The Babysitter Cometh

We finally gots us an outside babysitter! Once Brian's niece went to college (a full year and a half ago) we were really strapped for sitters and consequently, didn't go out. Ever. Anywhere.

We managed to hook up with the daughter of our old next door neighbor. She is a junior, will have her license in 25 days, and looks to be just awesome with kids. I like her because she jumped right in to play with Annie the other night. Oh, and she assured us that she doesn't go out much because either her friends don't want to do anything, or they want to drink which does not interest her. Are y'all jealous yet?

But wait! There's more! She has already told her mother that she does not want to go away to college so we are talking at least 5 more years of availability here, people. And, come summer, she wants to get a job at Annie's "school". But we will have already staked our claim to her by the time other parents come sniffing around.

I never thought finding a sitter would be so hard. I see why it is though. While I was babysitting at 13 (making a whole one dollar an hour), I must have been a horrendous sitter. I always liked kids but I am fairly certain I wouldn't have picked up after us and if anything bad had happened, I don't know if I was qualified to handle it. In short: I wouldn't want me or anyone like me to sit my kids. Once when I was sitting the Smiths, they were so bad that I called up my dad and had him act like he was Santa and threaten them with coal. Another time, I was babysitting for a neighbor's grandchildren. After they fell asleep I remembered that they had a daughter that died and I got it in my head that she died in their house. Then I heard noises coming from the room the baby was sleeping in and no one bothered to tell me that they had a cat rattling around upstairs and I had to call my sister to come over and keep me company.

I used my first Santa threats on Annie yesterday. She is going through a bad phase of collapsing and whining every time she doesn't get her way. By 10 a.m. yesterday morning she had had three such collapses and I played the Santa card. These collapses make me INSANE. She comes off as such a spoiled child when she does it, and that's one thing I simply can't abide by. And she is starting to act bratty in stores when I tell her she can't have something. How did that happen? I have been so careful to not get her everything she asks for and yet she acts as though she'll die if she can't have something. It makes my blood absolutely boil.

Oh, hey, don't take your kid to see Happy Feet. Out local rag attributed its PG rating to "minor peril" but the movie was scary! And dark. And NOT funny. The animation was at times quite breathtaking but it is not a movie for the very young. Plus (middle age lady alert), when did movies get so LOUD?? Good lord, my teeth were shaking. Even in parts of the movie that weren't scary, the music builds to such a crescendo at such high decibals that my heart was pounding. Turn it DOWN, ya whippersnappers!

Annie usually loves the movies, too. She perches her popcorn on her lap and methodically plows through it, only pausing for an occassional wave of the hand that indicates she is ready for her beverage to be brought to her lips. Heh-can't imagine why she's spoiled! I could tell the movie was making her uneasy, though she held it together. Until we went to the bathroom in the theatre afterwards and the freakin' hand driers sounded like goddamn freight trains and then she sort of broke down a little on the way out. I promised her that next time we'd go to a more gentle movie. A friend suggested Charlotte's Web but I know what happens at the end and no thank you.

Acknowledgements

Happy
Thanksgiving!

Since I don't eat turkey and the food at my in-laws can be most generously described as bland, Thanksgiving has become less and less about gorging myself and more and more about truly thankful for all that I have.The older I get, the less I take for granted. Today I am thankful for:

-My family. That is, the one Brian and I made. I am thankful for our health, our opportunities, and our love.

-My family. That is, the one my mom and dad made. My brothers and sisters are just so very...how you say...awesome and without them, I'd be lost. And my mom is still my #1 person to call when I need to feel better, and in spite of her own nearly constant sorrow she always manages to help.

-My friends. Some keep me sane, some keep me laughing and most do both. I hope that I give to them as much as I get, which is lots.

-My health.

-Pizza.

-The milk of human kindness

-My love of animals-there's a reason that pet owners live longer. Unless that pet is Henry (see photo)

-Second chances

-Not having to fight in a war. I often have to remind myself that we are at war. It's not right that I am so untouched by it but there you have it. Yet there are people, wives, husbands, sons, daughters, fathers, mothers, fighting...in some god-awful country away from there families fighting and they are so brave to have volunteered for this unfathomable, stupid war.

-Summer

-Winter (how else would I know to be thankful for Summer??)

-Target. It's everywhere I want to be.

-Joy

Jack Benny

Yesterday was my birthday. It was strange because even though I really don't mind getting older, I was depressed for much of the day. I kept waiting for something to happen, some sign that the day was different that every other day. I admit it, I was feeling sorry for myself. Homesick again and just a little blue. But things got better.

For starters, 2 of my awesome sisters sent Target gift cards. Now, even though I have a love affair with Target that is passionate and lasting, it wasn't so much the cash value and shopping potential as much as it was the thought. How needy am I? We normally don't do gifts among my siblings and it was an out of the blue surprise.

Later we took the girls to the playground and had a ball. Mary rode on the baby swing for the first time and lurved it. God, she and Annie are such the tale of two babies, Annie screamed on those swings until...well, it was only this summer that Annie would go on swings. But Mary laughed and laughed and I was laughing, too at the insane looking baby with the enourmous, pointy jacket hood and the crazy cackle.

After the playground we went to the liquor store and got my summer beer, Tequiza. Upon our arrival home, Brian's brother called and said yes, they would come over and play with Annie (Mary still can't keep her eyes open past 6) so we could go out for dinner. This was a great treat.

We have had a terrible time finding a sitter ever since G had the nerve to go to college. I thought I found one in Annie's afternoon "teacher" until I realized that she doesn't particularly like children. Some days when I pick Annie up she'll just balls-out say, "Thank GOD, another one is being picked up". Last week I saw her totally make a little girl cry unnecessarily, and then yell at the poor girl, "knock it off!". When Annie and I left the room I asked her if Miss Yellypants had ever screamed at her and Annie very matter-of-factly said, "I don't do anything bad" which is just so true and amusing that she is aware of this. And yes, I told the director that this broad is NOT good for the school knowing that for 8 bucks an hour (for aides) they aren't going to get the cream of the crop but still.

ANYway yes, we went out to my most favorite restaurant and the food was incredible and we realized that we could not even begin to recall the last time that just the two of us went out and vowed to start dating again in spite of our poverty. I think we have our old next door neighbor on the hook for sitting now. Awesome. She is a sweetie, just got her license and used to take care of Dallas for us. So.

I ended up having a really nice birthday, taking the circuitous route to gratitude and happiness that I tend to favor these days.

The Olson twins and the aging athlete

Yeah, I used the Olson twins to hook you. This post has very little to do with them and quite a bit to do with getting old. Er. Older.

It was the last softball game of our season and my team was sitting in the dugout waiting for the rain to stop. Terri's kids were there and they kept quoting lines from Full House. So, wanting to make a little conversation, I blurted out, "Is Full House like The Brady Bunch was to us when we were growing up?" What I wanted to know was if Full House is this generation's cultural touchstone. Do kids quote certain episodes to their peers? Do kids watch the reruns over and over, finding comfort in the predictability and happy endings? Is "You're in trouble mister" the "Mom always said don't play ball in the house" of today?

My question was met with silence. Oh, they didn't hear me. Louder, "Is Full House likeThe Brady Bunch was to us growing up?" Another beat and then our pitcher frowned and said, "I watched Full House when I was little."

Thunk.

Geez, Mag, know your audience. The funny thing is is that this season in particular I have been hyperaware of being one of the older players. See, the league is for women 19 and older. Our team isn't the most egregious offender when it comes to being stocked with 19 year olds but we have our share of younger players. I guess I am not used to being one of the old ones yet. I am still shocked when I realize that some of these girls are right out of high school; high school being a lifetime or so ago to me.

What hurts isn't being old, though. It is for the first time in my life realizing that not only am I not one of the best on the team, I never will be again. This season I was put in right field. Right field! Oh, if the younger me could see this, she'd DIE of shame. One game I was even put in as catcher. Like, on other teams the catcher is frequently played by the grande dame of the team, too old to play the field, too well-liked to be told to take up golf.

No one ever talks about how the recreational athlete feels when it's time for her to hang up her cleats. I mean, as realitively old as I am, I can still hit the ball. I can still track flies. Inside, I feel so young. But I am slow,and I am carrying around 20 pounds of baby weight and two massive feedbags that these younger girls won't have to worry about for years. Do I want to play until I suck or do I retire with a shred of dignity?

What would Carol Brady do?