My favorite is the beat-box rodent.
This is gmom,
Hoo’s Momma went away for a few days.
Gmom, Rose and Grandpa took over.
We are having a busy but awesome time.
We bought a Hoo- size motorcycle to amuse him so if he had a meltdown we had a good distraction handy.But the boy is doing fine, so we just gave it to him.
He did take one spill off of it which required a band- aid,several kisses and quick application of one dum-dum lollipop.
The toe scrape was from chasing Cujo with a handful of sand from the sandbox.
For a special treat we let Hoo use a real screwdriver to meddle in the workings of a broken fan. It’s his current mechanical obsession. Anytime he started walking away with the screwdriver I say, Hoo get back to fixing that fan or give me the tool. He would give me his blue eyed grin and get straight back to work on the fan. I expect with all the banging it will be be working again in due time.
We have watched a fair bit of Baby Einstein videos both in English and Spanish.
The English versions are quite lovely with Pachelbel Canon in D Minor playing beautifully while a soft female voice recites barnyard animal names. The pictures show sweet images of baby cows, chicks and horses.
The Spanish version has the theme to Mama Mia playing with a child reciting animal names.
Rat, snake, iguana and turtle.
I don’t know what to make of that.
It’s been busy. But a lot of fun.
Hope your weekend was good.
This is gmom.
Wiping the sticky from the keyboard.
Peace out from Hooville.
This is actually two topics in one. I have run away from home. The pressure cooker of some home events drove me to take the sage actions of a friend and skedaddle to higher ground for a breather.
So I write to you from the beachfront. I am watching the waves rolling inexorably into the shore. I am eating bagels and cream cheese with lox, the TV is turned on a rerun of Project Runway, I have a six-pack of beer cooling on ice.
It’s all wrong, but exactly what I need. A short break from a difficult reality. Hubby didn’t exactly give me his blessing, but I did notice he put the ‘easy-pass’ in my car’ and called to check up on me a few times. All good. This is working for me.
So Rose and I, you know Rose, my 21-year-old? Works full-time and goes to college full-time? My own little overachiever. She and I were discussing things you should try at least once in your life.
We settled on:
Singing in front of a crowd
Go surfing in Malibu
Climb an active volcano
Participate in Burning Man
Now of course we then went on to name a bunch of things we thought we wouldn’t try.
So here is that list too. Be sure to add yours in.
We wouldn’t try cocaine or heroin. One time may be one time too many.
Get a big ‘name tattoo’ on our face.
Run a marathon. (ewwwww)
Join a ‘hold your breath’ under water contest.
Run naked through church.
Read War And Peace. Uh no.
See the Taj Mahal. I seen it in Las Vegas it ain’t all that!
Backpack through the rainforest. No No No.
Learn an indigenous language. I’ll stick to pig-Latin.
Listen to Enya for 5 hours straight. Just shoot me instead.
Give someone directions, even though you have no idea where they are going.
Get drunk and ruin someones special day.
Photocopy your butt. Why do people do that???
Join a self-help group. I actually did that once with my sister and they kicked us out for laughing.
Last but not least, marry someone you met in an online dating site who you have only met one time. Don’t ask! I know someone who did this. What a disaster.
So there you go kids.
What are your ideas. Hmmm?
This is gmom,
at the beach,
watching the waves and wondering,
why do I live in the city????
Peace and I am outa here!
(On the anniversary of my brother’s passing I am grateful for the small miracles of today. Hey Jeff, miss you bud, you would have loved this story, you would have loved Hoo)
Baby boy Hoo was mad rushed into the house by his momma Eggs on Friday. “Mom! The daycare called me, he is burning up with fever!!!” My daughter was panicked, struggling to hold a hysterical Hoo.
Undress him, let’s check his temperature.
I watched the mercury rise in the thermometer tube as Eggs pinned Hoo across her lap.
Okay let’s get him into the bath, get the tylenol and call his doctor.
I poured cool water over his shaking body. It was controlled chaos.
We wrapped him in a sheet and rushed him to the pediatrician who saw him immediately.
Hoo sat on Eggs lap as the doctor examined him. He cried continuously.
The doctor did a strep test with the looong q-tips swirled down his throat.
Poor Hoo, he gagged hard, when he could draw breath he cried out “T’ank you, t’ank you.”
That is a Hooism for “thank you”. The doctor was charmed by our little darling. The we waited until a nurse came in to draw
blood. Hoo cried and cried and when she finished he cried “T’ank you, t’ank you.” She also was
touched by this tiny tot. She said that was the first time a 23 month old thanked her for poking them.
The doctor came back in and listened to Hoo’s chest again and pronounced him to have
pneumonia. Of course Hoo turns red-eyed and says, “T’ank you, t’ank you.”
Eggs and I shared a secret smile over Hoo’s head.
You see dear reader, whenever Hoo wants someone to leave he says “Thank you.”
Today Sunday he is better. Bouncing around as recovering children do.
Watching Sesame Street and eating jelly toast.
T’ank you God, really T’ank you!
No one in their right mind maybe?
No reverse, that means no backy- uppy.
What the heck? How can the van have no reverse???
Imagine that said in a very loud voice, mine to my mild-mannered husband.
Tell me dear, how long has this
piece of crap van not had a functioning reverse?
Weeks??? This is unacceptable. (That’s me being patronizing).
We were in Annapolis on a date. Yes kids even after 30 years of marriage this grandma and grandpa go on dates. That’s all you need to know.
We were going to walk along the waterfront after dropping an oil drum at a restaurant. It was 10 p.m. I was driving the van which had about 8 (200 gallon) empty drums behind the seats. I had pulled in to a parking spot behind the restaurant when my husband started shouting, “Don’t park head in, don’t park head in!!!”
“There’s no reverse!!!!”
WHAT????? No Reverse???? Honey that is just messed up….
Too late, I was parked. Husband got out and had to push while I gunned the engine of the van-from-hell to try to force some backward movement. We need help. Some guys walking by came over and put their weight with my husband’s and the van was pushed out of the parking spot.
I climbed into the passenger seat muttering, I am not driving this lousy piece of….
We pulled to an alley behind the restaurant and parked on the street. Husband unloads the drums. It was dark and vacant back there. I kept my eyes open for trouble from the relative safety of the van-with-no-reverse.
“I’ll be right back.” and husband jogs off. What? Where is he going? Leaving me in this dark alley in this good for nothing van! I was outraged. Until the police car pulled up alongside the van. Great!
I started to get out of the van until the cop shining a flashlight in my face yelled “Stay in your car!”
Okay fine, you don’t have to yell.
Now my heart is pounding in my chest. I am sitting in a dark van with several very large oil drums in it. I have a rag tied around my head. It’s only been 5 days since Osama was killed, and Annapolis, if you don’t know is neighbor to DC. The security is tight.
I figure I have 2 maybe 3 minutes before the Cavalry shows up and my face is on the pavement. I’m scanning the van to think could Bart or my husband have any weapons on board that I need to declare to the cops but I don’t dare move, especially not to look for a weapon. No that will definitely raise the ire of the cop watching me and probably get me shot. No I’ll just sit quiet-like and curse my husband for running off and leaving me here.
Then just as suddenly the back of the van flies open and it’s husband grabbing out another drum and talking a mile a minute.
“They need another drum, they are doing a bang up business, saw 2300 people in the last 2 days…” he doesn’t see the cop.
The police car rolls forward as my husband is carrying the clearly empty drum off the van. The cop slowly drives off. I want to cry.
Husband gets into the van. “Now we can take that walk on the waterfront! Romantic!” He rubs his hands together and smiles like a kid.
Take me home.
Just take me home.
“I don’t understand you.”
You just ran off and left me here. There was a cop who yelled at me to stay in the van. He thought I was a terrorist or something.
“You’re fine, there’s no cop.”
There was! Now take me home.
“Try to do something nice for you…”
Just drive. Oh and first thing tomorrow this ‘gadawfulpiecacrap’ better be at the mechanics!
No reverse! Give me a break!
“Wow! That’s nice talk dear.”
I can laugh about it now. But at the time? I was fit to be tied. No reverse…who drives a car with no reverse……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….
I don’t know about any other families but with ours….?
It’s not a picnic to put all the extended family together in one room.
There should probably be some law prohibiting it.
Between the mass alcohol consumption and the golden rare opportunity to finally tell Uncle so-and so what he did in 1986 that still has you making excuses.
Cousin Chris? Who married your girlfriend after you broke up but before you were sure you absolutely hated her, as he claims you did..
You just can’t resist revisiting that time can you.
For myself, honestly I hate having to remember who I told what to,
and who I told never to breathe a word about something…
but about what I’m not sure anymore.
It’s a regular Jerry Springer marathon event but with a seven piece band and eight course dinner.
The wedding is out-of-town.
My dear mother in law.
Who I really love, by the way, wants us to stay with her and Dad.
How do I politely tell her no thanks I’ll be hightailing it out of there before the,
“”so what are you up to these days…”
“Did you hear Jen’s husband Bob is in rehab?”.
(“Uh, Jen is standing behind you, with Bob.”)
I’ll spend an hour trying to remember everybody’s kid’s names and ask the little darlings how third grade is treating them.
I’ll be patient and understanding when they cry out loud during the wedding ceremony and while their mom hustles them out to the hallway.
I’ll be okay when I go to the women’s room to find 3 adolescent girls in tears over a torn dress hem.
I’ll spend time with the ancient aunt who never fails to ask after the health of my dog Cujo but can’t remember my name to save her life.
I’ll hug my brothers and sisters. We don’t say much, foxhole buddies.
We leave feeling exhausted,
riding the New Jersey Turnpike at 2 a.m.
I drive back to Baltimore with one of my children.
We will meet in the parking lot of the wedding hall.
I’ll probably share a smoke with Bart and a few laughs over something,
like dad pulling the cord on the band’s amplifier. Ha! He did warn them to turn that dang music down.
China and Silver will be waiting like sentries for everyone to be present and accounted for before we go. Silver sneaking short drags on his skinny cigars, like he knows he’s doing something wrong.
And on that night,
when two lives are bonded in the crucible of marriage,
I’ll pray that the younguns’ find some happiness in this complicated world of relationships.
I’ll pray that the husband loves his wife in the way mine loves me,
just as I am.
A hopeless non-conformist, sarcastic, cynical, talk too much, say too little.
A person so completely smitten with those people standing in the dark,
waiting by the car.
Those people whose jokes I get.
And always think are funny,
even when they are not.
Laughing too loudly in a tight little impenetrable mob,
The other guests give them a sniffy wide berth.
But I walk straight into their midst,
and take my place.
This is gmom,
1. Call me when you get there.
2. Clean up, I am not the maid here.
3. You want to leave? Do you need help packing?
4. Wait until your father gets home.
5. You only have to be tall enough for your feet to reach the ground.
6. Don’t smart mouth me young man (lady).
7. You’re going to take an eye out with that thing.
8. You can’t take care of anyone else if you don’t take care of yourself first.
9. It doesn’t matter what other people think,you can’t control that.
10. Don’t tell me to mind my business, you are my business.
2. If you don’t have something pleasant to say, don’t say anything at all.
3. It’s for your own good.
4. No one said life was going to be fair.
5. What if all your friends were jumping off a cliff would you jump too?
6. If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t say anything.
8. Be home before dark.
9. Put other people’s needs before your own.
10. Mind your own business.
Now which group of 10 were my 1950-1970’s mother and which are mine?
What do you say to your kids?
This is gmom,
Hoo, 20 months old pointed desperately at the carousel.
“Oh gosh, that’s fun let’s take him on!”
Good idea, right?
Started out okay. His mama, Eggs sat with him on one of the painted ponies.
We waited for the ride to start.
The Calliope played the tinny tune while we, Hoo’s fan club stood at the fence and waved madly.
Then the meltdown.
Hoo started crying and slithering in that way he does where the only thing you can do is gather bunches of his clothes and drag him up off the floor like spilt milk.
The carousel started up and Eggs quick tossed Hoo on to the chariot seat and held on. Hoo cried and wrestled pointing at the horses. Eggs tosses him back up on to a horse and jumps on behind him…and he cries…and he cries.
We his cheering section…are laughing our ever-loving’ heads off.
“You’re doing it Hoo! Yay Hoo! You’re riding!” We called every time he went by, then we collapsed in hilarious laughter until he came around again…still crying, with Eggs hanging on to him.
“Yay Hoo! You are awesome dude! You are riding!”
Finally the carousel stopped. Eggs carried Hoo over to us and happily handed him over….and…he started crying!
What is it? Why are you crying now?
Of course he wanted to go back on the carousel again.
That destroyed us. We couldn’t stop laughing after that.
He rode the carousel all day long.
If you ever wonder is the world going crazy or is it you.
Hang out with a 2-year-old. Chances are (sigh) it’s you.
I mean me.
This is gmom,
Hoo is on the computer……again.
Staring intently at the screen.
Typing two handed.
Wearing his shades.
Doesn’t want Grandma to read what he wrote.
It’s a secret.
A new blog post, a tell all, an SOS sent out to the world.
Traitor. Teeny tiny traitor.
Hoo you little rockstar!