Repeating Myself

This afternoon, I began a witty retelling of my weekend adventures. But I didn’t have time to finish, so I saved it as a draft. Which has disappeared. Drat and double-drat.

So, I begin again.

Friday Night
I attended my usual Young Couples Bible Study, which makes me feel like an outsider, since I am neither young, nor a couple (since my husband stays home with the kids). But I am under forty and I have a baby, so I weirdly enough belong to this group and it was my turn to bring snacks, so I went. I took brownies. Homemade brownies better than any brownies I’ve had anywhere else. Not that I’m bragging. But I do make a tasty brownie. We discussed the movie “The Passion” and the gospel accounts of the passion, too. Then we ate the brownies.

Afterwards, I went grocery shopping. When I returned home at 10:30 p.m., my husband and children were all asleep and then I stayed up too late instant-messaging on the computer. Silly girl.

Saturday

YoungestBoy had his third baseball game, although he missed the second game last week because his parents misread the schedule. While my husband took him to the 10:00 a.m. game, I took the remaining three kids to the bank to make a deposit. On the way home, I thought about stopping at garage sales, but decided that possible whining and fit-throwing was a price I was not willing to pay, even to get a bargain.

My husband returned with YoungestBoy at a little past 11 a.m., changed clothes and left again. He went to a Russian wedding and was gone the whole afternoon. While he was gone, TwinBoyB left to play at a friend’s house, Babygirl napped and I pretended I wasn’t stuck at home on a Saturday afternoon yet again. When Babygirl woke from her nap, I took YoungestBoy and TwinBoyA to the video store to buy a game before TwinBoyA’s money burned a hole through his pocket and singed a hole into his actual flesh.

I think the first time I wrote all this, it was a lot more fun. Witty, entertaining, et cetera. Really.

So, Saturday night, my husband arranges to take me out to dinner. After Babygirl went to bed at 8 p.m., we left. This was the beginning conversation in the car as we left our house.

Me: You realize, of course, that when our youngest son realizes Shadow is gone, we’ll have to get another cat?

Him: No. No more pets. I don’t want any more pets to take care of.

Me:
Okay. (Looks out window, avoids arguing, but thinks he will eat his words.)

We went to a Chinese place he’d discovered recently. As we entered, I noticed a prominent sign about Karaoke in the bar. Sure enough, after we ordered, an earnest voice began singing “You Don’t Bring Me Flowers Anymore.” It was a good thing I wasn’t in the bar or I would have thrown maraschino cherries at the crooner. If I’d actually been drinking in the bar, I might have clapped my hand over my mouth in glee or possibly fallen out of my chair with laughter. Oh, it went from bad to worse and I found myself even more amused when the waiter confirmed that, indeed, the singing quality disintegrated as the evening went on and the alcohol flowed. Oh, the mirth! And this entertainment was free.

My husband’s fortune from the cookie read, “Someone will give you something.” Now. Hold on a second. Someone. Will. Give. You. Something. How can that not come true? My fortune promised good health and a long life, but someone will give my husband . . . something. Woo. Can’t wait.

Then, when we finished, I said, “Now, as a test of your spontaneity, how about a movie?” My husband passed this test easily and we were off to see “Laws of Attraction” with Pierce Brosnan and Julianne Moore.

The movie was inoffensive, predicable, sweet and completely improbable. In what universe would Pierce Brosnan be single and available? Oh, that’s right. In the same universe where Julianne Moore is also single, available and not the least bit desperate to be married. This was a movie in which I heard actual swooning in the theater. Did you know swooning is audible? Well, it is. The experience reminded me, though, that I prefer viewing movies alone. Otherwise, I tend to worry what my movie companion thinks about the movie. He liked it, he said. I liked that we went to the movie, more than the movie itself.

Sunday

Sunday morning, the kids brought toast and a glass of ice water to my bedroom while I was in the shower. I didn’t notice it until the toast was cold, but I did eat a bite anyway. They eagerly brought me flowers (purchased according to my instructions by my husband) that I can plant in my garden. Petunias and marigolds and impatiens. Each had made a card at school and my husband bought a funny card, too. TwinBoyA has a female teacher and so he also had a handmade recipe book with recipes from all his classmates’ families and a hand-dipped candle. TwinBoyB has a male teacher, so all he had was a hand-written thank you essay.

YoungestBoy was baptized by my husband during church. He has been begging to be baptized for a long time (he views the baptismal tank as a really cool small swimming pool, I think), so my husband agreed finally. YoungestBoy grinned huge when my husband lifted him up so everyone could see him. I took photographs and managed to not shed a tear. Then I went back down to the nursery where it was my turn to be the volunteer in charge.

Sunday afternoon, my husband had to perform a wedding ceremony. So, we had leftovers for lunch, then he went to the church to prepare for the wedding while I put Babygirl down for her nap. The kids were busy playing their new video game, so I had time to read the newspaper and putter around a little. I planted my flowers in the back yard when Babygirl woke up. She helped, except she refused to give up the pot of flowers I asked her to hold. Funny girl.

Last night, my husband says, “Oh, I agreed to accept two kittens from the people down the street.”

I said, “Are you kidding?”

He said, “No. They have six kittens that are six weeks old, so I told them we’d take two.”

Today
I get an email from mother about my sister, the one who I am never speaking to again because she stole some of my birth pictures, specifically the one where you see the baby emerging from my . . . well, where babies emerge from. My sister lives in Japan and my mom said: Your sister and I did instant messaging last night – she has really been having some bad medical problems and is quite worried. She is leaking blood into her joints, and it is very painful, plus she is purple! She also has bumps on the back of her head, and had 2 seizures at the
hospital Friday. I suggested she fly to the States and get checked out – I’m not sure Japan’s medical tests are up to par with ours.
A tiny little part of me thought, “Oh, that serves her right! Blood into her joints! See! That’s what you get for stealing naked pictures of your sister giving birth!” Then I immediately repented of my bad thoughts. Kind of. Purple. Ha!

My husband takes Mondays off now, so that’s how it happened that he was at home while YoungestBoy was about to eat lunch. He blurts out, “Hey, have you seen Shadow lately? Because I think Shadow ran away to live with his original mom and dad.”

YoungestBoy turned red and his face contorted.

My husband rushed on. “But that’s okay, because I was thinking, maybe we could get two kittens. Would you like that? Oh, I see you feel sad about Shadow, but that’s okay. The neighbor has two kittens and they said we could have them.”

I wanted to immediately take YoungestBoy into my arms and make him feel better with a candy bar (what? me? food issues?) but I just busied myself giving lunch to the babies and cleaning out my refrigerator. YoungestBoy was still teary and red after lunch later when I checked on him, but he had stopped crying. Tonight he told me he’s going to name the new kittens Fred and George. Unless they are girls.

In last Friday’s paper, I came across a notice about an appearance Anne Lamott is making at the local community college. I adore Anne Lamott (especially Operating Instructions and Bird By Bird and Traveling Mercies). I ripped out the notice and called this morning. The tickets for the appearance on Thursday night have been sold out for months. I pictured myself lurking by the door, trying to sneak in. But I may not have to resort to that. A friend of ours was at the house today helping my husband with yard work and he made a phone call to some mucky-muck he knows at the college to see if he could get me a ticket. Now I wait to see if this behind the scenes string-pulling works.

Today, Babygirl tried out a new skill. When displeased, she stomped her left foot. Which sort of worked, except that sometimes the effort would throw her off balance. It’s pretty hard to throw a fit when you are listing to the side. My husband says she is just like me and that I will get to see myself grow up.

Hey! What’s that supposed to mean? Stomp, stomp, stomp! Whew, I’m dizzy.

One Response to “Repeating Myself”

  1. Anonymous May 13, 2004 at 1:51 pm #

    I like what you have done to your journal…
    I think that we finish growing up, when we raise the smaller version of ourselves…have fun with Grace!
    ~Tina

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