Friday, February 15, 2008
Mom, make me look like a Rock Star!
Buy a nine year old a guitar for christmas, have his dad teach him a couple cords, and suddenly he wants to be a Rock Star! Egged on by his oldest sister, Y (formerly the Urp) decided his normal bowl cut no longer sufficed, he needed to look like a rock star, a la The Jonas Brothers. For the record, the only barber the boys have known is Salon de Trimama. Hair cutting is not rocket science, most of the time. And when it is, there is always the saving redemption of the buzzy. When Y was three-ish, the buzzy vibrated wildly against his head, sending him into fits of laughter and giggles. It might take an entire morning to even him out, but in the end, high and tight and entirely rub able. He used to charge a quarter. He's outgrown quarters and now it's on to rock star. Fortunately his hair grows naturally forward, so the whole long hair, shaggy thing isn't so difficult. His problem is that he doesn't like his hair in his eyes, so we'll see how it goes.
New rule in the Trimama household. If you want to use your mouth to cut someone, you stop the bleeding. In other words, you say something mean to someone, you now say something kind. Creativity knows no bounds, and has fallen just short of "if I was a fly you'd be the first poop I'd swarm." I was hoping for, "I like your smile". There is always the throwback, "you're nice". I want genuine, so we are working on it. I'm of the belief that home should be the place where you sit by the fire and cut the chill, find good conversation and friendship and on most nights a warm meal. But even on cold cereal nights, I want my family to be able to find home an escape from the harsh reality of the world. I certainly don't want home to be the fridge you pass by on the way to your "own" room. I don't think you should ever feel alone in your own family.
"Look what I can do! I'm a genius. It's a skill that took years to perfect. Actually it only too 10 minutes but it's still cool." At times it's good to listen to your kids, really listen, and at times it's good to just let the 90 mile per hour prattle roll off your ears. That's why I've installed state of the art filtering hardware in my brain. The state department has nothing on me with it's ability to filter out "dirty bomb" and "safe house". My hardware discerns inflection and cadence. Not quite on the level of national security, but to me it's essential to know when to nod and uh hmm, and when to interject. It's a working science that I suspect will take years to perfect.
I suspect school will be sullen and grouchy today, the side effects of 7 below and indoor recess, and the cataclysmic sugar crash hangover from Valentine's day. I think we are going to lick salt cubes for dinner. HG has an organizational meeting for Rugby tonight. Rugby is football without pads. I value my baby's brain cells. We'll see. We are working on ways to make her 2000 plus kid very large high school, smaller. Sub groups of friends is the best tactic I know.
Someone bowed down to me and asked to touch my Ironman swim cap at the pool yesterday. I see a future training client. God has blessed me richly, I'm the second highest sales person in our branch this month, next only to my boss. Not bad for a semi part time stay at home mom. Let's just keep getting healthy people!
Tonight I get to make my weekly rounds of the blogosphere- I love Fridays. Glass of wine, virtually connecting with friends. That's a pretty good happy hour. See you at the bar.