Sweet Be-Jesus

I scared the be-jesus out of Bean on Wednesday. I’d been working while she was camped in front of the tube. (I know, Mom-of-the-Year.) And I was amazed at how much she was into the show. She usually watches for about 5 seconds and moves on to greener pastures. So I never worry about her being over-tubed. But this time, I was thinking, “Wow. We’ve obviously reached a new stage and attention level.” I could see her every few minutes —as I stood up from my office chair and peeked at her through the french door. All snuggled up in the wingback chair —against my fleece. Awww. And about the 6th time I stood up, I noticed something in her hand. In her mouth, to be precise. So I decided I’d better investigate. As immersed as she was, she didn’t hear me coming close until I was right there. And, I tell you, that baby jumped sky high. I thought she may impale the roof of her mouth on whatever she was chewing. And then I realized: my purse is right there. And that looks suspiciously like a dum-dum stick. I’ll be damned. I’d gotten some of them the last time I was at the bank and that little sumthin’-sumthin’ had used her sonar-candy-detection system to single them out, open one and maw down. I was in shock. And tried so, so hard not to laugh. No wonder she’d been so damned quiet. Maya and Miguel my ass.

Then, as if that wasn’t enough, my little bulimic-in-the-making, took her sister’s backpack into her closet and raided her lunch before school yesterday morning. You could’ve heard the shriek a mile away when Miss 6:7 discovered the sleight of hand. “Mooooommmmmeeeeee! She’s eating my aaaappppppllllleeeeeeeee!” Bean comes walking out from behind the closet door, innocently chewing the stolen apple. Now I know how God must’ve felt...

It’s been so long since I last wrote that I’ve almost forgotten how. And have completely forgotten what all has happened. The biggest thing is that my little Bean turned 2 on Sept. 22nd. I posted the rapturous pics of her as she beheld her Baby Beluga cake (make that: Baybee-booo-ga). Kim at Tee & Cakes outdid herself once again. It was a three-layered neapolitan concoction that was just a beautiful thing to see. (And eat.)

It was a mellow celebration, this turning two. Miss 6:7 was all indignant because apparently she’d expected a full blown party in which all of her friends would come. (I’m so sure.) But, instead, we took the Friday before it off and took them both to the zoo. School was out in Boulder, so it worked well. Then on the actual day, the hubby got home a bit early and we made dinner, opened presents, had cake and kicked it old school. You know —balloons, hats, your parents standing there snapping pics. That’s how all of my birthdays looked when I was little. No ponies and rented clowns and all that crap. Just here’s your cake. Eat it. Move on. And she loved every minute of it. We wrapped up the evening on the front porch and neighbors came by for cake and serenading of the bean. It was lovely.

Other than that it’s just been stress-out-city. With work piling and the b-partner and I griping at each other until we finally just had it out. We’d needed to for far too long and had just been too busy. We’re now doing much better and communicating instead of grunting at each other. So good for us. We’ve evolved now to the Bronze Age apparently. Or at least the Uruk Period. (I have no idea what I’m talking about.) But what I do know is that it’s damned hard trying to manage a growing business when you have young kids and a b-partner who does as well. Think about your marriage (if you’re married) and add to that the fact that your livelihood rests upon this particular relationship too. “It takes work and it’s hard.” (To quote one of my favorite SNL skits on W.) We’re doing okay, but we are trying to figure out a business model that fits us so that we don’t drown. Treading water is one thing. But swimming against a Niagra-ish torrent is quite another. And we each have quite different swimming styles. Not to mention our reasons for jumping in to begin with —one for the exercise and one looking for the fish. Now if we could just figure out that whole water to wine trick...

We’ve also had some of those warm-fuzzy times lately that make your friends without kids go renew their birth control. Miss 6:7 spent a solid day last weekend turning into Damien the Omen. We caught her hitting her sister and the day dissolved into a wild blur of screaming, door slamming, kicking and hell-raising. After her still-yet-to-be-returned computer and iPod, she lost every single stuffed animal she’s ever owned. As I was carrying them away, she very unwisely shouted, “You’re not taking them to the right place!” And I (very unwisely) said, “I know! I’m throwing them in the trash can!” Shit. Damn. Why, why did I say that?! I just can’t bring myself to do it and I’m losing every ounce of credibility that I pretended to have. She’s now taken to sleeping with her fleece jacket. Never underestimate the adaptability of a kid. Especially a stubborn one who’s convinced we love her sister more.

And as she was in her room, where she was sent packing after the shouting and so forth, she yelled, “I feel like I’m being kidnapped!” Oh to be young again...

The day after this familial strife, she made a sign. The intention was to regain peace (and control :) to her uncontrollable life. It worked for about 5 seconds. But as my granny used to say, “This too shall pass...” I think I’ll have that put on my tombstone. And with all of the gray hair and high blood pressure these kids are causing in me, I’m probably destined for cirrhosis of the liver anyway because of all of that wine I’m forced to drink. ☺

Then on Monday, the ceiling fell in at school. Seriously. It really happened. (See post below.) And there was asbestos. And the school was evacuated. Only I couldn’t go. I was stuck at home with a baby deep into her nap and the principal wouldn’t release Miss 6:7 to any of the other moms who were there and offering. (He later apologized.) His reasoning was that since her classroom was technically safe, she could just stay. And stay she did (I had all of these deadlines!) By the time I got there she was the last kid standing. My second POTY Award for the week! School was cancelled the following day and my work week imploded.

And so today, I decided to chaperone the 2nd grade field trip to downtown Boulder. The trip started with my begging the school secretary to break into her petty cash so I could change a $20 for bus fare. (I’m so organized.) We then took the bus downtown and I checked Facebook while my charges tortured the Skip driver. (Okay, not really.) My group was small and very well-behaved: Miss:7, Nanners and a cute boy. The girls started tormenting him right away with, “You’re the only boy! We’re going to talk about princesses and Barbies and Bratz all day!” Poor kid. I sat him beside me on the bus and showed him how to send a text message.

We spent some time in the City Council chambers where Miss 6:7 and Nanners got to be city councilwomen. Miss 6:7 cast her vote on the issue at hand: whether or not to keep the current law that restricts people from having certain pets. Her response? “I think people should be allowed to have chickens so they don’t have to go to the farm.” Uh. Wha?

Happy times. Keep it comin’.

TODAY’S THEME SONG: Don’t Trust Me. 3OH!3. Tell your boyfriend
if he says he’s got beef that I'm a vegetarian and I ain't -bleeping- scared of him. This beautiful piece of lyricism comes courtesy of Miss 6:7. She introduced us to this song a few weeks ago and I thought, “Oh Crap.” Though she didn’t notice any of the four-letter words...