Post-Rapture Blog

Dear People,

Don't blame me.  I have to say that right off the bat.  I log on every day and see that same stinking story about my phone conversation, which (a) is a total invasion of privacy and (b) is funny but not three months' worth of funny.  And then every night I come home and say, "Mom.  Blog."  And she doesn't.  Now granted we didn't have a functioning computer until two weeks ago.  Yeah, but she brings that dumb laptop home from work every weekend.  So she can play Sudoku but she can't blog.  I see how it is.

Then I heard about Rapture.  I pulled up the calendar on Mom's blackberry because I know how to do that now and discovered May 21 was around the frigging corner.  "Mom," I said.  "Mom, are we going to be Raptured?"  "It's a bunch of hooey," she replied.  "Yeah but that guy says there's gonna be earthquakes and stuff," I reminded her.  "Cutie, I really think you're overreacting because . . . ."  I didn't hear the rest because I was on my way to Kroger's to stockpile canned goods.

So Rapture was fast approaching and I'd fortified the house and stuffed our money in my mattress, but Friday came and Mom had done nothing.  Enough's enough, I figured.  That phone story is not going to be my legacy.  And we have a computer now.  As soon as she picked me up from school, I told her to get serious and write a blog because we might be Raptured or Not Raptured (not actually sure which one we're supposed to be) and then nobody would ever know what happened after I hung up on Grandpa and Sivi.  Like I've turned 3 since then.  This is ridiculous.  So I put her in the computer room (which used to be full of boxes but she moved the boxes somewhere else) and told her to get to it.  But then she started playing that damn Sudoku again and listening to some music that was not Sarah McLachlan so I insisted she turn it off.

Well, May 21 6pm of all time zones came and went and we're still here.  And the blog is still not updated.  So I sent her away and here I am.

The problem is I can't actually remember everything I've done in three months.  Yeah, Mom, ever think about that?  Ever think that I might be starting my childhood amnesia right now?  Isn't that the point of this blog -- because WE'LL FORGET IF WE DON'T WRITE IT DOWN?  Nice.

But don't worry.  I overrode the parental controls and hacked into her Facebook account.  Turns out she writes a LOT about me, and let me just tell you it's not always flattering.  Like in fact it's usually very unflattering.  That's okay.  I may be starting my childhood amnesia now but Grandpa tells me I'm Sicilian where it counts and revenge is a dish best served cold.  I don't like hot food so I'm all about coldness anyway but I don't know what revenge tastes like and I'm a little hesitant if it's anything like hamburger because I don't like that.

So here is some of the stuff from Facebook for the last three months (yes, Mom, THREE MONTHS) to tide you over while I put together a proper post.  Some of them are unfair so I'm putting in my response.

First here are some videos.  Here I am visiting Nancy's brand new puppies and then again like 6 weeks later.  Puppies are cool and I love it when they poop.





Here are my friends singing me Happy Birthday at school and at my party.





This is me and Grandpa building a couch.  I really built two but evidently the first one wasn't worthy of filming.  I was in charge of wingnuts.  Also the legs.



I work much better with my hat.





Oh also I learned how to ride a bike.



Okay, here's the Facebook stuff as a decent chronicle of the last three months of my three tender years.

• "Feb. 24.  59 Diner bussed our table by mistake while we were in the can [nice, Mom], so we each ended up having 2 dinners, of which Andrew ate 1.75."  And your point?
• "Feb. 26.  Andrew now prefaces most of his statements with 'You know what?' so I wish he'd wake up just so I can hear that some more."  Glad she's listening because a lot of times I think she's not.
• "Mar. 1.  Counting the seconds until bedtime."  Oh yeah, and I wasn't?  Bedtime is when you finally go into your own bedroom and give me some peace and quiet.
• "Mar. 2.  Our lives have been so hectic because of speech therapy and the resulting need for me to work more.  Andrew and I need some R&R and some FUN.  So we will be sleeping in and going out for breakfast before heading to school and work tomorrow.  BRING IT."  Dude, that was an awesome day.  I've told her I'm perfectly willing to stop going to school to make life easier but so far no sale.
• "Mar. 3.  R&R with the kid this morning, a few hours of work, retail therapy in the afternoon, and a damn easy evening.  AND I came in just shy of the 72 hour mark for finally bathing Andrew.  Umpire calls that SAFE."  72 hours?  Like 3 days?  Is that why nobody will sit next to me in circle?
• "Mar. 8.  Andrew (to himself, loudly): 'I don't like to say /o-pen/.  I like to say /o-nen/.'  But given that the goal is for him to be ABLE to say /o-pen/ instead of /o-nen/, I'd say we're on the right track."  Yeah, sometimes I do it just to screw with her.
• "Mar. 14.  Andrew's awake a numerical hour earlier than usual, which is two actual hours.  I believe he got the wrong memo about spring forward."  I got the memo.  I disagreed.  I was exercising civil disobedience.
• "Mar. 14.  Andrew's belting out 'Cecilia' at the top of his lungs and getting most of the words right.  It may be the most awesome thing I've ever heard."  I wasn't aware I had an audience.  I shall sing into my pillow from now on.
• "Mar. 17.  TV: Toy Story 2.  Me: choking and coughing.  Andrew: 'You're too loud.'"  You were.
• "Mar. 18.  Andrew: 'Mom.  Turn on the movie.  This is your last chance.'"  It was.
• "Mar. 24.  Who votes the kid skip a bath for the second night in a row in the interest of mom's sanity and extra playtime in this gorgeous spring weather?"  ME!!!!! Baths are for the weak.
• "Mar. 27.  Why why why must Andrew test the same limits every frigging night?  He's smart and the answer doesn't change.  You'd think he'd wise up."  All the magazines say you're supposed to be consistent so your parents will learn and that will make them feel loved and safe.  I think it's horseshit but who am I to judge?
• "Mar. 28.  Enjoying some QT with my cutie at the mall."  The mall rocks.  We should move our beds there.
• "Mar. 29.  Watched 41 minutes of E.T. with Andrew.  He asked a question every 5-7 seconds.  Seriously.  Usually the same question."  Oh, okay, so I'm supposed to have learned about extraterrestriality from Toddler 2.  Get a life.
• "Mar. 30.  What's the most effective bribe for Andrew?  Not cookies, not candy, not toys, but an opportunity to pee in the dirt."  You're welcome.
• "Apr. 4.  I wish my eating dinner at 10pm was because I was European and/or fancy, but alas it is due solely to the kid.  P.S. If a kid falls onto the tile head first and then asks for Motrin, do we think he's okay?"  Oh. My. God.  Please tell me you at least called Grandpa.
• "Apr. 5.  Apparently I've begun a fitness program called running to keep up with Andrew on his bike.  Damnit."  Again, you're welcome.
• "Apr. 5.  Raise your hand if your kid is driving you bat shit crazy."  In my defense, you were probably driving me crazy too.
• "Apr. 6.  Ask me how happy this makes me: 'Andrew's words are becoming clearer.  He enjoys raising his hands to answer questions and he has been willing to repeat a phrase or sound if we ask him to without becoming embarrassed.'  Thank you thank you thank you, Holly Cottrell Murphy!"  Yeah, Ms. Holly does rock my socks off.
  
• "Apr. 7.  Never a good thing when your kid is bathed and his teeth are brushed and he's wearing clean clothes and he's still emitting some kind of aroma."  Maybe it was you.
• "Apr. 8.  Andrew: 'Mom.  Stop.  Freeze your body.'"  Well, what was I supposed to do?  Body slam you to get you to stop?  You're always telling me to use my words.
• "Apr. 14.  Yesterday the kids got to paint whatever they wanted.  The teachers wrote down what each kid said it was.  One was circles.  One was Star Wars.  One was a caterpillar.  What brought tears to my eyes?  Andrew's was Mom."  See, I do love you even though I jump on your head and try to put you in time out.
• "Apr. 15.  I gave Andrew his birthday present a few minutes ago: an awesome little digital camera just for kids.  Now I have 40 shots of my carpet, so I'm all set."  Eye of the beholder, Mom.  Eye of the beholder.
• "Apr. 21.  Yelling and yelling at Andrew.  I reached my limit.  Feel bad but can't stop."  You know I know you love me, right?  It's like we always say: "Even when I'm mad, I still love you."
• "Apr. 23.  Andrew's kicking the door like Jack Bauer."  I was just seeing if we got our money's worth on this place.
• "Apr. 26.  Not that it's necessary, but Andrew rationalizes peeing in the dirt: 'I'm giving the roots a drink.'"  You seem to want a reason so I give you a reason.  Give me a break.
• "Apr. 26.  'Andrew, brush your teeth.'  Stall, stall, stall.  'Andrew, brush.' 'I'm almost brushing.  First I have to do an email.'"  Texting would have been faster but you had hidden your phone again.
• "Apr. 27.  I know I sound like a broken record, but I really wish Andrew would go to sleep in a single digit hour.  11:00 and no end in sight."  See above re consistency.  Also, sorry.  This is me.
• "Apr. 29.  What is guaranteed to kill your [royal] wedding mood?  Your 3 year old deciding to pee on your floor because he got tired of your toilet."  Pretty sure that wasn't me.  Well, actually, I plead the fifth.
• "May 1.  Three year olds believe their vote counts as much as or more than their parent's.  Never have to worry about them being disenfranchised."  We shall not be kept down by The Man or The Mom any longer.
• "May 2.  Andrew's threat to me after I turned off the TV (because he body slammed me after I told him not to) and wouldn't give him the remote: 'Mom, if you don't give it to me right now, I'm going to take your undies off and your shirt off and you'll have to go right to bed NAKED."  Try me.
• "May 4.  My skills now include assembling a kid's basketball hoop thing.  Andrew was my cheerleader.  'There you go, Mom!  You did it!'  30 minutes.  He then threw the ball twice, missed, and declared, 'It's not working.  Let's go watch movies.'"  Go TeamDavidow!
• "May 5.  Andrew: 'I did a good job pointing the remote.  I pointed it at the TV and the TV turned off.  When I was a baby, I pointed it at the wall and the wall turned off.'"  It did!
• "May 7.  I'll be happy when the sleeping part of this growth spurt comes.  The boy has been eating for 45 minutes."  This is bad?
• "May 9.  How do you spell ballsy?  When told that he would need to clean up his toys before going to bed, and then when told again because he was ignoring me:  'Mom.  Worry about yourself.  Don't worry about my toys.'"  Balls?  What?  I was playing with my trains.
• "May 13.  I dropped Andrew and Alison off at the mall and am now going to pick them up with a big, dumb grin on my face because I'm thinking about dropping Andrew off at the mall with his cronies in 10 years."  You better not embarrass me.
• "May 17.  Andrew peed on his bed.  Gave him dry pants and showed him how to sleep on the other side.  We call that SMC Style."  Go TeamDavidow again!
• "May 19.  Phone: [ring].  Me: [pauses the DVR] Gotta get the phone!  Andrew: [unpauses the DVR]  You can talk on the phone with the TV on."  Well, you can!

Okay so that's all my stuff.  I will be monitoring this blog thing and will step in again if need be.  In the meantime, if you want to reach me, please do not go through my mother.  Email me at andrewconnordavidow at gmail dot com.