Telekinetic Child

Lagunatic took Julian to the airport yesterday so we could pick up my parents coming in for Thanksgiving.

Earlier in the morning I woke up to pea-soup fog enveloping the house and was worried my parents’ flight was going to be late. Luckily, it had lifted by the time we left, but on our way down it was overcast and pretty grey.

“Mommy, I want the clouds to go away.”

“You think it’ll be sunny later?”

“Yeah. I’m going to make it sunny. I’m going to sing the sunny song. *sings* You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me hap-PY when skies are grey, you’ll never know de-AR how much I wuv you, please don’t take my sweet sunshine away. You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me hap-PY when skies are grey, you’ll never know de-AR how much I wuv you, please don’t take my sweet sunshine away. You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me hap-PY when skies are grey, you’ll never know de-AR how much I wuv you, please don’t take my sweet sunshine away. You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me hap-PY when skies are grey, you’ll never know de-AR how much I wuv you, please don’t take my sweet sunshine away.”

“Awww, Julian, that was such a nice song!”

“I KNOW! You sing it with me, Mommy!!”

“Ok.”

*Julian and I start singing in absolute perfect harmony – Simon Cowell even called to congratulate us*

“Hey, Julian! Look over there! Your singing is working!! The clouds are breaking!”

“They ARE??????????”

“Yeah, look over there! It’s getting bright!!”

“WOW!!!!!!”

“You’re powerful, Julian.”

“I’m not powerful, I’m COOL.”

*We keep driving*

“Mommy, the sun is burning my eyes, I want it to be cloudy again.”

“What?!? You just made it sunny!”

“I know, but it’s burning my eyes.”

“Ok, start singing a cloudy song. What about ‘All the leaves are down, and the sky is grey..’ “

“NOOOOOO, Mommy, not THAT one!!”

“Ok, you sing one.”

“Ok…um….ok,ok, ok…. *sings* Clouds come baaaaaack and cov-ER the suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuun, Clouds come baaaaaack and cov-ER the suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuun, Clouds come baaaaaack and cov-ER the suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuun, Clouds come baaaaaack and cov-ER the suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuun.”

“Oh, can I sing that with you?”

“Sure you can, Mommy!”

*Before we even hit the first note, Simon Cowell calls back to offer us a recording contract…we were that good*

We arrive at the airport and there’s not a cloud in the sky. We go inside to collect my parents and bring them back to the car. I tell them the story about how Julian sang the clouds away but then the sun burned his eyes so now we’re waiting for his cloud song to work. They eagerly anticipate the outcome.

As we near the house it starts to get cloudy again.

“Julian!!! Your cloud song worked!! LOOK! See? I told you you just needed to be a little patient.”

“Wow, Julian, you’re really powerful!”

“I’m NOT powerful!! I’m COOL, Gaggi!!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Julian, you’re cool.”

“Hey, Mommy? I think I want the sun to come back again.”

“Julian, you’re going to confuse the sun!!”

“What?”

“You’re going to confuse the sun!!”

“I don’t want to confuse the sun.”

“I know! Poor sun!!”

“……….but I want it to be sunny now. *sings* You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me hap-PY when skies are grey, you’ll never know de-AR how much I wuv you, please don’t take my sweet sunshine away. You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me hap-PY when skies are grey, you’ll never know de-AR how much I wuv you, please don’t take my sweet sunshine away. You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me hap-PY when skies are grey, you’ll never know de-AR how much I wuv you, please don’t take my sweet sunshine away. You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me hap-PY when skies are grey, you’ll never know de-AR how much I wuv you, please don’t take my sweet sunshine away.”

And, wouldn’t you know it, the clouds began to thin and soon we were squinting in the sun-light. Of course, we were also sticking our fingers in our ears, but nothing in life comes for free.

 

I think I’m going to keep him around a while…..you never know if his powers will work on a cashless wallet.

This just in: I’m technically Southern.

Lagunatic made a big step today.

We moved to North Carolina almost 6 years ago  (I’ll tell you the story later, probably sometime in January) not knowing exactly how long we’d be here. Jimmy told me that if at any time I wanted to go home we’d do just that. Now, there were plenty of times I could have tested him on this, but I wanted to be a good wife/partner and so instead of acting like a petulant child I just drank copious amounts of vodka – straight – instead……. it didn’t even have to be cold (which should illustrate the severity of my pain). As time went on, and his work suffered some ups and downs, there were many conversations about moving to London, or Hong Kong, or Miami, or Atlanta, or Dubai, or back to New York. I was always looking for salvation in the form of a transfer…..alas, it never came.

Anyway, neither of us had ever owned a car before (we had always lived in places where they were more of a hinderance than a help) but upon moving to Charlotte it became a necessity so we each got one. My driver’s license was still out of Florida. I never saw the point of switching it to New York since I didn’t drive there – it was really just for identification. Luckily, my birthday is in December so whenever my license was about to expire I’d just re-new it while I was down visiting my parents for Christmas.

In North Carolina you are supposed to get a new license within sixty days of moving. Well, today, just a couple of days in excess of the requisite sixty, I finally went for my license. I was nervous about it! I know a lot of people who have failed the test and since I suffer from an acute case of babybrainitis I didn’t trust my memory or ability to retain the information presented in the North Carolina Driver’s Manual. EEK! On top of this, I have a cold that has rendered me thick headed.

So, in I go to the local DMV…..for the third time this week, mind you. Monday I went in to pick up the manual. Tuesday I was planning to do the test but got caught up with my other errands and then realized I had forgotten to bring all my paperwork. Today I remembered the paperwork (after almost forgetting it again…babybrainitis, you bitch) and raced out the door as soon as Jimmy walked in from work. I was about five minutes out of my garage when I remembered that I’d forgotten the checkbook. They don’t take credit cards at the DMV. Of course, as soon as I pull into the parking lot of the DMV I realize I’d forgotten to go to an ATM. HOW CAN YOU FORGET SOMETHING TWICE IN TEN MINUTES?? No Darwin Award for me today, apparently. Off I sped, spinning tires and plowing curbs, to find a Green Machine. Back I came, breaking the sound barrier, ready to test my driving knowledge.

The wait was relatively short. I spent some time interacting with the other people in the waiting room. One woman covered the ears of her sixteen year old son….I guess she found me inappropriate. Or maybe I should remember that saying, “Holy Fuck I can’t fucking believe I forgot my fucking money on the fucking way over here! I’m going to eat some pasta tonight to thank the Flying Spaghetti Monster that I was able to find that ATM in time!!” tends to upset the locals……they don’t like it when you thank someone other than Jesus. Anyway, I was happy to find the other stray New York Ex-pat – a truck driver who’s wife hadn’t spoken one single word to him since he dragged her ass here back in 2002. I exchanged phone numbers with her (she was sitting there all seething and mute) and we’re going to get together one weekend… our plans are to don some camo and go bagel hunting – we’ll know we’ve hit pay dirt if we find someone who knows what a schmear is. Silver lining, people!!!

So, my number pops up rudely interupting the conversation I was having with the local cattle rancher cum teetering-on-broke commercial real estate titan cum ex-Christmas Parade organiser. He said his cattle cost more to keep than to sell. I told him to look into soy. He said if it worked out he’d give me a cut. I gave him my number. He hid it from his wife. And, off I went, filled with feelings of impending doom, to the examiner’s chair. I passed her my paperwork. She asked me I was worthy of being a Southener. I meekly replied that I sometimes enjoyed a slice of pecan pie. She nodded and administered the vision test. I was happy I could read the first line. So was she. Next, she gave me the road sign test. I got ten out of eleven. She admonished me for messing up the school zone sign. I told her about the time I pulled up to a guy in a corvette who’d been speeding in a school zone (he was speeding, it pissed me off so I caught up to him at the next light and honked my horn. He looked over and I gave him my sweetest smile. He, excitedly, rolled down his window. I asked him if he realized he was going forty-five miles an hour in a twenty mile zone and if he’d seen the school light flashing. He got red in the face and quickly rolled up his window. Jackass) and she softened. Like buttah. All of a sudden it was like I was having tea (cold and sweet) with Paula Deen.

Finally, I was sent to do the written (actually, you tap a computer screen) portion. I messed up two questions that I KNEW the answers to and was very annoyed with myself. After pulling myself together I completed the test with a passing grade of 80%. Jimmy says that if passing grade is 70% anything over 71% means you wasted too much time studying….I guess I wasted 9% of my time. I wonder who I can bill for it.

‘Paula Deen’ asked me if I’d passed I answered in the affirmative and she took my picture. I paid my $32 and left the building with a hot little certificate of authenticity in my trembling hands.

Getting into my car I quickly called home to tell Jimmy. When he answered I could barely hear him over Julian  screaming, “MOMMY!!! DID YOU WIN, DID YOU WIN???????”

Yes, baby…..Mommy won the battle.

(but, I think I’m losing the war).

Please adjust the rabbit ears.

Lagunatic decided that the best way to get a good start on the day was to give the kids breakfast with out having Nick Jr playing in the background. The goal was that they’d focus on eating and I wouldn’t get caught up in on-line stuff. They’d finish faster, start pestering me and then we’d actually go out into the world and get shit done! Shocking concept, I know.

Well, it worked….kind of:

“Mommy! I don’t hear any noises.”

“Noises?”

‘Yeah, television noises.”

“That’s because the tv isn’t on.”

“I know………………………Hey, Mommy?”

“Yes, sweetie pie.”

“Don’t you need to check the weather?”

 

Crafty little rascal that one. However, unless Wubzy has Larry Sprinkle bound and gagged in the Green Room closet I don’t think his little ruse is going anywhere.

 

 

What’s red and white and bitchy all over?

Lagunatic was reading a message board conversation about Mensa.  I knew I had to contribute as I have much to say on the matter:

 

I’m the antithesis of Mensa…I belong to a group called Menstrual. You have to be really cranky and saddled with a week long case of the stupids to join. We meet monthly. Period. Sometimes we check out each others’ pads.

(how much longer can I go with this do you think?)

 

You’re sorry you opened this aren’t you? Well get over it and pass me that fucking jar of Nutella! And a tissue – I seem to be crying for no apparent reason.

What time does the bar open?

Lagunatic has a full day today. I don’t know if I’m going to make it out alive. I don’t know if my kids are either. I would say that the dog might, but we don’t have a dog. Maybe I’ll go water the plants to hedge my bets a bit.

It’s funny, in my past life I could run around a foreign city and hit 12 castings in a day, get home, go out for dinner and then party like a rock star with barely a strand of hair out of place..Now? Not so much.

Here’s my list:

Feed the monsters (yeah…I should really have done that first)

Shower the monsters (don’t need that funk making people run away screaming)

Dress the monsters (it’s cold outside)

Shower myself (see above)

Blow-dry my hair (this is where I wish Tryptophan came in gummy-bear candies – keep the kids at bay for a while)

Make myself purty (for a very specific reason – see below)

Put air in tires (I’ve never done this before and am afraid I’m going to blow up my whole car in trying)

Get car maintenanced (it’s, like, 2000 miles over-due and there are a bunch of lights screaming at me)

Go get driver’s license (yeah – um, it’s about time I change my license over from my last state…it’s about to expire)

Pick up turkey (14 lbs of bird. I hope the sucker is dead)

Take kids to regional Christmas Parade (a promise made to one’s children is like a thorn in one’s eyeball I’ve realized)

Try to meet up with a girlfriend (she’s gonna regret this)

 

I know, I know, you’re sitting there thinking, “That isn’t much!” but add this to the mix – I’m pre-menstrual, have a cold and added together there are about 150 miles of driving required to accomplish all these tasks.

Why am I sitting here writing this drivel and procrastinating, you ask?

Because it’s too early to start drinking, silly.

 

Holy Son.

Lagunatic is preparing dinner (and by “preparing” I mean tossing the chicken parmigiana Jimmy so lovingly made yesterday into the toaster oven) for the kids when she hears:

 

“Mommy? I love you.”

“I love you too, Julian!”

‘You’re my favourite mommy in the whole wide world.”

“Awww, and you’re my favourite son in the whole wide world!”

“Mommy! I’m not your son!!”

“Oh? Who’s son are you?”

“I’m Daddy’s son!”

 

So, let me get this straight…..I grew him in my uterus for almost 10 months…… and then gave birth to him after many hours of excruciating labour……but he is not my son….I’m just some baby-making vessel……………..interesting.

Not even four and he already has a Jesus complex.

Oh no you di’int!!

Lagunatic thinks this blog could use another section.

Yes, everyone seems to love the Julianisms but a very recent occurrence made me realize something is missing here. As a mom of two young kids sometimes I find myself putting words together that heretofore would never have been together.

Case in point, I just heard myself yelling the following:

 

Zandi! Don’t you dare make pee-pee on that table!!!

 

Mark this as the birth of a new section called “Say What?!?”. In the meantime, I would greatly appreciate it if you’d hand me some paper towels and cleaner. Thanks.

 

 

Baby beanstalks?

Lagunatic is in manic mode – so much to be done between now and Turkey Day.

The Christmas tree is up and decorated, thanks be to Jimmy who wanted it done before my folks come on Thanksgiving (no, don’t boo-hiss at me, he didn’t grow up celebrating Christmas so he doesn’t know that there are rules regarding when the tree goes up – send hate mail to him, not me) and today I hit Icky-Ah (IKEA!), Steinmart and Fresh Market to pick up some additional groceries Jimmy forgot to get this morning.

Everything went relatively smoothly  – no major hitches or glitches – but something happened that did dredge up a fun memory. One of the things on Jimmy’s grocery list for me to pick up was frisee. Frisee (pronounced “freeze EH!”,,,,it should really be Canadian) is a bitter lettuce that looks prettier than it tastes (Hey! Kind of like crayons!). The check-out woman had to ask what it was. I can see not knowing what frisee is if you don’t spend a lot of time in posh restaurants or reading swanky cookbooks, but I do think check-out people in grocery stores should be taught what they sell – it’s just good policy.

Which brings me to…….last year around the same time. My mom and I were in a popular super-store that I’d prefer not to name  *cough, Target, cough, cough* doing some last minute food shopping for Thanksgiving dinner. We came across these beautiful firm big thick hard girthy……..asparagus (you thought I was going to say something else, didn’t you, you perv). We tossed them into our cart and made our way to check out.

The young check out girl was, apparently,  fresh from the sticks. Granted, some people around here think Charlotte is a huge city (BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA..*gasp for air* ahahahahahahahahahahaha *can’t breathe* ahahaha!) but I don’t think she’d ever been in a town with a population higher than 500 or knew that “y’all” is not technically a word, but is, actually, the amalgamation of, are you ready for this, TWO perfectly good seperate words. I KNOW!!! Anyway, she’s scanning the items while concurrently jerking off her cousin/brother/uncle when she came across the asparagus.

Everything halts (except her cousin/brother/uncle who just cocks his head to one side a spits his chew on the floor).

She looks at the asparagus and then looks at us:

“Whut’s theeeis?”

“What?”

“Theeis??”

“That?”

“Uh-huh.”

*Mom and I look at each other a little perplexed*

“Um, it’s aspargus.”

“Aspare ugus?”

“Yeah.”

“Y’all eat ieet?”

“Um, yeah – it’s good.”

“How d’y'all cook ieet?”

“In a pan? There are a few methods – you can boil it, or sautee it…it just depends on what you want.”

“Huh! I ain’t never herda ieet befo’.”

“You should try it sometime. It’s tasty and good for you.”

*check out hick, er, I mean, chick gives us a look that seems to say not-on-my-daddy’s-sister’s-mother’s-husband’s-dog’s-grave-I-won’t*

We pay, grab out bags, and wish her a Happy Holiday.

 

I guess we should be thankful she didn’t ask what we’d done with Jack. You know – Jack and the beanstalk? That dude with the magic beans?? Fe-Fi-Fo-Fum??? Beanstalks looks like asparagus???? Ahh, furget ieet.

 

Vengeful noodles.

Lagunatic and family sat down to a gorgeous meal perfectly cooked by Jimmy. All praise be to my culinary lord, Hubby.

We teased our appetites with some mussels in coconut curry and then moved on to the piece de resistance;  jumbo shrimp in linguini. If I wasn’t on the Demi Moore plan of personal enhancement (to look better at 40 than at 30)  I would have eaten the plates the food was served on (I figure a tummy tuck is best done from the outside first).

Anyway, Julian was delightedly slurping up his noodles in the manner of the iconic scene in Lady and the Tramp when he stopped short:

“Julian, are you done?”

“Yes, Daddy………….. I’m scared.”

“………..Scared of what?”

“Of my food.”

Jimmy and I look at each other all like WTF?!?

“You’re scared of your food?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because, Mommy,  they’re mad at me that I ate all their friends.”

 

Be proud that I chose not to scar my child for life by pointing out that “they” could have exacted revenge from inside his tummy.  Maybe I’ll just save that little tidbit for tomorrow….when he comes in at the crack of yawn and tries to warm his icicle toes in my abundant lady lumps.

 

Open wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiide.

Lagunatic and Julian had a discussion yesterday about what it is like to be pregnant:

“Yes, Julian, you were in my belly and you started out SOOOO SMALL that you couldn’t even be seen!! And then you started growing bigger, and bigger, and bigger, and bigger, and my belly started getting bigger, and bigger, and bigger, and bigger, and after almost ten WHOLE months you came out! Daddy and I were SO happy to see you!!!”

“I was in your belly? And, I was so small??? You couldn’t see me? So, you had to use a microscope??”

“Well, I guess a microscope would have worked when we couldn’t see you.”

“Did you try binoculars??”

 

I’m going to add binoculars to things I never ever want associated with my vagina.