Tawdry quirk curators
// March 21st, 2011 // No Comments » // Doug
Doug is the only person in the room, but he is clearly having an animated conversation with someone. Is he,
A. Making a video
B. Talking to someone IRL via bluetooth
C. Talking to the code on the screen
D. Communicating with the voices in his head
// November 13th, 2010 // No Comments » // Doug
The only thing that we didn’t pack for our trip to DC was Amy’s sneakers. Because of that, our first outing began with a trip to Target. I listened to one half of a conversation.
Doug: “Hello.”
“We’re at Target.”
“We forgot Amy’s shoes. I’m making a video.”
“The escalator! It’s awesome!”
I missed the rest of the conversation because I wandered off to avoid being a part of the video. Later that night, I heard about the caller’s side of the conversation.
Danny: “Where are you? What have you seen so far?”
“WHY are you at Target?” thinking - Don’t say it. Don’t say it.
“A video of what?” thinkingHe’s going to say it. Here it comes.
“Oooookay.” thinkingI hate that stupid cart escalator. Why does everyone who visits want to talk about the cart escalator?
// November 12th, 2010 // 4 Comments » // children, Doug, me, travel
Let’s be completely honest. We drive to get anywhere. Sure, the teens might walk for ice cream once in a blue moon and the children roam the cove heavily, but anytime we need to go somewhere or do something, there is a car involved. Once we parked the car in the airport garage, the rules changed.
Airplanes –
The very first time the plane left the ground, the children were glued to the window with giant smiles on their faces while I clawed the arm rest. The noise that the landing gear makes when raised and lowered is one of the most unnerving things I have ever heard. If I accidentally let out a teeny-tiny, itty-bitty scream when the wheels ka-chunked in or out of the plane, Doug giggled like a preteen girl. The children were oblivious. After the initial takeoff, they acted like flying was something they do every day. They behaved exactly like they do in the car. They played and chatted. Doug went one step beyond chatting. He got to know every single person anywhere near him on the plane and they talked the entire flight. We are terrible at going through security without creating a scene, but we are great at riding on the airplane. Wait. My husband and children are great on planes. I’m entertainment for the other passengers.
Taxis -
This should be just like riding in a car. It isn’t. There are no built in 5-point harnesses for the smallest children. The children don’t understand why the driver doesn’t want to chat and Evan has the same social disorder as his father. They both imitate accents when they are near them. While Doug quickly realizes what he is doing and stops, Evan ups the ante by making up words. Friends tolerate this behavior. Based on the way the hair on his arms was standing up, our taxi driver was not amused. He ignored my questioning his route instead of pulling out his phone to prove me wrong like Doug would do. When he dumped us and our mountain of luggage two blocks from our destination in total darkness in DC’s Columbia Heights, I decided I don’t like taxis.
Walking -
This seems like it should be the problem-free way to get from here to there. It isn’t. First of all, there is my complete lack of a sense of direction that results in people talking me there all the time. “I can see you. Walk to the end and turn left. No! Your other left!” Besides feeling perpetually lost, by the second day in DC, my feet hurt like they have never hurt before. While the children climbed retaining walls, balanced on curbs and picked up every single piece of trash in the gutter, I hobbled after them as if I was their great-grandmother. The appearance of a crosswalk seemed to be some secret trigger for the children to walk backwards or hop on one foot or twirl with their eyes closed. The crosswalk timer was apparently amused by these dangerous street games and it responded by randomly jumping from 50 to 20 or even 10. I was fairly confident that a cabhole ( © Lucy Jilka, 2010) was going to seriously injure my family for our inability to walk the tempo of the city.
Metro –
I thought the airplane would be the highlight of travel for my children, but I was wrong. My children loooved the Metro (even though they called it the subway). They could have spent the entire day riding the Metro and grinning like Cheshire cats. The girl teen loved the Metro too. She loved that she could go anywhere she wanted to go without her goofy family in tow. If I had anything resembling a signal from AT&T on the metro, I could have sat there and people watched for hours. There were people on the Metro wearing shoes that cost a mortgage payment standing beside people wearing the only shoes they own. Poor Doug had an endless array of problems with the Metro. He got to know the Metro employee with the Samuel Jackson personality really well. “I’m going to write on this ticket, ‘let the man who threw away perfectly good Metro tickets change stations’.” My only problem with the Metro was that traveling underground with no sense of direction is completely disorienting. Evan would like it if they added bathrooms to the trains.
// November 9th, 2010 // No Comments » // Doug, me
Me: The children need the bathroom. We don’t have time to argue with TSA.
Doug: I read about backscatter and I don’t want the children doing it. I sent Cathy that link but she never reads the links I send her. I should send it again. T never sent me that document I said I need. I need to double check the documentation on that project. I smell cookies. Did we eat dinner yet? OMG – I just figured out how to fix the problem with that piece of code. If I had a MacBook, I could fix it now. The Air sure is a sweet machine. Maybe the children should eat something before we get on the plane. Where did Cathy and the children go?
// October 20th, 2010 // No Comments » // Doug, holidays
Evan: “A light saber.”
Amy: “A card and a hug and a kiss.”
Noah: “Ummm…”
Evan: “A pumpkin.”
Sarah: “A robe. A really long robe that he’ll wear all the time.”
Noah: “He probably would like a light saber.”
Evan: “A flower.”
Tommy: “A shower in the downstairs bathroom.”
Sarah: “An organic, vegetarian cake.”
Since Dad picked out his gifts himself this year, I think we’ll just join him at Boo at the Zoo for his birthday. Maybe we’ll stick a candle in a Krispy Kreme donut.
// September 25th, 2010 // No Comments » // Doug, parenting, travel
In a month, we are taking the youngest children on a mini-adventure. The part of the adventure they can’t stop talking about is their first ride in an airplane. As with all things that involve children, there is much behind the scenes planning involved. I’m not an experienced flier, but I think I have the airplane part of the trip mentally organized.
I want to arrive at the airport early enough to let the children watch other people go through security and answer any questions they have before we get in the security line. I’ll dress the children and I in slip-on shoes. I might wear a wireless bra even if it means risking my boobs falling on the ground and getting lost in the airport. The children and I will empty our pockets into the luggage that we are checking and there will be no teeny-tiny toys, toys that roll when dropped or toys without volume control allowed. Everyone will visit the potty just before we enter the security area. Going through security, one parent will be at each end and the children will remain between us.
Doug is planning too. He wants to wear cargo pants and a SeV so that he can carry the Kindle, iPhone, DSi, extra batteries, power cords, tripod, juggling balls, sunglasses, tickets, fidget toys and everything that he usually carries in his manbag (It’s a purse). That will leave his hands free to carry children in crowds.
After pondering Doug’s plan, I have decided that I will be at the front of our family parade and Doug will be the caboose. He can catch a later flight when he finally makes it through security.
// September 13th, 2010 // 3 Comments » // Doug, health, me
Since I don’t know where to go for leeches, I think I’ll try some empty pen medical care. While Doug’s can be stabbed anywhere to relieve his ample blood pressure, mine will be jammed in my sinus windows that are making my face throb. What? You never saw the magical curative powers of writing implements on *Emergency?
*Now we know what John Locke’s father did when he wasn’t being a con man. Come to think of it, maybe stabbing people with pens in every episode should have been our first clue that his career as a paramedic was just a long con.
// May 28th, 2010 // 1 Comment » // Doug
Me: “Dad is really grouchy today.”
Doug: “Which of the children told on me?”
Me: “Umm, I meant MY father, but thanks for the confession.”
Copyright © 2012 Domestic Psychology. All rights reserved.
