From the Why I Married Him department ... Brought to you by the Mouths of Babes department ...

MOM! Dad is doing his own dental work!

On Father's Day the shoe is on the other foot

If the kids want him to do anything for them today, they have to put on his socks and shoes.

Otherwise, he claims, he won't leave the house.

How did this come to pass, you wonder?



"How many times have I put on your shoes and socks?"

"I mean ... you take them off and want them back on about six times a day. ... If you calculate those six times a day by seven years ... well, let's just say that's a lot of stinky feet."

"Oh ... and one more thing ... If it rains, you are going to have to carry me."

On the menu this evening we have starters, non-starters and apps

There we were, sitting across a square table from one another.

A platter of fun food in between us.

The whole family. In a restaurant. Having a nice time.

As is usual for us, a round-robin of non-sequitur arguments changes the course of conversation as if we were speaking in pinball.

I could tell you how we got on the subject of gun control, but it would take too long, and the bells and lights from the silver ball's awkward trajectory would be maddeningly distracting.

Let's just say Jed sprung the ball into the maze, it dinged off Silas, lit up Annabel and got stuck under my flipper, tilting the whole entire game.

Here's the gist:

"Every state should have a Department of Firearms (just like the Department of Motor Vehicles) that licenses gun owners and registers guns by class. Initial licenses would be awarded after successful completion of written, field and background tests, and renewal would require inspection (periodic background checks).  Furthermore, gun owners would be required to carry liability insurance for each firearm in their possession. Let the risk pools float where they may." 

In other words: Let's just put our cards on the actuarial table.

"Sure, you can have that AR-15, but if you are under 25 or have teenagers at home, it is going to put you in a higher risk pool. Accident or not, you will be liable for damages."

Crickets.

The conversation I thought we were having disappeared. I was left alone with my thoughts as my husband furiously typed away on his cell phone and the kids tried to guess when our meals would arrive at the table.

"You know ... I hardly ever speak to other human beings during the day ... the least you could do is humor me at dinner."

He smiled and handed me his phone:

"Thank you for contacting the White House ... "

"I told them 'My wife has a brilliant idea. ...' Betcha didn't know there's an app for that."

Defy the laws of tradition (not nature)

I know there are so many more problems at stake in the world than first-day coverage of major natural disasters ... but as large swathes of the East Coast tuned in last night for information on Hurricane Sandy,  I had to ask (aloud ... to a roomful of husband and dog ... kids had already gone to bed) if it's finally time for major news organizations (like CNN) to get rid of (or at least diminish the presence of) people reporting live and on-camera from the storm surge.

I mean ...

!!!!

Every time they cut to someone in a raincoat screaming against the wind about how eerily dark the city is or how high the waves are (or were, as the case may be), I was almost angry.

These guys were clinging to road signs and fighting gusts for the microphone, while telling viewers why no one should be traveling around (like they were). I was slack-jawed as one reporter recounted how many injuries his crew had suffered -- the result of blowing signs and debris -- even though they were "taking precautions" and being "safe" (while standing amid flood waters in hurricane-force winds).

And the news they delivered seemed ... well ... mighty unoriginal.

"What about the hospitals?"

"What about the fires?"

"What about climate change?"

"Why are we wasting time with some guy in front of a casino on a mostly deserted street?"

"Do people REALLY want to see this person swept away?"

My husband just shook his head ...

In abject disagreement ...

And chuckled:

"I'll tell you what I want to see. I want to see an alligator from the sewer swallow him up."

"Or a shark ... washed in from the river?" I offered in jest.

"Better yet."

Pardon me ...

One hundred seventy five years of presidential history ... and a ringtone.

How to salt a wound ... pack rat style

HIM: *Grumbling* ".... They told me 'don't look in the recycling ... just let it go.' And there it is ... my expensive cardboard ... that I was saving ... for no explicit reason whatsoever."

ME: "Let it go. Let it go. There's always more cardboard and there's only so much room to store it."

HIM: "I suppose you are right." *Stalks off*

CHAMP: *Eyeing the collapsed gray-blue boxes* "Can I have some? It will make a great fort."

ME: *Thinking there's always next week for recycling* Sure. I'll help.



*later on that evening*
CHAMP: *Plaintively* "Daddy bended my cardboard what I was using for my bat cave."

HIM: "What?!!! That is MY cardboard.

ME: "Well, actually ... he was the one who saved it from the recycling. ...

Small wonders

Picture the scene:

Pub, early dinner hour.

Kids, climbing the walls. Hungry. Tired. Antsy.

We ordered. Waited. The smalls talk us into playing a game of checkers.

Girls against the boys.

Boys win.

We eat. Chat. Then the smalls talk us into playing just one game of chess.

Boys against the girls.

After three moves, kids become disinterested.

Girl goes to ladies room.

Boy turns his attention to his fortune cookie dessert ...

asks for a quarter for the candy machine ...

then climbs the dad with his M & M gooey hands.

Dad makes a few errors.

Mom takes advantage.

And ends up winning.

For the first time. ...

Ever.

I need to write that word again.

In capital letters --

EVER!!! --

Because it will never happen again.

Unless he lets me win.

And he's not the type to let anyone win.





Ever.

First gift: Laughter

The Champ: It's your BIRTHDAY, mom. You should have a piñata!

The Mom: What a great idea. But what kind? It should look like something I'd want to hit with a stick. 

The Dad: I know! It should be a Dad piñata.

The Champ: NO! That's not a good ... well, OK, maybe it is a good idea.

Ittybit (shaking her head): There's a joke in there somewhere.
The Mom: It will be apparent as soon as he presents me with a vacuum cleaner as a token of his appreciation.

Gift of the MAGI

He bought me bread pans for Valentine's Day. You know ... because he's hoping to get me to make more of this ...



I got him a shirt that has to be washed in cold water and can't be tumble dried. You know ... because I needed a new shirt.



I guess we're even.

Pains in the ....

Had a bit of a mishap yesterday. Ittybit fell a little awkwardly while we were skating. So this morning, when she woke up still complaining of pain in the posterior, I scavenged around my studio and made her a little portable cushion ... you know ... for school.



Her response was fairly predicable: "Oh, mom, nooooooooooooo!"

Her dad's response, though, was why I married him:

"Oh, yeah ... you might has well put a cone around her neck, too."

Today! Good Morning, America

/

Him: Oh My God!

Me: What?

Him: There are no fewer than three hosts on this talk show wearing platform shoes.

Me: *blank stare*

Him: You know ... they're shoes that are almost as thick at the toe as they are in the heel and they make you super tall?

Me: Ah, yeah ... I know what platform shoes are, I just don't understand the significance of your surprise.

Him: I ... Just ... I mean ... People used to put goldfish in shoes like those, forgodssake.

On the twelfth day of Christmas ...

I got pneumonia. The kind that kneecaps you instead of letting you walk off scott free. And we'd planned a party for the Big 8 today that included -- as you might be able to surmise by the amount (and sizing) of the craft tables -- all of her classmates and a few extra friends from past classes.

Guess whose had to do all the work?

Giving Thanks

It's not been the best year.

You know?

Maddy ...


The layoff ...


My mom ...

And still, I'm thankful.

Thankful for tiny mysteries ...

Like when my daughter looks at me and asks me if I'm 25, even though I know to her 25 might as well be 100.

Or when the lady at the grocery store cards me for beer, even though I know she's required to card everyone. She's not required to act surprised by the dates.

I am thankful that when my husband holds up a turkey baster he bought during a Thanksgiving eve shopping trip he took with our son, it comes with a story I never in a million years would have guessed:

"Uhhhh ... I don't baste the turkey."

"I know, but it kept your son from melting down in the middle of the store. He really, really wanted a turkey baster."

I am thankful that he decided a $2 kitchen tool was one battle not worth fighting.

Though I'm not sure I'll be thankful when the boy douses me at bath time with his new squirter toy.

But I know it's just the price I'll have to pay for being thankful for all the things that sneak up behind me, yell 'boo' and scamper off, giggling.

Table talk

The Champ makes the seating arrangements:

"You sit here. ... That's where werewolves sit," he says to his sister. ...

"And you sit there ... that's where the king sits," he says to his dad. ...

"Ma, you can sit across from me ... but I don't know what you are. ... A fairy? A Queen? No. I don't know what you are."

"So what are you, bud-boy? You a vampire?" his father asks, looking at the pile of Dracula costume he'd been putting on and taking off every hour on the hour since halloween.

"Nope! I'm a Jackalot," he says with a smile.

"Not yet, bud. But no doubt you will in a few years."

Practical matters

Kids? Always practical. Husband? Not so much.

Reason number 2,200,023 ...

Why riding your bike to the bus stop may be a risky undertaking.



Papa Wheelie has way too much fun bringing it back to the house.



Hopefully, your friends were looking off in the other direction.

Shameless self-promotion

Looks like Jed is about to face plant in a bowl of soup, doesn't it?

I suppose making the pony come to life is hungry work.

Double-O Seven ... and five sixteenths

What ya doing?

"I'm getting ready to dry the foundation. We've been waiting for weeks and it's just too damp."

How you going to dry it?

"Blow torch ... mwa-ah-ah-ah!"

You really are secret parging man, aren't you?

"You know it, baby."

So ... if you wash your husband's new iPhone ...

Can you blame Hurricane Irene?

Turns out the Apple Store people can. Dog bless them.

Cocktails and dreams

ME: "I had the WORST dream last night."

HIM: "What happened? Did they run out of stamps at the Post Office?"

ME: "No."

HIM: "Was it anything like the dream you had about The Champ becoming a bartender and opening a joint called 'MilkaMilk and Juice'?"

ME: "No!"

HIM: "OK ... What happened?"

ME: "Well, I was touring a nuclear reactor site and it became apparent that there was a plot underway to assassinate ....

HIM: "Wait, wait. You were touring a nuclear reactor site?

ME: "Yeah. It was a nuclear reactor site. "It happens!" "

HIM: "Ok ... back to the assassination thing ...

ME: "Yes. There was a plot underway to assassinate the president, who, I might add, looked a great deal like Goeffrey Rush playing Peter Sellers. ... Anyway, the thing appeared to be that while the president was touring the facility there was to be a nuclear ACCIDENT and everyone at the facility - including me - would get radiation poisoning.

HIM: "Wait ... and what was your involvement in this whole thing?"

ME: "Oh, I had no involvement. I was just there trying to buy stamps."