Adventures in Real Parenting: You Say Boredom, I Say Ennui

Originally posted on PoliTits in 2008.


The Spawn have been on spring break this week. It might be a break, but there's precious little spring to get excited about. Sure the weather is sorta mild, but each day has been rather gloomy.

The Dancer's plans to do sun damage to her skin have been foiled by clouds and cool breezes. The Actor has been mostly underfoot, moaning about his lack of available friends and pointing out what a loser of a mom I am for not buying into the guilt-driven "keep them perfectly and continually occupied" parenting method.

He's right. I do suck. But we all know this. I've made no secret of the fact that I find The Spawn highly inconvenient and taxing. In the words of many a southerner....."I love them, but......."

It's been a busy week for work and after a full day of catering to the needs of my organization, I'm either too spent for Mr. Energy's liking or he's whisked off to baseball practice or appointments with his therapist. Getting him to those things are MathMan's responsibility. It's his chance to spend some time with The Actor. And, trust me, after all day locked up with him, I need a break.

Have you noticed that I've not mentioned Cupcake? Well, except for an overnight here with her friend K, we've not seen Cupcake much since Friday. I expect a change of address postcard from her any day now.

Today has been an especially blah day, the accumulated grayness of the week has settled over 'Tits HQ since early this morning and neither The Actor, The Dancer, nor I have been able to shake the meh of ennui that has sunk into the deepest recesses of our bones. Even The Pussies for Peace are feeling it.

I think I'm coming down off an adrenaline high from yesterday's flurry of activity (good not bad). The Spawn are starting to feel the pull of having to go back to school and this break is going to go down in the memory book as a complete bust.

Between naps curled up among pillows and cats and the consumption of carbohydrates, we've been able to rouse our sleepy, dreary selves a bit to enjoy the company of one another. It's frankly why I love unstructured time with The Spawn. We have the best conversations when we're just knocking about.

(Alert: some of the following subject matter and language may be offensive because we can be quite offensive when left to our own devices.)

So far today we've discussed the following:

• The difference between being just plain retarded and very retarded.

• What would be the best word or words to shout out were one to be afflicted with Tourette's Syndrome.

• Are there any brownies left? Who ate most of the brownies last night?

• Why one cat's ass smells worse than another cat's ass.

• Doris Day's hair and wardrobe in The Man Who Knew Too Much.

• Is Onslow (Keeping Up Appearances) really tattooed or are those fakes?

• When is Cupcake coming home/does Cupcake have to come home?

• Why does our internet suck so badly?

• Why do Southerners pronounce words like INsurance and UMbrella instead of inSurance and umBrella?

• The proper color order for eating plain M&Ms

• Why did women stop wearing hats and gloves?

• What's the difference between a girdle and a corset?

• In To Be or Not to Be (with Jack Benny and Carole Lombard), why did the Germans speak English?

• Could The Actor answer the next call from a creditor or telemarketer? He was bored with us and wanted the chance to talk to someone else.

• Was I really going to eat just mashed potatoes for lunch?

• How many times could The Dancer make it to the tanning bed before prom? And why would I let her do that to herself?

• The merits of Taco Bell versus Sonic. Sonic won. Yummy Tots.

• What kind of cooties would The Dancer get if she finished off The Actor's M&Ms?

• Is the sun ever going to come out today?

• Do we really have to listen to that song because now it's going to be stuck in my head........

I realize that these days are numbered. Whether it's me who leaves first or them, these days of lazing about and talking about everything and nothing aren't going to last forever.

That's why I'm capturing them here.

I'm at the wrong end of the looking glass

Happy New Years Day, gang.  I hope you enjoyed a safe and entertaining New Years Eve, if that's your thing.  After MathMan and the kids got me down off the roof and back into my clothes, we just hung around the house watching Sherlock Holmes on DVD, feeling slightly odd about Dick Clark's appearance on the countdown, toasting each other with sparkling grape juice and tossing around curmudgeonly quips about the general hoopla taking place on the television.

Do we know how to party or what?  Dear god we're such Hewitts.  Those of you who know my family know exactly what I mean by that.  For those of you who don't, well, just be glad.  The Hewitts are not fun people. Trust me.

And I don't know how we've turned MathMan into a Hewitt, but I guess living with me for twenty gabillion years has done just that.  I am so so sorry, MathMan.  I was really hoping the kids would look like you and that your whimsy would rub off on me  Alas, no.

If today is any indication, 2011 is going to be the year of dicking around for me so you people with your grand plans and schemes for being productive and disciplined and thin and zen and all that can just.......nevermind. You go on with your bad selves.  I'll be here cheering you on.  Because that is what I do.

I'm dragging around a case of I don't wannas.  I don't feel like doing anything.  Especially not anything productive or grown up and responsible.  I scooped the litter box and spent an hour and a half reworking this blog's design. Isn't that enough?

But that's how I am.  If there's a big job to do like taking down the holiday decorations, for example, I must dive in instead of thinking about it.  That's how I end up still wearing my flannel pajamas at 7p.m. while directing Nathan who is helping me move the television from one location to another because rearranging everything in the living room is the best way to guarantee that we'll begin the new year with a little less dust and detritus from 2010. What begins with me absentmindedly sipping coffee and taking a few of the ornaments off the tree at 8:30 a.m. snowballs into a day of cleaning and rearranging.  But things got done.

If I stop and think about what has to be done?  Forget it.

That's how I'm treating the urge to upend everything and become a shiny new person because it's January 1.  I know what I need to do, but I'm not going to overwhelm my delicate self by thinking about it.  I'm just going to dive in.  Tomorrow.  No wait.  Tomorrow is Sunday.  Monday.  No wait.  The kids don't go back to school until Tuesday.  Tuesday.  Definitely.  For sure. Tuesday.  For now I'm just this...

Oh yeah, I watched Valley Girl last week.

How did you guess?

May 2011 be whatever you wish it to be.

I Interrupt This Freeze Pop to Inform You of the Following

I took the day off. Work be damned. The summer is winding down and I have an incredible need to grab hold of it and cling for dear life. I know that for some of you, summer has more or less just gotten started, but here in Georgia, most schools start back on August 6. Today is, in fact, MathMan's last day of official academic summer. As a department chair at his school, he has to go back even earlier. That, my friends, is why he makes the big bucks.

Sadly, the weather isn't cooperating so much today. Our dreams of eating melting Popsicles in the sun, sipping lemonade in the shade of our big magnolia tree and running through the sprinkler and playing gas station with the garden hose down our swimsuit bottoms were somewhat dashed.

We were driven indoors just now by what appears to be a coming thunder storm. MathMan and I were dining al fresco (that's eating on the deck for those of you who don't speak Polish) on fresh, summery kinds of foods when we began to hear the rumbles of thunder in the distance. MathMan turned and shook his fist in the general direction of the heavenly racket. "Damn you, Karen Minton!" he raved, cursing his favorite meteorologist. Now, don't misunderstand, he still lusts and heartily after her, but MathMan was terribly disappointed that she had made good on her threat of scattered showers and thunderstorms across Georgia.

"Couldn't they have scattered somewhere else?" I moaned.

And now that big tease Mother Nature has conjured a big game of hide and seek with the sun an clouds. I guess that's what I get for calling in sick when I was really hungover.

Nevertheless, I'm thinking it's the perfect time to curl up somewhere and read one of the many books that are waiting for me to devour them while flicking the pages in that annoying way I do. But y'all know that's a fantasy right? Oh, I'll read. On the toilet. Maybe. That is - if I'm not too busy sending Facebook pokes from my cellphone. You take your mobile into the bathroom with you, too, don't you?

Now for those unfamiliar with Facebook, I realize this is going to seem like just so much more of that FB nonsense. That's quite all right. I can be fairly snarky and sanctimonious myself about the pop culture things I choose to opt out of, too. To each his own vices and what not.

But for those of you for whom Poking has become yet another way to communicate with your beloveds, then you must know that Poking comes with its own language. For example, my pokes signify different things to different people. The poke I give The Dancer is far different than the poke I might give to Latka, for example.

Allow me to demonstrate:

Let's say I poke Tanya Espanya. That pokes says "I got your poke and I'm poking you back, you hooker."

Sometimes I start the pokes. Those might mean "Hi! I'm thinking about you!" or "Hey! How are you?"

Pokes between myself and those with whom I am more intimate, have more complex meanings. Those are frightfully harder to discern and often require a bit of clairvoyance on the part of my pokee. As I keep telling them - context. Know the context, understand the poke.

To The Dancer, I might poke one of the following:
- I'm poking you back because you poked me and isn't that sweet?
- I love you. Do you really have to grow up and go away to college?
- You're my favorite. Just don't tell the crazy people.
- Go poke Daddy and leave me alone!
- Ow! Stop that! Don't make me cut off those funds!
- This poke is for all the times I should have punished you for that smart mouth.

Now for MathMan, the pokes are equally varied.
- Please come here. I need you and I'm too lazy to get up and find you in this house. Something is broken, a kid is getting on my last nerve, something itches and I can't reach it, blah, blah, blah...
- Did you just fart?
- MathMan is a nut! He has a rubber butt! And every time he turns around, it goes putt, putt.
- Make (fill in kid's name) go away. It's breathing my air!
- Oh no. I did THAT again.
- White or red?
-I love you, sugar.
- Oh! It. Is. On!

For others of you who might receive the occasional poke, please note that the poke might mean, but is not limited to the following:

- Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.
- I poke you because I love you.
- There's a chance that you might have herpes. I had nothing to do with it.
- Hello! My name is Inigo Montoya! You killed my father! Prepare to die!
- Wait, let me put my phone back between my legs before you do that again. I have it set to vibrate
-Thank you sir, may I please have another?
- Dance break!
- Hello! My name is Inigo Montoya! You killed my father! Prepare to die!

You get the idea. The poke is the thing. It means you're on my mind for good or for ill, I've seen you streaking across my mind's eye.

And some of you are even wearing clothes.

The Internets are Full of Very Busy People

Maybe it's the season?
Maybe it's because I'm so very much in denial that I'm old enough to have a kid graduating high school?
Maybe it's because School's Out For Summer! Forever? (for me, at least)
Maybe it's because I get to leave work early and there's a long weekend ahead?
Maybe it's a result of a conversation I just had with someone who knew me when I was just a silly young thing?

No matter. I'm feeling the need to embrace my inner adolescent. That explains the song.

So what explains the top picture? I'm editing the next Commute Chat video and the picture is relevant. Stay tuned. NowI've got to get busy taking sexy pictures of myself with my cheeks sucked and video games to play editing video............