Like a bug on it's back Suburban Mommy Disguise-Clueless about the conventional
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Like a bug on it's back -

2005-01-21 - 2:25 p.m.

I KNOW I haven’t posted in a while. So sorry but….

I AM LEAVING TOWN FOR 46 HOURS.

That’s just an approximation; if I am lucky it might be something like 48 hours.

Yes, I have to take my breast pump, as Mason isn’t done nursing yet.

Yes, I will have serious payback time to Mike for this.

Yes, I have stocked the fridge so they don’t starve during my absence…noodles, pizza, yogurt and grilled cheese fixings are abundant.

Pretty much all I have focused on all week is LEAVING TOWN. Did I mention I could be gone for almost 48 hours? I plan to spend this time, reading, knitting, sleeping, eating warm food and laying around. I am heading to lovely Springfield Illinois; unfortunately it’s not quite as exciting as it appears on the Simpson’s.

In other news:

Without ever having watched E! or read People I just want to say…can he really be such a fool to prefer Angelina over Jen?

It…gasp!…snowed again. Some moron who is apparently unclear that sometimes snow is S_L_I_P_P_E_R_Y plowed into my wonderful friend J. She didn’t hurt the little bugger who hit her. I am so sorry I wasn’t there to rant a little for her, its more my thing.

Raise your hand if you have any issue at all with the billions our government spent throwing the huge inaugural shindig while A) We are at war B) A ridiculous number of people just died in a giant Salami (as Cassady insists the wave was called) and C) We have NO MONEY PEOPLE! Oh and yes, outside donors paid for the champagne and caviar but WE paid for the billions in security and shutting down DC for 2 days.

What do you say to my 5-year-old son Cass now that he has realized my 15-month-old Mason can’t roll off his back easily? If he wants to get rid of Mason he plops him on his back and leaves him there like a bug with an exposed belly that can’t roll off of his shell. I’m going “stop it, STOP IT” the third time it happens after gently explaining why we don’t do that twice…but it’s ineffective as I am laughing. I mean, it’s kind of clever you know?

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More shattering suburban news -

2005-01-13 - 6:25 p.m.

I’m having a guilty moment here. I write about my feeling of disconnection from the whole Suburban experience and feeling like I am putting on a disguise when I head out to face the suburban landscape, right? Today, a com-ed guy called me a soccer mom…to my face…and I…I…oh god I kind of enjoyed it. Woo hoo! Yuck. I kind of enjoyed it. Then I trudged back to my car and sobbed quietly for a moment. No, no I didn’t really sob. Just a moment of respectful silence for the passing of the person I used to be, the one with the red hair down to her butt who strung beads to sell at dead shows and was always ready to road trip. So sad, wish I had more photos of her…but I imagine we were all incapable of operating cameras most of the time.

In other earth shattering suburban news…I went sledding yesterday. My fever (which had been hovering around 102) for a couple of days dropped to only 99.5 and with the snow slated to melt soon I took 5 year old Cass out to the local sledding hill, Which I intend NEVER to visit again. Why didn’t I pay attention to all the smart, attractively dressed mothers standing chatting on the sidelines while the husbands trudged up and down the hill with the kids? Why didn’t I notice all the shattered carcasses of cheap plastic sleds littering the hillside? Why are grown men so fucking territorial and cutthroat about sledding of all things?

So you claw your way up the ice sheet along the one spot on the hill where it’s too tree filled to sled and get in line. Actually, this is what the polite and sane parents do. The rest of the parents and kids run at random across the middle of the runs, walk right up towards the oncoming sledders and then loll about at the bottom of the hill after the run was completed to see how long it takes before getting crushed by a snowboarder or two.

Once at the top you get in line, and again as sledding appears to be some sort of call of the wild thing that brings out the natural competitiveness in males things get a little dicey. You stand behind the nice girl with the pink sled and her dad. You are 5th in line. The line feeds through a 3-foot gap in the fence so that in theory only one person can go down in this area at a time for safety reasons. Uber dad and son who just went down stagger back up the hill in the middle while other sledders skid and crash around them trying to avoid a direct hit. This humongo dad in his thermal jumpsuit with shaved head gets to the top (on the sledding side of the fence) and notes that the next people in line are a 3 year old and a 5 year old with a petite mom who might take 30 seconds to lock and load before heading down the run. He nudges his kid and somehow looking us ALL straight in the eye says “just go Kev” and they take off again.

In order to position her children in the chute the petite mom has loaded them all on their rather impressive large plastic machine of death on the flat surface, gently lowered herself behind them, wrapped her legs up around them to keep them from falling off and now is poised on the steep icy part of the hill clinging to the fence in a posture that makes her appear double jointed. As Uber dad and son are now laying in a heap at the bottom of the hill cracking up and giving each other high fives she must stay this way…and stays this way until the dad who is next says to his older son with a heavy sled “just go ahead, take them out”. “Yeah!” the rest of us encourage and he goes, and hey! Those guys can move pretty fast when in fear of their lives.

When they get back to the top we are still 2 spots back from the front of the line. I say loudly to Cass “hey honey only 2 people ahead of us now!” and he looks at me. The guy in front of me braces himself with the little pink sled and says, “we’re next!” and then offers help to the people in front of him as they attempt the little balancing act on the icy top of the hill. Uber guy and Kev snort and decide to try another run that “doesn’t suck as much”. Cass say’s “mom, does this one suck?” and it’s our turn. 36 hard bumps and a snowman’s worth of snow up my nose later I ask him “did it suck?” “No way, let’s go again”. I am an awesome mom. It lasts for about 30 minutes until I have to tell him it’s time to go home. The End…of sledding and in Cassady’s opinion, of my awesomeness as a mom.
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News flash-Snow in the Midwest! -

2005-01-05 - 10:20 p.m.

Things I can’t write a whole entry about but bear mentioning.

We are growing Sea Monkeys in my dining room.

My son received an indoor swing for Christmas and is currently SWINGING in my 10’ x 12’ living room.

Mason received one of those ball towers where you drop balls in the top and they roll down the clear tubing to the bottom for a gift. It is battery operated….thus you don’t actually have to TOUCH the toy in order for the balls to go back to the top and drop down again.

In other news:

Today it was snowing! Gasp! In the Midwest, near Chicago… let me repeat that, WE HAD SNOW! Despite the fact that the number of dead keeps rising in the Tsunami zone, despite the fact that our national debt is growing at a rate that will crush us in our old age, despite the fact that it is becoming increasingly obvious that we can’t hold anything but laughable elections in a certain country we invaded some time ago…the number one story is…SNOW. It is truly this way every time it snows too. Maps, graphics…yes snow. A friend tells me that there is a crowd stockpiling supplies at the local grocery store. It is 10” of snow, maybe, or maybe 5. Move on folks…there isn’t much to look at here.

Except maybe the accident/key fiasco thing I was involved in where I locked my baby in a running car in the middle of an aisle in a parking lot in the storm. Yeah. Yes I did do that.

I’m creeping slowly through the lot, mindful of all the guys who are under the misguided impression that their massive SUV will stop faster than my anti-lock break mini van. They must demonstrate the manliness of their vehicular abundance by blazing along at high rates of speed while the rest of us sigh in envy and I clench my…clench my fist at his speeding ass. Slow down! BABY ON FREAKIN BOARD!

Well first I notice a car coming toward me whose wheels appear not to be turning as they are locked in a skid. I sweetly hit the grating anti-locks breaks in time to stop as a young lady in a miniature yugo-like car of some kind gracefully slides through her stop sign and completely through the intersection I had been about to legally drive through. She scowls and curses at me through her window as she slides past her stop sign and rotates sideways. Damn me for stopping and not letting her underinsured shoebox hit me!

Next I turn gently down an aisle with my eyes on the prize…the drive-through Starbucks. I notice that although schools are closed and a traffic advisory is out people are plenty willing to risk life, limb and bumpers in order to get the caffeine they need. As I creep ahead an attractive young man and his dewy blond accomplice pull out of their spot and into the side of my van. There is a little tiny “dump” noise. No not thump, really it sounded like dump. I stop, get out and go to inspect the non-damage on my van and to watch yugo chick race past me to take my rightful place in line for coffee. There isn’t any damage at all, maybe a scratch on his bumper. I release him without calling the cops and he is filled with joy. I am full of good will and then…you know if I’m full of good will there has to be an AND THEN!

I go to get back in where it is warm and dry and my Starbucks card is fully charged and…the van is locked…and running and Mason is inside. Let’s just be clear that I am outside the van in the driving snow, parked sideways-ish in a parking lot aisle and my purse with the secret emergency back-up car key is warm and dry nestled up next to the drivers seat. I actually prayed (stop laughing) as I reached into my pocket for my cell-phone. Miracles do occur and I had it outside the van-with me-in the driving snow. Called the cops, the nice dispatcher didn’t even laugh, although he asked me twice where the baby was. I believe he just wanted to hear me say again “in the van warm and asleep with the doors locked and the engine on, and yes I am outside the van with no hat or gloves in the driving snow.” The Public Service Officer they sent to save me did laugh. More than once I believe. She then thanked me because I was laughing too; it was easy to laugh once she arrived. It was ridiculous that I was freaking out standing in the snow and cold, blocking an aisle, getting cursed at by other drivers on their way to coffee as Mason slept soundly in the van completely oblivious to my distress.

I thanked the officer nicely and then hopped in my car where Mason continued to snooze obliviously and drove the remaining 50 yards to the Starbucks where they quickly and efficiently revived me.

The End.
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