Cabin fever

I chaperoned the Valentines Day party that involved all three classes of the First Grade.  Call it insanity, but I truly enjoy my time with those kids.  I think it's their blinky eyes blinking up at me, and the way they all want to hold my hand, and the awkward toothy first-grader grins.

The party ran long.  There was no time for kids to sift through the pile of coats dumped outside the party because the buses were about to leave back at school. We had to run the three blocks from the party location to the school, without coats, GO! GO! GO! to catch those buses. I imagined the horrified expressions of parents at bus stops when Little Johnny disembarked in February without his coat, teeth chattering.

Loyal chaperone I am, I filled a box with all the coats and followed behind the sprinting masses, dragging it along the sidewalk until I couldn't feel my arms very well.  I dumped the coats onto the sidewalk in front of the buses and helped kids throw them on as they boarded.  Every kid left with a coat.

There will someday be a folk song written about me, the trusty chaperone who wouldn't let the kids go home cold, entitled, "Cold Kid, Warm Heart."

Alex and I went to see a play at Capitol Hill's Annex Theatre Friday night.  It was called "Undo" and took place in an alternate reality where, if you want a divorce, you must live your wedding in reverse.  All the same people must attend and wear the same clothes, the presents are given back, and in the case of the Jewish ceremony portrayed in this instance, the glass is glued back together.

The great thing about the Annex Theatre, and so many fringe theaters in Seattle, is there's a bar in the lobby and you can carry your drinks into the theater for the show.  The PBRs at the Annex Theatre bar are $2 and deliciously refreshing; the mixed drinks are crappy and expensive.  I think you know which way I'm leaning with this recommendation.

What transpired on the Annex Theatre stage was a beautiful piece of theatre.  Really, truly.  It had it all -- laughs, tears, and lesbians.  There was also some sad sex (you must do everything you did on your wedding day to make peace with God, even if it was f*cking on your dressing table).

The man sitting behind us said loudly at the intermission, "Watching things like this makes me realize how ridiculous human relationships are."  All of us within earshot murmured our agreement and bought another PBR.

Here's some advice if you see a play at the Annex -- at intermission, run for the bathroom.  Get there first no matter what.  Push those bitches to the ground and don't look back and here's the reason why: there are only two toilets, two single stalls.  And a fifteen minute intermission. And one hundred people in the theater all drinking beer.  Do the math then do what you must do *cracks knuckles*

Al and I and the kids went to a friend's cabin for the long weekend.  It was just us; the cabin is often empty and our friend has been telling us to use it for years.

We left for the cabin right after Lucien and Coco's swim lessons Saturday morning.  I love watching the group of boys in Lucien's class learn to swim.  They all have their own style: some wide-eyed and freaked out (Lucien), others goofy and trusting in the world (the one whose eyes are slightly glazed) and some who should never be allowed near a body of water (the one sinking like a stone).

Our friend's cabin is in the South Puget Sound area, on a peaceful little lake upon which no motors are allowed.  Paddle boats, kayaks and canoes are the vessels of choice.  The four of us climbed into a paddle boat and made it halfway around the lake before Coco started complaining her belly hurt. We figured out she was seasick when she turned light green.

In the middle of a lake on a space-challenged paddle boat, seasickness is serious business.  Alex and I pedaled as fast as we could back to the cabin but went nowhere thanks to the direction of the wind and Lucien's erratic handling of the rudder.  I imagined the other residents of the lake watching us with binoculars and laughing hard until they fell down.  Our predicament would have made me laugh, too, if I wasn't in such fear of a girl hurl.

We made it back to the dock without incident.  And now we know Coco prefers land.

Alex tried to teach Lucien how to canoe, which led to this, my current favorite photograph.  I call it "The Reluctant Canoe Lesson" --

Oscar the schnauzer came with us to the cabin.  It was immediately apparent our dog is not a majestic wild beast.  Our dog is a confused little old man who can't figure out where the hell he is so just curls up inside our suitcase full of towels and waits for it to be over.

 

I hate these people.  I want to go home.

The cabin's only source of heat was a wood stove.  It was a toasty warm, pleasantly wood-smokey scented existence until the middle of the night when the fire burned out and we awoke, so cold we didn't dare plan for the future.  I pushed Alex out of bed each morning with a frigid foot, yelling at the kids to stay snug in their bunk beds until Daddy built a fire.  Thankfully, Alex was once a successful boy scout and his fire-building skills are unmatched.

As cozy as they can be, what is is about cabins that makes them feel like they're constructed of cardboard and Saran Wrap?  And why all the wood paneling?  And why do they all smell the same, musty and woody with a hint of Grandma?

When a cabin is owned by a friend like ours, who offers it to friends and family on a regular basis, the bathroom is a mess of half-empty shampoo and conditioner bottles.  It's like a hundred hotels threw up on each other or, better yet, all the bottles are there competing for the right to wash your body.

  

 "Pick me, pick me"  

There was no internet or TV at the cabin so we were forced to unplug.  At first it was uncomfortable but then we started telling each other stories.  And cooking meals together.  And chopping wood together.  You should see Coco handle an ax, my God, a natural! 

  

We enjoyed "communicating" so much, we've added "buy a cabin" to our list of long-term goals.  We can't do it now, but maybe, hopefully, someday we will own our very own lake cottage with doilies for curtains and circa-1970s avocado green appliances.

Well isn't that just f*cking great news

Our return home was not glorious.  Lacking the desire to cook, I took Coco with me to the Taco Time drive-thru to grab dinner.  At the very moment I pulled up to order, Coco threw up in the back seat.  She was suddenly hot, miserable, and very, very ill.  

The Taco Time lady on the intercom asked for my order a couple times but apparently my words, "Hang on, baby, hang on" aimed over my shoulder into the back seat didn't make sense to her.  She said, "Excuse me?" a couple times until I said, "I'm not talking to you!"  

There was a long pause and then the Taco Time lady said, "ummm....you're not talking to me?"  And I yelled, "No, no not yet!" as I scrambled for paper towels in the backseat.  There was another pause and then she said, the way you would to someone who's obviously very dim, "Do you mean to be in the drive-thru, ma'am?"

Al and I hugged in the kitchen for awhile after I returned with my hard-fought Taco Time order.  Even though life never seems to slow down, at least that part was nice.

Your faithful chaperone forever,

MJ

Turkey Bacon

I survived Spring Break 2012 by going to the YMCA a lot.  There's childcare there, plus a sturdy elliptical machine upon which to vent my parental frustrations.

I love the YMCA.  The YMCA is different from other gyms I've belonged to because fifty percent of its members are senior citizens.  I enjoy working out alongside senior citizens for a couple reasons: one, they make me feel as agile as a jackrabbit, and two, senior citizens are doing some really strange, entertaining stuff at the gym.

The most bizarre sightings are usually in the free weight area.  As I worked my biceps the other day, I observed a senior citizen on the ground in front of me doing what can only be described as "aggressive mat humping."  Then I looked to my left and saw an elderly woman engaged in "dangling from that bar" coupled with "slight swinging." 

Another woman was holding a weight like a baby and turning in circles.  Behind her was an elderly man who believed lying prone on a mat staring at the ceiling was exercise enough for him.  I probably should have checked the pulse on that guy.

(Please don't misunderstand -- I am not making fun of senior citizens.  I have great affection for my fellow gym members, and big respect for anyone at any age who's committed to staying active, no matter how strangely they do it.  Will I be a senior citizen humping a mat at the gym someday?  God I hope so.)

Friday morning I was on the elliptical machine when an elderly woman with a huge smile, very loud voice, and thick unidentifiable accent climbed onto the machine next to me and went gangbusters.  Her legs were flying all over the place.  She turned to me with a big open-mouthed smile and yelled, "LOOK AT ME!  I'M FASTER THAN YOU!" 

I'm not the competitive type, but I didn't like everyone in the room thinking a tiny grandmother wearing street clothes and a large straw hat could outpace me on an elliptical.  So I yelled back, "I'M ON MY COOL-DOWN AFTER 45 MINUTES OF INTERVALS SO BACK OFF, WOMAN."  

I'm thinking about trying the "Silver Sneakers Cardio" class next week.  I will be legend.


In other news,  Coco is diapering dinosaurs --

 The brachiosaurus has been a real b*tch to potty train

I'm writing this on Sunday.  My Friday and Saturday were really something to talk about, but that's for another time.

I want to talk about today because it was a perfect one, both in terms of weather and low level of annoyance with my family members.  They were downright fun -- all of them! -- all day. 

We went east towards the mountains, stopping along the way for breakfast at IHOP.  IHOP is considerably less fun since they started listing the calorie count of all their menu items right on the menu.  It made us rethink our choices then make different, less fun choices.  In related news, I hate turkey bacon. 

After breakfast we drove to Snoqualmie Falls.  We drove with all the windows down and the sunroof open, not just because Coco got carsick and threw up all over the place again, but because the day was too perfect to keep out.

I love where I live

   

proof I still exist

Our friend's brewery is right next to the falls so we stopped to grab a couple growlers.  Aren't they beautiful?

like bottled sunshine 

 

The rest of the day was spent in our backyard with the growlers, a couple wiffle balls and bats, an anthill, some light screaming, an aggressive game of tag, and many band-aids.  

 

It would have been flawless if it weren't for that damn turkey bacon.

 

Go gangbusters, little lady,

MJ

Kindergarten calculus

We were all sick over the weekend with a "death must be better than this" kind of illness.  Alex decided he was sicker than the rest of us (he wasn't) and slept all day, leaving me to fend for myself with two kids who passed the time by throwing up on me.  and the furniture.  and the floor.

I would occasionally drag myself to the bedroom door and yell at the prone figure on the bed, "WTF, AL?  I'm sick, too, why am I dealing with this alone??"  He'd mumble something like, "Seriously, MJ, I think I have it a lot worse." (he didn't)

It's kind of like the house caught on fire and Alex jumped out the window to save himself while the rest of us stared after him and whimpered "Daddy....?"  He's hanging his head in shame now and singing my praises, declaring me "much stronger" than he is.  Agreed, bed boy.

We're all fine again but the place still reeks of sickness and misery.  I've washed all sheets and towels a million times and Alex is getting upset because I keep spraying him in the face with Febreze.  Here's hoping we get accustomed to U.S. germs very soon.


Anyway, before it all went to hell healthwise (again), we went to the neighborhood post-holiday party.  By "the neighborhood" I mean the neighborhood where we're trying to buy the goddamn house.  Everyone on the street knows so much about us and our now ten-month-long headache, we're even getting invited to the street's parties.  We're de facto neighbors (better than "insane wannabes").

What a great group of people on that street.  Some are still knocking themselves out to do "blog-worthy" things, though.  One friend, Seattle Dad, tried coming out as a proud homosexual man at the buffet table.  Man, I sure hope he wasn't serious -- otherwise the eye roll and the "I still ain't putting you in the blog, dipsh*t" probably weren't very sensitive responses.

Things are going very well for the Loosh in U.S. kindergarten.  I don't have time to get into the differences between his two schools just yet, but am happy to say that being loud does not equal being bad here.  Huzzah!  His teacher likes him, kids like him, smiles all around.

Unfortunately, he's lost his "self manager" badge already (this is apparently a very big deal to the kindergarten set) because he kicked some kid named Finn, but every day at the end of school he promises his teacher he's going to try "super harder" to earn it back the next day.  She ruffles his hair and tells him she knows he will.  He's happy.

But hang on, hang on -- there's homework in kindergarten?  That's insanity.  It's not "draw a pretty kitty cat" kind of homework, either.  One of his math problems was "draw a symmetrical picture that has 2 squares, 2 circles, and 3 triangles."  I read it to him and then we looked at each other with question marks in our eyes.  He slowly asked what "symmetal-cul" meant and I agreed that was a good place to start.

I've come to the conclusion there is no such thing as "reverse culture shock."  This is the culture in which I've lived my entire life -- three measly years somewhere else isn't going to shake it out of me.  Maybe if you lived outside your culture for twenty years it would be different, but what we're experiencing now is nothing like real culture shock, the kind where you get smacked around and your head dunked in the toilet by totally new things.  This is more a slow, "ohhh yeeeeah... I remember that now."

So no need for the dramatic term -- there's no "shock," just "getting-to-know-you-again, culture, and by the way, you look lovely today."  It's like putting on your favorite pair of jeans straight out of the dryer.  At first it's "What the hell's happening here?" but soon enough it's "These jeans are nice and roomy.  So comfy."

Hope I can write again soon, but I may be too busy helping Lucien understand particle physics.
(Kindergarten's not for the weak, people),
MJ