Wednesday, May 17, 2006

Family Stew

Okay, I'll admit it. Not every day at the York house is an exciting one. Few are even all that dramatic (unless I've forgotten my Prozac). Not that we are comatose or anything, but sometimes, sometimes, God forgets to punk us for the day and we scoot safely by under the radar.

Today was just such a day, and catching myself lamenting over not having any drama to journal, I came up with the novel idea to just enjoy my offspring and their simple little just-like-every-other-kid-but-better-'cause-they're-mine ways of being.

For instance, in all the recent ho-hum surrounding illnesses and mental breakdowns, I've somehow completely missed Ryan's remarkable talent of finding things of mine that I had no idea were even lost. She comes to me this morning after using the potty in my bathroom, and sing-songingly announces, "Mooommmmyyyyy, guess what IIIIII Foooouuunnnndddd????"

Barely able to contain my excitement, I was stopped short when she then said, "Your Oprah magazzziiiiiinnnneeee!?"

You know, the one from last month that I finished reading last month and has thus been sitting in the magazine rack since last month. I didn't even know I was looking for it, so thank God I've got that kid around.

Speaking of potties, in my quest to find something humorous in an ordinary day, I took Ryan to the potty at the YMCA today. baduhmbum. Anyway, I realized she sooo has a public restroom ritual, one that cannot be altered for fear of certain death.

She of course begins by picking the correct stall, which is usually chosen through the fail-safe method of "bend and peek", and typically always ends up with us choosing the large handicap stall.

Our next move is to lock the door, and then unlock it, lock it again, and then double check that it really is locked. Once satisfied, she moves to the toilet's flushing mechanism. Should the toilet be equipped with an automatic flusher, she must- MUST- try out its sensitivity prior to doing her business, a feat performed by moving back and forth, front and back, round and round, with your right hand in and you left hand out, etc, until toilet flushes.

Once the flush check has been performed, we ALWAYS WIPE THE SEAT OFF. (okay, so that one's mine -- you try squatting when you're only 3 1/2' tall). That, or use a potty-protector, which Mommy used to carry around, but then my diaper bag *cough*suitcase*cough* broke, so we've had to do some downsizing.

Then it's all yada yada yada, wipe/check/wipe, and it's done. We shake our butt or raise the foot to flush, whichever the occasion calls for, but we never ever ever ever use our hands. (My apologies to those who do.) Then we struggle with the door lock for a few seconds before doing the whole hand-washing thing, which is really too much to write about now. Check back tomorrow.

Meanwhile, Shawn's suffering empty nest syndrome, distraught over watching Ryan leave for a slumber party at Ninny's wearing a backpack, carrying a suitcase, and holding her purse. He's all, "God, she'll be leaving so soon. She's getting so old."

Easy, Gramps. She's 4. Let's not age her (or us) prematurely. I'm begging. Begging.

And to top the day off, as Shawn was driving Ryan to Ninny's (college), I was left to manage the man-baby, whose hands are so freakishly large, I tried to post a picture of them the other day and the computer kept shutting down. Too much meat.

This one-on-one time led to an interesting (and a little bit frustrating) discovery: The kid is REMARKABLY easy to please. All this time, I've held up my martyr sign, bearing the pain of having a fickle baby, when lo and behold, all it takes to make the kid laugh is a simple nod or shake of the head. Seriously, people, diaper-time usually requires a straight jacket and chains (for him, not me), but tonight I just laughingly shook my head when he tried to squirm away, saying "Nnnooooooo", and he was gone. I'm talking can't hardly breathe, gasping laughter. Confused (and a wee bit scared), I tried the opposite, nodding my head and saying "Yeeeesssss". Knee-slapping humor for the baby-brigade. Who the hell knew -- and why haven't they freakin' said anything before??

So that's it. That's all I got. You can wake up now.

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