Monday Driver

1. Rush hour? Check.
2. Downtown on the 110? Check.
3. Gas tank on empty? Check.
4. Traveling zero miles per hour? Check.
5. Have to pee? Check.
6. Cell phone battery almost dead? Check.
7. Monday, you're such a Monday? Check.

Parenting: The Relay Race

4:15am - Child rises, requests glass of water. Dad takes the baton, gets out of bed, steps on dog, dog shrieks. Dad jumps up, lands on sneaker, slams top of bald head into closet door.  Bleeds. Retrieves water while cursing.

6:10am - Child rises again, requests breakfast snacks and SpongeBob. The baton goes to Mom.

7:20am - Mom makes school lunch of sandwich child will not eat because he no longer likes "that kind of cheese," apple slices that will still be in the lunchbox when it is opened tomorrow morning, and a baggie of popcorn that may or may not be traded for Matteo's baggie of goldfish crackers.

7:45am - Dad walks child to school, dog and baton in tow. Leaves child and baton at school gate. Dad walks back home with dog and plastic bag of dog browns.

7:50am - Baton and child are retrieved by child's teacher, Miss H. Miss H will seamlessly guide child and the rest of the class, from spelling to Rainbow Rug Time, to PE, to social studies, and a timed math test. She does not tire and never once drops the baton while gliding over rough terrain. *Note: Miss H is in her twenties.

2:05pm - Child meets Mom at school pick up and transfers baton. Child downloads the day's events including when Dustin, "acted like an egomaniac during kickball and called foul when it totally wasn't one because he thinks he's so great all the time." Baton feels heavier than it did this morning.

2:25pm - Child and mother return home. Mailman arrives. Dog barks. Child yells for dog to stop barking. Mom yells for child to stop yelling. Dog steals baton and attempts to bury it in backyard.

3:10pm - Before Mom and child leave for the park, sunscreen must be applied. Child screams, "Not in my eyes!" four times. Nervous dog eats underpants left on the floor near the hamper. Spitty baton is retrieved from backyard.

3:20pm - The park is hot and Matteo isn't there yet. Child is aggressively displeased with the extreme boredom he is experiencing. Mom sets down baton briefly and checks email on her iPhone.

4:15pm - Baton is picked up by Matteo's father who plays soccer with the kids. Mom texts Dad to find out his estimated time of arrival from work. Dad agrees to pick up dinner on the way home from Thai place by the freeway offramp.

5:30pm - Mom is twirling the baton, waiting for Dad and pad see ew to arrive. Mom puts a load of whites in, does dishes, and helps with homework including creation of a Jackie Robinson paper bag puppet. Mom reminds child to feed dog.

6:10pm - Dad is home. Dinner is served. Baton is passed.

7:15pm - Dad starts bath for child. Child requests that Dad stay in the bathroom to keep him company. Child recounts math homework that Mom has helped him with. Dad explains why the answers Mom helped him get to are incorrect. Mom wasn't the math major.

8:20pm - Child requests that Dad read to him before bed. Dad reads two chapters of The Wild Soccer Bunch. Mom arrives to say good night. Dad flips the baton to Mom as she says prayers.

9:10pm - Mom checks on child to make sure he is breathing because some things never change. She falls asleep with one hand clutching the baton. Late night water duty his hers tonight.

Smacksy Sunday Links

The fort has a welcome mat.

Leave yourself wanting more. I love this idea.

Fascinating photos of the reindeer people of Mongolia.

And a capybara taking a bath with some ducklings.

Happy Sunday.

Smacksy Saturday Photo: Giant Bubble Wrap

JUMP.

Jose Can You See

On Wednesday, the following costume ideas were sent home for Bob's school project about America taking place on Friday. (In case you had that old Johnny Tremain or Betsy Ross outfit hanging out in the back of your closet.)

We bucked tradition and instead of the powdered wig Ben Franklin garb, we went for the classic:

I mean, it IS red, white, and blue.

God bless America, and everything.

Here We Are Now, Entertain Us

Yesterday, I walked into the well appointed lobby of the assisted living where my friend is staying. Locked in an era long gone by, a dozen folks were gathered around the grand piano while someone played "Has Anybody Seen My Gal." Some were singing along.  Most of the ladies were wearing some version of a pantsuit or elastic waist pants with a decorated t-shirt. The men favored track suits - their current track being a walker-walk from the elevator to the dining room. 

In my mind, I flashed forward thirty or so years to when my peers and I would enjoy a similar living situation. Certainly the musician in our Starbucks and Burning Man themed lobby would be playing "oldies" such as "Smells Like Teen Spirit," and "Head Like a Hole." What would we be wearing? Denim overalls and concert t-shirts? A flannel and orthopedic combat boots? (Great idea, I know. That's my gift to you Doc Martens.) 

Would we bring our own era with us, or is there a set expectation of what elderly looks like? Certainly the assisted living of 2045 will have tenants with tattoos, full sleeve tribal ink sticking out of their dressing gowns. Instead of rolling into the beauty parlor for a blue rinse and a wash and set, will there be a dread specialist at our salon? Will we still be getting blow outs when our hair is white?

What innovations will there be? Maybe we will be riding on Rascals fueled by jet packs. Perhaps our nurses will be pleasant and attentive robots, our vitals checked via arm implanted computer screens. I foresee a future of Saturday nights, sitting in dark rooms watching movies like Breakfast Club and Fast Times at Ridgemont High, sipping our mochachino flavored Ensures. 

I'm five short years away from the prime-time to buy into extended care insurance. I'm not planning on making the move anytime soon, but when I do I'll expect to crowd surf my way into the building. 

The Most

"Mom? What do you think is the most important thing in the world?"

"To me? Bob Rosenberg."

"No, not a person, a thing."

"Oh, okay. Kindness."

"No, I mean an actual thing that's important for life."

"Water?"

"I think it's trees because, you know, oxygen and everything."