Dancing Without Rhythm

We just got back from our long weekend, short visit to see family in Kansas City. We flew on one of those tiny little planes that only seats 50 people or so. Those things terrify me. I am not afraid to fly, hardly even think twice about it, but those things have me twitchin' and sweatin' the second I spot them on the jetway. Puddlejumperway. I had a bloody mary, two vodka tonics, and 3 beers to calm my nerves and it was entirely effective. One upside of this airplane was, the seats are divided with 2 seats on one side and 1 seat on the other. I got the one seat by myself and the flight attendant told us in no uncertain terms that our lap child was not allowed on my lap. It was rough.

I interrupted my mom reading a book to let her know we had arrived. She told me we came out of the wrong gate---so it might not have been a fun family get together after all, with all my monkey business of wrong gate exiting. I climbed in the backseat of her car and sat between Benja and Avee for the 40 minute ride. Avee immediately claimed my left arm, 1/3rd of my shirt and my right ear as hers for the ride home and screeched loudly if I dared move any of them without her permission. Benja was thrilled to have me sitting next to him, a rare treat in the car. Not since he was a screaming 2 month old and I tried the whole buckled in breastfeeding contortionist routine in the back seat. But he didn't appreciate me then. He slipped his hand through my arm and contentedly sighed, "I want to stay here forevoh."

I had a great time just soaking in the comforts of family and friends. We all showed up sick and everyone was still nice. Well, except for us. My sister's baby is even cuter in person. Of course. And she's perfect. And she is one doted on little girl. I think I saw her out of someone's arms a total of 15 minutes the entire 4 days we were there.

My ideal vacation is lounging. This vacation was ideal. Fortunately my sister has a 5 week old baby that has her subdued and our paces finally matched. Benjah loved the endless supply of papers to draw pictures and write words. Avee enjoyed the mostly-nice animals that let her follow them around and yell and squeal and periodically kiss.

At one point I said to my sister, "Did you read [our 13-year old niece]'s most recent blog post? It's hilarious." My 13-year-old nephew said, "Have you read your blog? It's hilarious!" Yeah, that's me, appealing to the masses of all ages.

And now I'm home and Avee is sitting on my left forearm as I type, tattling on Benja. Apparently he pinched her cheek when she tried to sit on his Curious George coloring page. That's what she just told/mimed/signed/reinacted for me.

I learn more and more about myself through my children, everyday. I discovered in my early twenties that children unwittingly imitate their parents in the biggest ways. I babysat a 4 year old for 2 days who kept me abreast of all the neighborhood gossip and at the end of those two days I knew more about those poor neighbors (poor except that old lady next day who drank two bottles of wine a day and never changed out of a housecoat all day and had a secret bank account with hundreds of thousands in it) than I did about myself. I resolved then and there to have my ducks in a row enough when I had children that my "sins" wouldn't be displayed so blatantly for the world. Avee just got on the phone and said something like, "ohhhhh yeah, you should see her shoes. What.Ever. Ohh, okay, bye!" I swear I'm not catty, but I can say that all I want, the proof is in the little puddin'.

And now I'm going to teach my children with my actions, just what "exercise" is. They need to go into the world knowing full well that exercising means eating an entire box of Almond Joy cookies (aka, the devil dipped in chocolate) and maybe putting on a pair of pants when company comes.

Posted by Angela on Wednesday, January 31, 2007 at 1/31/2007 | Permalink