It's been awhile since I've blogged, and as always, the more time that passes, the harder it is to get a new one going.
My jewelry party was more successful than I could've hoped and has scored me another party in September, so now I'm right back in the studio trying to make new pieces to fill the void of the forty or so pieces I sold at the last party. But in the back of my mind, the nagging guilt that I haven't posted anything new here eats at me. And then the only thing I've been fired up to write about lately is political (both local and national), but after my near-total meltdown last election season, I have made the decision not to use this spot as a venting ground for that. Yeah, yeah, I know that my last post was political by nature, but that was more just to share with you all what had been published in the paper.
That said, I thought I'd herald my triumphant return with a couple of Deuce tales. Mostly because he is so sweet and innocent, and his earnestness oftentimes makes me laugh so hard I cry.
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Last year, right after Deuce had turned five, we were in his room cleaning up. I was in the bathroom, straightening up the aftermath of two young boys brushing their teeth, using ungodly amounts of Dixie cups and evidently attempting to tie each other up with dental floss. I mean, really, who needs seventeen feet of floss? Maybe Gary Busey, but I digress.
Deuce was happily picking up the detritus strewn about his room. "Don't forget to look under the bed, Deuce," I called to him.
"Hey, Mom!" he shouted back excitedly, running into the bathroom waving a clothes hanger in his hand. "Look! I found a hooker under my bed!"
Yeah, yeah, how many times have I heard that before? I mean, what American man wouldn't love to find that?!
I didn't have the heart to tell him that they are "hangers", not "hookers". Also, I was laughing so hard and running off to tell TOM that I didn't have the time.
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Yesterday was the first day of school after possibly the shortest summer on record. I think it may have to do with global warming that the summer was so short, but I'm not sure as Al Gore's people refuse to return my calls.
It sort of took us by surprise, how quickly summer ended and the boys started back up. Maybe we just were trying to ignore it after Ace's ridiculously horrible year in second grade last year. At any rate, I forgot the camera, of course, and sent Ace to school without a snack.
I did have the werewithal to drop Trey off at his daycare so I wouldn't have to tote him around and got there on time for once (yeah, not so well done today, the second day of school, when we were officially tardy). But Ace's third grade class is on a different floor than Deuce's kindergarten, so dropping both off and getting them settled in is basically impossible as I haven't figured out cloning myself. Yet.
I walked Deuce to class first, and ushered him through the door telling him I'd be right back to say a proper goodbye after I got Ace settled into his class.
Deuce walked into his room, smiled at his new teacher and pulling his ginormous backpack off, looked back at me and called, "Hey Mom! Where are the hookers?"
I know he meant hook. Of course I did. But I couldn't resist replying, "Son, you don't get hookers 'til the second day of kindergarten." And I wonder why I don't exactly fit into the Christian school where I send my kids.
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Ok, one more Deuce tale, and then I'm off to return the clothes TOM found too dorky for my kids to wear. This is my favorite Deuce story of the summer.
A couple years back Edna supplied me with some totally inappropriate and tasteless "gifts" for my bachelorette party. Among them was a blow-up dude who looked mildly homicidal, despite totally lacking formed hands and feet. Also included was a purple or-gizmo that while phallic in shape, lacked veins and the exactitude of masculinity, and was such a fun color it looks fairly benign and toy-like. Most of the things she gave me I shoved into the back of my bedside table drawer, and forgot them (not the blow-up doll. I took that with me for Edna's bachelorette and haven't seen him since). Since then I've stuffed the drawer full of birthday and anniversary cards and the random crap that accumulates near my bedside.
Anyway, one Wednesday this summer I drove the kiddos home after a long day swimming lessons and whatnot. They were all wiped out in the car, which is my favorite time ever. I get to be close to all of them and yet none of them are making a sound. I pulled into the garage and carefully unstrapped Trey from his carseat, slowly walking him up to his crib to continue his nap. Deuce, who is terrified that at any moment I will abandon him, woke when we parked and followed me (thus, his nickname "Shadow").
After settling Trey, I went down to my room, crawled on the bed and tried to entice Deuce to lie down and continue his nap (Ace was knocked out in the "way back" of the van, and being that he now weighs almost as much as I do, I just opened all the doors and left him there). I grabbed up my phone and started checking facebook and email, rolled over to TOM's side of the bed and snuggled into the pillows hoping to doze myself.
"BRRRRZZZZZ"
I heard it turn on. You know that sound. We all know that sound. Oh my god.
I was afraid to roll over and look behind me because I knew Deuce was standing there holding a running purple vibrator. I waited for the inevitable question to come. "Mommy, what is this?"
It didn't. But the buzzing continued. Oh my fucking god. I peeked over my shoulder to spy what Deuce could be doing.
There he was, standing next to the open bedside table drawer, nonchalantly using my "massager" to work the kinks out of the back of his neck. He didn't notice me look, didn't notice me quickly roll onto my stomach so I could laugh into my pillow. He just went about his work, the look on his face bespeaking that he knew exactly what this thing was for, he was using it correctly and this clearly wasn't his first rodeo with it. He did both sides of his neck, down his back as far as he could reach over his shoulder, expertly twisted the end to turn it off, stuck it back in the back of the drawer and slid it shut.
Feel better, Deuce? I know I do.
amused 
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