So I could be writing about how relaxing it has been to come home after work with nothing to do. Or I could be writing about how low our grocery bill has been. Or about how little laundry we have to do. Or about how many episodes of 'The Wire' that we've watched. Or about how we went on a date to a nice Italian restaurant for the first time ever. Or about how we went to the movies twice; once to see the new 'Harry Potter', and once to see 'The Proposal', in which DC native Sandra Bullock, who is playing a Canadian book editor who, because of visa issues, is forced to marry a Canadian born Ryan Reynolds playing an Alaskan native living in New York. I'm pretty sure they just took the plot from 'Green Card', but replaced Gerard Depardieu with Ryan Reynolds. Aaaaannnddd Voila! Instant romantic comedy.
Quick side note: Of the two movies, which movie do you think made Racheal cry? One movie is about a 16 year old wizard who is eventually going to save the whole wizard world, and the other is about a woman who may be exiled to a country that has free health care. (Just for the record, I'm still anti-Canadia, but the fact that she was being 'forced' to go back to Canadia was retarded.) Alright, time's up. What's your guess? Harry Potter, the children's book? Or Slum Dog Canadianaire? Tick..Tock..Tick..Tock.....EEeeeeeehhhhhhhhhh!!! Wrong!! The correct answer was both. Both movies made her cry. It's unbelievable actually. She's more of a cryer than Adam Morrison and Chris Crocker combined. (Go ahead, go Google it. I'll wait.) But, it's become sort of a ritual now. Any time we're watching a movie - and it doesn't even have to be a 'sad' movie - it can be any movie, or any TV show where someone dies, or any episode of Oprah, or Dr Phil, or any commercial with a puppy. But just when I think it's coming; just as she's about to cry, I'll look over at her, and see if I can catch 'the crying face' without cracking up laughing. Then she tells me that I have a cold dead rock in my chest where my heart should be, and we keep watching whatever it is we were watching.
Anyway, so I COULD be writing about any of that stuff that we've been doing since the kids were gone. But I'm not. Because we're not that interesting. Without the kids, we're just a young, smart, funny, incredibly attractive, kidless couple. Who wants to hear about that? And besides, I'm kind of modest. I don't like talking about that stuff.
But no, I'd rather be writing about how the other day, my dad had to watch 4 kids under the age of 6; all day, all by himself. Now THAT would be a funny story. I can just picture my dad, shooting a disapproving look over at Cassi as if she was somehow responsible for the mayhem, then doing his patented heavy exhale while he looks at the ground and slowly shakes his head back and forth. (For the record, he's given me that look approximately 9,421,692 times in my lifetime.) I'm not sure if that actually happened, but I would like an explanation of this picture:
In 18 years under his watch, I don't recall Pops ever allowing this kind of shenanigans
Yes, that would be a good story to write about. But I wasn't there. Or I could be writing about how much Jaxon tries to help out. And how much my 80-something year old Maw-Maw appreciates it.
Apparently, Jaxon walked over to her and said,
'I help Maw Maw. I help Maw Maw walk.'
Yep, that cold dead rock is starting to sweat out of its eyeballs. And see, I'd give anything to write about how my little Doonie Bucket lost her other front tooth. How she explained to my mom that she was glad to have pulled the tooth out before we got to Florida because if not, her mom would've tied a string to it and yanked it out. (For the record, no human has ever been able to convince Scarlett to let them get within 3 feet of her loose teeth. The mere mention of letting you to wiggle her tooth makes her scream, run away, and then give you the death stare from a safe distance. She's working on a pretty darn good death stare, too. I didn't know Rach when she was 6, but I'm fairly certain that I'm getting to see the 2009 version of a 6 year old Racheal right now.)
Up until this point, the Tooth Fairy has always taken the tooth from under Scarlett's pillow, and replaced it with $5. But the Tooth Fairy kept the tooth. This time, however, the Louisiana Tooth Fairy placed the tooth and the $5 in a ziploc back underneath her pillow. It's a minute detail, I know. But immediately realizing the difference, Scarlett told my mom, 'The Tooth Fairy must've known that I wanted to show my mom the tooth.' I didn't even understand what she was talking about until the 2009 version of a 29 year old Racheal explained it to me. This instance is just one more example of how I know Scarlett is much smarter than me; which delights and petrifies me at the same time. I mean, really. Can you imagine me dealing with a 16 year old Scarlett and a 39 year old Racheal ten years from now? Excuse me, while I jab this pencil into my eye. I'm just kidding. But here's my new toothless genius:
She's only smiling because there was no string
I guess I'll just have to accept living vicariously through my parents for another 4 days. Meanwhile, I've crumbled into an emotional wreck on par with Racheal's movie watching. I find myself choking up when they show cute kids on TV. (Not the ugly ones. I don't know what it's like to have ugly kids.) I catch myself staring at random kids in the grocery store, smiling as my mind drifts off to my own kids, then immediately snapping out of it when the mom yanks the kid out of sight and glares back at me as if she's trying to remember my face for when she's checking out www.familywatchdog.us later that night. (Note to self: Try to look less scary.)
And here's another thing. My parents have had the kids for SO long, and have gotten SO comfortable with watching them, that my dad didn't even call me this time to let me know that he had an opportunity to put Jaxon on a horse. I guess he was too busy stealing all of my stories.
Poor horse didn't know what she was getting herself into.
If only Cassi or Izzy could've warned her.
Apparently, Jaxon walked over to her and said,'I help Maw Maw. I help Maw Maw walk.'
Yep, that cold dead rock is starting to sweat out of its eyeballs. And see, I'd give anything to write about how my little Doonie Bucket lost her other front tooth. How she explained to my mom that she was glad to have pulled the tooth out before we got to Florida because if not, her mom would've tied a string to it and yanked it out. (For the record, no human has ever been able to convince Scarlett to let them get within 3 feet of her loose teeth. The mere mention of letting you to wiggle her tooth makes her scream, run away, and then give you the death stare from a safe distance. She's working on a pretty darn good death stare, too. I didn't know Rach when she was 6, but I'm fairly certain that I'm getting to see the 2009 version of a 6 year old Racheal right now.)
Up until this point, the Tooth Fairy has always taken the tooth from under Scarlett's pillow, and replaced it with $5. But the Tooth Fairy kept the tooth. This time, however, the Louisiana Tooth Fairy placed the tooth and the $5 in a ziploc back underneath her pillow. It's a minute detail, I know. But immediately realizing the difference, Scarlett told my mom, 'The Tooth Fairy must've known that I wanted to show my mom the tooth.' I didn't even understand what she was talking about until the 2009 version of a 29 year old Racheal explained it to me. This instance is just one more example of how I know Scarlett is much smarter than me; which delights and petrifies me at the same time. I mean, really. Can you imagine me dealing with a 16 year old Scarlett and a 39 year old Racheal ten years from now? Excuse me, while I jab this pencil into my eye. I'm just kidding. But here's my new toothless genius:
She's only smiling because there was no stringI guess I'll just have to accept living vicariously through my parents for another 4 days. Meanwhile, I've crumbled into an emotional wreck on par with Racheal's movie watching. I find myself choking up when they show cute kids on TV. (Not the ugly ones. I don't know what it's like to have ugly kids.) I catch myself staring at random kids in the grocery store, smiling as my mind drifts off to my own kids, then immediately snapping out of it when the mom yanks the kid out of sight and glares back at me as if she's trying to remember my face for when she's checking out www.familywatchdog.us later that night. (Note to self: Try to look less scary.)
And here's another thing. My parents have had the kids for SO long, and have gotten SO comfortable with watching them, that my dad didn't even call me this time to let me know that he had an opportunity to put Jaxon on a horse. I guess he was too busy stealing all of my stories.
Poor horse didn't know what she was getting herself into.If only Cassi or Izzy could've warned her.
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