We must have a poltergeist

Upon her return from school, Rissa makes her way into the kitchen.  I am writing in the dining room.

"There's leftover tosada stuff in the fridge and some cherry tomatoes,"  I direct from my post at the laptop.  Après school snack reminders are much needed for my child, who, when her blood-sugar is low, can forget things.

"Mother!! OH MY GOD!"

"What?"  I get up to see what the fuss is about.

"DUDE!" she says, indicating the room at large.  "Every cupboard is open!"

I glance around.   It is impressive.  The dishwasher is open, a drawer in the island, the tableware cupboard, the spice cupboard,  the cutlery drawer...

"We must have a poltergeist...?" I posit.

Rissa rolls her eyes.  "What were you doing?"

Both David and Rissa have mocked me mercilessly about my tendency towards Les Placards Ouverts.  Sometimes, I might forget to close cupboard doors. I inherited this family trait from my Aunt Bea. I will admit that this particular instance was truly spectacular, even for me.  I get distracticated.  Usually though, it's a door, maybe two.  I think I was mid putting-things-away.

"You need a snack," Rissa says to me.  "And I'm totally taking pictures of this."

This is what "distracticated" looks like.

I would like to state for the record that the
under-the-sink cupboard is NOT open.

Wounded isn't Newsworthy?

Madmen open fire at a Mother's Day parade in New Orleans - but this isn't news??  How has this NOT been on the front page of my CBC newsfeed since Sunday?  Oh wait.  Only 19 people were wounded.  Nobody died, so it's not newsworthy. 

What, did the pitch sessions post 'incident" have news networks postulating, "Naaaaaaah - could've been worse?"  There were over 400 people gathered for the parade and only wounds?  Not as much media punch as Boston or Newtown. And yet there will be another spate of gun purchases and 2nd Amendment Justifications and I'm left shaking my head.

May I please just ask: What the fuck is going on?  Did somebody spike the Kool Aid... again?  'Cause people are getting batshit crazy.  And not just the crazy people, but the people reporting on the crazy people.  Are mass-shootings so common place that they no longer shock?  Has laissez-faire now become the way to govern? The US tried to pass the weakest of gun legislation in April and government couldn't get their heads out of the lobbyist's asses long enough to pass better background checks.  It's like they want crazy people out there with guns.

I'm thinking now might be time to start that commune in the middle of nowhere.  Who's with me?

Hair Loss and Lederhosen

"Daddy, why do you have those weird bald patches on your legs??" asks Rissa one morning.

"I'm not sure," says David, standing in his basketball-length exercise shorts.  He peers down at his hairy limbs.  "These ones here..." he points to his calves and shins, "are probably from socks rubbing..."  He points to his ankles - "These ones are definitely from the shorter sports socks."

He pulls the legs of his shorts up a bit and looks above his knees.  "I don't know what these ones are from."

"When you wear stockings?" I ask.  "With your lederhosen?"

And then he did a little lederhosen dance.  I adore my husband.

You Tube Taster's Menu - or how to never accomplish anything in a day

It's Rissa's fault.  She sent me a video,  "Orangutan makes friend with dog."  Next thing you know, I'm using the You Tube taster's menu down the right side of the page.  Instead of exercising before work, I'm surfing You Tube - watching dozens of animals videos.   I could have at least gone into work early, so that I could leave early and then exercise.

I'm watching, "Tiger vs Orangutan," "Silverback Gorilla Meets Tourist," which then morphs to "Toddler falls in Gorilla Cage," "Lioness offering her newborn cub to Kevin Richardson," "Reunion between Anita and the wolves," "Woman details cat - mountain lion encounter," "Housecat meets bobcat," "!!!Squirrel adopted by cat learns to purr," and what may be my most favourite 13 seconds of video ever (from 0:05 - to 0:18): "Foxes Jumping on my Trampoline."   Note to self:  do not open You Tube when you are at all hormonal.

Old School Foreplay

Way back when... you know, in the Stone Age... when David and I first got together... We had the best foreplay.  We did.  It was amazing.

We'd snuggle on the couch, as close as two people could be without actually being conjoined, sigh and smile... our hands touching, our minds of a single purpose.

Everything was new.  Everything was possible.  Everything was attainable.  We could have this!  We could do that!   We would contort ourselves into pretzels so that we both got the best view.  One day, we might even be able to create perfection if we just kept on being in tune with each other.

We would open magazines to get ideas.  We used to pore through magazines!  Sorry.  Yeah... not actually talking about sex here.  This was after the having sex all-the-time phase.  We'd moved on.  A dream night for us morphed into staying up late, poring over house plan magazines.  The future opened ahead of us, unobstructed - it was glorious.  We were going to create our dream home.  We were going to buy/design the perfect plan.  We were going to build our own home with our very own hands.  This was before life... before kids...  before debt...

Virtual tours had yet to be invented.  We had to IMAGINE what most of those rooms looked like.  We'd have this great room, that butler's pantry and our very own pedestal tub in a sun-soaked bay window.

We used to dream like that.  ALL the time. Then, as it is wont to do, life got in the way - convincing you that those hopes and dreams you once had?   They're out of your reach.  Well, you know what?  I ain't buying it.  I'm going to do something old school today.  I'm heading to the best bookshop in town... the one with all the great magazines.  I'm  buying me some foreplay.

Pass me the Scalpel...

"Pass me the scalpel," I say.

"No," says David.

"Please?"

"No."

"Don't you even want to know what it's for?"

"No."

"I'm not going to use it for anything bad."

"You're going to cut into your body right?"

"Well, yeah, but just..."

"And it'll probably be near an important artery, right?"

"I would completely avoid any arteries.."

"No."

"I'll just get it myself then."

"We don't have one."

(beat)

"Can we please buy a scalpel?"

"No."

Here comes Mama Bear... or why we shouldn't force our kids to kiss hairy old relatives

Those parents who do not force our children to kiss their leathery Aunt Marjorie upon first meeting, aren't doing it to 'portend doom'  ("Why children need to feel the pinch," Macleans, May 13, 20013).   We do it so that our children will listen to their natural fight or flight response. Yes, it used to be a rite of passage that all kids had to endure. I was swept into many an uncomfortable embrace with complete strangers who happened to be 'family.'

If a stranger in the street wanted to hug your kid - would you let them?  Would you demand that your child kiss this stranger?  Would you poo-poo any ‘childish’ fears they might have about close personal contact with this stranger?  Not a chance.   Why then, when this stranger happens to be family, do people feel that thrusting their children into discomfort is okay, that giving an unwilling embrace to make another person content, is a good thing?  It's not.

That doesn't mean that children don't have to be courteous in their interaction with others - saying "goodnight," or "hello" is a reasonable request and one that I firmly encourage.

 

Yes, Anna Teitel, “a pity kiss for Aunt Marjorie when you’re 6 is a long way off from pity sex with a manipulative college boyfriend when you’re 21.”  It is a long way off, but that just means that the pattern of offering physical contact under duress has been going on for 15 years.  How’s that for conditioning?  I’m not a helicopter parent.  My 12 year old daughter walks to and from school – sans adult – and has done so since she was eight.  Much to my abject parental terror, she’s ridden the subway alone, and we both survived. 

When we teach children to ignore instinct, we teach them to get into a car with a stranger, to ride the elevator when everything in them screams not to, to offer up affection to make someone else feel good.  

p.s.

When playing the tickle game?  When the kid is screaming hysterically for you to stop?  Stop.