Some random insights of the mind from the past 24 hrs.:
1. Fire Pit 12,000 (pronounced Twelve Thousand, not Twelve Hundred) is awesome on a cool, late summer night with your peeps, who include my sister, her kids (age almost 9 and 6) and wine. I didn't even flip my lid when Kate broke a cobalt blue wine glass (just like the ones featured on Friends, which is why I bought them all those years ago to be like Rachel & Monica), though pretended to lose it, "THOSE WERE SPECIAL! GOD, I GOT THOSE FROM THE CHRISTMAS TREE SHOPS!" For those not in the know of that store, most stuff that's not furniture retails for roughly $1.99.
2. So Kate & I could shoot the shit and simultaneously keep the kids entertained, I let each kid have their own flashlight. When I realized they were (bush league) attempting shadow puppets, I promptly put our conversation on hold and, with Kate's assistance, had them act out as if they were being eaten alive by man-hand eating dinosaurs.
Awesome, yes, but clearly not everyone can be Meryl Streep (...Owen.)
3. My sister Kate often mentions how much her kid Sarah is like me. And it's true- eerily but awesomely strange how true it is, and quite honestly, it is as if she gestated my offspring . It's seeing these ertain elements of her interests, physical appearance and her personality (both the fun and the OMG Frustrating!!1!) that amaze me and - depending, make me laugh at myself.
And this is where I break to mention The Mother's Curse.
The Mother's Curse has been proven to be the curse of a mother bestowed upon one of her own, wherein the mother wishes the child, "I hope your kid is just like you."
This is never meant as a compliment.
However, the deal with my sister Kate, especially of her early years, was what you'd call a good kid, even my Mom Nit-Pick Standards. And even I, her older, odder sister, couldn't be a hater. So a mother's curse was powerless on her.
HOWEVER...
(there is always a however)
Mother's can find them a loophole.
This is not to say my sister was perfect or, for that matter, bullet-proof.
Me, the Oscar to her Felix. I was her best friend, scrappy bodyguard, but man, for a variety of reasons, I could push her buttons, intentionally or not. My sister had her moment's of being a little too perfect, a little too hospital corners at times. Me though, I let things go- homework, my room- well, OUR room, whatever. While my existence while generally benign on the whole and depsite actually liking each other very much, I would prove be her foil, her weakness, as she couldn't control me and my sloppiness (culminating in the 1990 Landmark case of "J. Lil v K.Lil., To Make the Bed with Person Sleeping in It, 10:00P.m." Bragging rights- Decision: Me.)
So the modified Mother's Curse would be- "I hope you get a kid just like your sister."
Anyway, after hearing story after story unfold, I've had to educate Kate on her daughter's ways, and that she may be bugging you, almost with a level of clinical precision of an M.D., know that My Hand to God, it's not done to intentionally cause you to have a mild stroke.
But the most recent "oh, she is SO you" deal that came yesterday:
Girl got her first plantar wart.
Good God, I'm so flattered.
But as it turns out, more medical similarities exist.
After watching her for that past 24 hrs., and without detailing the prior 48 hr. play-by-play, we both have the undiagnosed IBS issues that, I'll admit it, the recent toilet-side conversations have brought us that much closer together ("Dude, Sar, anything the red sauce...I'm telling ya....") (one day I'll tell her about Alfredo ...) . So much so that I did have to have a discussion about when to use the air freshener.
What I didn't realize or expect was I needed to have with a (nearly) 9 year old was HOW to use the air freshener. But then I did, almost immediately after using the facility after her last being to use it, walking out with a sticky, apple-scented butt.
4. The kids were great today Mike & I watched them. As great as 2 kids can be without being Disney Channel Precocious-fied or whatever, since there'sw always that moment of parental fragility (I did admit this to Kate) where you drop the errant "what the hell?" , especially when they don't answer you despite having called out there name a baker's dozen times. ("I know why the parents drink." she says).
Anyway, a lull occurred during Carolyn's nap, and Sarah had been dealing with issues with her stomach, so we all decided that it was Girls' Lie Down. Apparently, after righting the wrongs of her stomach, the nap was not needed, she popped up, looked up around my room and declared,
"You know, you really could clean up in here."
Um, ...oh, I'm sorry what?
So, because I've been up since 6:30 a.m., working off and on insurance stuff (on what is typically a day off) and parenting 3 kids (i.e you've eaten right? and clothed, and clean teeth and, we've gone to a trip to the shore for lunch, and, took care of the baby and ...and...") , AND P.S. Kid, have ya seen me have any time to myself today?? (I did actually say that, because I am pretty balls out with her ) I told her yeah, it did, but ya know, not today. To be fair, she wasn't trying to be rude, or a snot or remotely crappy to me, the room just looked messy to her and for "WHATEVER" reason, she feel comfortable being honest with me. She was just having an honest moment. On the WRONG DAY.
Still though, to recap: A tween told me I needed to clean me room.
5. We have a perfect night at the beach with all 3 kids. Different locale than lunch. We get subs and Sar and Owen actually go night swimming and there's decent waves and it's all good. I am so lucky we live so close to the water.
Really, not to be a sap, but...c'mon.
