the pieces of my life

Doodles: So you went to film school?

Me: Yes, I did.

Doodles: And you studied acting?

Me: No. I studied filmmaking. To study acting you went to acting school.

Doodles: So what did you study?

Me: Directing. Screen writing. Editing. Animation.

Doodles: So how come you became a regular writer?

Me: When I got out of school I realized I liked regular writing–prose, it’s called–more than screenwriting.

D: Did you show your movies to the public?

Me: No. Just to my class.

D: How come not to the public?

Me: There was no way to do it.

D: YouTube.

Me: There was no YouTube when I was in school. There was no Internet.

D: What do you mean?

Me: I mean it hadn’t been invented yet. There was no Internet. No e-mail.

D: So how did you get in touch with people?

Me: I called them.

Pie: Or you could write them a letter!

Me: That’s right. I could write them a letter.

Doodles: But no Internet!

Me: Nope. None. No YouTube. No e-mail. No Club Penguin.

Doodles: Wow. Just wow.

Wait till he finds out we had only four channels and we had to watch shows when they were live on TV! Bring towels, though. I think his head might explode.

Let’s start this by saying Adam is wrong. Screw top wines are never good and the Bordeaux did not improve after a day.

Now, let’s ask: Where did this boy of mine come from? I just had to tell him that two hours of reading was too long and he had to go to bed, but he was determined to continue studying the multiplication tables in some random book he found. Not my child.*

Shall we continue? My daughter has put a song in my head about a gooney bird. A mother gooney bird to be exact. With seven gooney birds. They can’t walk, they can’t talk. But they can flap their right arms. Like this.  And I can’t freakin’ get it out of my head.

But I’ve gotten even. I’ve put Cee Lo Green’s song in my kids’ heads. And have forbidden them from singing it in public. Not an issue for my boy. But my girl will be suffering. She can’t stop the music. She’s like my mother that way. But I’ve scared her that if she says the grown-up word at school she’ll get in big trouble. I like to parent that way. With fear. And profanity. The latter you can also credit my mom. She can drop an f-bomb like Mel Gibson on a traffic stop.

Speaking of cursing like Braveheart, I’ll be doing just that while I go all Fight Club on the next person who asks me, “So, Pie is in kindergarten? What are you doing with all that free time?” I’ll tell you what I do with all that free time. I spend all that free time at the gym, bulking up, so I can wale on the next person who asks me that. Don’t let it be you.

And that’s the way it is: Tuesday, September 28, 2010. Good night.

*Speaking of my boy and of film, my boy entered a film contest and came in second, proving there is some shared DNA (remember me? I did go to film school. Once upon a time). Unfortunately, his real name is on it so I can’t link to it here, but if I know you, comment or e-mail and I’ll send you a link.

So kids actually do things in kindergarten. They have echo owls to learn their sounds and they make apple trees with their families’ names on them. They check books out of the library that they can leave in the classroom and learn to dance “Eye of the Tiger.” The learn a poem about six little apples and the first day of fall (today!) is marked with a leaf on the calendar.

Who knew? Certainly not me.

“Wow!” I tell Pie. “That’s amazing all the things you’re doing just the second week of school. Doodles, I wonder why you didn’t have the echo owl.”

Doodles, with a mouth full of chocolate peanut butter, trying to do his math homework says, “We did.”

“You did?”

“Yeah.”

“You never mentioned it.”

He shrugs.

“You never mentioned anything.”

He shrugs again.

Pie asks, handing me a sheet, “Do echo owl for me!” Echo owl is part of the fundations program. I call out letters with specified words and the sound and she colors it on a chart she has. The idea is to have each letter associated with a word so the kids can remember what the letter sounds like. “N nut nnnnn,” I say to Pie.

She colors in the N.

“A apple ay,” I say next.

“That’s wrong,” Doodles said. “It’s A apple aaahh.”

“He’s right,” Pie says, as she colors in the A apple.

“Okay, M–”

“Mom, I’ll just do it. You’re going to do it wrong. Here, Pie, H hat hhhhh.”

I sit back and watch. I’m unneeded until I have to check Doodles’s work. He generally gets all his answers right, but I still need to check him for backwards letters and numbers.

While I’m checking, the two chat.

“I want a brother or another sister,” Doodles says.

“Me too!” Pie agrees.

“Not even the remotest chance,” I tell them.

“Why not?” Doodles asks.

“Because I am done. Done, done, done.”

“I want a brother,” Doodles says. “I know what you want,” he says to his sister. “You want a sister.”

Pie shrugs. “I don’t care. I like having a brother.”

And with that, homework time is suddenly worth it. Yea, homework time!

I spend my entire days now counting. Okay, that’s not a hundred percent true. I spend a good portion of my day threatening to count.

I don’t even know where this counting started. I think somehow, somewhere, there was some book that advocated counting. Oh, I didn’t read the book. Someone just told me about it. And about the counting. So I count. Or I threaten to count.

“Doodles! Doodles, get out here right now! Doodles, I mean it! Don’t make me start counting! Fine! That’s one!”

The boy scurries out before I hit “three.” Because “three” is the be all end all of counting. At three, it happens. It goes down at three. Man, you do NOT want to see three.

At least I don’t. Because I’m still not sure what happens at three. So I tend to avoid three at all costs.

“Pie, close your eyes and stop playing. Pie, you are too old for me to still be lying here in bed with you! Daddy may put up with this crap, but Daddy abandoned the family tonight for some freakin’ Red Sox game and so you’re stuck with me, and I DO NOT PUT UP WITH THIS! Close your eyes! Now! Don’t make me count to three! Okay, that’s one! Stop kicking your legs and go to sleep! I’m going to get to two. If you don’t stop, I’ll be at two. Pie! Fine, that’s two! Don’t make me go to three. I’m serious here. I’m about to get to three! You are at two. Do you really want me to go to three? Pie! That’s two and a half! I’m almost at three! Close your FREAKIN’ eyes NOW!”

Thankfully, she generally drifts off somewhere around two and seven-eighths.

Because, let’s face it. What am I going to dole out at three? No TV? God, just let me slit my wrists right now if I can’t plop that girl in front of Disney Channel for a half hour. And what else could I possibly take away? Can’t take away stories–must read to our children every night in order to enlighten and educate and fulfill our duties to the public school system. Can’t take away dessert–we don’t do dessert except for Friday nights. What else is there? Not much. I paid too much for dance lessons and piano lessons and all the other lessons to withhold those. So it’s critical–critical, dammit!–that I never reach three.

And God help me if the two of them ever figure that out.

–My son convinced my daughter that Hebrew school was the evil of all evils. But she announced yesterday afternoon, “Hey, Doodles was wrong! Hebrew school is fun!” And because of that, I didn’t cut out his tongue.

–The Dolphins won yesterday, and my son announced, “That’s not good news. Because I now root for the Patriots.” And I didn’t smack him across the head.

–My son asked this morning, as I tearfully prepared Pie for her first day of kindergarten and got together everything we needed, “Why do you always wait till the last minute to make my lunch for school?” And I let him I live.

That boy likes living dangerously.

Doodles, as security, checked names against the guest list and handed out all-access passes.

Can I get a “Whoo hoo”? Whoo hoo! The birthday party season has ended and I survived. Guitar-shaped cake. Check. Gold rock ‘n’ roll cuffs. Check. Backstage passes for everyone. Check. Freeze dance, pin-the-sunglasses on the rock star, limbo. Check. Beers consumed. Check. Thank you notes all written. Check. I am DONE!

Of course, it all finished just in time. Because we head full-speed into fall. While everyone else has been in school for weeks now, Doodles starts second grade this Wednesday. Rosh Hashanah is Thursday. Pie starts the kindergarten the following Monday, and has three kindergarten events between now and then. Hebrew school for both starts next Sunday. Between the four of us, we have three parties to attend next weekend.

Rock Star Pie with a Rock Star Buddy

Anyone wondering how I’m going to cook for Rosh Hashanah? The same way I cooked for today’s party. By taking my pans and batter across the street to Beetle’s house. Because, yes, we are now on week nine of no oven. Oh, the part came in. The guys came. And surprise, surprise, it was the motherboard. Hmmm, didn’t someone say that already? Like last July 3? So I’m waiting, waiting, waiting….

In the meantime, the stage has shut down, the little rock stars are fast asleep, and I’m going to–shocking, I know–open a bottle of wine.

Pinata booty

Rock Star Cake

The seven-year-old boy

Me: So what’s today?

Doodles: My birthday.

Me: Are you sure?

Doodles: Yes.

Me: How can you tell?

Doodles: Because I got presents and I got streamers on my door. I have stuff written on my windows. And I get to choose what I want.

Me: And what do you want?

Doodles: A lot of stuff.

Me: Like what?

Doodles: A DS.

Me: Do you really think you’re getting a DS?

Doodles: No.

Me: So then what do you want that you will get?

Doodles: Let’s see. A Nerf gun.

Me: Really?

Doodles: Yes!

Me: It’s going to be a disappointing birthday. What do you like to do these days?

Doodles: Suck my finger.

Me: Still?

Doodles: Yes.

Me: I thought you were trying to quit.

Doodles: But I like it. I like to do my awesome dance. Play Club Penguin. I like reading everything.

Me: What are your favorite books?

Doodles: Diary of a Wimpy Kid books. Geronimo Stilton.

Me: What do you want to be when you grow up?

Doodles: Let’s see. A ballerina. Ha ha. Just kidding. I don’t know.

Me: What are you looking forward to in second grade?

Doodles: Let’s see. Studying Japan. Getting my own desk. Having my own supplies.

Me: Any grand pronouncements?

Doodles: Nope.

Me: Anything else to say?

Doodles: Everybody who reads this must jump up and down for the whole day.

Me: Really?

Doodles: Really.

Tonight is my last night with a six-year-old boy. And my last few days with a four-year-old girl. I’ve told them both they could do whatever they want on their birthdays.

The girl gave it lots of thought. “I want to go to the Res. And if it’s rainy, then I want to go see the fashion show at the MFA. Or maybe see a movie! I think MFA and then if there’s time, go see a movie.”

The boy also gave it some thought. “What’s it going to be?” I asked. “We could go to the Res, head to the Museum of Science, go to the movies, do whatever you’d like.”

He came up with his plan a couple of days ago. “I know what I want to do. I want to stay home and play Wii all day. And stay in my pajamas until dinner time.” Done.

Both of them have discovered Chicken Yakitori, so on both Monday and Wednesday we are headed to the only Asian restaurant in town that serves Chicken Yakitori. But I said to them both, “You can pick what you have for breakfast and lunch, too.”

Pie thinks. “Um, I want Chicken Yakitori for dinner, and I want… only fruits and vegetables for breakfast and lunch!”

“Okay,” I say. “What do you want, Doodles?”

“Hmm,” he starts. “Let’s see. For breakfast I want hot dogs. For lunch, I’d like a steak with barbecue sauce. And Chicken Yakitori, or course, for dinner.”

I told him I’d be willing to compromise. Eggs and bacon for breakfast. I pointed out that I really am not a great griller of steaks, and that I don’t think I could do one justice, so he agreed to hamburgers for lunch. A return to Camp Carnivore for the boy.

My babies. All grown up and becoming their own people. Yikes.

The Necessity of Disney Channel

Hypothesis: Children are addicted to the Disney Channel and will experience tremors if it is withdrawn abruptly.

Experiment:
1. Take two children to museum specializing in avant-garde art.
2. Place them in a room that is showing a Runa Islam‘s video Be the First to See What You See As You See It, a video with a woman fondling, and occasionally breaking, pieces of China. She also drinks tea.
3. Stand back and observe.

Result: Children stay seated and engaged for 10.25 minutes. The film is 7.5 minutes long, shown on a loop.

Conclusion: Who needs Disney? Any screen in a port will do.

I actually tried posting last night, but the WordPress app ate my post.

Day one of vacation was a success. Breakfast with the in-laws at Rye. Then, over the protests of my children who declared they hate farms, we spent a couple of hours at Billings Farm, where we had to tear Pie away from the milking of the cows. Doodles helped make ice cream the old-fashioned way but didn’t want to eat any because “homemade ice cream isn’t that good.” A small cone of it convinced him otherwise. (Note: I believe I have the photo blog–linked on the right–working again.)

Adam went to college up here, so in theory, this is his neck of the woods. We went to dinner at an Italian place I remembered and liked. At the end, I said, “Should we get dessert here?”

Adam: Let’s go into Hanover. We can get dessert at the Dirt Cowboy Cafe.

Doodles: I want dessert here!

Pie: Yeah!

Adam: You don’t want yummy ice cream? Or cookies?

Kids: Yeah! Let’s go!

Me: Um, it’s seven o’clock in Hanover, New Hampshire. Are you sure it’s going to be open?

Adam: Definitely! The Dirt Cowboy is always open late!

So back in downtown Hanover, as we’re off in search of Ben & Jerry’s (“What?? It closes at six o’clock every night? Since when?”), my daughter is off with her normal stream-of-concious drones when she stops us with “Do you get to take toys with you when you go to juvie?” I’m particularly fond of the use of “when” instead of “if.” Doesn’t bode well for our future.

This a.m. we had breakfast at the Four Aces and then we debated what to do next. Adam asked the kids, “Do you want to see a Hollywood photography show?”

Doodles squealed, “Yes!!!” The boy is completely Hollywood/acting obsessed.

I asked, “Are you sure it’s open? A lot of museums are closed on Mondays.”

Adam said, “It’s always open. We’ll spend an hour there and then head for the Ben & Jerry’s factory and then Montreal.”

I don’t need to finish this story, do I? At least while we were back in Hanover the kids got new Dartmouth shirts to replace the ones they’ve outgrown. Although try as I could, I could not convince Doodles to get a Thing One Dartmouth shirt (Pie was completely on board with Thing Two; Dr. Seuss went to Dartmouth, which is the relevancy).

And now we’re on our way to the Ben & Jerry’s factory. Then onward to Canada. Hope Canada has ear plugs.