Eye of the Terri

I forgot to mention one very special birthday present…

As I’ve typed here before I suck at wii Boxing. Really, really suck at it. I punch and flail at my opponent… but spend a lot more time on the mat. It’s disconcerting.

We don’t have a wii– our friends Chris and Susan do. We play it there. We bowl, we cow race, we volley in tennis… and we box. The rest of them do quite well. I  spend a lot of time cringing at the slow motion replay of my poor little wii Terri being lifted by the opposition’s fist and thrown– usually with my little wii neck snapping or my little wii arse going over my shoulder– to the mat.

Chris and Susan created little wii people for all of us. I like mine. She’s dressed in brown, has brown braids, and round glasses. Sometimes Chris makes her angry. All of our wii people look remarkably like us. (Except for Dan who we turned into a transvestite because we could. There’s also a Dennis Rodman man that we created when we realized that Dan’s transvestite wii looked like a white Dennis Rodman…)

Jack takes great delight in Mommy losing. In wii, when you lose, your little wii person hangs their head and slumps their shoulders while the winner gets to jump and gleefully raise their arms. Jack does a fantastic impression of both.

On NewYearsEve this year my only real resolution was to beat Chris or Robby or ANYone in wii Boxing. A worthy goal to set for myself. Four months later there had been little progress on this endeavor.

So, the day after my birthday, after we’d eaten Birthday Horseshoes and pie, and after I’d opened up my presents Chris said, “Wait, there’s one more. Follow me.” We all did. He handed me the wii numbchucks and cued up the boxing– already set with our wii people– and said, “Ok, here you go. Happy Birthday.” He sat down on the couch and barely raised his hands so that I’d get to win. Finally.

In theory it was a beautiful gesture. In practice, well, it didn’t quite work out that way. I punched and sallied and flailed while Chris sat nearly motionless on the sofa. Robby and Susan and Jack cheered until my little braided boxer hit the mat, rallied, got up and hit the mat again. And again. We had to go three rounds and then it was declared a draw. At one point Chris held his numbchucks over his head so that I’d have a clear shot to his face.

It didn’t help.

Susan’s theory, later, was that maybe because my little wii Boxer had such a terrible, terrible record… and Chris’ wii Boxer had such a history of annihilation that I was doomed without a handicap.

I’m going underground to train. This might be difficult without a wii to practice on. Maybe I could sneak into the Senior Center– I hear they have one. Get an old man to coach me and then come out of retirement to beat Chris and win the cold war.

“Adrian!”

Jack now

If I could, I think I’d keep Jack just as he is now for a while. He’s always been a funny kid but lately he’s turned up the dial a notch on his creativity.

Some highlights:

• We’ve taken the rail off his crib so that he’s sleeping in a little daybed now. It was hard to take off the front piece of the crib. He didn’t mind it– he nestled into his little crib every night without complaint and waited patiently in the morning for us to lift him out again. He could crawl out– and occasionally did– but, for the most part, he was content. My sister and I both slept in our cribs when we were in kindergarten. Like Jack we were small enough and it didn’t occur to us to be insulted. Still. It was time. He likes his new bed. He hops down in the morning and trots into our room casually, “Good morning Mommy.”
• Jack went on his first water slide last week. We took him to a hotel that had a waterslide, pool, and splash area. He was delighted. For about $12 I was able to get a little kickboard, waterwings, and an assortment of little pool toys. He loved the waterwings. The slide was supposed to be for people 48″ tall– Jack is nowhere near that… but, luckily, the rules were pretty lax and no one said anything about it. His face was a mix of pure exhilaration and pure terror when he came down the first time. Robby and I took turns catching him at the bottom, bobbing him in the water, and pointing him toward the ladder for another slide. His joy right now is so complete. So pure.
• We also took him to a friend’s farm museum. We took the free wagon ride with Farmer Brad who kindly let Jack sit up front with him. Jack was thrilled. We sat on haybales next to him while he studied all the things that Farmer Brad did. (Jack yelled, “Giddyup” to the horses who twitched their ears and took a step up.) When the wagon was full Farmer Brad turned and tipped his hat, “Hello, My name is Farmer Brad and I’ll be taking you on this wagon ride today. The horses here are named Duke and Dempsey.” Jack listened politely then turned, stood, pulled my hat off my head, placed it on his own, and announced, “Hello, My name is Woody. Mommy is Jessie the Cowgirl and Daddy is Buzzlightyear. You are all horses.” His first public interpretation. Sigh.
• His new expression when things go wrong, “Oh! This is terr-ible!”
• The fairies have come to live in Jack’s fort. He went out one day to find a tiny door that opens to the fairy that lives inside. There’s been an exchange of little surprises and even a note from the fairies. Jack is enchanted with the whole concept.
• Jack’s gymnastic class culminated in a End of Year Parent’s Program. He forward rolled and bounced and kartwheeled (which, for Jack, is really just swinging his little rear end over while he hops)… and was awarded, with all the other children, a participation trophy. It’s nifty. It lights up and flashes. As trophies go, this one’s pretty snazzy. He was impressed. It has batteries. Batteries are pretty big in a 4-year-old’s world.
• There is genuine chatter now. About anything and everything. Get Jack started on a topic he’s interested in and be prepared to listen for quite a while. Favorite topics include: dinosaurs, Lightening McQueen and his world, coins, and instuctions.
• Georgia-the-Teddy-Bear goes everywhere with us now. To church and the grocery store and to visit Granny. Georgia is always nearby, in Jack’s arms, or in my purse. I can’t think of how any future friend will be as loyal and true as this one.

Well. Time to stop. The little man in question is wondering what is for lunch. Me, too.

Not so young and restless

Today I don’t feel much like being a grown up.

I spent three hours cleaning and rearranging Jack’s room. (He was on a special outing with his grandparents.) I sorted out clothes and redid his drawers and baskets so that it’s easier for him to find things. I spent a big chunk of time on my knees cleaning the floor. I like Jack’s floor– it’s honey colored wood and shiny. Robby refinished it while Jack was being gestated. I stuck up a few new pictures on the walls and some glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling. I pulled all the books off his shelves and pulled out a few that we haven’t read in a while to surprise him with.

My birthday iPod came in handy. I listened to “Wait, Wait Don’t Tell Me” podcasts while I worked.

It’s a crappy week. (“Crap on crap on crap”, says Robby.) Our pals Chris and Sue spent their last nights as residents in our town this week. They’ll be back to visit– but we’ll miss them being so handily close. We both took turns soaking in their sweet baby because now he will grow so quickly– we’ll see him by the weeks and months instead of the hours and days. Last night was so normal it made me ache. We ate dinner (boxes of take-out sushi) and cupcakes while Jacky played and Baby Adrian was passed from one set of arms to another. Occasionally we would reference the last nightness of it but mostly we all pretended that this would go on and on.

I’m not maudlin. We’ll remain friends– I’m just mourning the proximity we’ve had this last year.

Today more crap piled on the other crap. Robby’s job is tied into the automotive industry so as the Big 3 sink into the mud it’s inevitable that he’ll have wet feet, too. We try to be grateful that he still has a job but the temporary shut downs have us both nervous.

Gone went the mini-vacation we’d planned for next week. And, with two weeks in July without pay on the horizon, we’re having to rethink any other plans this year to get away. For a girl with wanderlust this is a bitter pill to swallow.

Under the crap pile is the concerns we have about where to send Jack next year to school and some household projects that loom too large.

In this imperfect week of big changes– tomorrow is Jack’s last regular day of pre-school. He’s really loved going to school and I’m sorry it’s coming to an end for him. It makes me sad to see this little group of “schoolfriends” scattered across the district to different schools. I’ve spent enough time in their class getting to know them and I’ll miss them, too. I don’t have the confidence yet in next year that I did with this decision this time last year. We knew our choice for preschool was exactly right for Jack. I wish I could feel that about the fall, too.

I suck at “casting all my cares” upon God. It’s easier to say thank you. (And it’s not as though God really needs me whining right now. It must be like a mosquito swarm up there with all of us pleading for this and that. Ugh.)

Sorry to be so rambling. I’m sad and discouraged and anxious. This does not fuel my fingers well. Stopping now to go read a book. And tiptoe into Jack’s room and watch him sleep.

K-K-K-Kutcher

In light of all the many, many school adventures in front of us let’s file this one under Are We Being Punked?

We’re at the 2nd of Jack’s Kindergarten Round Ups (a blog for another day). Today’s featured a power point and a lot of “This will make sense when the kids are actually in school” information… The principle pointed out that their school, like the others in our district, use D’Nealian Penmanship. She told us we would find an alphabet sample in our packets.

There was other information– the usual stuff. And then Principle asked if there were any questions regarding the information she’d just covered.

A man sitting a few rows back and quite possibly the infamous Louis of our Birthing Classes (or at least a reasonable  facsimile) asked, loudly, “Why is there a cursive k instead of a printed one?” (A D’Nealian lower-case k is loopy– it’s like a more traditional cursive k… D’Nealian is supposed to facilitate fewer strokes in the writing process. I’ll stop but I could go on about this. Penmanship fascinates me.)

Principle: “We use the D’Nealian method of penmanship…” She went on to expound on the district’s choice to use that particular method.

Scary Man Who’s Son Will Be in Close Contact with My Precious Baby: “Well my mother was a schoolteacher for 30 years and she said printed ks shouldn’t look like that. I just want you to know that we will be teaching our boy to make the right k.” 

Principle: “Well sir, we can talk about this further later.”

Terri’s thought bubble: Hooray! I finally get to meet Ashton Kutcher. How fun that will be!

Birthday Girl

I didn’t expect much from this birthday. Things have been rather turmoily as of late, money tight, and 39 other reasons. So it was a rather pleasant surprise that this was one of the best birthdays I’ve ever had.

And not just because of all the birthday prizes. And they were fantastic this year– my longed-for iPod* in Jolly Rancher green from Robby and money for a purse from Momma (I’ve told Robby repeatedly, when a girl is this age and married and needs a change there are three choices– 1. A new purse. 2. Chop off hair. or 3. Get divorced. The last two didn’t appeal to me– leaving him not much of a choice perhaps?). Trish and the girlies gave me iTunes money, gymnastics tuition for JackRabbit, and a CD burned with a bunch of songs I’ve been wanting. Padre and Lady bought Jacky his bike and me a beautiful bowl that is all mine in the morning. (It’s really going to glam up my oatmeal.) And Chris and Susan feted me with an unbelievably delicious birthday dinner (my first Horseshoe!) and chess pie and a box of Lush. (Last night, for those of you curious, I soaked in the tub that was Lushy and pink and heavenly.)

Momma made clafouti, Lady made mousse, and there was that chess pie from Cinncinnati that nearly sang when the box was opened. I-yi-yi.

It was a three day celebration. Not bad for an old girl.

*The iPod had me wracked with guilt for about 12 hours. By then I’d downloaded a quarter of our CD collection and was so amazed by it’s abilities that I punted the guilt for devotion. (Of course, at lunch with my sister, 5 hours in and still guilt laden, I had to ask, “How do you turn it off? Where’s the off switch.” After she mocked me she kindly showed me how…)

And oy! The free NPR podcasts! I have 10 episodes of Wait, Wait Don’t Tell Me stockpiled. (Why doesn’t Prairie Home Companion have podcasts??) Suddenly the initial cost for the iPod itself no longer mattered when I could finally listen to an entire episode of WWDTM without missing chunks. (I don’t listen to much radio unless I’m in the car. I don’t tend to have a lot of extended driving trips on Saturday when NPR pulls out all it’s stops.)

And really it’s not the gifts themselves– it’s the thought behind them– it’s Robby knowing how much I hate walking unless I’m with Susan or Lady… and how both of them won’t be here this summer. It’s everyone around me knowing all of my favorite things. (Lady tried to get me more Mallomars but it’s too late in the year. Still– the thought that she’d tried made even my toes happy.) It’s the silly extravaganze of bubbly baths and Goo Goo Clusters (okay, confession… Lady gave me a box of those and I didn’t mention it above because I was going to hide them from Robby but now I feel bad about that…) or the promise of a brand new, uncluttered purse to organize in.

My first iTunes purchase was The Proclaimer’s Sunshine on Leith album that I’d lent to a coworker 6 years ago. She was fired a few days later and I never got the CD back. It’s one of my favorites. I’ve mourned the loss of it in my life all these years since. How grand to have it back again! And the Sam Philips song from my favorite Gilmore Girls episode.

Anyway. It was a great birthday. And a good way to kick off this last year of thirtysomething.