Walking at last…walking at last…THANK GOD ALMIGHTY, she’s walking at last!
Walking at last…walking at last…THANK GOD ALMIGHTY, she’s walking at last!
Here is what I’ll be using to record my precious memories.
During the storm, I spent many days towing the kids around on their sled. On one of those days, my camera slid out of my coat pocket and disappeared beneath the snow.
As the days passed, the snow began to melt, and I traversed the property with a shovel looking for it. I dug every path I could have possibly walked, but still, no camera. Finally, I sent Doug on a mission to buy me a new one. This is what he came back with.
“What the hell?” I demanded. “I ask for Sony, and you come back with Fisher-Price?”
“Look, it was made just for you!” he said excitedly. “It’s ‘kid tough.’ It’s ‘built to survive drop, after drop, after drop.’ It’s got a swiveling lens, big buttons and child-friendly controls. Best of all, it’s waterproof!”
“It plays ‘Row, Row, Row Your Boat’ every time I take a picture,” I protested.
But even as I spoke, I knew I had no right to be indignant. This summer, I left my Sony, with a memory card filled with three hundred pictures, out in the rain. A month later, the same fate befell our video camera, which contained footage of the birth of Anna and Eva’s first tottering steps.
To add insult to injury, while shopping for cameras, Doug bought the Sony for himself. When the representative in the photo department at Walmart offered him a service plan, he responded, “No…but can I have a service plan on my wife?”
A friend of ours came over last week and took his dog out to our backyard. Within the first two minutes, he looked down and asked, “Did you lose something?” There was my camera, glistening and facedown in a frozen snowdrift. After a quick recharging of the battery…it worked!
The first shot I took? Tyler and Eva’s new camera, soon to be wrapped up for Christmas. But first, the batteries are dead, and there’s one little glitch. I can’t figure out how to open it.
The voices in my head get into fistfights.
Come November 1, unopened bags of Halloween candy have a way of taunting you until you open them. For many days, a debate raged in my head.
Will you look at that? An entire bag of Reese’s peanut butter cups, all going to waste. Might as well open it.
They are my favorite…but no, I shouldn’t.
C’mon, go for it. You just pulled through a week and half of hell. You wore your underwear inside out, for God’s sake. You deserve this.
True…but while we’re on the subject of my underwear, I’d rather they stay the same size till the end of the holidays.
Now, now. One little peanut butter cup isn’t going to hurt you.
Don’t be so sure. Knowing me, one will turn into two, and before you know it, I’m condemned to devour the entire 2 lb. 8.93-bag. Better take it back to the store. I think I might still have the receipt…
Put down that receipt, you uptight little priss! For once, why don’t you try living a little? Do something spontaneous. Live on the edge. Splurge, before you end up a terminal old woman wallowing in her deathbed, with nothing but a collection of unburned decorative candles and a head full of unfulfilled dreams. Live, woman, live, or prepare for a lifetime of regret!
NO! STOP IT! I WON’T DO IT! I WON’T!
YOU WILL!
I WON’T!
YOU WILL!
And with that, I stuffed that bag of peanut butter cups away and out of my sight, on the top, dusty shelf of our pantry and slammed the door shut.
Victory! I resisted. I prevailed!
So proud was I of my impenetrable fortress of will power that I tore that bag open for a congratulatory peanut butter cup.
Twenty-four hours later, there is nothing left but a sugar high, an empty bag and 2 pounds, 8.93 ounces of shame.
The top 10 things I’ve learned about living with children for eleven days with no power, TV, cable or Internet:
#10: They will sit in front of a black TV screen and stare at for as long as you let them.
#9: While sitting in a candlelit room they will continually repeat, “Will you turn the lights on? I can’t see!” Each time they will expect a different answer.
#8: They will assume every nonfunctioning appliance in the house needs a new battery. They will take a screwdriver to the refrigerator, TV and dishwasher.
#7: They will accept the power outage as an excuse for everything. “No, we can’t go out and make a snowman. The power’s off.”
#6: They take out their frustrations on whatever game board you put in front of them. Best to let them climb up the chutes. Do not—repeat—do NOT make them skip a turn when they land on the Licorice Man.
#5: When you dust off the radio and plug it in, they will stare at it like it’s a color TV in 1950.
#4: When outdoor play becomes inevitable, the urge to pee will come only after the snow pants, boots, coat, hat and mittens are secure.
#3: They refuse to understand or accept why you can’t pull them up a hill as fast as they can go down.
#2: They believe a new era will begin once the power goes back on. “When we have power, will I be in the first grade?”
#1: What YOU hear coming out of your mouth: “It doesn’t matter if you have the blue or green goddamn cup! Just be glad there’s water in it! There’s people in this state who wish they had that much!” What THEY hear coming out of your mouth: “I’m sorry, I can’t seem to locate your green Diego cup with the built-in curly straw, but I’ll continue to look for it!”