Why is there a helicopter in MY sky?

This morning my husband and I were lounging on our family room sofa...snuggled under a thick blanket, coffee still steaming hot. Our kids were in their rooms, all occupied with whatever, and so we just enjoyed a few quiet adult moments until the fun of the day really got started.

He was telling me about something going on in the neighborhood, or in the family, or at work...I don't actually remember, and frankly it's not relevant here. What IS is my response to his story.

Me: Do you know why?

Him: No.

Me: Ugh. I don't like a mystery.

(pause)

Him: YOU? NO! SURELY NOT!

(I blink slowly at him, unsure as to where this is going.)

Him (imitating me): Shhhhh! Is that a helicopter? I wonder why there is a helicopter flying over our house.

Me: (raising one eyebrow, as if to suggest, you really want to do this?)

Him (still imitating me): Whoa! There it is again! That's twice. I wonder what is going on.

(Pretends to dial phone.)

Him (talking into his hand): Hey. It's me. Is that Matt? He hasn't left for work yet?

(He nods, as if listening.)

Drag, I hate it when mornings start like that. Look, have you heard any helicopters fly over your house? They've been circling; they were flying your way. Can you see it? I wonder if it's the police or military or what.

(Stops talking and nods again, continuing to pretend to look out of a window.)

You can hear it? Really? Can you see it? Look out front; it was heading west. OH! It's turning around? Okay, I'll watch.

(brief pause)

Oh! There it is again! Something is definitely going on. No, you're right, it's the police. Hmmmmmm...I wonder...


At this point, tears are running down my face because I totally do that kind of stuff. All. the. time. If something is out of the ordinary, I try to figure out what's going on around me until I can create a narrative that satisfies me.

What's best is not that was he so spot-on in mocking some of my quirkiest behavior (which he totally was), but that I know he finds it endearing. Okay, perhaps not at the time when I force him to explore different "scenarios" with me (because, say, he is a captive in my car), but it's part of the package that is me, and he loves me.

It's nice to be totally understood, oddities and all, and unconditionally accepted.

It was a great way to start the day.

If you were a fly on the wall in our house...

...you'd likely hear something along these lines:

Me: Hey, do we have any Diet Coke?

Hubby: Nope!

Me: (bats eyelashes in an exaggerated manner)

Hubby: Fine! (grabs car keys and heads to store)

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Hubby: Hon, this cheesecake is delicious.

It's dense, but not too rich.

Me: Hmmmm, kinda like you.

Hubby: (beat) Good one!

Me: I aim to please.


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Hubby: Have I seen the staple gun recently?

Me: I have no idea, I still don't have access to your retinas. (taps foot)

Hubby: Oh, yeah...I'll work on that.

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Me: Why did I ever marry you, you prick?***

***Okay, I didn't say that one. In fact, my husband suggested I include it here.

On resolutions, universe domination, and FancyPants

Something that's crept into more than one conversation with friends recently is the sad fact that being a grown-up is somethings so boring. It goes without saying (and yet, I'm saying it) that I'm eternally grateful for all I have; I feel crazily blessed with this wonderful family I have, this life I'm fortunate enough to be enjoying.

But while every day is a gift, at the same time the days kind of blend into a blur of laundry and homework and dishes and errands and more laundry and playdates and doing the bills. That certainty is comforting in many ways; but I also remember the days when throwing on a dress and some lipstick to go grab a coffee with a friend carried and undercurrent of excitement because you had no idea what that little excursion might bring you.

This comment I wrote at Jennifer's NYE blog, Playgroups are no place for children (am I the only one who thinks that some of my best ideas are left in comments for others?):

It’s funny…for me NYE used to be my absolute favorite holiday, followed by Fourth of July…something magical always seemed to happen.

Now, we watch the ball fall in Times Square (which for us on the West Coast is at 9pm) then go to bed, and I haven’t been to a fireworks display in years.

I can’t help but think that perhaps I need to shake it up a bit and let that magic back into my life…it sure isn’t going to come find us holed up in our house.

Jill from Caffeine Court made a suggestion to me that rang true...she said

I guess you have to always have something to look forward to, like a night out, or a little shopping trip and try to see the wonders in everyday things.

She's totally right; I need to carve out more time for myself this year...I'm rarely alone. I don't spend enough time with my friends without kiddies in tow. It's been so long that honestly, I don't even crave it anymore...going out sounds like work! My thought process goes something like, I'll have to get dressed, put on makeup, find my car keys, drive someplace, park the car, talk to adults, drive BACK home later...what a pain in the ass. I think I'll stay home and read.

I've been thinking about making this my new year's resolution...to find time for myself and bring some sparkly magic feeling back to everyday. But, I'm not a New Year's Resolution person, at least not usually. I used to be, but if I messed up and broke my promise to myself, I felt like, "Well, that one's out!" Thus feeling like I didn't need to work on that anymore.

So a few years back I made the New Year's Resolution that I wouldn't make New Year's Resolutions, that every day was a new opportunity to improve myself. It works pretty well for me, too. Except that recently I've realized that the idea that after all, tomorrow is another day has pretty much turned into an excuse to put off starting good habits for the next day. Which is always tomorrow, of course. Kinda convenient, eh?

So I've cleverly constructed a New Year's Resolution Catch-22 for myself; I'm thinking maybe I'll just need to cycle between NYR years and non-NYR years. Just in case I chose to make resolutions this year, I'm working on a list (still a WIP):

1.) Exercise regularly
2.) Make time for myself
3.) Eat better
4.) Drink more water and less wine
5.) Be a better human being in every conceivable manner
6.) Become the master of time, space, and dimension
7.) Learn to knit

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By the way, you may also now address me as FancyPants. The Fabulous Mrs. Fussypants has bestowed upon me the nickname because of my fancy new blog look. I'm excited; the only other nickname I've ever had was Beazo.d. That's a story for another day (hint: the story involves beer).

HGTV, will you take me back?

Ten years ago, when I was a newly married and even more newly pregnant, I watched a lot of HGTV. I'd moved into the home my husband had bought before we were dating (well, actually, during the year and a half we were broken up he moved out of 'our' apartment and purchased it). It was a sweet, 1350 square feet brick bungalow in an highly desirable suburb (but don't call it a suburb...people there think they are living urban) of Detroit.

I'd never owned a home before, and as I had a year left of medical school we had neither the time nor the money to fork out for decorating. I didn't care; in fact, I was thrilled. I'd done some interior design work in a former life (that is, before the med school bug hit me) and I was giddy at the thought of having this canvas that was not only new BUT MINE! Not just another apartment, but a home that was ours.

So, I started following this new (to me) cable network that was dedicated to helping the average Joe make-over their home. I was soon hooked and HGTV was on all the time; it was my adult companionship during those early weeks when I was alone at home with my newborn. I even went to a home expo show in Novi, MI, specifically to meet Pat Simpson. I've met a fair number of celebrities, but I was actually nervous to meet Pat Simpson. That should give you an idea of how far gone on HGTV I was

After nearly two years in that house we moved on up to a 2350 square foot home that is worth way more now than we sold it for and planned on being there for years and years and years. FBNOML spent weekends-and weeks!- with us there, and our son had his first birthday party there. My mom was a quick ten or fifteen minute drive away, and most of our good friends were there.

Just over a year later we moved to Northern California and bought an 2350 square foot home home that seemed ridiculously expensive (our little rental we are in now is worth more than we paid for that house). I still watched some HGTV, but it seemed irrelevant. I was...beyond it.

Once we bought our next home, a 3600 square foot beauty (to which we later put an addition), HGTV was pretty much out of the picture. I just didn't need decorating advice; I was also consulted (sometimes paid!) to helpdecorate others' homes. And, let's face it, my home, and those of my clients, weren't Designing On A Dime.

WHAP! What was that? Oh, yes, reality hitting us on the head, shaking that greed and consumerism right out of our lives.

So here we are, back at square one in our cozy rental. I find myself drawn back to HGTV; perhaps it is because those familiar voices emanating from my TV screen remind me of years past in which I was full of hope and excitement. Perhaps it's because I'm no longer "fancy" and I practicing Decorating Cents. Perhaps it's because I'm looking forward to hopefully once again being a House Hunter.

Anyway, what I'm wondering is...HGTV, do you forgive me for abandoning you? I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry. I never stopped loving you, I just sort of forgot to remember you. That was wrong, and I promise I won't make the same mistakes again.

Just texted this to my husband...

Grocery Listy Listerson:

1.) You need beer (I stole one).
2.) I need wine.
3.) Kids need milk.
4.) You need dinner.
5.) Kids and I need bottled water for our trip to Sausalito tomorrow.
6.) How cool is it that we live close enough to zip to Sausalito for a quick day trip, and that we...
7.) Can spare the cash for the trip!?!?!?!
8.) We love you!!!
9.) Hope you're having fun rockin' out at band practice.
10.) Call and say goodnight; kids are still up.

Take one down, pass it around

When I sent my husband out to get Halloween candy this year, I nagged reminded him to buy more candy than he has in the past couple of years, because we always run out. He did a good job and came back with a respectable mountain of peanut free goodies. That being said, I still didn't think it would be enough as it seems that every year we have more and more trick or treaters knocking on our door, and while the quantity might have been enough for last year, it might not be enough for this year if we kept trending upward.

But, whatever. I have plenty on my plate these days and frankly buying more candy *just in case* didn't make it to the top of my priority list. Okay, honestly, it didn't make it onto the list.

So last night I sent my husband off with the kids and the neighbors, kids loaded with costumes and goody bags and adults loaded with beverages to get them loaded. I had my big bowl full of candy and my backstock bowl at the ready. Between DING-DONGS I packed for the move and watched Ghost Hunters while enjoying a nice Cab.

Oddly, there weren't many DING-DONGS. There were the neighborhood kids that we knew (most of whom were in the same pack as my two), the were the teens who go everywhere and an interesting third group: parents who came up to the door with their kids to ask where we were moving. AND WHY.

I've had more than one friend tell me that "people are wondering" about why we are moving. Shhhhhhh...the big secret IS NOT A SECRET. We couldn't have been more candid about the fact that WE CAN'T AFFORD THIS HOUSE ANYMORE. Tada! Cat was never in the bag. And yet, there is still a bunch of whispering about our "situation." People just love them a good gossip, huh?

My husband and I thought about making stuff up just to fuel their need to consume rumors. He suggested I say, "My husband beats me every night *cough* at Scrabble *cough*." I suggested he say, "She cheated *cough* at Scrabble *cough*." Or maybe a simple, "We've split *cough* the Scrabble board in half from overuse *cough*." What do you think?

CPQ (no, it's not a new shopping channel)

I have more than one...oh, let's call them Cute Personality Quirks. Today I was faced with one of them. Maybe more, I'm not sure.

My son was was not just bored, he was BORED!!! He'd reached the screen time cut-off (that is, no more TV, GameCube, or computer for the day). He'd read for a couple of hours. He'd jumped on the trampoline. There was NOTHING TO DO, as apparently all of his toys are BORING.

Then he gets a call from a buddy; his father wants to take the two of them golfing.

Gulp.

The thing is, I get weird about my kids being in cars with other people. More than weird; I get anxious. What if? What if? What if??? I have driven on every single field trip of his, from Kindergarten all the way through third grade (except the few in which my husband participated), just to avoid this scenario.

But my son and his friend are taking golf lessons together, and this boy's father and I have carpooled to and from the lessons; the course isn't too far away and so it's within my comfort zone. I sucked it up and said, "Yeah, sure."

Then the father follows up with this one, "We're going to try a new course, over in Town-Twenty-Some-Miles-Down-The-Highway."

I didn't sign up for that. It's one thing to take my kid three miles away, but on the highway? AT RUSH HOUR? How's a paranoid mama like me supposed to deal?

A friend was with me, a friend who knows me well. She's mouthing at me, "Let him go. He'll be fine. Let him go. He'll be fine. Let him go. He'll be fine. Let him go. He'll be fine"

I told the dad that before I gave a final okay I'd need to check with my husband. HA! As if that's how our family works! I was really calling him to see if he could come up with a good excuse to get me out of the pickle into which I'd cornered myself. He just said, "I am sure it would be fine, but if you aren't comfortable with it just say no." Thanks a helluva lot...I need a better excuse than that. I mean, Just Say No? How 80's!

Ultimately, I knew I was being selfish and overprotective and unreasonable, so with a lump in my throat I told my son he could go. And how much fun you're going to have!

As we waited for him to be picked up, I put sunscreen on my boy's face, helped him get his golf gear in order, hugged him and kissed the top of his head, handed him his baseball cap, told him to wear his seatbelt (to which he looked at me as if I was insane; it would never occur to him to NOT wear it), and kept saying, "HAVE A GREAT TIME!"

I can't tell you how incredibly thrilled I was when five minutes later as the dad was picking him up, he informed me that he had decided to stay in town...traffic and all, you know.

Once I was back inside, my friend told me about how it was for her, growing up with a paranoid and overprotective parent. Her mom was always so concerned about something horrible happening to her kids she didn't allow them to do a lot of fun things. Like golfing with a friend, for example. The more I thought about it, the more I knew it was the right thing for me to do, to override my Cute Personality Quirk...to shed my selfishness and ignore my discomfort in order to allow him to HAVE SOME FUN.

As I typed the above, the phone rang. It was my son (ThankGodheisokay); he told me that they are on the eighth hole and then he exclaimed, "Can we have a sleepover?" My son, who just turned nine, has had literally over a hundred sleepovers here, but only once has he been willing to spend the night at someone else's home once...and not this Friend's home. So when he asked for asked for a sleepover I assumed that he meant at our home, so I answered, "Yeah, sure." See a pattern emerging?

My suddenly independent little boy said, "I don't care, but Friend wants to sleep at his house." This friend is a nice enough kid, but I don't know him or his family very well. Is this another Cute Personality Quirk, or just me being a good parent?

Really, how am I to know?

You know you need a date with your husband when…

Huh? A date. With my husband? What's THAT? I do vaguely recall hanging out with him in public, like at a restaurant or something. But I am pretty sure we lived in a different state then. Literally and figuratively.

It's bad...we're bad. Making time for the two of us just hasn't been on our radar for a long, long time. The demands of the kids, his job, the house, the zoo we call our animals, the vortexes we call our computers (aka "some time for me"), and that thing called sleeping take up a LOT of time. I don't even know if I have my babysitter's current phone number. Time for the two of us has has dropped low on the priority list. That's just wrong.

It's crazy to be living in the same house with someone and yet miss them. Especially when it is a sweetie who brings you black coffee in bed every single morning.

We need a date.

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