May Moving Mayhem

21 05 2008

No time to write a proper post. No time to collect thoughts and string together words in coherent fashion. No time to go into a detailed chronicle of all the things I don’t have time for. The Big Move will officially be in motion this time next week, and despite the dozens of boxes we’ve crammed full of belongings, it seems like the ol’ Blisterdome is messier, more cluttered, more disorganized than ever. And it has certainly been an eventful few days. There have been many little happenings that I could have easily parlayed into a post. If only I could learn to write in my sleep. Add that to list of things to do. So, here’s a highlight reel, Domestic Blister Style:

Friday, Last Week: Took Neener to optometrist. Unsurprised to learn that she needs glasses. With the enthusiastic aid of two well-coifed, doting, middle aged women who, much to her pleasure, call her Young Lady, Neener selects her own specs: Chunky purple cat’s eye Nine Wests. The well-coifed women proclaim them adorable. Neener proclaims them ‘Her New Glasses.’ I proclaim them ex-pen-sive. But, like a good doormat, I shut my trap and pay the bill, only slightly jealous that my five year old now has nicer, more fashionable, more expensive glasses than I do. Or at least she will on Friday this week when we go pick them up.

Leaving without Her New Glasses proved a struggle for Neener. The walk down the street was accompanied by periodic wails of “I can’t see! I’m blind! I neeeeeeeeed my new glasses now!”

I encourage acting calm, like the Young Lady that she is.

“Yes, I am a young Lady.” she agrees. “And what’s the other thing young Ladies need?”

 I’m stumped. “Lunch?” 

“No. A purse. Let’s go get me a nice purse so I can be a real Young Lady.”

She settles for lunch at a hip Mediterranean Bistro. Young Lady likes her chicken nuggets and fries.

Saturday: In the pack and purge process, we open the Emergency Trunk we stocked in the wake of the Original 9-11. Have a good laugh at what we figured we’d need. A flask of rum. Birth control pills. Deodorant. Apparently we anticipated some post- apocalyptic date nights. Also find monogramed gas masks, coffee whitener and several jars of applesauce. Learn that jarred applesauce turns green after 7 years.

Sunday, 4 a.m.: Baby Squiggles and I wake up simultaneously. From between her crib bars, she looks me squarely in the eyes and says, clear as day, “Bub bub bub, ma ma ma.” Ma ma gets up and gives her a bub bub. Not sure if this means Squiggles is starting to speak human, or if I’m starting to understand baby. Either way, I am too tired to be sufficiently impressed or alarmed. 

Monday: Me and my BFF (a.k.a Second Wife) take Neener and Roo to Kids Festival thingy downtown. We proceed to wait in various lines. After 40 minutes, Neener and Roo finally get their balloon hats. we decide to forgo waiting in line at the food tent only to have to eat outside in the cold, wind and drizzle, and opt for a more civilized sit-down ladies’ lunch at a nice restaurant. Kids enjoy chicken nuggets and fries, Second Wife and I enjoy half litre of over-priced wine. The afternoon pleasentry comes to abrupt end when Roo tumbles backwards in her chair, smacking her head so hard on the concrete floor that she can’t stand and asks repeatedly where she is. I panic. Second wife stays calm, which is why she is Second Wife. I take Roo to a nearby ER, Second Wife calls the Mr, and takes Neener home. Mr meets me at the ER with Roo’s health card, and upon seeing him, she can magically walk and talk just fine. We look around at the throng of people, and listen to the loud complaints of a large, stinky family who’d been waiting for 2 hours. We talk to the nurse and decide to go home, where Second wife waits with Neener and Squiggles.

Working carefully around the massive bump on her head, I put Roo’s hair in rag ringlettes. Working less carefully around the bird’s nest tangles on her head, I put Neener’s hair in rag ringlettes, and we see the children off to bed. Mr. Blister, Second Wife and I enjoy a few drinks and a plate of nachos. I officially propose to BFF/Second Wife, in the hopes that she will move with us. She declines. I smile on the outside but cry on the inside as I knock back another vodka n’ soda.

Tuesday: Neener and Roo head off to school with a bevy of lovely curls in their hair. Roo proclaimes that she is now “A Real Girl With Curly Yellow Hair!” I don’t have the heart to tell her that her hair is brown. I worry that I may be forced to put their hair in rag ringlettes every night from now on. I wonder if perms are ok for five year olds?

  Roo and I go to Little India for shopping and lunch. I buy the first decor item for our soon-to-be new home: An awesome handmade wall hanging. We learn that paying with cash means paying no tax. We window shop a little, then go to a vegetarian Indian restaurant and gorge ourselves on chana masala, samosas, uthapam and mango lassi. When we arrive home, Roo proclaims our afternoon Beautiful! and informs me that I must learn to make mango lassi. Add finding mango lassi recipe to my to do list.

Wednesday: Mr. Blister informs me that Squiggle’s first word when she woke up this morning was ‘yoga.’ I tell him it is a sign: Either stop drinking beer for breakfast, or start doing yoga. 

Yes, life trudges along in spite of the chaos. The next week is bound to be even more hectic, and I’m sure I’ll have more stories to tell. Just not sure if I’ll get many chances to tell them here in a timely manner. But it is on my to do list. Ahhh, there are so many loose ends to tie up! Did I get the job? Is Squiggles really starting to talk? How does Neener like wearing her glasses? Did Roo talk me into perming her hair and dying it blond so she could be a real girl? Is Mr. Blister going to take up yoga? Stay tuned to find out.

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2 responses

21 05 2008
Jody

The mere thought of Mr. Blister doing yoga in the mornings with a full glass of beer brings a smile to my face!!

25 05 2008
lastcrazyhorn

Hey, I just got new glasses too!!!

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