As I mentioned last week, my son is now a man on the move. The only update I have on that front, this week, is that I am beginning to suspect that I may have given birth to the world's fastest human.
Seriously, I put the kid down and turn my back for a minute and he's three rooms away, a glimpse of his disappearing bald head leaving me my only clue as to his location. And so, this week, instead of a lengthy essay on the foibles of motherhood, I am instead providing the few random observations I am able to generate before Snoodie Gonzales makes his next break for it.
WASH AND FOLD
When I used to picture being married as a young girl, so many wonderful images came to mind. The wedding day, a honeymoon on some tropical isle, a handsome husband coming home at the end of the day, maybe a little house with a yard and a kid or two scampering about. And, I must say, I'm lucky in that, many of these visions of my future life have been have been spot-on so far.
One reality that I neglected to conjure in my dewy day-dreams of marital bliss, however, was the sheer number of hours that I would spend glued to the couch, watching daytime television and folding someone else's boxer shorts.
I mean, seriously, I don't understand how three people (one of them under three-feet-tall) can possibly be generating this much laundry!
The other day I did a week's worth of loads and found within it exactly 32 pairs of underwear. As Snoodie is still in diapers, this would seem to suggest that my husband and I are changing our drawers approximately 2-3 times a day (a calculation that lead to David coming home that evening to the sight of me ranting as he opened the door, "How can we be going through this much underwear! We only have two butts!").
It reminds me of a quote from my Aunt Terry's recently published "Disregard First Book". In one chapter she describes being asked by a friend to go to a Chippendales-type male review. She declined, explaining that as the mother of four boys, the only thing the sight of a nude man made her think of...was laundry.
LAUGH AND LEARN AND DEVELOP CLINICAL INSANITY
In an attempt to distract the Snood from his obsessive quest to drink from our stored paint cans, I have continued purchasing the loudest most light-em-up toys I can find.
Using gadgets ranging from what we call the 'obnoxiously loud driving simulator' to the 'strangely shrieking bear', I have succeeded in buying myself several 15-minute intervals of freedom, during which the Snood sits still, fascinated by the bright colors and funny songs.
I use this precious time to cook dinner, do some frenzied cleaning and/or occasionally indulge in the delicious pleasure of peeing with the door closed. The downside of this system, I've found, is that by the end of the day my brain circuitry has been completely reprogrammed by the high-pitched music emitted by these toys.
As we sit over dinner, David attempts to tell me about his day as I stare off into the corners of the room in a zombie-like trance, chanting under my breath
One - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight!
Then there's nine - counting's really great!
With numbers! When you have nu-um-bers!
Then you can count!
until he eventually hands me several beers and encourages me to drink them until I can hear him talking over the voices in my head.
Snoodie was wearing this set of recently inherited overalls the other day. The embroidery depicts three cute little animals: a zebra, a lion and a giraffe. It features the slogan "ANIMAL PARADE".
This led David and I to spend a recent dinner contemplating said animal parade. Seems like it would be a pretty short parade, no? And less of a parade, really, then just and out and out bloodbath.
An excited cheer would arise as the merry zebra and noble giraffe took their first confident strides onto the parade route, only to be replaced by shrieks of horror as these two marchers were immediately set-upon, ripped to pieces and devoured by the third member of the parade, the carnivorous lion.
David and I used to discuss things like the usefulness of the microlending model to erase 3rd world poverty at the dinner table.
In conclusion, I have absolutely no conclusion this week other than the fact that it appears that the Snood has figured out how to climb into the garden and is eyeing my newly planted daisies hungrily, so I must away.
Until next week I leave you with strict instructions from my husband. If you come upon me wandering the streets and singing the following in a maniacal fashion:
A sunny funny storybook!
Is such a wonderful place to look!
We'll play and learn with all our friends!
And hope the fu-un never ends!
hand me a beer and point me towards home. And if you see Snoodie crawling by in a blur send him this way as well.