I’ll Eat When The Cheer Is Complete

At the beginning of this long holiday weekend, I was all I’m gonna turn a corner in my life. We’re gonna bring in some Christmas cheer and I’m gonna stop watching scary movies that prevent me from sleeping and I’m gonna get gift shopping done early sos I can kick back and enjoy watching this yule log of a year burn, baby, burn. Or something like that.

To kick off the holiday season right, but also so I could move on with my life, my husband and I watched our last 3 hours of The Haunting of Hill House right after the kids went to bed on Thanksgiving. Tis the season!! This show scared us so badly that we were dragging out the time between watching each episode and I just needed to rip this bandaid off right quick. Overall, I did enjoy the season even though I felt like it stole a few days from my life and they are now residing in the Red Room with everyone else.

The next day I asked my husband if he wanted to watch this one random movie I got from the library and he said foolishly said sure. I picked it up and showed it to him, and I have a disease, you guys. True to form, I had chosen a zombie flick because it had the word pandemic on it. It was called Alone, and it came out this year – how did I manage to miss this?! The movie was just okay, and it involved an interesting take on the classic zombie genre. Because my nerves were still fried from Hill House, I jumped way more than I should have, but I persevered, my friends. I don’t expect my family and friends to associate with a quitter.

So today – today – was for sure the day. We were gonna create some motherfucking cheer, goddamnit. We got up and had pancakes, which never fail to make my kids happy. We attended a surprise birthday car parade which was lovely and joyful. To continue the cheerful momentum, I hesitantly asked my husband not to freak out, but that I wanted to decorate for Christmas aaaaaand – gasp – play Christmas music. This, this is simply not done in our house. My husband has this thing where he won’t celebrate a holiday until the first of the month of said holiday. Lately, I’ve been asking him ever so sweetly to stop CRUSHING MY JOY when we see Christmas lights go up in the neighborhood or hear sleighbells on the television. Today, he graciously allowed me to usher in some gaiety after I shouted at him that THIS WAS ALL THE HOPE WE HAD LEFT.

I started getting the bins out and my kids actually helped put up some decorations. I left the fake, lit garlands I usually wrap around the banisters until last. I was getting a little peckish but I was determined to finish the job and so I pranced over and decided to plug them in – just to make sure they worked, you know, as a formality – before I strung them up. First one lit up the room. Excellent. The second – crap. Suddenly, my empty stomach felt cavernous. The dull, annoying headache I’d had pounded up my brainstem and beat me behind the eyes. Oh yeah, was it that time of the month too? WHY THE FUCK NOT?!

Not to be deterred in the slightest, I proceeded to expertly wiggle and jiggle each and every bulb, all while muttering devil-words under my breath. My husband could sense a change in the atmosphere in the house, and gingerly suggested I take a break and get something to eat. I’LL EAT WHEN THE CHEER IS COMPLETE was my rabid response.

Knowing my limits as a rational human being, I screamed at allowed my husband to take over to troubleshoot the light issue. Then, for reasons still unknown to me, I decided that only fools eat food or take breaks, and I proceeded to organize the liquor cabinet. This only enraged me more when I: 1) couldn’t reach the back of the cabinet and had to ask for help, and 2) couldn’t open a jar of 10 year old homemade booze that we’d never drink and had to ask for help, and 3) banged my head so hard on the open cabinet door that I had to stand there for a good 30 seconds to let the pain pass. Sigh.

After I Marie Kondo-ed the booze (it all sparked joy, save for the 10 year old Baileys that had chunks floating in it, may you rest in peace), I had enough good sense to make and eat some noodles. By that time, my husband had exhausted all options with the lights and he promptly ordered some new ones on the internet because he loves me and he effectively saved Christmas!!


Day 28

Some People Are Worth Melting For

Lately, I’ve been introducing my kids to more Disney movies with increasing intention.

I loved Disney movies as a kid – heck, I still love them – and I can’t wait to instill that love and share that love of magic with my kids.

Before now, we’ve seen a smattering of random Disney flicks, but last weekend I borrowed Frozen so that my kids would be in the know once the hysteria for the sequel hits young kids’ cerebral cortexes (cortesies? cortesi?) as of today.

I first saw this movie when it was new, which was before I had kids. What I particularly love about the story is the emphasis on family/sibling/sisterly love over romantic love. Not that you often have to choose in dire situations where you’re going to turn to ice forever – because everyone gets to have both – but you know. So it’s fitting that my kids are seeing this for the first time together, and that I get a front row seat.

We probably won’t be seeing Frozen II: Even More Ass Cold until it comes out on DVD because I’m still not positive my kids can sit through the entire thing in the theater (So no spoilers, please! I still don’t know who Olaf’s biological father is!). Along those lines, there’s a part of me that ABSOLUTELY CANNOT WAIT until we can get our butts to Disneyland but there’s noooooo way on this green earth I’m doing that until my kids are old enough to stand in line and be tired and hot and not completely fall apart.

Until that time…we have the movies, and the family sing-a-longs. And today, we met Anna and Elsa at a local mall.

And then we came home and did Frozen-themed Cosmic Kids Yoga, WHICH IS THE BEST THING EVER, btw.

When we were eating dinner, my son blurted out that the Anna and Elsa we met today weren’t real.

Was that because they weren’t like the cartoons in the movie? My husband asked.

My son shook his head yes.

But I went up and whispered to my son that they may not have been the same as in the movie, but they still had the same magic.

They had magic?! He looked at me like I was nuts.

Sure they did. The magic of the movies and the stories and songs and love and how cool it is to be a kid…or still feel like a kid. That Disney magic lives in all of us, if we just believe.

I hope he believes for a good long while.

 


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A Quiet Hotness

A few preliminary disclaimers:

This post may not be funny to any of you, and I suppose I’ll have to take that chance. It was pretty funny in the moment, though. Oh man. You had to be there. But that would have been weird, because this took place in my bathroom at, like, 11pm last night. I’m so glad you weren’t there.

Also, MAJOR SPOILERS for the movie A Quiet Place, and possibly the sequel, because I’m just that good.

Now onto the post.

Me, to Brian: So I saw a headline for the sequel to that one movie, A Quiet Place.

Brian: Ah, yes. A Quiet Place 2: Even Quieter.

Me: That very one! I was just scrolling quickly past and the headline was paired with a still pic of that one hot guy.

Brian: John Krasinski, the guy who’s married to that one hot lady.

Me: Yes! Right again. So I didn’t think anything of it at the time. But one night as I was lying in bed trying to go to sleep, it hit me. The picture with that movie doesn’t make sense because he totally died in the first film being all loud and shit.

Brian: Maybe it’s his twin.

Me: Ooh, A Quiet Place 2: Double the Loud Hotness. No, wait. Not double, cuz the first one is dead. Hotness Again? Loud Hotness? Return of the Loud Hotness!! Only hopefully this twin is much, much quieter and hotter than the first one.

Brian: Or maybe it’s a prequel.

Me: Oh yeah! Because they had to survive for several/I-forget-how-many-months before the first movie begins. Perhaps this prequel could show the hot husband and wife having a thoughtful conversation about wanting to have hot, quiet sex but maybe not wanting to get pregnant because babies are effing loud. She’ll say, do you think we should go in search of birth control first? Then he’ll say, naw, it’s ok, babe, we’ll just roll the dice and put the oops baby in an airtight, padded box if we have to. What could go wrong?! Except that is everything the experts tell you not to do with the sleeping space for babies. No padded bumpers, they say. No blankets or stuffed toys, they say. Give them air to breathe, they say. That poor baby would immediately die of SIDS.

Brian: No, I think that baby would die as soon as the hot mom goes into labor or gives birth, because that’s loud in my experience. It’d die of Sudden Alien Death Syndrome. SADS, for short.

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I can confirm that Brian’s experience of seeing babies be born was quite loud because I am excellent at expressing my needs. Also, we are in no way making light of the awful, real condition that is SIDS.

Hey, John – give us a call. We’ll totally help you write this new movie. As you can see, we have many realistic ideas. As payment I’d only require a whiff of your heavenly man scent.

Maybe Spring Will Come Early

About every 6 months or so I find myself rewatching Eat, Pray, Love.

It’s a story that really speaks to me.  It’s about a woman traveling physically, but also emotionally and spiritually, to find herself.  To reinvent herself.  To heal herself.  I find that message incredibly inspiring and hopeful.  So I watch it when I feel myself needing an extra injection of hope.  The book is better, of course, but I am a slow reader and I need the injection to be quick and effective.

I recently watched it again.

This time of year is hard for me because the holidays are over, my birthday is over, and I am ready for winter to be OVER.  Every spring, I feel myself reawaken with increased energy, hope, possibility.  And I just can’t wait for the spring, so I suppose watching the movie was my way of trying to tide myself over.

One aspect of the storyline is comparing Americans to Europeans in certain ways.  An Italian gentleman says that Americans know entertainment, but they don’t know pleasure.  Then he explains an Italian concept he calls the pleasure of doing nothing.  The main character then interprets this in her own way and makes a simple meal (boiled egg, asparagus, pasta, etc.) and eats it on the floor while reading the paper and wearing a lovely nighty.  In my own attempt to stretch the power of this movie as far as it will go, I made my own pleasure of doing nothing meal.  I rarely cook, so this was special and made me feel domestic and feminine.

At the risk of rambling, this movie also brings up a lot for me.  They talk about weddings.  Love.  Faith.  Travel.  Life.  Food.  I suppose each one of those could be its own post.

Lately, I’ve felt a growing urge to create and write, but I have all these half-posts in my head.  Today I sat down and just forced myself to start writing the first half in hopes that the second half would just manifest itself, as has happened in the past.  And as you can read, that didn’t happen today.  But I’m about to hit Publish because at this point I just want to put something out there.

Maybe this will get the juices flowing.  Maybe I’ll write more about Eat, Pray, Love.  Maybe spring will come early.

My Happy Thought

Robin Williams died on my son’s due date.

I loved this guy.  I loved his work.  I went through the stages of grief when I found out – starting with disbelief, of course.  I was (and still am) so sad that depression took this very talented human being from us.

After Robin’s death, in watching all the memorials on the news and daytime TV, and in seeing all the clips strung together on Facebook, I started counting all of his movies that touched me, that I grew up with.  It’s a lot.  His movies were so emotional; I’ve long known that his were the ones I went to when I needed to tweak my mood – which usually meant inducing tears and reconfirming my faith in the human spirit.

In going through my movie collection, I realized I didn’t own one of my absolute favorite Robin Williams movies – Hook – so I bought it and ended up watching it soon after my son was born.

I absolutely adore the story of Peter Pan.  There isn’t a more fabulous story that captures the sheer joy and adventure it is to be young and to remind us that we can always go back to Neverland in our hearts (second star to the right and straight on til morning) whenever we want.

In re-watching Hook, I was prepared to feel that joy and excitement that comes with the story, and I was also prepared to feel sad that the person I was watching who was once so full of life and youthful glee was now gone.

What I wasn’t prepared for was my new reaction to the story now that I am a parent.

Remember the scene where Captain Hook starts teaching Pan’s kids about how parents hate their children?  He very eloquently describes how kids’ whining and demands (“He took my toy! She hit my bear! I want a potty! I want a cookie! I want to stay up! I want, I want, I want, me, me, me, me, mine, mine, mine, mine, now, now, now, now…”) drive their parents crazy.  Maggie (fun fact – it was her character I played on the playground with my friends when this movie first came out) points out that her parents read to her, “because they love me very much!”  And Hook retorts back that parents read to their children to shut them up.

In to end the lesson, Hook gave Maggie an F (to which she freaks out…probably why I was suited to play her character) and then declared that her parents were happier before she was born.

This scene struck a new chord, one that hadn’t been struck before.

Holy shit – Captain Hook was right.

There I was, hopelessly sleep deprived with a wee infant attached to my boob and tears running down my face because I got it – but not the it I was expecting to get.  This movie was supposed to remind me how joyful life was!  Instinctively I knew I wasn’t supposed to be listening to the words of this dark and sinister man, but for the first time in watching this film, my eyes were opened.  The guy had a point.  In my very short career as the parent of a newborn, I already knew I’d do things I previously said I’d never do if it meant my kid would sleep.  I wished for my old life back on a daily basis.  I fought with my husband about nothing and everything.  Some days, I was kind of miserable.

I considered growing a beard and joining the crew of the Jolly Roger.

Thankfully, the movie continued and we came to the scene in the Lost Boys’ tree house where Peter was desperately trying to find his happy thought.  He picked up his old teddy bear and had a flashback to a hospital room where his wife was handing him his brand new baby son, saying, “Peter, you’re a daddy!”

That was it.  This is why I wanted to watch the movie in the first place.  He was flying again, and so was I.

I was bedridden for the first 12 hours of Dylan’s life due to some minor complications, so when we were in the recovery room at the hospital, Brian started changing his first diapers and rocking and soothing and being a daddy.  It was amazing for me to watch, and it had reminded me of that same hospital scene in Hook.  Through tears in my eyes, I shared my thoughts with Brian and my heart was bursting.

Hook really got it right in more ways than I first realized.  It fascinates me how quickly and profoundly popping a baby out of me has changed my perspective on the whole world, let alone this movie.  Before, I had thought that the story was more about “always being a little boy and having fun,” and now I see this whole new layer about the love (“It’s the L-word, Captain!”) and struggle between parents and their children.  Yes, it’s about learning how to stay young, but it’s also about learning how to grow up.  And most importantly, it’s about finding (and keeping) that happy thought that keeps us all going.

Well, Dylan is our happy thought.  Our poopy, screamy, cuddly little happy thought.

There are so many great lines to quote and parallels to make about this movie and life in general, but the best is at the very end, where I don’t feel like Robin Williams was really having to act much at all.

He said,  “To live would be an awfully big adventure.”

Thanks for sharing your talent with all of us, Robin.  I am so very glad that you’re not in pain anymore.

 

 

The Parental Matrix

It’s an interesting experience to watch movies with my parents, especially ones that involve twists and turns, or are just a little out there from normal, everyday life (don’t even get me started on The X-Files, for instance).

Last Saturday night, I braved watching The Matrix with my mom and dad. I took slight creative license, but the core flavor is still there.

—–

The agents are chasing Neo through his office

Mom: Why are they wearing sunglasses indoors? Do they know how silly they look?

Me: I think it’s supposed to make them look scarier, Mom. Good to know that tactic wouldn’t work on you, though.

Neo wakes up, looks confused

Dad: Ok, so we’re not supposed to know if he was dreaming or not, right?

Me: That’s correct, Dad. Just hang in there.

Neo hangs in the air as he trains with Morpheus

Dad: So how does he do that?

Me: He’s in the Matrix. It’s not real life, and he can bend the rules.

Dad: Got it.

It’s the spoon-bending scene

Dad: Hold it, so how come he was able to bend the spoon?

Me: Dad, the couch you’re sitting on isn’t real. The woman in the red dress wasn’t real. Remember what the little boy said? THERE IS NO SPOON!

Major fight scene between Neo and Agent Smith

Mom: So how come the sunglasses guy didn’t die just then?

Me: Because he’s an agent, kind of a computer program. The person he was inhabiting just died, but the agent didn’t. He’s in the Matrix.

Neo was just shot multiple times. It was very dramatic.

Dad: Wait a minute, so why didn’t he die from all those bullets?

Me: He’s in the Matrix. The bullets aren’t real. None of this is real!

Dad: But I thought you could still die in the Matrix.

Me: Very good, Dad, you can. But he’s The One, so the rules don’t apply to him. Kinda like Jesus.

Mom: Only Jesus didn’t wear sunglasses indoors.