Kiss with a Fist

So far, having a two-year-old is AWESOME! And if you say that really loudly, with your hands in the air, then you’ve just learned the hot word of the day from said two-year-old. Everything is awesome! Sam, do you like your green beans? AWESOME!

Don’t tell anyone, but I’m, uh, pretty sure she learned this on the Yo Gabba Gabba Super Music Friends Show. Listening and dancing to music IS awesome!

Speaking of Yo Gabba Gabba, we turned it on at playgroup today at the very end, right around the time when all the kids seem to just sort of start coming apart from all the excitement of playing for several hours, and they need a moment to regroup before heading home. Judge away! You will probably judge even more when I tell you that I cannot stop laughing that when the “Boat” episode was rudely interrupted by an emergency broadcast message, all four kids started YELLING like they were just taken out of a trance. Molly yelled, “GABBA! GABBA!” while Lila sadly tried to dance to the ear-splitting tone with her head to her chin, whimpering. Gracie held her head in her hands, shaking it back and forth in abject sadness, and Sam started actually crying.

You know that True Blood scene from season two when the town is at the woodland orgy, and Andy Bellefleur shoots his gun off, leaving all the black-eyed people to go wailing into the woods, lost and disoriented? It was exactly like that, and I’m not even exaggerating a little. I was simultaneously horrified and amused at the power of DJ Lance. I had the same mix of emotions that our first reaction — all of four of the moms — was NOT to be horrified, but to figure out how to get it back on as soon as possible to stop the madness.

My kid makes me strangely sad sometimes, not for any obvious reason, but because she does things that are so naive and endearing that I am, and I can’t put this any other way, embarrassed for her. I mean, I’m not REALLY, but that’s the closest emotion I can put to it. I am weirdly sad for her, because … ah, well, for example, when we pull up to her friends’ houses, and we get out of the car, she starts yelling, “HIII! HIII!” excitedly before anyone can hear her. “HI LILA! HIII! GRACIE! GRACIE!” And I just … oh, baby, no one can hear you, honey. We’re outside and they don’t even know we’re here.

I feel the same twinge when she sees a familiar character on TV and comes racing in to tell me about it, “MAMA! It’s ELMO!” as if I didn’t PUT HIM THERE or (oh my God) she approaches the television when she sees a cat and tries to HUG THE TELEVISION. And — AND! — when she sees said familiar character, sometimes she’ll walk right up to the television and yell, “HII! Hi GoGo! HIII!” (GoGo is Diego, of course.) All because Diego said hi at the beginning in what was meant to be a rhetorical fashion, you know?

Ah, kids. Confusing little monsters that find a way to yank on your heartstrings even when they do something senseless and kind of embarrassing.

Finally, and I don’t think I’m alone here, I have a long list of things I keep MEANING to do, but am starting to doubt if I ever will do. Things like decorating my house like people other than college students live here (seriously, that’s what four years of renting will do to a person), organizing my underwear drawer and finally, oh my lands, finally, getting rid of all the clothes I don’t wear. There is no reason to have two closets stuffed to the gills full of clothes that are never actually placed on a human being’s ass.

You know what else I want to do? Organize our bookshelves by color. Meal plan a month in advance. Start couponing. I DO NOT USE COUPONS. I have no idea where to even START.

Am I ever going to do these things? Am I doomed to have a dresser stuffed full of too-small T-shirts from Target that have holes in the armpits? Will I ever pay less than full price for Ziploc bags?

Seriously. I need to just do ONE of these things, and I think I’d feel better. Instead I’m so tired from all the usual activities of child-rearing, housekeeping, writing/working that by the time I have any extra time, I’m either reading or zoned out in front of Big Love, wondering why I even care anymore, when all I have ever wanted to do is punch Bill Henrickson directly in the junk. Oh, and you, too, Nicolette. And Barb! GET SOME BALLS. RUN FOR THE HILLS.

I hope y’all have a great Wednesday.

Florence + The Machine. Oh, I love her voice and yet, at the same time think she looks to be about forty, when my understanding is that she’s, ah, TWENTY FOUR.

20 comments March 8th, 2011