Monkey business

Here is a headline I read the other day: CT Woman had Unusual Relationship With Chimp.
Huh?
Can any human have a "usual" relationship with a chimp? And hadn't we heard all about the weirdness of their relationship for a couple of days? We already knew how police had to shoot the animal after he attacked the woman's friend. We already knew that she loved her chimp like a son; That she slept with him at night, and let him brush her hair. I'm sorry, but did I somehow miss the unusual part of the relationship before this new headline/story came out?

Now don't get my wrong. I like chimps and monkeys. For several years, as a working adult at an advertising agency, I had a monkey puppet in my office. Yes, our relationship could also be labeled unusual. For me, it was love at first sight at a toy store in the mall. I had to have him. I named him Monkey, and although I hugged and talked to him, I never, ever, slept with him, or let him brush my hair. Once I came into my office to find the outline of a monkey body in masking tape on the rug; a ransom note on my desk. I was in despair until I found him a few days later, shoved into the company microwave. Fortunately he was unharmed.

As far as real monkeys, however, I'm not too excited about nuzzling up to them. I met some on a beach in Costa Rica and they were a little noisy and aggressive. They liked to steal food from tourists and they pooped everywhere. Not my idea of a good house pet, but hey, to each their own, right?

The Worst Idea Ever?

I can't help but think that taking my kids to Trader Joe's after a long day at daycare falls into the Worst Idea Ever category. Really. I had reservations going into it, a strong feeling in my gut. A smarter woman may have just brought her exhausted children straight home and called it a day. But no. I just had to have fresh blueberries and another box of gluten free Gorilla Munch cereal.

If you've ever been to a Trader Joe's, you know that some of their stores cater to kids. The one we go to in Burlington, Mass. features little kids shopping carts and a play area with a bus that my 18 month old goes crazy for. The first time we discovered both of these items we were all very excited. Shopping could now be more than just a chore, I thought, but a playful experience for all of us! Ah, the good times we would have together, with E pushing around his little cart and J being a perfect angel just sitting and smiling in the front seat of my shopping cart, enjoying the ride. I think this actually happened. Once.

Of course, this was not at all what happened last night. Last night we had a coup d'etat . Instead of sitting peacefully in mommy's cart, j insisted on driving his own cart. Not good. At 19 months old, most kids do not have great cart control and his kept crashing into things (fortunately no people) including a large box of clementines, which then went scattering in various directions across the floor. Perhaps it's important to note here that I am not one who likes being the center of attention. I'm perfectly happy to be all but invisible at the grocery store, or anywhere, for that matter. But now, with one child screaming and clementines rolling like pool balls just after a break, all eyes were on me.

"Let's do this quickly, guys," I whispered to my children. I began literally racing around the store, grabbing milk, yogurt, raisins, coffee (I highly recommend Trader Joe's coffee, by the way, if you're looking for a new brand). Then we hit the aisle with the school bus. To understand what is so wonderful about this bus, you must understand that it is open on one end so children can sit inside and play driver. On the other side, where the hood would be, is a train table. Even I have to admit, that's pretty cool. And if the bus wasn't enough, the folks at Trader Joe's had gone and added a play kitchen complete with fake stove and sink to the area. Witnessing my boys stumble upon this combination of bus and now new play kitchen was akin to seeing two weary travelers spot the ocean after walking miles through the desert. Pure joy.

"Five minutes," I said, and let them loose.

But five minutes turned into ten and it was now 7pm. "Two more minutes," I announced, hovering over the bus.
"But I don't want to go home," E whined.

"Yes, but we have to…daddy is waiting for us. It's getting late."

When their two minutes were up, no one was coming home without a fight. J tried to steal a fake telephone, and when I made him put it down, E picked it up.

"You can't take that," I said. "Please put it back."

"Why?" He asked.

"Because it's not yours."

"But I waaaaaant it."

"Sorry, but it's got to go back."

This is when he took off, running around the store with the phone in his hand. I put J in the cart with my shopping bags and told E we were going to leave without him. Now, I don't know if you're "allowed" to do that or not, but it's a threat that almost always seems to work. Of course I would never really leave without him, but as long as he thinks I would, that's all that matters.

As I got closer to the store exit, E inched toward me, but still refused to leave or put down the telephone he was trying to steal. I knew he was challenging me. I swooped him up and held him like a football under my arm (someone recommended this to me) but he squirmed and screamed so much that I had to put him down. Now everyone on the checkout line was staring at us, but fortunately most were women and I read sympathy in their collective gaze.

"We're leaving now," I said again, this time going so far as to walk out the front door. He followed, but was still screaming, nearly hyperventilating, for most of the ride home.

I cannot tell you how many times, as a mother, I've thought 'now this is a really bad idea'…yet done it anyway. Some days parenting feels like nothing more than an endless stream of really bad ideas, going back to the very idea to even become a parent. Or perhaps I'm just blowing a few bad occasions out of proportion. I think of a class I went to recently on parenting. The instructor talked quite a bit about temperaments, and how life with kids will run a whole lot smoother if you bend your own temperament to accommodate theirs (since their moods and temperaments, as all mothers know, are a lot less flexible). I interpret this to mean despite what you, the parent, wants to do, try to tune into your child's mood, and what they want or even more importantly need to do, including go home and go to sleep. I didn't think much of it at time she pointed it out, but perhaps it's not such a bad idea.

Tina Torture

Ok, so another person told me I look like Tina Fey today. This should be a compliment, right? I mean, alot of men think Tina's hot...and here i am at 40, a working mother with a three year old and a 19 month old. I could be compared to much, much worse.
But none of this is really about Tina's looks. It's more that, well, I was supposed be Tina.
You see, I was supposed to write for Saturday Night Live. I was supposed to be hanging out with the likes of Lorne Michaels, Steve Martin and Alec Baldwin. Not her! I was the one who sent in a truly revolutionary idea for a skit to SNL when I was ten years old. In my letter I wrote, "You have a family with big heads (the coneheads), why not a family with big noses??" I then proceeded to draw this big-nosed family, all of whom I'm now convinced appear to have penises in the middle of their faces. This was purely unintentional of course. Then, in return for my hard work and creativity, the folks at SNL mailed me a stinking generic rejection letter! One would think that they could have at least scribbled an inspiring note on the letter...I mean I was only 10. Something along the lines of We're not really interested in big penis-nosed people, but we'd love to see more of your work in the future.
But nope. No hopeful words for me. Perhaps that's the difference between me and Tina. Then again, maybe there is no difference between me and Tina at all (insert twilight zone theme music here). Maybe she is just me in an alternate universe. It's possible, right? I mean if people can have penises for noses, anything is possible really.

About the name of this blog

I am not the type who collects postcards, but this one was a keeper. It was my older sister Nili who sent it to me, shortly after the birth of our 2nd child. I'm sure I was complaining about something...lack of sleep, sore boobies, too many whiny, needy creatures who wanted to suck more than milk out of me. My first son was only 17 months old when his brother, an unexpected gift, entered the world. My life, and my mind, have never been the same.
I had a mind once, the postcard with the 1950's looking mama and her offspring says. Then I had small children.
I hear ya sister.

Kierkegaard and dance

Not exactly a tango metaphor, but I thought it might help to collect some philosophical quotations referring to dance:

"[The knight of faith] constantly makes the movement of infinity, but he does it with such precision and proficiency that he constantly gets finitude out of it and at no second does one suspect anything else. It is supposed to be the most difficult task for a dancer to leap into a particular posture in such a way that there is no second when he grasps at the position but assumes it in the leap itself. Perhaps no dancer can do it - but that knight does. The majority of people live absorbed in worldly sorrow and joy; they are wallflowers who do not join in the dance. The knights of infinity are dancers and have elevation. ... But every time they drop down they cannot assume the posture at once; they hesitate an instant, and this hesitation shows that they are really strangers in the world. ... One does not need to see them in the air but only at the instant they touch and have made contact with the ground to recognize them. But to be able to land in such a way that it looks as if one were simultaneously standing and walking, to transform the leap of life into a gait, absolutely to express the sublime in the pedestrian - that only the knight of faith can do - and that is the only miracle." (Fear & Trembling, trans. C. Stephen Evans, Sylvia Walsh, 2006, 34)