Cords and Fleece

  They say Disney, we say The Jesus Lizard. They say Sesame Street, we say The Melvins. And on and on it goes -- the battle over music in the car. Like a couple of old women, the girls yell for us to “turn it down” and to “please play the Lonely Goat Herder song,” -- anything but the electric guitar-driven music we so, so enjoy. But every once in a while, they surprise us. For a while there, we convinced Elizabeth that the Cookie Monster was the lead singer of Mastadon. “Hey Lizzy -- who’s that?” we’d ask. “It’s the Cookie Monster!” she’d say. Her happiness only made us feel a teensy-bit guilty about our heavy metal lie. And now Samantha is demonstrating a fondness for AC/DC’s “The Girl’s Got Rhythm” from their album Highway to Hell ( yes! ). Specifically, the chorus that goes: The girl’s got rhythm (girl’s got rhythm) The girl’s got rhythm (girl’s got rhythm) She’s got the back seat rhythm (back seat rhythm) The girl’s got rhythm (click the play button, below, to listen -- or click he

  It was a dark and stormy night... So we went to The Food Court at The UTC Mall after work to grab a cheap bite and avoid traffic. The Food Court is great for our family because one: it’s loud, so we blend right in, and two: it surrounds an ice skating rink so we can people-watch and fantasize that we’re all great skaters. (Elizabeth, who’s never touched a pair of ice skates, is the best skater of all.) The Ice Skating Rink The rink sat below The Food Court so we looked down into it from our table. Immediately below us, a perky blond instructor taught two small children (about Lizzy’s age) how to skate backwards. Apparently, learning to skate backwards as a 4-year old involves bending one’s knees and shaking one’s butt vigorously from side to side like a Hawaiian dancer. Who knew? Hell, even I could do that! So we put down our plastic forks and tried it. I remained seated, but Lizzy and Samantha not only stood up, they stood on their chairs. “I’m going backwards!” said Elizabeth whil

  And on the 6th day, God created the Portable DVD Player... For ages we traveled in darkness -- three long years; 90 minutes on good days, two hours or more when it stormed or the traffic was particularly foul. It was a dark time; a time of screeching hell-hounds, ghastly music, and arguments about who could sing Mary Had a Little Lamb the loudest. It was the Age of Commuting with Toddlers. And then a miracle occurred. One the day of the miracle, I fetched my bridegroom upon our small ebony steed whom we affectionately christened The Toyota Matrix. Then, to my great surprise, mine husband withdrew a small, metallic box from his rucksack and proceeded to affix thine unusual instrument betwixt our saddles. After much fussing about, he winkethed at me and bid our horse anon. Onward we rode until we came upon the Dwelling of Small and Smelly children. From among the great screaming brood, we extracted two flaxen haired nymphs who lay claim upon us. With much hugging and tweaking of cheeks

  Don’t let the following exchange fool you. Valuable lessons were learned about personal respect and appreciation for one another and what we have. Oh, yes. I’m almost sure of it. Elizabeth: “Mommy, I’m going to have a party and you’re invited.” Me: “Great, thanks.” Elizabeth: “And Samantha, too.” I brake as I come to a stop light. Samantha: “Mommeee! You made my breakfast baggy fall to the floor!!” Me: “I did not.” Samantha: “Yes you did!” Me: “Samantha, I braked normally and it flew off your lap,” I say while reaching behind the front seat to retrieve the breakfast baggy. Samantha: “You made it fall!” Me: “I did not!” We pull away. Elizabeth: “I want a party at school so everyone can come.” Me: “Sounds good.” I brake again for another stop light. Samantha’s baggy falls to the floor. Samantha: “Mommeeee! You did it again!” Me: “No I didn’t!” Samantha: “Yes you did!” Me: “Samantha, you can’t blame people every time something goes wrong. Stuff just happens -- it’s an accident.” I reac

  THE CONFESSION Hi. My name is Melissa, and I’m a Self Help Book junkie. It’s been 10 months since my last book. (applause) Thank you. Most of you are not aware that I’m a Self Help Book junkie, nor do you know that I quit Self Help Books cold-turkey about a year ago. (I’ll give you a second to soak that in.) OK, so it’s not like I robbed a liquor store, spread my legs for some pusher, or woke up in a pool of my own vomit. My addiction hasn’t cost me my job nor bankrupted my family. Fortunately for our bank account, local libraries and used bookstores provided a steady (and cheap) supply of the latest titles, so I only forked over actual dollars for books I planned to read again or for those times when I needed a “quick fix”. At this point you may be scratching your head and thinking, “And this is significant because...?” I understand. None of this may seem significant if you are not a Self Help Book “drinker”. Just as it may be difficult for a non or occasional imbiber to understand

  Relationships are like a Taco Salad. Well, sometimes -- at least for me. Please, hear me out. About a year ago, I went to a cafeteria on campus where I work. For the first time, I ordered a Taco Salad. The Taco Salad Assembler pieced together the elements of my salad (beans, rice, beef, lettuce, salsa verde, sour cream, guacamole) and handed it to me in a crispy, greasy taco bowl. It was good. Really good. I even ate the bowl. I went back the next week and ordered it again. And then again the following week. Then one day as the Taco Salad Assembler began to scoop out the beans, I said “Just a little beans, please. Thanks.” So he gave me a small scoop of beans. The next time, I walked up to the counter and said, “Just a little beans and extra lettuce, please. Thanks.” I got fewer beans and extra lettuce. Pretty soon, I walked up to the counter with a mental script in my head: “I’ll have just a few beans, lots of lettuce, extra sauce, not so much rice, I’d like the lettuce after the b

  “Gimme a high five!” “Uh, no. ” I’ve never been much of a sports watcher , but I enjoy playing a good game, whether it’s Scrabble, Pictionary, or the very competitive Throwing Stuffed Animals Into the Basket Game (one of my favorites). I’m not saying I’m good -- just competitive -- and certainly not above a high-five, ass slap, or “Hell yea!” when something goes well (and if I don’t say it out loud, I’m probably thinking it). Most people don’t know this about me since I never played sports in high school -- but that was just a logistical life error. We moved a lot while I was growing up (4 high schools in as many years), so it was difficult for me to latch onto a team when I was really just figuring out where the bathroom was located. This may explain why, when a few friends and I decided to play Pictionary for my birthday a couple of weeks ago, I single high-fived, double high-fived, and was willing to smash a beer can on my skull if I’d had one handy -- typical football-like beha

  This semester I’m taking a “Vital Energy Meditation” (Qigong) class every Thursday. (I like saying “this semester” -- it makes me feel like I’m a college student and not just someone who happens to work on a college campus.) I’ve been very stressed lately, and I hope that intending to relax will lead to actual relaxing. We’ll see. I must admit, it seems to help, but I have a long way to go... During the class, my teacher plays quiet, meditative music in the background. She told the class (and I later confirmed via Google, because Google is God), that sound can be used to promote inner peace, harmonize our bodies thus opening ourselves to healing chi energy, and regulate our emotions. It occurred to me on the way to work the other day, that this was the exact opposite sound the girls were making in the back seat of the car. Maybe I should take two classes a week.  

“Don’t go.” A small voice calls from the bed behind me where I had just felt Elizabeth’s cool forehead and kissed her cheek. The curtains are pulled shut, keeping the morning light at bay. “OK.” I climb into bed behind her and she pulls my arm tightly around her chest and smiles. “Stay with me. I want to have some alone time with you. Daddy and Samantha can do something, and we’ll be in here resting. Just you and me.” “OK.” Snuggle. “Mommy, is it a school day?” “No, it’s Saturday.” “On Saturday we can go anywhere we want to.” “Sure.” “We’ll do whatever we want to, just us.” “Sure.” Snuggle. “Mommy, why did you come into my bedroom?” “Because you slept in late and I wanted to make sure you weren’t sick.” “I’m not sick. Look, I’m already dressed!” “Wha? You are! When did you do that?” “Last night after I read books and Daddy made me go back to bed. I turned up the light just a little so I wouldn’t wake Samantha up, then I got dressed.” Elizabeth wears a red Wonder Woman T-shirt, pink pa

  Oh, yea -- that's what I'm talkin' about. You can make your own at: Image Chef.com Idea courtesy of The Bookdiva .  

  "Oh look, kids! Your classmates are standing in little groups on the lawn, instead of playing safely inside their classrooms. And listen -- the fire alarm is ringing. Whoopee! OK, now. Run along and have a good day. Good luck with that fire and everything. Just remember -- stop, drop and roll . We'll see you later!" What is the matter with us?! Apparently there was some sort of electrical malfunction in one of the rooms at the daycare where my girls go to school. When we pulled up, small children were standing in groups around the school yard. Samantha's class stood on the sidewalk in front of the parking lot -- their tiny heads barely visible over the hood of my car as I pulled up. (I doubt they'd be so visible from a minivan.) No one seemed to be worried. Smoke was not billowing from the windows. Only one fire truck pulled up next to the school -- without sirens. Firemen casually walked through the front door as if they were about to register their own childre

  Samantha: “I want to play Boggle, Daddy!” Michael: “This game is for people who know how to read.” Samantha: “Yes, but I’m tall !” Michael: “Well, height really has nothing to do with literacy .” -------------------- Elizabeth: “Look! It’s a dradle.” (pause) “I made it out of clay!” And she really did. And we laughed really hard. -------------------- Me: “I had a dream that you were mad at me and I went to a used record store and bought Michael Jackson’s Off the Wall for you in order to make up.” Michael: “Are you sure you didn’t buy the record first and then I got mad at you?” -------------------- Elizabeth: “How come kids only know about being fair and not grownups?” -------------------- Me (to friends): “We got a kitten!” Michael: “She misunderstood -- that’s not exactly what I meant when I said ‘I wanted more pussy ’.” Oh, yes he did. -------------------- Me: “Meg’s touching your bone.” (Meg is the cat and the bone is obviously Michael’s penis -- certainly not a drumstick .)