter while waiting for them to finish. We were on our way to the recycling center to turn in bottles and cans -- the money going to pay for the lost copy of Diary of a Wimpy Kid: The Last Straw which is currently overdue to our local library. So, I'm driving down the street. While sitting at a stop light, I look up to find a large red and black spider sunning itself on the inside of my windshield. Then it moved, crawling on the glass with all its long, hideous, jangly legs mere inches away from my hands and face.

Like any self respecting urban woman accustomed to observing nature on the Discovery Channel, I screamed and then I screamed some more. Fortunately there was a strip mall directly adjacent to the light so I could safely get out of traffic. There was no way I could operate a two and half ton vehicle with a large arachnid perched on my window. Around here red and black spider equals Black Widow. Look, I've seen those reality shows on The Learning Channel where people are bitten by poisonous bugs, the affected part always turning black and swelling up like like a melon. I hastily pulled the car into a spot, herded the kids out, got out my cell phone...

-Husband not at home.
-Husband not answering cell phone.
-Husband not at desk.
-Maybe I can handle it. Oh, God! It just moved again!
-@#$%ing automated phone system. Why don't they have a receptionist?
-What is his assistant's name?
-Maybe I can reach the gay guy in his office, the one who has a crush on him.
-Try all the numbers again. And again. And again.
-AAAHHH! It moved again.
-Call the insurance company for roadside assistance.
-Am I really going to call for a tow truck to kill a spider?
-Remember swollen cantaloupe-shaped fingers.
-Hell, yeah! Tow truck! What's the number? Think, woman. Think!!!
-Oh, finally! He called me back.
-There's a Black Widow Spider in my car!
-On the windshield. I can't ignore it!
-I don't care if it's one of God's creatures!
-I am calm!!! No, I'm not gonna cause an accident. I pulled over.
-What?! Why can't I just kill the spider?!!
-Cuz I'm scared it's going to jump up and bite me.
-Then I'll swell up and die in front of my kids like a bad horror movie.
-Yes, I want you to come kill the spider.
-No, you children can't keep it.

Long story, short... Panicked tears and trembling were hidden from the children who enjoyed lunch at KFC and several yu-gi-oh duels while waiting for daddy. Husband showed up with a broom and picker-upper tool. Hands were wrung. Plans were debated. Noxious insecticide was sprayed liberally inside the car. Public spectacle was made. Passersby gawked and stared. Spider was nowhere to be found. Upon returning home Google was consulted. Spider's identity was confirmed as definitely NOT a Black Widow. Husband was still the big hero -- again. Wife was thoroughly ashamed and slightly discombobulated for the rest of the day.

In my lifetime I've ridden the subway in Beijing, haggled with vendors in Guatemalan and Salvadoran street markets, lobbied the U.S. Senate, faced down a stern nun and much more. Hell, I've had four babies without a single epidural. Yet I was reduced to a big ol' sissy girl by a spider, albeit a large ugly spider, but a spider all the same.

I can do better than this. I gotta get my shit together. I need to start drinking or meditating or praying or... something.

Boy, Are You Crazy?

Upon waking this morning I had a conversation.
SON 2.0: Mommy, somebody threw up in our room last night.

MOM: Please go clean it up. (Still half asleep.)

SON 2.0: Don't worry about it. Oz (the dog) is already eating it.

MOM: (Muttered silently... Oh, Lord! I don't want to hear this bull$#!t first thing in the morning.) Look, don't let the dog eat that! Go clean it up. (The voice is beginning to rise now.)

SON 2.0: But it's not my vomit.

MOM: I didn't ask you whose vomit it is.

SON 3.0: It's my vomit.

MOM: Then you clean it up. (to son 3.0) You feed the dog and take him outside. (to son 2.0)

SON 3.0: I don't know how to clean it. (Starting to whimper.)

MOM: Oh, don't start whining. I'll show you how to do it.

SON 2.0: Well, I don't have to feed the dog because he already ate the vomit.

MOM: Wait a minute. What did you say? (I must still be asleep. He didn't just say what I think he said?)

SON 2.0: I don't have to feed the dog. I told you he ate the vomit. He's not hungry anymore.

DAD: What did he say?!

MOM: Boy, I can't believe you just said that out of your mouth. Are you crazy?! Get your narrow behind back there and FEED THAT DOG! ... NOW!

DAD: He wants to let Oz eat his brother's vomit so he won't have to feed him. Is he crazy?! Boy, are you crazy?

MOM: He's not crazy, he's eleven. Which is kinda the same thing at this point.
_____
Let me tell you, this is no way to start a Sunday morning. Is it the dreary weather, or the flu that doesn't end? It could be an indication of lazy parenting. Perhaps the child actually suffered a temporary lapse of sanity. Though more than likely, there is a conspiracy among the youngsters of this house to drive me out of my mind. And it's working.

Flu

Cold and flu go away. Come again some other day.

My New Curry

Hey, I made a curry. It isn't authentic or anything, but it's not half bad. It's sweet, spicy, vegetarian and very satisfying. So I thought I would share. Honestly though, the kids weren't all that excited about it, but that's just their tough luck. Because we can't eat Dino-Nuggets every #$%@ing night for the love of God!

Ingredients:
olive oil
1 medium onion diced
2-3 cloves of garlic minced (or 4-5 if you're like me)
1 piece of ginger root peeled and grated (the size of 3-4 coins, or powered)
1 carrot shredded
1 large apple diced
2 TBSP curry powder
salt and pepper to taste
1 cup of cooked lentils
1 can of chickpeas (with liquid)
1 cup of frozen peas
1/2 cup of golden raisins
2-3 scallions chopped
1 handful of parsley chopped
cooked brown rice

Directions:
Sautee onion, garlic, ginger, and carrot in olive oil. Add curry powder and cook for 30 seconds. Put in apple, lentils and chickpeas with liquid and cover. Cook for a few minutes until apples are almost tender. Add green peas and raisins and season with salt and pepper to taste. Cover again until peas are heated through, then top with scallions and parsley. Serve over brown rice.

(Note all measurements are approximate. When I make this I'm more likely to use handfuls instead of cups. If you like really spicy food, you could add a chopped hot pepper when you cook the onions.)

Tyler Perry... Must Be Stopped

In my house it's impossible to say the first two words without following them with the next three. I've been trying to ignore him for a long time. Vaguely I recall hearing about his sassy, cartoonish plays. I thought if I didn't look maybe he'd go away. But then the movies and the sitcoms started coming. And coming. And coming. Each one featuring more outrageous stereotypes and foolishness than the last.

Tyler Perry...

Hey, I didn't complain when the NAACP gave Tyler Perry an Image Award. I mean if that's really the image they want to promote... Well, let's just say it tells us more about the NAACP than the "colored people" they claim to represent. Anyway, I digress. For a full rant on the NAACP image awards, read this blog. The point is Tyler Perry can be found everywhere now in drag. And he is not even fabulous.

...Must Be Stopped.

His alter ego, Madea, is little more than a gross caricature of the black matriarch. I've known a lot of matriarchs. They have been wise, loving, stoic, faithful, demanding, humorous, strong, unrelenting, sometimes even wicked. They have never, ever, EVER been clowns. Tyler Perry has made a fortune by reducing Mother Dear to Madea, distorting Big Mama to buffoon. And if that's not bad enough, his latest movie has her going to jail! Say it with me now...

Tyler Perry must be stopped.

Can somebody please tell this brother that it's the 21st century? WhatchuTalkin'BoutWillis?! Been there. Dy-no-mite! Done that. Steppin' and Fetchin'. All over. There was a memo and everything, even Allen Keys got it. Plus, there was also a recent election in which an African American was elected president, and he neither shucked nor jived. So why is Tyler Perry still doing it?

What would it take to stop him? Could we convince people not to spend time or money on his degrading depictions. Probably not. Could we get his Mama -- hell, anybody's Mama to take a switch to him? I don't know. All I do know for certain is...

Tyler Perry must be must be stopped.

Happily Ever After

Valentines day reminded me that I fell in love with you again. After all these years you can still do that to me - take my breathe away with the simple things. Remember that cold rainy week in December when you went to Hawaii? It was a business trip, but you wanted to take us all along. You would have, too, if I hadn't insisted on being frugal. Two days before you left, I hurt my back - bad. Three days after you left, the kids clogged the upstairs toilet - again. Then a nasty cold made its way from from one of us to another. Each night you never failed to call at bedtime to wish us sweet dreams and listen to reports of the deteriorating conditions. Some people would have relished their time away from the chaos of sick children and an injured wife, glad of the daily maid service and sunshine beaches Waikiki has to offer. But not you, my love. You arranged to come home a day early on a red-eye flight.

And what did you see when you arrived home early that morning? Upon opening the front door, you were welcomed by a horrible mess - living room floor covered with detritus, broken piano bench, and of course the bad smell. Some people would have been alarmed, running to the phone to call for help. But you, my dearest, walked straight to the bathroom and picked up the plunger. Fifteen minutes later the toilet was unclogged, but you found a mountain of dirty laundry, an empty refrigerator, children weakened by illness, and a wife with senses dulled by muscle relaxers. Yet, you were glad to be home.

I've never felt more cherished in my life. Not even on our wedding day.

Because, Dear, you are my knight in shinning armor. The dragons you slay are grant deadlines, budget cuts, and clogged toilets. You face them down every day. Every thing you have you give to me. You make me feel like a princess.

So here's to you, honey. Happy belated Valentine's Day! I enjoyed the orange flavored chocolate you bought me when we shopped at Walmart on Saturday. All you received was a package of un-sexy cotton briefs, and we had to postpone our rendezvous due to a visit from Mother Nature. Incidentally, you can find the greeting card expressing my undying devotion still in the Target bag on the dresser along with those pink hair barrettes and the potato peeler I bought last week. Fairy tales got nothing on us. We are what happily ever after is made of.