LOST in Suburban Bliss

Unmentionables

The girls and I went to the movies the other day, an activity that we all love. The girls love it for whatever silly movie that is playing and the Chewy SweetTarts they talk me into, and I love it for 2 hours of no talking/whining. It's a win-win. 

Anyhow, we had just settled in (meaning, got that little booster seat for Chuckles, opened the water bottles, ripped open the SweetTarts without spilling them, took off sweatshirts, fixed the booster seat again, checked the napkin stash, asked for the 3rd time if anyone had to go potty) when the previews started. This preview happened to be for that new Disney movie G-Force starring guinea pigs (because movies about chipmunks just aren't enough). As the highlights were flashing across the screen, one of the guinea pigs yelled out something about tightie-whities. Chuckles started laughing hysterically. 

Chucks, what's so funny? I asked. 

He said tightie-whities!

Now, there are no boys in our house besides Hubs, and I cannot tell you what kind of underwear he wears, because sometimes during a lull at work he reads my blog and he would kill me if I discussed his unmentionables, but I am pretty sure Chuckles has never seen tightie-whities, or if she has, shouldn't know the urban vernacular for them. (Mark that down for the longest blog sentence you will read today.)

Um, do you know what tightie-whities are, Chuckles?

Yeah, Mom. It's a DIAPER!!!!!

At this she started chuckling again. Hard. Loud. 

She's right. Because when you think about it, tightie-whities DO look like a diaper. A big, glorified diaper. 

Lessons at the Movies

A couple of weeks ago I wrote about Poonch begging me  to take her to see the movie "Marley and Me." After seeing the movie myself (and sniveling like a sap even though I had read the book years ago and knew what was going to happen), I told her that the movie had a really sad ending and that I wasn't sure if she would like it. I asked her to finish the chapter book version of the original book (written for 8-12 year-olds) before I would take her to the movie. Amazingly, she agreed. (She never agrees with me.) 

SPOILER ALERT: If you haven't seen the movie, stop reading. If you have keep going, unless this is becoming really boring. It gets better, I promise.  

Poonch is a mystery to me, complex beyond belief. However, she is like most 7-year-olds in that she wouldn't have any problem giving her little sister away, but god forbid anything happen to her dog. Our Hound is the love of her life, even though she refuses to pick up any dog poop and usually forgets to feed him unless reminded by me. Anyhow, I figured she would be upset to hear that Marley dies (I mean, hello, I was bawling!), so before she got to that part in the book, I told her. I didn't want her to get to that part by herself. Once I broke the news to her, she took it in stride. She only listens to me half the time, so I wasn't sure if she even heard me. "Come to me once you get to that part," I said. "Sure, OK," she replied, running off to play Barbies with Chuckles. 

For those of you who don't know her, Poonch can read and read and read. She has been known to read several chapter books in one day. She read The Tale of Despereaux in one afternoon. Which is why I noticed that once she had progressed to about halfway of Marley and Me, she pretty much came to a standstill. Poonch always has a book with her, and soon Marley and Me was never around. I knew this was serious considering how bad she wanted to see the movie. I finally asked her about it, and she told me that she just didn't want to read about the dog dying. I told her I understood, and that maybe we would wait to see the movie. She agreed. 

Fast forward to a new dog movie: "Hotel for Dogs." A movie that I was DREADING to see. I hadn't read the book, so I just thought that it was another dumb movie like those Beethoven flicks. Wrong. That thing was a tear-jerker. Without giving too much away, the main characters are an orphaned sister and brother taking care of a bunch of stray dogs. At one point in the movie, it seems as if the brother and sister may be separated and sent to different foster homes. The sister apologizes for failing to keep them together, the only thing she wanted to succeed at but failed. I must admit, my eyes were watering (or was that a popcorn kernel stuck in my eye?) but I heard a sniffle other than my own and looked over to see Poonch crying. 

Not because a dog had died. Not because they would be separated from the dogs. But because the siblings would be separated. 

Later I asked Poonch about it and she said that it made her sad, because although Chuckles drives her crazy, there are times that she really does kind of like her. 

Heart swells here. I guess something is sinking in after all. 

Hallelujah! My kid likes my other kid! 

Marley and Poonch?

Last night I saw the movie "Marley and Me." I had read the book a couple years ago, before we even had adopted the Hound. I bawled my eyes out at the end. I couldn't believe myself. I cursed at myself for turning into my mother (who cries at Kleenex commercials). Even if you are not a dog person, I guarantee you will cry at the end of this book, too. 

Anyhow, I figured I would be OK at the movie because I knew what was coming. Wrong. I bawled my eyes out again. I surreptitiously used my scarf to wipe the tears away, but I don't think I fooled anyone. The only thing that made me feel better about it was that everyone in the theater was bawling their eyes out. Damn dogs. 

Here is my dilemma. Poonch, aka world's biggest dog lover, is currently reading the chapter book version of the story. She loves it and thinks it is funny, and unfortunately, many of Marley's antics remind her of the Hound. (Not a good thing.) She really, really wants to see the movie, and I told her that if she finished the book, I would take her and Chuckles to see it. (I made this promise before I saw the movie.)

Wrong. I cannot take Chuckles because 1) although it is a family movie, the couple in the movie work pretty hard at making a family and 2) there is no way I want to explain both sex and the death of a dog to a 4-year-old. Not yet. 

Back to Poonch. Do I take her? My girlfriend who saw the movie with me doesn't think I should. You know she'll cry, she said. Friend, everyone in the theater was crying. What's so wrong about that? I argued. I admit, I'm probably the world's worst mom (see ALL previous posts), but I sort of want Poonch to see it. I want her to see that life is precious but most important, it is not finite. There is an end. I feel like if she can appreciate that, then maybe she will appreciate each day even more. 

I haven't decided. Let me know your opinion, even though I'm gonna make my own decision anyhow. Just not today...

Family Movie Night

Ahhh, once in a while during a weak moment I will reminisce of Friday nights back then...

Back before kiddos or even a needy dog, Hubby and I would finish the work week at 5 PM sharp. Since we worked at the same ad agency, we would meet each other at the front of the building at 5:05. We would be at happy hour at approximately 5:10, usually at our favorite pub two doors down. From there we would head to a restaurant, and after that, who knows...a movie, meeting friends at another bar, a show, or just a walk through the city.

I think what I loved most about those Fridays was not only what we actually did on that night, but the knowledge that two whole days were spread out before us, with no responsibilities, just knowing that we would be together, hanging out. 

Oh, how those days are gone. Sigh. 

Once Poonch was born, Friday nights were just like any other night, a night of diapers, bottles, rocking, shushing, and maybe even walking the hall if she was particularly cranky. For the first time, we actually knew what was on TV on Friday nights.

Yet, now those days are gone as well. 

All of a sudden, Friday nights have become a big deal again. Friday night is our family movie night, a ritual that started innocently enough a while ago, when the weather was yucky and we were bored. Realizing that Chuckles was old enough to watch a family movie that didn't involve animation, we threw Cheaper by the Dozen 2 into the DVD player. We figured the girls would relate to the lake and cabin experience since we are lucky enough to take part in that life in the summers. Anyhow, we ordered pizza, watched the movie, and laughed all night. 

(The girls especially liked the part when the Baker kids soaked their sister's boyfriend's underwear in ground beef so that the family dog would attack him. They called it meatpants. Actually, this might have been in the first Cheaper by the Dozen, I get easily confused by this kind of stuff, but both movies had some similar moronic scene that make the girls crack up no matter how many times they see it. This is where I can really see their dad in them. But I digress.)

The night was a success, and since then Fridays have become something that the girls look forward to all week. I'm not kidding when I tell you that they start talking about it on Monday morning at breakfast. And it's not like they don't have a social life to keep them busy during the week. But there is something about these movie nights that they love. Maybe it's the fact that we let them eat pizza in the family room. Or maybe it's the fact that we have dessert. Or maybe it's the fact that they get to watch movies on the big TV. Or maybe it's just the fact of all four of us merely being together, with the joy of knowing two whole days are spread out before us, two whole days of no work for Daddy, no school for them, and who knows what fun stuff just waiting to happen. 

It doesn't matter. But I do know that I have come to enjoy these night just as much as they do.  And strangely, I haven't been missing those other Friday nights anymore.