Kangatopia

My darling little Monkey has lost her four front teeth, top and bottom, over a period of about a week. First her bottom right, then her bottom left, followed by her top left on Thanksgiving (thanks again, Auntie Lisa!) and finally her top right came out yesterday. We tell her she looks like a hockey player, and by God after her brother threw a toy at her and it left a red mark on the bridge of her nose, she looks like even the toughest NHL scrappers couldn’t get her down on the ice.

The move is still pending. The weekend was rainy and cold, and we accomplished no more than taking photos of the problems in the house - such as rusty drains, a kitchen cabinet door that needs to be placed back on its hinges, and torn linoleum in the laundry room which will be covered by the washer and dryer anyway. There’s more, but an exhaustive list is a boring thing to write about. I hope to spend the night of December 1 in the house. Since we have a brand new advent calendar and a holiday tradition to maintain, I feel a little more urgency to make this happen.

Thanksgiving was beautiful. My generous sister took care of my children the two nights before and the night of the holiday. This left me time to work and not worry that they were spending their holiday time playing endless video games, and it also gave me and Shep the chance to go on a real date - consisting of dinner at a restaurant that takes reservations and watching the Stars take a hard won win over the Anaheim Ducks on the Modano tribute night. My brother and sister made Thanksgiving dinner. No one got upset. No one yelled. All my family was together. My brother was a little stressed, but we were all happy and functional and all those years of tense family holidays seemed a part of our distant, and emotionally immature, collective past.

It was more special for me because Shep was there. I have to tell you: I am completely and totally in love with him. I didn’t know or realize that I was capable of loving someone so much, and every day it grows even more.

This entry was posted on Monday, November 26th, 2007 at 10:06 pm and is filed under Just Mommy, Monkey Stories. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

It occurred to me today that I didn’t bother to write a review of Mr. Magorium’s Wonder Emporium. The problem I have with recapping a movie I’ve seen with my kids is that I never actually pay a lot of attention to the movie. More often, I am concerned with making sure the kids aren’t making a lot of undue noise or otherwise drawing attention to themselves. In this case, however, I was feeding my kids candy we bought at 7-11 beforehand and trying very hard to not be seen by the man who sold us the tickets. I’m pretty sure he was the owner, or at least manager of the place, and I really didn’t want to offend him - or worse, get in trouble with him.

The movie was fine. It wasn’t great. The characters, including the character of the toy store itself, were charming and yes, well, magical. Natalie Portman’s laugh could even be called a character in this film. Her laugh was brilliant, as I’m sure you know if you’ve seen the trailer which features it. It’s a wonderful movie to show a child who has just experienced the death of someone they love. I took Bear to see The Polar Express just after my mother died, and that is also a fine movie for a child who has brushed up against death. Of course, at that time any movie that dealt at all with the wonder and magic of life, and belief in something ineffable, would have struck me as important and good for grieving parents and children, or anyone for that matter.

This is a movie that is utterly predictable, but also beautiful. Take a child to see it, and I’m certain that if you can watch it as a child who is full of optimism and hope that life is wonderous and disappointment is a byproduct to be quickly set aside, then you and your young companion will have a lovely time.

This entry was posted on Monday, November 26th, 2007 at 9:53 pm and is filed under Just Mommy. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

It’s the holiday season, and this means, usually, that lots of kid friendly movies are to be released at the theaters. The ones queuing up for this year- Enchanted, Fred Claus, Mr. Magorium’s Wonder Emporium - are ones that Shep and I have agreed that we wouldn’t mind taking the kids to see. So, on Friday night after Bear went off with his grandfather to indulge his fascination with online games, the girls and I decided to see a movie. But, which movie would it be? This would turn into a sort of shell game. Shep and I both agreed that seeing Enchanted and Fred Claus would be kind of fun. We went to see a movie a few weeks ago, and sat in on the first few minutes of Bee Movie which we thought was kind of lame so neither one of us wanted to pay for that one. I realized that in order to leave the opportunity open for us both to see movies that interested us and not leave the other one out, I would have to encourage the girls towards a choice that neither one of us had previously considered, Mr. Magorium’s Wonder Emporium.

I went on to IMDB and read the reviews, and they looked pretty good - though the trailer kind of made the film seem less magical and more annoying. I found an old $10 AMC gift certificate that Monkey won a year ago for participating in a community trash pick-up day, and then began the process of finding the theater to which we would go. The AMC theaters were out because the start time was too late. The other local theaters were too expensive. Then, it turned out that a theater the kids go to with their daycare was showing it, and the cost would be a total of $11 for the three of us. This was perfect! It was cheap and I could see this theater the kids visit almost every Friday during their summer vacation.

Now for the manipulation process. “Monkey,” I said, “would you like to see Mr. Magorium’s Wonder Emporium?” and I showed her the film’s website. “Yes!” was her enthusiastic response. Winston, however, wouldn’t be such an easy sell. Monkey sensed this too and began talking to her excitedly about how it’s about a toy store and magic and she would love it. “I want to see Bee Movie”, Winston replied. “But, Winston, look at how cool this looks,” and we played the online trailer. “Bee Movie!” she insisted.

“Ok, how about this? Why don’t we ask Daddy to take you to Bee Movie?”

“Will he?”

“Yes, of course, honey. He loves taking you to see movies.”

“Ok”

Great! So, we packed up and drove to the theater. I was really, really surprised when we arrived. I knew it was a two screen movie house, but I didn’t expect it to look one step removed from the sort of place where people go see pornos and then whack each other off in the seats. I couldn’t just turn the car around and go to one of the AMC theaters with the later start times. This was the place where my two older children have seen at least a gazillion summer movies. So, the girls and I donned our coats and walked in through the dingy doors which had glass that was totally obscured so that it would be impossible to peek inside and see what was going on. A man greeted us at the door, opened the ticket office and took our $11 for the tickets and another $5 for sodas. Since the lobby was almost completely deserted, we weren’t sure if it was okay to go ahead and find our seats. We opened the doors hesitantly and saw that no one was inside. We carefully stepped down the aisle and found the most optimum seats in the place for viewing the movie.

We needn’t have worried. No one else showed up to see the movie. I have never seen a movie in a completely deserted theater until that night. I have seen movies with maybe only 5 other people who weren’t a part of my group, but never completely alone. So, even though I should have used the opportunity to teach the girls about proper movie going etiquette, we threw out all the rules and talked and laughed and at one point - cried (but not because of the movie) - audibly.

As we left the theater, we saw not one other person. No one at the concession stand. No one in the restroom. It was, I tell you, creepy, but also really, really cool. I think we will definitely go back. And plus, we all got our sparkle back!

The day after, Winston was convinced that her daddy would take her to see “Bee Movie” and so later in the evening I finally got around to sending him an email to warn him.

That night I took the kids to spend the night with their Daddy. Winston fell asleep early and when she woke up several hours later, she freaked out because she didn’t know immediately where she was. After her daddy calmed her down, the first thing she said to him was, “Just say yes to Bee Movie.”*

*Ok, so I know the punchline is kind of lame, but if you knew this child you would recognize her brilliance as the 4 year old champion of well-timed one-liners. I don’t know where she gets it.

This entry was posted on Sunday, November 25th, 2007 at 1:19 pm and is filed under Winston Stories. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

“To thee, O God, we turn for peace; but grant us, too, the blessed assurance that nothing shall deprive us of that peace, neither ourselves, nor our foolish, earthly desires, nor my wild longings, nor the anxious cravings of my heart.” -Soren Kierkegaard

Every once in a while my kids will say something that’s really pretty surprising - such as using a multi-syllable word correctly and in context, or making an astute and honest observation about something other than how fair things are for them. Tonight Winston took this to a new level and made a quiet conversation we were having into a surreal adventure.

While Monkey was in dance class this evening, Winston and I drove over to the new house and had a snack in the garage. I intended to use the time to walk through the house and make an inventory of its flaws before we start moving in on Saturday, but as it turned out the house was re-keyed either yesterday or today and while we could get into the garage with the opener - we couldn’t unlock the doors to the house. So, instead of ringing Daryl and asking for the new keys, Winston and I hung out in the garage. That’s when she uttered the bizarre words I would never expect to come out of her mouth except metaphorically and only when she’s an angry, depressed teenager who is throwing herself fully into Sartre and Nietzsche.

She explained to me that I wasn’t real, nor alive. In fact her actual words were, “You’re not real, Mommy. You’re dead.”

Oh God. I am?

When I was about 20, I went to an abandoned rock quarry with my roommate and a couple of other friends. The quarry had filled with water, and being young, drunk and endowed with the perceived immortality of our tender years and very little sense, we swam and dived off the sides of the jagged rocks hanging over the water. I had this thought afterwards that maybe I had hit my head on the edge of the rock as I flew past it and died. Maybe everything that’s happened since then has been a dream. Maybe this life, or what I perceive this life to be, is really my own version of heaven and hell… mostly hell. Maybe some heaven. My difficulty in achieving an orgasm would clearly make this hell.*

If Winston is telling me something I already know, but haven’t acknowledged, then shouldn’t I be able to shape the events in my life? I mean, shouldn’t I at least be wealthier than God and receiving all kinds of cool perks?

Oh, the limitless possibilities! The multiple orgasms, and the lighter challenges, and the complete and total lack of tummy blubber!

Maybe my problem is that my psyche isn’t creative enough to rise from middle class mediocrity.

*Chill out. The kids won’t be allowed to read this until they’ve at least stopped calling me “Mommy”.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, November 13th, 2007 at 10:47 pm and is filed under Just Mommy. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

Their father took this picture, and I’m wondering if they posed like that on their own. My sister called this the “Paris Hilton poses”. Winston is a Monkey see, Monkey do kind of girl, and Monkey is definitely a super competitive, I’m going to eat your head for lunch but I’ll do it with a perfect manicure girly girl in training - of whom, I have to admit I am in awe and totally proud.

This entry was posted on Monday, November 12th, 2007 at 11:57 am and is filed under Monkey Stories, Winston Stories. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.