Should I Put a Ring On It?

I promise, this isn't a rip-off of Kristina's similarly themed post.

I have been having a terrible time with Sven Jr.  He has something called RSV, which, as I understand it, means he will periodically scare me to death by gasping and wheezing for a few days, then he'll be fine again.  When he is having an attack, we use the nebulizer every 4 hours.  That's not the problem.  The problem is that he is so happy, I can't tell if he's feeling bad until he's feeling so bad that he cries for 8 straight hours.

Which is what happened last night.  Sven, of course, is out of town.  As a public school band director, he is frequently called off to visit exotic and faraway locales, but he does so in the company of adolescent band students, so I can't really be jealous.  However, the children (ours) have a very hard time when Daddy is gone, and when one adds to that Sven Jr.'s current health issues, Mommy gets very little sleep.

Which is why we were watching Vh-1 this morning at 3:20 a.m.  I thought the music might somehow be soothing...please don't judge me, I haven't slept in days.  I was about to give up and set fire to the house when Sven Jr. suddenly stopped crying and snapped to attention, eyes on the TV

On the TV: Beyonce's video for "Single Ladies (Put a Ring On It)."  Sven Jr. watched in silent awe.  After the first thirty seconds, I had my laptop out, downloading the video from iTunes, secretly certain that it was coincidence...

Sven Jr. has watched that video fifteen times today.  When she smiles, he smiles back.  He is starting to say, "Oh, oh, oh," at the right time.  He is wiggling right along with her, though his thighs aren't as toned...

I admit, I like Beyonce.  She's gorgeous, I like her voice, and I like her work ethic.  I just don't like that she's better than me at getting my son to stop crying, that's all.  I mean, Beyonce, you've got looks, talent, money, fame, a new husband...can't I have this?

Marriage Communication

Sven says: "We need to get the house cleaned up."

Sven means: "You need to get the house cleaned up."

Deb hears: "You're a terrible housekeeper."

Deb says: "What do you mean by that?"



Sven says: "Do you want me to keep the kids for a few minutes so you can get on the treadmill?"

Sven means: "Go get on the treadmill that I spent $600 on because you wanted it."

Deb hears: "Fatty, fatty, two by four..."

Deb says: "What do you mean by that?"



Deb says: "If you want a shower this morning, you need to get up now."

Deb means: "Get out of bed, lazy bones."

Sven hears: "You stink, you dirty pig."

Sven says: "What do you mean by that?"



Sven says: "I can't find the snarfle."

Sven means: "Deb, get up and find me the snarfle."

Deb understands this perfectly.

Deb says: "Did you look for it?"

Deb means: "I know you just want me to find it for you, but I'm going to make you work for it."

Sven understands this perfectly.

Sven responds: "Of course I looked for it!"

Sven means: "I walked to a room and spun around three times with my eyes open."

Deb understands this perfectly and, sighing, goes to find the snarfle, currently located six inches from Sven's right foot.



Deb says: "What do you want for dinner?"

Deb means: "Please tell me what you want for dinner please please just this once have an opinion on something before I do and you just shoot it down please please."

Sven hears: "Blah blah blah dinner?"

Sven says: "I don't care, whatever you want is fine."

Deb lunges at Sven and bludgeons him with a bag of shredded cheese.

The Guilded Globs

Since it's awards show season, I'd like to start my own. Does anyone else remember the first MTV movie awards, how cool it seemed those first few years? I have complete confidence that the Guilded Globs will be just as cool, then become bloated and self-important and lose any real meaning. Neat.

Here are the nominees:

Best Performance by an Animal, Domestic:

• My cat pooping on the carpet in the dining room
• My cat vomiting on the carpet in the living room
• My cat pooping on the carpet in the living room
• That dog on YouTube who can skateboard

Best Performance by an Animal, Wild:

• The lizard on my back door, for freezing in one position, enticing my three year-old daughter to take a closer look, before leaping on her head.
• The extraordinarily well-endowed lion at our last trip to the zoo, for napping in such a position.
• The inappropriately fat goat at the same zoo, for charging Sven Jr. (Okay, he wasn't "charging" so much as "looking at," but it was very traumatic.)
• The Dramatic Chipmunk

Most Perplexing Lack of DVD:

• Muppet Babies. Why is this cartoon not available on DVD? Why am I the only one who seems to care?
• The last season of Fraggle Rock. I am not a Fraggle Rock fan per se, but I understand they released all of the seasons individually, then only released the final season in a "complete series" DVD. Shocking.
• The Robot Chicken Star Wars/Star Wars Part II/Family Guy Blue Harvest/Hardware Wars collection, with bonus footage featuring Weird Al videos. Okay, that's just me. I accept your disdain.
• The episode of CSI where Hannah Montana gets shot and they do the autopsy. Don't tell me this episode doesn't exist...I need it.

Best Explanation of 10-15 Pound Holiday Weight Gain:

• These clothes keep shrinking! Stop washing in hot water! (Deb)
• This medicine must be making you gain weight. (Sven, bless him)
• I guess I've just been too tired to exercise. (Deb, lounging in bed with a box of chocolates)
• I saw on the news that there's this new disease, where you just get fatter after Christmas. Really. (Not really)

Cutest Thing Ever:

• Deb Jr., belting out "Tomorrow" from the backseat. (Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow, it's tomorrow, you feel like a Crabby Patty...)
• Sven Jr., singing "Old MacDonald". (Yi-yi-yo, yo-yo-yi, yi-yi-yi-yo, moo)
• Deb Jr., calling me "mudder."
• Sven Jr., giggling madly at my removal of his socks.

Best Waste of Time:

• Twilight

Yes, I think this awards show has potential. However, it seems to have limited appeal... I know!

Best Performance by an Actor in a Leading Role:

• Brad Pitt, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
• Leonardo DiCaprio, Revolutionary Road

Best Performance by an Actress in a Leading Role:

• Angelina Jolie, The Changeling
• Angelina Jolie, Kung Fu Panda

I'm sure they'll show up... The awards ceremony will be at my house this Saturday at 5:00 (have to get the kids to bed!) and formal attire is requested.

Please park around the corner, the neighbor's RV is blocking traffic to our house. However, I can almost promise: No paparazzi. Any paparazzi who show up are on cat-poop duty.

A Tribute to Sven

Today, January 12, is the fifteenth anniversary of my first date with Sven. I reminded him this morning, a wistful smile on my face, remembering us falling in love. He turned to me, shaving cream dripping from his cheeks, and said, romantically,

"Was I supposed to remember that?" Then Sven Jr. pulled my hair.

Okay, so it wasn't the world's most romantic moment, but I feel today I should honor the man who made me a wife and mother in not-so-rapid succession.

Picture it: January 1994. Bill Clinton is still new in office, no one has yet heard of Monica Lewinsky. The clear beverage craze is over. Pearl Jam is the hottest band around. Deb is hanging out with Sven and his best friend Hezekiah, wearing her best flannel and her saggiest jeans.

"So," says Hezekiah smoothly. "A bunch of us are going to a club tonight. Do you want to come?"

"Sure," Deb replies, "but I don't have a car right now."

"Sven will pick you up," replies Hezekiah. Deb does not catch his wink.

At 7:00 that night, Sven comes to Deb's house. They drive to Houston, talking all the while, having a great time. They get to the club, and- no Hezekiah, no "bunch of us..." What gives?

Only slightly abashed, Sven says, "Oh, everybody else cancelled."

Right. The sly fox tricked me into going out with him. I was feeling flattered, until I heard, "Why don't your pants fit?"

So much for flattery. We spent a great evening together getting to know one another, and then he took me home.

Where he did not kiss me. He didn't even try. I knew I had found someone special.

He still is.

My Budding Vegetarian

Recently, Sven and Deb Jr. had a conversation which left him quite rattled.

Deb Jr. is 3, and we believe her to be a genius.  She is, I tell you.  However, even as accustomed as we are to her towering intellect, this conversation caught Sven off guard.

We had finished eating dinner, and Deb Jr. got on her daddy's lap.

"Daddy," she asked, "what did we eat for dinner tonight?"

"Turkey," he replied.

"Are turkeys animals?" she continued.

"Yes," he said, not really paying attention.

"Am I an animal?"  Sven's attention was caught now, and he began to think about his answers more carefully.

"Yes," he said.  "You're an animal, sort of."

"Are you going to eat me?" she asked.

"No," he said.

"Are puppies animals?" she queried, her forehead wrinkling.

"Yes," he answered warily.

"Do we eat puppies?"

"No, we don't eat puppies."

"Are elephants animals?"

"Yes."  Sven was patient, curious to see where this was going.  Deb Jr. took a long pause, clearly lost in thought.  Finally, the ultimate question emerged:

"Do elephants eat turkeys?"

"I don't think so," her daddy replied.  Deb Jr. nodded as though this answered all of her questions, then hopped down and went to bed.

She has only eaten chicken nuggets since then, as she is not convinced that they originate from animal sources.

Neither am I.

The World's Most Frustrating Cough

I am currently in week 4 of battling The World's Most Frustrating Cough. This cough has progressed through several stages:

Stage 1 (December 8th-ish): My throat was sore and swollen, with a throat-centered cough that hurt pretty badly. (Twilight reference avoided, point to Deb).

Stage 2 (December 16th): The cough has become a deep, rattling boom in my chest that doesn't produce anything but sounds like a croupy water buffalo. Don't ask how I know that.

Stage 3: The holidays: Feelin' fine. The cough was still there, but less painful, and therefore easy to ignore when I could easily go to the doctor

Stage 4: Back to work: Pneumonia. At least, I'm pretty sure it's pneumonia, I've had it before. I can't take a deep breath without coughing, I can't sleep at night (for that reason), nothing is coming up, I'm having hot flashes, and I think I lost a toe. Not good.

So, I'm off to the doctor. I might be back later today, or next week, depending...

Have a good weekend, everyone, and make sure you give your pink, healthy lungs a hug of appreciation.

What's wrong with the kids today?

Lack of Muppets. At least, that's my theory.

I grew up in an extremely Muppet-centric home, which helped make me the mature, responsible individual I am today; one who almost never eats entire tubs of frosting and almost always throws the dryer sheets away rather than stuffing them between the couch cushions.

Or, perhaps, a surefit of educational television.

When I was a kid, cartoons were just fun. Bugs Bunny didn't try to teach us anything, unless you count the pre-censorship World-War II era ones in which he taught us that Hitler was flammable. Saturday morning cartoons were the focus of my life for many years; all I really remember learning was that Mr. T wanted us to stay in school and Smurf Berry Crunch was Part of This Complete Breakfast. Today's kids are bombarded by such educational fare as Dora The Explorer (I'm Shouting At You In Two Languages!) and HigglyTown Heroes, whose definition of "hero" gets looser and looser as the series progresses. Any day, now, I expect to hear the following song:

I'm the dealer, and I grow
Pot to sell, and pot to own
If you're feeling too uptight,
Call me up, I'll fix you right!

Maybe licensed trademark characters aren't the problem. Maybe it's the fault of technology. Too much technology has our children becoming far too accustomed to convenience. Deb Jr., age 3.13, can operate her portable DVD player All By Herself. Admittedly, this isn't rocket science, but, still- she's 3! No wonder she looks at me as though I am the world's biggest idiot when I can't remember which button on the remote control turns off the captioning.

Perhaps it isn't them. Perhaps it is me, becoming crabbier as I approach my last birthday that could in any conceivable way be called "early" 30's.

No, that can't be it. It has to be them.

Mary Sue

I have come to the conclusion, sadly, that I am a Mary Sue. I can no longer ignore the evidence.

Requirement 1: Exotic Beauty. Obviously. I am certainly an "exotic" beauty, if "exotic" means "in a way not currently recognized by humans or the more intelligent mammals."

Requirement 2: Exceptionally Talented. Please. I have written over 7 pieces of music that have been rejected by the prestigious Texas University Interscholastic League Sight Reading Contest Committee. "Keep trying" is typical of the praise I receive for my groundbreaking work.

Requirement 3: Flaws are Endearing Character Traits. Seriously? Everyone who knows me considers me to be without meaningful flaws, as they tell me every time I loudly demand they do so. My physical flaws, if you can even call them that, serve as entertainment to my children, as my son slaps my belly and my daughter plays connect-the-dots with my moles. Jealous?

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Requirement 4: Amazing Powers and Abilities. This is getting ridiculous. I routinely find simple solutions to seemingly insurmountable problems. The other night, there was a crisis in our household- there were no clean clothes for Sven to wear to work. All was seemingly lost, the future of our family in question, until I stepped in to save the day.

On my own, I discovered a previously unknown alcove in our kitchen containing a miraculous being that cleans clothes.

I know it seems unbelievable, but this wonderful discovery only requires that you insert dirty clothes, add some soap, and then turn it on. Sven was amazed, too dumbfounded to approach the beast himself, so I waded in and wrestled his clothes into the belly of the monster. I had no sooner done this, than, lo and behold: its mate was next to it, waiting to dry the clean clothes with the heat from its powerful lungs.

This saved the day, allowing our family to continue. I don't ask for credit, I just ask for jewelry and a massage.

Then I invented the frozen lasagne, temporary tattoo, and angled toothbrush.

I know, it seems unbelievable, but it's all true. So, to critics of "Mary Sues" in fiction, remember- there are some of us really out there, just waiting to be discovered.