I come to you as the person on the couch who resents the TV show "Parenthood." I'm dealing with this by multitasking (watching+writing), which violates a few Rules for the Weekend I unofficially scribbled into my psyche when I heard the 5 o'clock whistle on Friday.
1. I wasn't going to write anything. I've self-diagnosed myself with either carpel tunnel or arm-falling-off-itis. I was going to rest my limbs and their attachments and maybe even let my brain have time to blossom with new sentences, better sentences;
2. I wasn't going to be weighed down by fake obligations like writing on the internet or "working on my novel" or conquering enough steps to make my FitBit jangle my wrist bone with its victory.
So it's weird to call this watching of the show that is currently tied for first place in my right-now primetime lineup "an obligation," but it feels like one because there are a few other leisures that I'm trying to cram in even though cramming in leisures, by definition, violates No. 2.
Yesterday Chuck texted me that he was lying in the lounge with the body pillow and tea and reading. I want to do that, too. I got a comic book today, first one in forevs, (actually I got two), and this is what I want to be doing. But first, "Parenthood." Fist shake to the heavens.
LIVE AND IN CONCERT
This morning we went to a staged production starring characters from a popular children's television show throwing a sort of dance party for the kind of kids whose parents laugh in the face of the recommended daily allowance of screen time.
This went way better than the time I took her to see "The Nutcracker." For those keeping track at home, The Girl can say the name "Abby" about 57 times in a minute, but she's limber enough to cram in about 62 "Elmo's" in the same amount of time. The first half of the show went well. During the second half, a lame dad decided to block our view while he swayed his infant into complacency and The Girl decided to sit with a different family, a more fun family, whose 7-year-old boy was completely fine with her repetitious language patterns and occasional pokes in the upper arm.
We didn't get cotton candy, but we wanted some.
We didn't get a balloon, either, because it seemed like we should wait to buy souvenirs for her until she becomes the age that actually asks for souvenirs -- and maybe not even then.
THE MACARONI INCIDENT
She spent lunch sticking a plastic palm sized cat into a bowl of Macaroni & Cheese then licking the cheese off his face. Neither of our parents would have let either of us act like this in public when we were kids. But we're cool parents, you know, who think its perfectly acceptable to do this kind of thing.
There were other things, like a new unconventional way of drinking water and the like. I held her in her booster seat for the duration of the meal and pieces of macaroni kept falling on to the back of my hand. This, I've decided, could be the most disgusting sensation I've ever known.
"This is really the only way you experience that feeling, outside of Halloween parties," Chuck said.
THE TEDIUM OF CHORES
The Girl fell asleep in the car as we were setting out on our errands, but I was prepared so I rerouted for a drive thru coffee shop and had a book in the passenger seat and a new podcast to check out on my phone and an overdue phone call to make to my mom regarding the awesome slippers she sent that makes it feel like I'm walking around with a pair of stuffed animals attached to my feet.
After she woke, we returned a couple of scarves at the mall. When the girl at the register asked for the reason for the return, I told her I found something better but it was a lie. One of the scarves was so awesome, a sort of Technicolor Dream Scarf. But you know what? At some point you have to put the kabosh on buying scarves. You gotta just say "Enough Knits," you know?
I got my oil changed for the first time in too long and a few blocks from the shop, my car did the tell-tale whomp-whomp-whomp of a flat. I had no idea what to do, so I did the ill-advised thing and drove back to the shop.
A few years ago I knew what to do under these circumstances. I've changed a tire or two in my day. Today, in 2015 with toddler in the backseat begging for a applesauce and a Forever Person at work, I was struck dumb. Would I put the carseat in a cab? Would I abandon my car and take the bus with her? Back at the shop, they fussed over it. They'd just put air in the tires a few minutes earlier so the problem seemed pretty mysterious. They filled it and made sure it didn't empty and then I went to an actual tire place next door and they checked it and said they didn't see a problem.
So I took residential roads home and it worked so who knows. The woman at the oil change shop thought maybe the valve had gotten stuck into an open position when they were putting air into the tire. That's the answer I choose to believe until I can take it somewhere.
THE POOR GIRL
Back at home, I stuffed a packet of applesauce into The Girl's face and let her watch the episode of Sesame Street that includes guest star Jimmy Fallon. Then we ate a bunch of couscous and hummus and she pretended like the naan was, well, she called it "Mama" and made it walk around before she took a bite out of it.
I asked her if she wanted me to read her a book and she screamed "NO!" We took every toy out of the toy cupboard and she pretended that she was washing her hands using her Edu Foam blocks as soap. I repeatedly chucked a rubber ball across the room so she could run in circles chanting: "Bounce! Bounce! Bounce!"
Right now she's obsessed with the movie "The Gruffalo," ("Lo! Lo! Lo!") so we watched that instead. Actually we watched it twice, okay? We watched it twice.
First we tried to watch "Ferngully," which I'd never seen. Imagine my surprise. Turns out the star's name is Crysta. It was unsettling. Every time they said it, I sort of jumped to attention and my heart leapt a little.
"Lo! Lo! Lo!" The Girl said.
CUT TO NOW
So now she's in bed, asleep, and I'm doing laundry and running the dishwasher and "Parenthood" just happened to end at the same time as I got done writing this, so now I'm taking my copy of "Ms. Marvel" to the lounge, where we keep the body pillow, and I'm going to do that for a while.
The "It's (fill in the blank day) and I'm Boring" series is something Jodi and I do to pay homage to the beauty of old-school blogging. Diggit.