You're So Lucky to be Reading This. HA!
I think I have writer’s bipolar disorder or something. I’m either the most prolific writer ever, cranking out a blog a day, or I get into a slump and don’t write anything. Hm..
Anyway, be thankful, readers, that you don’t have to pay for this blog. You are reading the elucidating and useful words of a real, live, humor column writer. A popular online parenting resource has just commissioned me to do a series of columns. I don’t think I’m allowed to print the name, but call me and I’ll tell you! (If anyone from the publisher is reading this, I’m KIDDING, of course. If any of my relatives/friends are reading this, seriously, call me. wink wink) Anyway, it won’t come out until sometime next year, and it will be forty weeks’ worth of columns. It’s the perfect deal—I write about my kids, I get money for it. Good times. They’re paying me, but the articles will be free to those who subscribe to their weekly newsletter, so as soon as I’m permitted to do so, I’ll post a link.
Back to my updates on the kids…
Well, we closed on the house in July, and the kids are in love with their new home, and become decidedly embittered when they have to “go back to work,” as they refer to returning to NJ. We were surprised on the first weekend when they begged to stay at the new home. Rory started saying, “Oh, I don’t WANT to go back and take care of the big boys! I’m staying here! That’s it!” So all in all, I think the new house is a hit. They’ll probably like it even more when it has furniture.
This past weekend, we went to the Museum of Natural History. Actually, Chris went to see “Rent” while I took SEVEN KIDS BY MYSELF to the museum. I must have a death wish. We started with lunch in the museum restaurant, where Ror promptly spotted a woman who looked like Katie and started screaming to her to come to our table. Even after the woman told him that she wasn’t Katie, he was really freaked out.
After lunch, we moved on to the dinosaurs, some of which were replicated sculptures, rather than just skeletons. So the bulk of the visit went like this:
Ror: Is this alive?
Me: No, it’s dead.
Ror: Are you sure?
Me: Yup.
Ror: How ‘bout this one? Alive?
Me: Nope, also dead.
Ror: It looks alive. It looks like it wants to say, “I’m gonna eat you, Rory!”
Me: No, I promise. Definitely dead.
Ror: But it might wake up.
Me: No.
Ror: Oh, but look at THIS ONE. It’s looking at me. It’s alive.
Me: Fortunately, that one is also dead.
Riley-Kate hit her tolerance limit for museum fun very quickly; she hadn’t napped and didn’t want to be in the stroller (speaking of strollers, the girls have a hot little ride now. I’ll post pics), so she took it out on me. “I’m not your friend. We’re not friends. I am NEVER your friend anymore.” She also exercised her loudest voice to address everyone in the room, every time she had an observation to share. She would shout, “Hey, EVERYBODY!…See the dinosaurs?”
Ror, also traveling sans nap, got a little testy with the origami teacher, telling her that she probably didn’t know how to make a rocket ship anyway. Then when she tried to help him, he said, “I think I already told you. I SAID A FLAT ROCKET!” He zonked out soon after, along with Riley Kate.
Connor really enjoyed the origami lesson, and relished in saying “Miss Teacher”. “Miss Teacher, do you think mine is great? Am I doing good listening? Wow, look at that, I did it just like you said, Miss Teacher. Thank you so much for teaching me this cool project, Miss Teacher.” Connor also enjoyed conducting lectures at various displays. We were standing in front of a particularly gruesome Polar Bear exhibit, and there were some other people there. Connor saw this as an opportunity to show off his vast knowledge of the circle of life. He turned to some random woman and said, “If you look at the seal lying there, you’ll see some blood on its neck. This is because the Polar Bear has just killed the seal. Polar Bears are predators, and seals are their prey. Polar Bears must live near seals so that they have food. Since they eat seals instead of plants, they are called carnivores.” The woman was impressed, so she began asking Connor about other displays in the Biodiversity Hall, and he either shared his knowledge or just made up random facts. She was duly amazed and shook his hand before we left.
Tomorrow, Connor and I are going to a gala honoring Katie and her contributions to the HD community. But first, we will be stopping at the zoo and meeting up with his Aunt, Uncle, and cousins. I haven’t told him this, to spare him losing his mind for too long prior to the event; he’s very intent on convincing his cousins that he’s “a cool friend”, so I’m sure that when I do tell him, I’ll get a long dissertation on what kind of hair gel he wants to wear, what kind of outfit would be nicest. So I’m just sparing myself for as long as possible.
We’ve got another licensing review today, so I’m off to a sparkling day filled with ridiculousness.
P.S. I appreciate the lovely emails I receive in response to my blogs. However, I must let you know, readers, that I am DEEPLY, DEEPLY disappointed that I got no commentary on the fact that I have figured out how to post pictures in the text. I'm not looking for much; just a few phrases like "superior technological prowess", "the Bill Gates of the new millenium," etc. Thanks.
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EDITING TO ADD:
I forgot two big details from the weekend. The first is funny, and the second is not good news—please don’t talk about it to Connor.
We went to the Mets game on Saturday night (Chris, Connor and I; the other three were partying with Katie). We had soooo much fun, but it started MUCH later than it was supposed to (rain, a ceremony beforehand, etc), and therefore ended much later than we anticipated. So, of course, we then had to ride the 7 train alllll the way back to the Port Authority. (For the record, I’m no John Rocker. I personally have no problem with the 7 train, and I rather enjoy long rides—just not when they happen at 11 pm.) The train was very crowded, so Chris was about five feet away from us, with a bunch of people in between. Connor decided to pass the time by striking up a conversation with two people on the bus, a woman and man, both about 30. They were really nice people, with a very good sense of humor.
Connor started out with, “Whew, I’m so tired. Do you get tired? But then in the morning, I’m SO awake. Do you have to lie there and wait for your Dad to tell you it’s okay to get up?” The woman started laughing and said, “I wait for my alarm clock to tell me it’s time to get up, and then I have to go to work.” Connor replied, “Oh. My Daddy works. He’s on the radio. He’s so funny. Check out his page—it’s the Sports Junkies. There’s this one thing [begins laughing to himself], it’s so funny, where the guy goes YOU BETTER TURN THIS SHIP AROUND, OR I’M COMING BACK!…[cracks himself up for a good minute]… Well, you have to hear the other stuff before it, I guess. It’s like, LOSE ELEVEN TO ONE, TO THE PIRATES? THE PIRATES!… Well, you have to listen to it.” By this time, the two people are just hysterically laughing at Connor’s ability to crack himself up. Then he goes on to say, “You should find me on Myspace. I have a page. It’s a Captain America Page.” He chatted with these people during the WHOLE trip. By the time they left, they wanted the address of the Sports Junkies Page. Chris has decided to add Connor to the publicity team.
When we arrived at Port Authority, we had a LESS pleasant incident. And I have to say, sometimes I think that we somehow attract crazy people. We arrived at Port Authority and went to our bus’s gate. By this time, it was after midnight (so perhaps THIS was mistake number one). Then, of course, Connor had to use the bathroom, which was down the hall from the gate. I decided to take him, because I know my way around the PA much better than Chris, because when he comes into the city, he usually drives. Connor and I went into the bathroom, and saw a woman standing at the mirror, furiously chopping off all of her hair with a big, rusty metal scissors (the old fashioned kind that look more like a dagger than a scissors). As is the case with most mentally ill homeless people, I assumed that she meant us no harm and didn’t even notice us. So Connor went into his stall and I stood guard outside the door. When he came out, he went over to the sink to wash his hands, at which time the woman came up behind him, holding the scissors in both hands like a dagger, arms poised over his head, and screamed, “You sick F***K HEAD! You SICK F***HEAD!” Before she even had the first word out of her mouth, I shoved him out of the way and dragged him out. And let me tell you something about Port Authority Police Department. They were so fast on this woman like flies on honey, I really had no idea how they realized what was going on and got her so fast. It was like one second, there was no one around, and one second later, there were EIGHT COPS. The policemen, especially Officers Colon and Reilly, were SO nice to Connor, attempting to distract him from the woman flipping out as she was being apprehended by asking him questions about himself and about the Met Game. Connor, ever one to recover quickly, went from “I can’t believe that scary lady said a bad name to me!” to, five seconds later, noticing a man walking down the corridor in a baseball cap, and said, “Hey! Officer, I think that man is a YANKEE fan! He has a YANKEE hat on! You know, my Uncle Frankie is a Yankee fan. I get so upset about it. He’s in my family and he likes the Yankees. I tried to talk to him about it, but he just wants to keep liking the Yankees.” The officer cracked up, and then started taking Connor and I back to Chris. Boy, nothing gets Chris’s heart pumping faster than seeing his wife and eldest son being escorted back from a trip to the bathroom with a bevy of police officers. We decided not to press criminal charges, because obviously the woman was mentally ill. She had apparently signed herself out of a shelter and come to the Port Authority, so the officers were taking her to a hospital or something for evaluation. Connor is just fine, and talked the whole way home, occasionally interrupting his usual conversation with, “Daddy, can you believe that lady wanted to pinch me with her big scissors? That’s crazy? And then I saw a Yankee fan…”
So all’s well that ends well. Another eventful night in the city. Please keep that woman in your prayers. She was clearly homeless, and it seems that no one can legally protect her from herself. She can sign herself out of any facility she’s checked into. L
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