Perpie

I commented on my cousin's blog just now and the word verification was:

Perpie


I felt really bad typing it in,

like my computer thinks I'm a lawless degenerate and I'm confirming it.


Kind of has a friendly ring to it though, sort of like:


"Hey Perpie, you're a lawless degenerate, but, I like you."


*

Concentration Is Our Game

According to Gizmodo.com, a US company has developed a headset that reads your brainwaves. Oh joy.

Here's what the website says: "NeuroSky's prototype measures a person's baseline brain-wave activity, including signals that relate to concentration, relaxation and anxiety. So, if you're playing Tiger Woods PGA Tour and you lose concentration, you could find your shot buried in the rough if you fail to keep your Zen-like concentration." For more, read here.

I'm thinking that I could use one of these gadgets.
I'm not a gamer, but it could be said...
it could be argued...(possibly)
that I do lose concentration every once in a while.

I'm wondering, could a tool like this give me a little shock when I speak aloud my intentions but then immediately go in a different direction?

"I am going to do the laundry."
(Heading upstairs, away from the laundry) Zzzzt!
"Ouch!"
Zzzzt!
"I just need to get something first!"
Zzzzt! Zzzzt! ZZZZT!
"Okay, okay OKAY I will do the laundry and then
I will do that other really important thing that I was going to do instead."

It could work.

*

Sleeping In

Woke up early this morning and read in the dark by myself.
I'm not someone who can usually fall back to sleep once I am up,
but today somehow found me curled up under a blanket again on the couch.
I hovered in a state of near-sleep until voices and little tremors of footsteps stirred some vague part of the house.
Whispered conversations near me, and shushes, and silence again.
I fell asleep then and dreamed vividly.
Waking, I found myself still alone.
It seems they had found me, and then gently left me to my sleep.
After 9 am now, and yet still gray and cold and early-ish outside and in.
What a beautifully slow way to begin a Sunday.

Neatness Counts

Looking over my calendar I realized how every January I start out with such high hopes.
Not in making any crazy resolutions, mind you, just hoping that this year I'll be able to keep my calendar nice and tidy.

But each month it gets steadily worse, until finally by around September it just degenerates into this:



*

Clean Phone

I lost my phone on Friday.
On Tuesday, I reached inside the dishwasher to empty it,
and there it was, lying in a pool of water under the heating coil.

I think of how it was all alone in there, buzzing hopefully every time we called it.
Its little screen filling with water, its battery corroding, its red light fading...
Eventually losing the will to live, sending all messages straight to voicemail.


*

Dreams

On Saturday night I had this dream that I was driving in the car with girl twin and there was a tornado coming (one of her worst fears), and during the whole time I had this sense of control and calm and feeling like I knew exactly what to do. I turned off the road into this field and drove over the ground toward this low area. Then I got her out and we lay down flat, me partly on top of her, and I just kept telling her to keep her head down. The tornado went right over us, and we could feel the "eye" of it, and the little suction, but we were safe.

I told her about the dream on the way to the imaging center this morning for the scan, and what I thought it meant -- that this was something she was really afraid of, but that I was completely in charge and completely in control, and that I would take care of her through it, and that she would be safe with me and everything would be alright.

So on the way home, when we were both smiling with relief of the tears and the fear and the awfulness behind us, she says,

"Now what do you think you'll dream about, Mom?"

I said, "Well, I think I'll probably dream about the thing that you are most happy about and most looking forward to, like Christmas or something."

There was this long pause and then she said really quietly,

"Thank you."

*

His Favorite Shirt

He wore this today,
and yesterday too.
I highly suspect that he slept in this outfit,
but I am not going to ask,
because I am way happier not knowing.

.

In the Zone

I had dropped two of them off at the high school, and turned down Main.
Thinking about the day ahead.
Warm car-seat makin' me cozy.
Not driving too fast.
Careful near the elementary school, children could run out.
Leaves on the trees so autumn-ish.


"Mom."

Just easing down the street.
Looking forward to getting back home.

"Mom."
"Mom."
Two soft voices now enter my consciousness.

I spy little faces in the rearview mirror.
Kind, funny, forgiving little faces.

That's right, I have two more, don't I?
They were so quiet back there.
Drove past their school.
Again.

No matter. I'll turn around.
Again.

They say, "It's okay, mom."
And they grin at each other.


I think it is okay.


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Product Placement

The best part about getting your hair cut is when they rub your head.

Last week, the stylist rubbed "clay" into my scalp in order to make my hair stand up at the root. (on purpose)

I wanted more clay.

"More clay?" I tried to ask, but I was drooling.

This I get from my mother. You just have to reach up and flick a speck of lint from her hair and her head drops forward, her shoulders hunch and she starts drooling. Then she nudges you with her elbow, the rest of her still slumped, and mumbles, "More". At that point you're stuck and have to rub her head, but it's all right, because she'll do it back.

Anyway, the worst part about getting your hair cut is when they make you feel guilty for not buying "Product". When you ask how much it costs, they are very, very vague. But then they're rubbing it into your head, and you feel all your muscles go slack, and you're swaying back and forth in the chair and your head nods and suddenly it seems that you've agreed to buy the stuff.

It just appears up there on the counter next to your Visa receipt.

So, I guess sometimes you take the good with the bad.

.

Peepers

Twin girl has recently been barraged by requests by the boys in her classroom to become their girlfriend. (It's happening to all of 4th grade girls for some reason.)

At least she is sensible. She tells them matter-of-factly, "I'm not old enough, and I don't want to either." She is kind, though. One particularly disheartened youth sat staring sadly at his table, she recounted, after her refusal. Apparently a terrible rumor had circulated throughout the fourth grade that the reason she had not taken his offer was because she "thought he was disgusting." She promptly remedied this, by telling the poor boy this was most certainly not true, it was just that she was not allowed to and she only liked him as a friend.

Yesterday she told me with a sigh and a flip of her hair that she really believed the entire fourth grade was in love with her. She displayed the contents of her lap, presents from admirers, with a mixture of pride and exhaustion. The attention can be relentless.

Today, however, a shining star has risen to the top. Yesterday, his present was a peeper, a tiny white piece of paper folded into something like a bird mouth that opened and closed. It was lumped with the others. But today he had outdone himself. With a flamboyant arm flourish, she pulled it from behind her back and smiled triumphantly. A gape-mouthed Peeper of the grandest proportions.

Love
Grows

.

Confession

Sometimes we have ice cream for supper.

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Math

The twins were getting out their math facts flashcards.
I looked up over the book I was reading,
and mentally congratulated myself at raising these children
to be studious and diligent in their quest for math mastery.

The next time I looked up they had vanished from the room,
but had left me this:

Sex

Twin boy explained from the back seat, while I was driving him to the grocery store, that he really likes playing with girls, and he doesn't think they are gross like the other boys do.

He said, "If one sits down next to me at lunch I just stay right there, I don't move away."

I said, "I'll bet that's because you have a twin who is a girl, so you're used to playing with somebody that's of a different sex."

Muffled snorts from behind me...

"Gender, Mom. It'd be better to say a different gender."

Jazzy

The imp popped up beside me.
He was bouncing up and down.

"Mom,"
he says,
"I know what I want for Christmas."

Ah, October has arrived.

"What?" I say, prepared for something Lego or a video game, his usual fare.

"I want...

a white tuxedo."

whuh?

He then went on to explain that if he got a white tuxedo,
he could wear it to weddings.

I'm thinking he could pull it off.

Before I could recover completely, though,
he added:

"And on Picture Day, I think that it would make my picture
a little bit jazzy."

Indeed.

The Universal Quandary

I'm trying to decide between losing a few pounds,
and just buying a new pair of jeans.

On Top Of It

Ahhhh....

It's Friday morning.
I love the days when I am on top of things.
So often I am just one step behind.
Today all three children went down to practice their instruments without being told.
They ate breakfast quietly, reading, as usual.
Girl twin sat at the counter reading, with a backpack on her back, all ready to go.
Nobody stayed too long in the shower.
Everyone remembered to brush their teeth.
Someone said, "Well, when are we going to go?"
I said, "We could go now if everyone's ready."
Footsteps coming from all over the house suddenly, and I high-fived everyone
as I held the door open for them to go past.
(Except for the teenager, I just checked his mouth for the retainer - IN!)
He had started the car, so it was nice and warm.
Just a leisurely drive to the school, no rounding the corners on two wheels.
Even dropped off library books on the way there. Imagine that.
Sat in the parking lot for a few minutes before they got out.
Had two quarters in my pocket for the twins. Popcorn Day.

What could be better than Popcorn Day when you didn't forget your quarter?

Yessir, on top of it.

Because a Bunk Bed Isn't Enough Fun

We heard distant shrieks, happening in waves - like the sound of rollercoaster people in the distance at the theme park.
I let it go on for a while and then went up to find the twins experimenting with the box-and-string method for transporting items up into the bunk bed. Sort of a pulley system without the pulleys.

Boy twin is now sleeping on the floor of his own room, with a homemade canopy above and his legos comfortably close by.
He has created his own space.
Peace.