clickmom

from the backseat

Matt sits in the front passenger seat and Evan and Josh sit in the second row. This works out fine because sometimes when no one is talking Evan kind of talks out loud as his mind wanders. I like being able to give Matt those "He's crazy." sideways glances out of the corner of my eyes. The questions just roll out of Evan, and it can be, well, curious, interesting, and sometimes scary. From time to time, I try to get Matt to jot down Evan's ramblings, but it seems that when we are prepared with pen and paper, he doesn't put out.

Today we were driving along and out of nowhere Evan says, "I don't think the original pronounciation was uni-CORN because it doesn't have an ear of corn on it's head, I think it was originally called a uni-HORN. Mom what was it called originally?" I said "Uh, uh, duuuuh. Gee Ev, that is a good one for the internet. Let's look that one up when we get home."

uncomfortable question

Matt was sitting in the den with the husband and me tonight when he asked "Are virgins people from Virginia?"
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Lord help me.

Debbie wants to know..."What were your answers?" Well, first the husband and I gave each other the deer in the headlights look, then he piped up with "A virgin is what you are until you get married." (What a prude!) So I punched the husband and said "Don't listen to Daddy, a virgin is what you are until the first time you have sex." I mean, he's my kid, I don't want him to be last to know, and if it comes from my mouth at least I know that he knows what he's talking about.

devil dog gets a hair cut

Ever since we have been here on the (still unnamed) island the devil dog has been having one big bad hair day. She never got matted before, but she here she was all matted up. She had dread locks all over her butt, legs, behind her ears, even two huge ones on either side of girlie part. I was concerned that they would join together and prevent her from walking.

A neighbor suggested she may be matted up due to pine sap getting in her hair, so a bath was clearly in order. This morning the husband phoned a local groomer we had seen while driving around and made an appointment for her for this afternoon. I brought devil dog to the "salon", not knowing what to expect, and boy was it, ummm, interesting.

There were two women at the groomers. I was greeted by the bather, herein known as "Poodle." Poodle wasn't sure who I was, but she brought out the actual groomer, herein known as "Toothless", and Toothless was expecting us. Toothless asked me to bring the devil dog into the grooming room while she finished up the schnauzer she was working on, I must admit I suspected she may be a drinker when Poodle pointed out that the schnauzer's mouth was lopsided and Toothless clipped off half an inch from the longer side.

I didn't say a word when after caging up the schnauzer Toothless went to the bathroom for a long long time. I just stood in the grooming room with my polite little smile on my face. Poodle, upon Toothless return, remarked "Geez, I thought ya fell in." I didn't say anything, but I did consider grabbing devil dog and making a run for it. Devil dog is a classy girl, I didn't know if Poodle and Toothless could be sensitive to her kind of prestigious upbringing. But I choked. Toothless put devil dog on the table. Toothless whipped out the clipper and went at her. I half mumbled-half whimpered a request, "Please don't make her look like a lab..." but Toothless proved to be merciless with the clippers. She buzzed and buzzed until there were no more dreadlocks, or hair on her butt, or hair on her ears, and a few scattered sparse areas to boot.

You know how black haired dogs have this bluish white skin? Well, the devil dog now has this bluish white wishbone shaped thing going on from the rear. It's uh, well, not lady like.

Toothless also savagely attacked the devil dogs ears, but she didn't do them symmetrically. (Remember, we think she drinks) Now I am not sure what to do. Do I wait until they grow back? Do I grab some broken glass and hack at the other ear until they are evened out?

After the clipper attack devil dog had a bath, and Poodle gave her a very nice, long bath. It was almost like a sudsy swedish massage, during which Poodle pillow talked her up the whole time. "What a nice smooth girl you are. Oh, you are good, good, good. Oh, you are so silky." It was starting to creep me out. Just when I was about to yell "Break it up, break it up you two!" Poodle announced that the devil dog was ready to be "blowed". I assumed she would whip out a blow dryer, but she whipped out some sort of reverse shop-vac and actually tried to blow the water off of her with a gale force wind. Mist sprayed everywhere, and I couldn't be heard over the 8 decible shop-vac, so I just watched, trying not to look all stupified like I was. When Poodle declared devil dog finished with the blow she asked if I wanted to put her in the cage with the portable room heater and the oscillating fan to finish drying, but I said it was OK and that she could go home moist. I assumed that Toothless would do the nice little groomer things like clip devil dogs nails and the bushy hair tufts that grow up between her toes so I asked her to, and she put devil dog back on the table and in a not nice voice told me it would have been easier to do when she was dry. I didn't ask why she hadn't done it before, what do I know about grooming?

I leashed up devil dog and high tailed it out of there. Next time, I am doing it myself with the hose.

I was bit by a shark

When I was 8 years old, we were on vacation in Puerto Rico. It was the day after Christmas, and I was swimming by myself in the ocean. I had just turned around to walk back to the beach when I was grabbed on the leg by a shark, pulled under the water, shaken, and released. Not quite realizing what had happened I stood back up, and just walked out of the water. My leg felt....kinda weird, maybe almost frozen, and I bent over to touch it, touched my own bone, looked down, saw the all blood, stood up again and just screamed. I was scooped up by a lifeguard, tourniqueted by the towel guy and rushed to the emergency room- a whole other story in itself.

The good news is that, many many stitches (in layers) and 8 hours later I emerged, in one piece, with a leg that would be perfectly fine for the rest of my life. I had to sit in a wheelchair for the rest of the vacation, but was walking again within a couple of weeks. By the time I got back to school, noone would have suspected a thing. The only souvenier of the incident I was left with is the seven inch scar on my leg. At first the scar was red and it didn't bother me that much because us kids still wore knee socks.

The summer I was 9 buffalo shoes, the big tan platform kind, came into vogue and at first I tried to wear them with my knee socks. I was the only one still wearing her knee socks, I was a fashion disaster. My mom encouraged me to take the socks off, and I finally admitted to her that I was self conscious about the scar, which had probably faded to pink by then. She told me that if I just ignored the scar she would take me to a plastic surgeon when I was 16 and have something done about it.

That one comment, with it's promise of resolution was enough to get me past my self consciousness, into my buffalo shoes, and make me forget about the scar ever since. Eventually the scar faded all the way to skin color, and it became something that doesn't enter my consciousness. I never even thought about seeing someone to have something done to it. It had become a "no issue". When I shave my legs, I hardly notice it all. Once I got so tan it looked like a white lightning strike, but that wasn't disturbing. The only time I find myself thinking about it is when I want to tell a really good story, and then the story is usually about getting bitten by a shark and not about the scar it left.

thankful for the little things

I finally broke down and let Evan get a mohawk. I only did it because Matt wanted him to have one so that he could do a Mr. T. imitation in a movie that Matt is filming. I am actually quiet excited about the movie. Matt challenged Josh to go a week without french fries, and has been doing a "documentary" for the week. He has been asking him questions, torturing him by ordering fries, interviewing waitresses and regular folks, and has the material for a really cute film. Tonight, on the last night of FF abstinence I have promised to make FFs from scratch. Josh is a tough guy. I am thrilled that this movie is not about super-heroes or fantasy characters. If Matt posts it on his web site it will force me to figure out how to link on my blog.

Looking at Evan with this hair cut makes me salivate like I always do right before puking. I have to avert my gaze to hold on to my last meal. This morning I was holding up my hand to block my view of the top of his head. It was the only way I could cope. The deal Evan and I made was that he could keep the hair until his father arrives tomorrow and has a fit over it. Technically Father is coming back late tonight, after bed time, which means we'll be at the barber getting an all over bald boy shave before breakfast tomorrow. I can't wait.

I did experience something that might be even scarier than the mohawk. It was the guy below. I rejoice that my straight haired children couldn't look like this even if they wanted to. Thankful for the little things, that is what I am.

I Love Sherry

I am a total approval whore. I try to be really witty when leaving comments on the other blogs I enjoy reading. I just want everyone to love me. Tonight I fell in love with commentor #14, a wonderful, charming, obviously intelligent woman who commented on my comment on Sarcastic Journalist's site. SJ's post has a link to a video of gorrillas doing the nasty she wrote of her embarrassment when witnessing such acts of nature, including dogs doing their business while their owners stand around. Here are our comments:

12.

Growing up in NYC I had to leave my apartment at 7AM to take the long subway ride to HS. One morning, I was almost at the train station when a dog, seemingly from out of nowhere, ran up to the lady I was walking behind, and began to hump her big fur purse which she had been swinging in her hand. She tried to pull the purse away but the dog wasn’t letting go of it. He humped and humped until he shot his stuff all over her pants. Hahahaha. What a great way to start the day. (For me of course, I was always looking for a good story to share)

Comment by clickmom — 8/15/2005 @ 11:56 am

14.

I was going to leave a comment but I forget what it was now because I’m laughing too hard at clickmom’s comment instead.

Oh I remember now. I was never embarrassed when other dogs pooped but I was when my own did. I hated standing there, holding the leash and trying to appear nonchalant while he crouched on the grass. The worst was when he had, uh, an upset stomach and was having a violent crap attack while a bunch of people walked by. I wanted to die.

Comment by sherry — 8/15/2005 @ 1:18 pm

getting what I needed

Sometimes we get just what we need and yesterday my little sister said exactly what I needed to hear. We spent the day together, and talked about, among other things, our respective struggles with weight. She struggles with a little bit and I struggle with enough to make a whole other person. I have been alternating between feeling fabulous, I am eating well and exercising, and feeling hopeless. I have lost 30 pounds and would like to lose lose another 70, at minimum. But really I would like to lose another 90, and that just seems like an impossible goal. It also makes what I have lost so far seem like such a tiny drop in the bucket, and I have been working so hard to get this far.

Losing all that weight would put me at a lower weight than I have ever been for my adult life, (with the exception of that time in HS when I didn't eat solid food for 3 months- a whole other story) but I am really craving a fit and healthy body. I just want to be "safe" and not at risk for the all obesity related illnesses that I cross my fingers won't happen to me, but really, I don't have age on my side anymore, or at least less and less every year, and I do want to live to a ripe old age. (Or at least until they have to shoot me because I have turned into my fore-mothers) I read that George Bush's doctors declared him in the top 1% of fitness for people his age and I was actually jealous!

So, anyways, I was being very down, and premenstrual, and feeling like my progress has been too slow, and too little, and that my goals were completely unattainable. I was wondering to myself if the rest of the world could even tell that I had lost the weight. I was bumming. Only I tried not to show it, because that is what I do. I was smiling about it on the outside only.

When little sis got into her car, she looked back at me, opened her window, and said "Y'know, when you get home is when you will really see how great you look. People who know you will be coming up to you and telling you how much you have changed." It was just what I needed to hear. Thanks little sis!

initial impression

Riding and walking around the lake, I recognize the same faces every day. So I do a lot of smiling and cheerily shout out a "morning" to the other exercisers. There are few cars at the early hour I go around, so even the cars are familiar too, or at least the chocolate lab hanging out the passenger window is.

Not being a car person, I can barely tell a mini van from a truck until it is ready to mow me down, I recognize cars by their license plates, I even do this at home, I know the first three digits of all my friends plates. I either make up neumonic device, (On of my friends is Lyndon B Johnson-LBJ) or I just fill in some vowels to create a word. (My license says SPeCial-SPC)

As I was walking around the last curve before our driveway, pretty tired, an unfamiliar vehicle with a pale, moustached, round faced man in it drove by. He smiled and waved hello at me. I gave him a little wave back, and read his license plate. It said CRM, which I read as CReaM, and thought "What self respectiing man would have CReaM as a license plate?" How Yuck.

Just googling stuff

When my friend Bonnie was visiting, she noticed that as she walked through the room where Matt was using the laptop, he closed it both times she went past him. She tentatively reported this to me, we all know how careful we have to be with kids the internet. But, being the sloucher that I am, and having total confidence in my eldest son, I have not installed any child filtering software or anything like that. I tried to explain to Bonnie that I was 100% sure that whatever Matt was doing was completely fine and totally harmless, and that he was as honest and trustworthy as could be, and that he knew the rules and was a rule follower. I know those parental controls will become necessary when Evan reaches a certain age, but I am telling you Matt is more trust worthy than Mother Teresa (was). Bonnie was a doubter.

Bonnie pushed me to find out what he was doing, but pleaded with me not to tell him that she had ratted out the suspicious behavior to me. She wants him to like her. Blaming Bonnie was not necessary since when I walked into the room he lowered the screen. I stood behind him, gave him the "mother needs an answer" expression, and it went like this:

Clickmom: Maaaatt, what are you doing?
Matt: Just googling some stuff.
clickmom: What kind of stuff.
Matt: Kid stuff
Clickmom: You aren't trying to see pictures of naked people are you?
Matt: (with the "Are you high?" expression on his face) Nooooo.
Clickmom: Are you talking to strangers?
Matt: No, OK I am playing a game.
Clickmom: Is it a violent game that I would not approve of?
Matt: Yes, no, I mean, no, I was lying I am googling stuff.
Clickmom: Matt, you have a choice, you can tell me what you are doing or you can pass me the lap top and I can see the last 10 sites you have been on. It is my reponsibility to make sure you are not doing anything innappropriate or dangerous.

He hands over the computer, Internet, my son was SHOPPING FOR LEGO MINIMATES. Readers, my 12 year old was reluctant to let me see because he didn't want me to think "he was asking for too much and being greedy." I am telling you, I have nothing to worry about here.

rite of passage

Doesn't every nice boy need a nice girl to show him how to play house? Since there is so much to learn, I am thinking it would be best for them to start early, and really, 4 isn't all that early, is it? I mean what better time for a future man to learn all the most important life-lessons, such as "just do what she says without questioning" or "dads change diapers" or even the most basic "get a job".

Josh got his introduction to the real world today, through his buddy Adelaide. She taught him how to play house, and then while her mother and I were preparing dinner they eloped, okay, they convinced Matt to "marry" them in the den. Then the happy couple honeymooned on the porch.

Here are some their answers to Matts questions:
M: So, how do you make money? What is your job?
J: My job is to take care of the baby, (They had a bunny named Sarah) and Adelaide's job is to blow bubbles.
M: How do you get money?
J: From the bank (Gee, sounds kinda like my life!)

Then the happy couple has a pretend picnic on the porch

M: How is being married going?
A: We're not married anymore, he's my boyfriend. He's the principal and I am the teacher. (I am totally not going there)

They have another "picnic."

Josh then invites Matt to join the picnic and convinces him to marry our two family dogs. Devil Dog is now Mrs. Rex. Then Josh decides that Evan needs a to be married and Evan graciously and lovingly marries himself. It is a match made in heaven. Matt can't believe he is involved in such matters and leaves.