Month: August 2007

Movie Theater Stupidity

Dear Lady at the Movie Theater,

Did you lose your brain? Were you born without common sense? Or are you just mean enough to bring a 3-year old to The Bourne Ultimatum, a movie rated PG-13, on a warm Saturday afternoon? What? Are the parks closed by your house? Don’t you have access to a swimming pool? Did you lose the directions to the beach? Because I cannot think of a single good reason for dragging a clearly bored 3-year old to this particular movie. What do you have to say for yourself?

Well?

I’m waiting.

Nothing. That’s what I thought. You have no excuse, no reasonable answer to my questions.

When the movie was over, you high-fived the little guy, saying, “You did it!” He might not have disrupted you too much, but he sure disrupted me. Perhaps you didn’t notice him getting up from his chair and standing those two times. Maybe you didn’t hear his whispers. Maybe you weren’t horrified by the thought of your 3-year old boy’s eyes taking in the violent fighting and action sequences. But I was.

I am horrified that there are people like you in the world who bring small children into movie theaters on sunshiny Saturdays and expose them to images that are scary and inappropriate for a child’s eyes. I am horrified that you do not consider how rude it is to bring a child into a theater full of people who left their own children behind so they could enjoy a movie in peace . . . and have it be interrupted by your child. Are you familiar with the concept of a babysitter? That’s when you hire someone you trust to watch your child in your absence. Try it! You’ll like it!

Anyway, Lady in the Movie Theater, I hope you enjoyed your movie and I hope your little boy didn’t wake up with nightmares. Actually, I hope he did because that would serve you right and hopefully teach you a lesson. STOP BRINGING YOUR KID INTO MOVIES FOR ADULTS!

Sincerely,

The Lady One Seat Over Who Kept Glancing at Your Kid and Rolling Her Eyes

p.s. The movie was good, very entertaining. I also saw Rescue Dawn last week which was also excellent, toned down a little for a lower rating, I think, but an amazing story nonetheless. And last week, a lady WITH A BABY in her arms sat one seat away from me. And yes, as you can imagine, that was annoying and also very distracting. I was thankful she left mid-way through the movie. What is WRONG with people?!

Wanted: Two Hours

What I’d like is two extra daylight hours, preferably sandwiched into each day in a time warp of sorts so that no one realizes I’ve slipped away for two hours. Really, I want my own personal wrinkle in time so that no one looks up and says, “Where’s Mom?” and comes looking for me.

I’m treading water and I’d really like to start swimming, making forward progress with my inelegant breaststroke (I never put my face under water). I have places to go! Things to do! And I’m just splashing around, making waves, but not going anywhere.

I know. What am I talking about? Don’t you hate it when people are vague like this?

Well, the truth is that I wish I had a lot more time to be creative, to be silent and creative. I’d love to sew again, but that’s not what’s nipping at my heels and elbows while I bob around. No, I am trying to write, to create a world with words and it’s really tough when my days are full of interruptions and my nights are short-sheeted by fatigue.

I know we all have twenty-four hours in the day . . . anyone want to hand over two of their daily hours to me so I can have twenty-six?

(By the way, I posted my kids’ favorite Crock-pot meal on the other blog, The Amazing Shrinking Mom.)

The last month of summer

The last month has begun. The last month of no school, the last month of having a four-year-old, the last month of summer. We’ve had a four year old or a three year old or a two year old or a baby in our house for the past fourteen years, so this is truly the end of an era. Weirdly, I’m not too sad about it.

I’m nostalgic already and when I look at pictures of the children at younger ages, I can forget how they were whiny and prone to tantrums. I can almost forget how one of the teenagers used to spit his medicine back into my face whenever I dared to medicate him. They were so adorable in those pre-acne days. I used to love that whole bathtime-jammies-in-bed-at-eight thing we had going on. (Teenagers, did you know? They stay up late and sleep in if possible . . . they are so much like hibernating bears.)

My daughter begged me to take her to Target today. “Why?” I said. “What do you want to buy?” She explained, “I need some new summer clothes. I want orange shorts and an orange shirt with a star.”We did not go to Target, much to her chagrin. That child loves to shop and wear cute shoes, even if they hurt her feet.

Blogging about a life featuring laundry and empty milk cartons in the fridge is a challenge some days. Perhaps I could tell you how the boys are still nailing cast-off pieces of wood in the back yard? My son came in, flushed, excited to tell me that Dennis, our neighbor down the street gave them yet more wood. (Dennis has people drop off scrap wood at his house all the time . . . then he burns it in his wood stove all winter. The wood supply is endless, so I had to say, “NO MORE WOOD!”)

Or I could tell you my 9-year old is playing football . . . and they practice every single night. My husband takes him, but still. I find no joy in daily sports practices, having grown up in a household with no interest in sports whatsoever. (I played softball as a girl and my parents never attended my games. I ran track only until seventh grade when I realized all the boys were studying me bounce and jiggle around the track.)

I could mention that I keep making all these plans for my evenings, but after getting up at 6:15 a.m. to walk each morning, by 9 p.m., I’ve got nothing left. I’m like a bicycle with a chain that keeps derailing. Hard to make progress when you can’t pedal!

But that would be boring to blog about.

Stuff about me you probably don’t know

I haven’t read a single Harry Potter book.

I have never worn a two-piece swimsuit.

I don’t dance, never have, never will. (Unless you count square-dancing in eighth grade P.E.)

My eyebrows have never been professionally waxed.

I do not own an iPod.

I hate to watch DVDs at home.

I don’t drink alcohol.

I didn’t have my first date until I was in college.

Every time I hear a kid say “mom,” I think I’m being paged.

I’m between generations, not a “Boomer” nor a Gen-Xer.

I don’t drink coffee. The only thing I’ve ever ordered from Starbucks was hot chocolate.

I hate to spend money on purses. My current purse was purchased at Value Village.

These are random facts listed for no reason at all.