Wonder Pet Epiphany

Last week, by some miracle, we arrived at Tennis lessons early. So the kids and I sat in the Racquet Club lounge watching TV. There were many kids milling around, doing their homework, waiting for lessons, eating vending machine food, and watching Nick Jr. The programming seemed a little young for the after-school set but like good media consumers, we were hypnotized quickly by the glossy glare. I was flipping through Western Interiors but slowly got pulled into the plot of the Wonder Pets. It's about three little critters; a duck, turtle and a Guinea Pig maybe? who have some adventures. I have years of PBS Kids and other examples of pedantic TV under my belt, but my children have moved on to more sarcastic and let's face it really funny shows (see Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends). So I wasn't that familiar with the Wonder Pets narrative. The caterpillar was freaking out because his friend was gone. Trapped! Now, obviously caterpillar's friend was in a chrysalis and it was up to the Wonder Pets to help him understand. It wasn't until the turtle, wearing a Superhero's cape, made some clever remark about metamorphosis that I looked up to share a knowing look with the kids, and realized all them had run off to their lesson and I was watching Nick Jr. alone. When I turned my attention back to the program, it was just in time to see Caterpillar's friend emerging as a beautiful butterfly. The rodent, wearing a cap and a yellow apron, gasped in wonder and said, "Isn't it amazing?" And I was like, "Yes! Yes, it is amazing!" It truly is a fascinating process. Almost as fascinating as the fact that my son, who at one point was nothing more than a zygote, was now working on his backhand! Life is amazing. And we all know that with varying degrees of consciousness. I go to church and I nod my head and I feel grateful. And I have studied years worth of Biology and felt appropriately intrigued. But how often do we sit, just sit, with what we know? How often do we take a moment to breathe deep and feel the awe? One of the most beautiful sights ever is to watch my children running. Just running and laughing. It's just a pure, physical act with no destination. And every moment, from the time they were a bump in my belly to the present, is contained in that simple, exuberant act. So today, while I'm hobbling around fussing with laundry and lunches and carpooling and Girl Scouts and cicadas and whatever else, I'm going to try to remember there are peonies exploding and kids laughing and butterflies emerging. Because it is amazing!
So thank you Wonder Pets. Thank you.

Pie Heaven

Pie is wonderful. Sure, there are plenty of other great creations. The lightbulb, for instance. Super helpful. It's hard to imagine life without Velcro. And when I was wrapping up my leg splint with a Hefty bag, I was feeling pretty impressed with its utility. But Pie is pure genius! I love it! Who invented it? Someone should look on Wikipedia and find out. I like almost every single kind of pie imaginable, except maybe cheesecake. (What is cheesecake? Why does it look like a pie but is called cake?) When I'm older, I'm going to eat a piece of pie and a cup of coffee every morning. My own breakfast of champions. I need to wait until I'm a little older though, just in case it turns out to be a bad idea.

Costco Moms

Sometimes I am jealous of the Costco Moms. You know them, the ones who drive to the nearest Costco, (which in our case is about 20 miles away) to buy in bulk and save a few bucks. I don't really know anyone who could quantify their savings by shopping there, but everyone shares in the illusion of practicality. Honestly, buying toilet paper in bulk is truly satisfying. I've tried to go many times, and I've even tried to convince myself that it's worth it but I don't have the patience to read the price per item labels and then actually compare it to other items! Who does that? I end up distracted by the book table. Especially the children's books. Usually, the book table consists of whatever is the latest paperback book club item. But you can occasionally find some gems and there are great gifts for your friends who basically read off the NYTimes bestseller list. There is definitely a large Christian theme on the table but if you dig under those you can find some great cookbooks. There is something very incongruent about digging through Christian books at Costco since the whole time I'm there I feel a vague unease and decadence. Even though I'm uncomfortable with gigantic boxes of transfats and cornsyrup, I'm still jealous of the people who have no qualms about it. How to live in the carefree world of waste and empty calories? I have overeducated myself on the evils of transfats and environmental degradation. I have been in "the cave" (see Plato)(or Saramago) and can't go back. Once I was at a one-year-old's birthday party which was huge. Every member of the extended family and neighborhood was there and the mom had purchased every piece of plastic shlockety schlock you can imagine. The place was overflowing with juice boxes and sundae toppings and paper products and the giant blow up jumping thing that you can purchase at Costco. The kids, the ones who were a little older and actually cognizant of their environment, were having a blast. They were sticky and dirty and covered in sprinkles. They were blowing bubbles and squirting each other with plastic weapons and all was right in suburbia. Except that I can't stop myself from thinking about landfills (see Idiocracy) and overindulgence and the birthday boy who wouldn't remember any of it. Of course I kept my wet-blanket thoughts to myself because secretly I was thinking "Wow. How nice to be so oblivious." Maybe we were all thinking the same thing and just giving into the lull of our suburban lives. "We work hard. Let's forget for a moment. Let's celebrate now and recycle tomorrow!" Maybe if one mom had stood up, maybe if I had stood up, and shouted (after the cake of course) "This is Bullshit!" we would have all stopped in wonderment, looked at ourselves hard for just a moment, and embraced one another in our new found appreciation of all things ridiculous and unnecessary! "Take back the art of parenting! Take back the birthday ritual! And take back that obnoxious 126-pack of Juicy juice!" But I kind of doubt it.

Dog in the Window

My dogs moved to Seattle today. They were picked up at 5:50 am by the Canine Courier to be escorted to Ohare. Prior to this experience I had no idea there was such a thing as a "Pet Relocation Specialist". I always wonder how people find their particular career. There has to be a story behind the man or women who finds his/herself in such a field. I remember my freshman year in college meeting a girl who was majoring in English! I didn't even know that was an option! I was led to believe that you had to go to school to study for a very specific outcome...not so much an exercise in academic inquiry, the dialectic, edification. I thought you were just supposed to get a job. I know it sounds naive but I was always fascinated by the kids who were studying an "area of interest". And now, I find myself equally interested in people who have unusual jobs, e.g. escorting pets, voicing cartoons, butterfly monitor, vintner...whatever. I really missed that boat.

And so my dogs caught a plane and I just received an email that they landed safely in Seattle where they were picked up by Pet Taxi and delivered to Dan. I hope their public transportation experience was better than mine have been lately. Riding on planes has become very similar to riding on a Greyhound Bus. Planes used to be glamorous....we would dress up to travel to an interesting destination...grandparents in LA or Disney World. The stewardess would give us little wings and books to color. Now when I go to the airport I notice people wearing the oddest things. One man went through security before me dressed like he was running a marathon. He had on a tank top and running shorts and flipflops. Did he find security so time consuming that he traveled just short of naked? And then there are the people who are hauling gigantic suitcases of all shapes and sizes. They aren't dressed particularly nicely. I don't really care what other people wear, but how many suitcases does it take to look slovenly? Can't you dress badly with only one bagful of stuff? People are definitely carrying around bagfuls of crap, both metaphorically and literally. Maybe an interesting career option is Crap Relocation Specialist. Actually, we could have a whole blog on airplane stories. Everyone has a hideous tale to tell. That would be another good alternative career, Recording Secretary for Travel Travails. In my opinion, airline travel has truly gone to the dogs.

No Time Like the Present

I really wanted to start this amazing blog, share my dazzling insights into the world of parenting, astound others with my clever approach to balancing music, books and art with childrearing. You know, capture those moments of clarity...little epiphanies you have throughout the day. Especially as I venture into the unknown (more on that later). But today, the first day of my I'm-such-a-cool-blogging-mom-chick, I broke my foot.
I'm about to move three kids, two dogs, one car, three floors of household goods, eight years of accumulation, and oh yeah, a bunny, 2000 miles west in 12 days. And now I'm on crutches. I'm not really complaining because a number of friends have spent the winter on crutches recovering from various injuries far more severe than mine. But I do think it's a good example of God's sense of humor. (Or whatever/whomever your into.)
Not very rock & roll is it?
But this isn't about my foot. It's about beginnings and the thing I always forget about beginnings is that they are preceeded by endings, and endings can really suck. If you are waiting for an injury to heal, an ending is obviously celebratory. The day I pack my crutches will be most happy. But it's the other endings, the ones that take place before you leave on a new chapter in your life; when you leave home, when you break up with someone, when you move out of state, when it's two a.m. and there are no more encores. It's sad and scary even if you know you are going to grow. Even if you know it's the next logical step in your life. When I moved to Chicago in 1988, I was done with school and working as a waitress in a theme diner and reading a lot of existential literature that I thought I understood but didn't. On the way to work, wearing a pink rayon diner dress and bobby socks, I decided to keep driving north on I65 instead of going to my shift. I showed up in my old roommates loft with $500 dollars and one change of clothes. Thinking she might be worried, I called my mom who answered gaily with "Oh Hello. Did you run away from home darlin'?" I've been in this area ever since. The kids who had to cover my shift didn't see it as an act of bravery and adventure; the beginning of my post-graduate odyssey. They were just pissed they had to serve broccoli cheese soup extra fast. Painful ending.
That was the beginning of the next twenty years of my life and now I'm leaving again. I have a lot more luggage and a lot less existential baggage this time around. As hard as it is to say goodbye, this time I'm not sneaking off. Tonight I'm having dinner with an old friend from Grad School to say goodbye. Another ending.
So for the next two weeks before I leave, I'm going to party and I'm going to cry and then I'm going to hobble on my crutches into the sunset.