No, that's not a kind of salad dressing. You're thinking of "vinaigrette".

Because my head is kinda' full and I have to hit the ground running today, instead of a post as long as Tolstoy's sequal to "War and Peace" (a work tentatively entitled "War...What is It Good For? Absolut Vodka.") I give you vignettes.

*****************************************************

Melissa had the flu late Saturday night, and a sniffling sound to Angus' side of the bed filtered through the kleenex earplugs I wear, and I see Melissa standing there crying. Angus goes into Extreme Caring Parent Mode and throws on his robe before heading to the bathroom for exercises in Hair Holding, Calming of the Down, and Reassurance That It's Totally OK to Vomit Up the Chicken Curry He Spent Hours Cooking.

It's a gorgeous sight.

As Melissa sits, drained by the side of the toilet, Angus carries a warm sleepy bundle into our bed. His children have this remarkable ability that most kids don't have, in that they sleep like the dead. Once they're out, they're out. We can talk in normal volumes, we can run around the house in Doc Martens, we can practice our entry into the Two Man Band competition, it won't matter. They're out.

So he deposits a scrawny pajama'ed Jeff into our bed and smiles at me, then goes to sleep next to Melissa and take care of her.

I panic.

I throw my pajamas on and lay there, worrying. Worrying that Melissa isn't well, worrying that Jeff will freak out if he wakes up next to me, worrying that Angus' ex will freak out if she finds out her son slept next to me.

I lay awake for an hour then finally drift off to sleep.

Then....BAM! An elbow comes flying out of nowhere and dislodges my forehead from my scalp. It's a move worthy of any barfight. It's a move that Jackie Chan wishes he could do. As I rub my head, Jeff peacefully sleeps next to me, snoring softly.

I fall back to sleep.

SMACK! Jeff's knee comes up and finds the very sensitive little bones in my backside and viciously dislodges them from their comfortable resting place. He is now sprawled over most of the bed, and I painfully rub my throbbing sacrum in hopes of reviving it and actually practicing any future bipedal hopes I may have. As I do that-POW! Jeff follows up the complicated Irish dancing knee move with a stunning backhand in order to reach the full effect of actually being in the pose of Da Vinci's sketch.

I am not sleeping next to a cute 8 year-old.

I am sleeping next to The Rock.

*****************************************************

We watch Cricket on Sunday. Cricket is beginning to sink in now, and I have to confess-while it's still on the boring side a bit, it's also beginning to be a bit interesting.

Me: We should bring a blanket and a picnic basket and watch it next Sunday.
Him: OK.
Me: But we need a dog. We really need a dog in order to enjoy the cricket.
Him: We don't need a dog to watch a cricket game.
Me: But we do. We can't bring the cats, as they'd be too busy fucking around in the grass with the insects or going after the ball. But a dog....Yeah. A dog is what we need.
Him: Your logic is faulty.
Me: We'd be just like the Waltons, only without the Log Cabin, John Boy, or an outhouse. An no grits. And we'd have running water. OK, so not really like the Waltons at all.

He looks at me blankly.

Oh yeah. I am so wearing him down now.

*****************************************************

Late Friday I am rushing around. Angus is cooking and I am cleaning up the house to a degree I would feel comfortable having a mother-in-law around in. Because we had a late night on Thursday and had an early morning getting Jeff and Melissa Friday morning, simply important things I never miss (such as making the bed) haven't been done.

I make the bed and see on the duvet cover is the soft wet stain that is KY Jelly, evidence of the night before (in fact, it's the heat sensitive one, the "pull out all the stops" lubricant. Hey-sometimes you need a little finesse, sometimes you need a lot). I decide that looks tacky and I don't have enough time to change the sheets, so I flip the duvet over. And there, smack down the left hand side, is an enormous sperm stain.

I sigh and throw some bottled water on it.

I decide that if asked, I will attempt to blame the cats.

And on next week's episode of Debbie Does Angus....

*****************************************************

We have a new lighting feature in the bedroom, a round funnel of mosquito net with LED lights on the inside (pictures to follow later). We go into bed and Angus asks me to look at them.

Him: Isn't it amazing? Look at them. Some of them look pink and some of them look blue. And amazingly, the white walls look purple. Do you know why that is?
Me: (Solemnly). Yes. I do.
Him: Go on, then. Why is it?
Me: (Still serious) It's magic.
Him: It's what? This is serious stuff, Helen!
Me: I am being serious. It's magic.
Him: Aren't you curious? Do you want me to tell you why the walls appear purple?
Me: Nope. I'm a believer.
Him: Don't you care about the "why's?" in life?
Me: (getting into bed) Oh yes. Yes I do. Like: "Why is he grumpy today?" and "Why doesn't he buy me that ring I want?"
Him: (Getting into bed) You don't care about the "Why do those LEDs make the walls appear purple?"
Me: Tag team why's, honey. I care about the emotional whys, you care about the technical ones.
Him: My LED why is an emotional one, honey.
Me: (Patting him on the arm) I know baby. But lighting porn is totally ok with me.

*****************************************************

While Melissa and I spend a great Saturday gardening and filling the yard with flowers, Angus and Jeff go shopping. Jeff is awarded with a Super Mario Brothers game, which he spends the rest of the time engrossed in. At one point, I come over and help him. I grew up being babysat by a Nintendo, after all. I was a Super Mario bitch.

I teach him secret bricks to punch and how to warp into other worlds.

He looks at me in wonder.

Him: How do I get to be as good as you? (he breathes).
Me: (Sighing dramatically) Years of diligent practice, baby. Years.
Him: You're the best at Super Mario.
Me: (Nodding). Yup. I know.

Good thing it's something that looks good on a CV/resume.

*****************************************************

We're waiting in the first class waiting area, as that's where BA take care of unaccompanied minors. Jeff looks around.

Jeff: This place is cool.
Melissa: It's luxe.
Jeff: How can we always fly from here?
Angus: I used to be able to fly from here when I had a BA gold card, but now I haven't been flying as much. So no access here.
Jeff: How can I be like you and get to fly from here?
Me: Ah, Jeff. Work hard, go to college, study hard, and you'll get there.
Angus: Absolutely. That's the way to get there.
Jeff: But you did those things, right?
Angus and I nod.
Melissa: But you don't get to fly from here, right? So it didn't work, the college and working hard.

Angus and I sit there and realize she's right.

Depressing, how on target the little people can be.

*****************************************************

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 07:36 AM | Comments (8) | Add Comment
Post contains 1290 words, total size 7 kb.

1 Even worse, all those hours of Super Mario don't even get you into the first class lounge. Now that really sucks. Great stuff, though. I'd love to see the Waltons playing cricket.

Posted by: Simon at May 09, 2005 10:11 AM (OyeEA)

2 I love your vignettes! That last one was the perfect closer too. I did notice one glaring error in that second to last story though. You had that poor boy thinking you're the very best in the world at Super Mario Brothers when the truth is I would totally kick your ass at it. I'm just saying. ;-)

Posted by: Jim at May 09, 2005 10:29 AM (MDLz3)

3 Cricket - still an anathamathherer to me (or something very like it) ... and Simin's right. Your Mario Skillz should get you to the front of the first class queue. Although I'm surprised that Helen of the Nintendo Generation doesn't know about the secret warp tile in between the Mens and WHSmith - first class here we come!

Posted by: Rob at May 09, 2005 01:17 PM (kTm63)

4 Amazing how they can look so peaceful one minute, and be kicking your ass the next. Oh, and the REAL truth is that I would stomp both you and Jim at Super Mario Bros. ;-)

Posted by: ~Easy at May 09, 2005 02:09 PM (npJc/)

5 you fed chicken curry to a kid with the flu? Bad move. I'm pretty sure the Waltons lived in a big white clapboard house. With indoor plumbing. You may be thinking of Little House on the Prarie.

Posted by: kalisah at May 09, 2005 04:47 PM (B6gHW)

6 I'm with Simon. Mad Mario Brothers Skills should TOTALLY get you into the first class lounge.

Posted by: Elizabeth at May 09, 2005 05:19 PM (FZLNA)

7 is the lighting thing from IKEA? only sold it for a short time..? i have one that sounds remarkably similar. i love it, and my cat Shiva finds it endlessly fascinating. Hook it up to a dimmer switch if you can.. it's cool!

Posted by: h at May 09, 2005 09:59 PM (4dWnl)

8 h-that's the one! Any the rest of you? Oh yeah. I kick Mario ass.

Posted by: Helen at May 10, 2005 06:51 PM (AabhR)

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