A Mother's job is never done

Mother's Day began at 6:30 am with the geyser-like sound of Rhys retching in the living room, followed by S. gently prodding him into the bathroom.

The best thing about this Mother's Day? I didn't have to clean up the puke. The worst thing? My baby boy was sick, and we couldn't spend the day together as a family.The door prize? Celeste and I spent the day together at the mall. We shopped, sprayed each other with perfume, and had cocktails (kiddie for her; margarita for me) and pie at the Cheesecake Factory.

What did I learn today? One kid is SO INCREDIBLY EASY! Easy, easy, easy. From now on, when parents of singletons say to me, "You're so lucky you have twins. They'll play together, and it will be hardly be any work at all," I'm going to tell them they're full of shit. It's true that two kids often play together, but it is loud and iterspersed with fighting, finger pointing and pleas for help. It is hardly relaxing. And when the kids aren't loud, watch out. They are doing something very bad, like painting the bathtub or the cat or themselves. But, one kid, he just plays by himself. Quietly. For hours. It must be awesome.

Innocence is not lost

Call this morning with the Chicago Police Department


Cop: When did you lose your wallet?

Me: About 2 weeks ago.

Cop: And why did you wait until now to report it?

Me: I thought someone might return it.

Cop: Well, now. Aren't you the sweetest thing?


Why thank you, officer!

11 years

To celebrate our 11th anniversary, we had dinner and drinks at Mercat a la Planxa, strolled down Michigan Ave and spent the night at the historic Blackstone Hotel.

 

What was the best part of the evening? We were in bed at 10pm and woke up at 8am. 10 glorious hours of uninterrupted sleep. The last time that happened was WAY before the kids were born...almost 4 years ago.

 

The second best thing? The psychedelic anniversary cake that was waiting for us when we get home. Made by 3 year-old bakers Rhys and Celeste... with assistance from 20+++ year-old Michelle. Thank you! 

 

It's true. Absence (and cake) does make the heart grow fonder.

 

 

Princess stories

Celeste asked me to tell her a princess story the other night. I usually leave the prince and unicorn stories to S, but he was out of town. Then I remembered a documentary I had recently seen about Grace Kelly and Price Rainier III of Monaco, so I told her their tale.

Prince Rainier of Monaco needed a wife and heir to the throne of Monaco, or the principality would be returned to France and no one wanted that, except maybe the French, but especially the Monegasque (real word) people. So, he began to search far and wide for a suitable wife.

Shortly after beginning his search, he met the American film actress Grace Kelly in Cannes, which is in France. She appeared to be the perfect candidate because she was beautiful and Catholic and glamorous. You see, Monaco had fallen on hard times. The economy had tanked and the rich and famous had abandoned it for the trendier French Riviera. Prince Rainier hoped Grace would bring glamour back to Monaco.

It turned out that Grace was completely smitten with Prince Rainier, too. Mainly because he was a prince and you can't marry much higher than that. And, she was daddy's girl who could never quite please her father.

The two had a short engagement, and then Grace boarded a ship with 80 close friends and family headed to Monaco. An elaborate wedding with over 600 guests soon followed.

I didn't tell Celeste that Grace, at only 25, had to give up her career forever and always. Or, that only 3 months into the marriage, Prince Rainier was unfaithful and continued to have affairs throughout their entire 25 -year marriage. Nor did I talk about the couple's crazy-ass kids; their problems with drugs and partying and affairs. The fact that one daughter had a kid out of wedlock with her bodyguard and later dated both an elephant trainer a Portuguese acrobat. And, of course I failed to mention that Grace died after the car she was driving careened off the side of a cliff.

That is probably why most princess stories end with, "and they lived happily ever after", which is how I ended this one as well.

When I finished, Celeste asked for another princess story. I thought about Princess Di, but instead told her I didn't know any more. So, she asked for a "princess and queen" story. She's tenacious. I'll give her that.

Can we move on to Harriet the Spy, please?

Frogman

 

I feel like this photo should be in a New Yorker cartoon caption contest. What is this about?

 

I have no explanation, and I was there.

 

Real estate

Celeste has decided that we should buy these 3 houses across from her school.

According to her: she, Rhys, her nanny Emily, Emily's cat and our cat Roscoe would live in the middle house, while S. and I would each have our very own house on the end.

I told her I thought this would be a stupendous plan, if I had $3 million bucks.

She told me to take her to the bank, so she could get me some money.

Why didn't she tell me this before? I thought she only stashed lollypops there.

Pornstar

I'm not really sure what to make of this. We were stopped behind this car at least 3 times while driving along Foster Avenue. The driver appeared to be so small she was nearly invisible. A grandmother, I assumed. 

Then, my eyes wandered down to the license plate where in bold, black font I read "Retired Pornstar".

For some reason, it saddened me to see a retired pornstar (real or not) driving an old Ford wagon.  I guess I expected a Cadillac or a Mustang or some other brand that indicated a modicrum of success.