Archive for October, 2007

A Figment Of Our Imagination

posted by Momo Fali on October 30, 2007

I have mentioned before that our dog is getting old. But, it’s becoming all too clear that she’s completely neurotic as well. Once upon a time, the only things that gave her dread were normal dog-phobias. Things like the vacuum cleaner and garbage trucks. But, her bravery is diminishing with each passing day.

Lately we’ve noticed that she is losing her spunk, because her newest fear is going for a walk. The thing we used to have to spell out…W-A-L-K, because she would attack you with kisses if you said the real thing. For awhile, we even had to spell it backward. But not anymore. Her mania has taken over. It’s not just trash trucks or city buses anymore. If she sees anything bigger than a sedan, her tail goes down and her ears flop over. She begins to shake, and darts around on the end of her leash looking for somewhere…anywhere…to escape the four-wheeled monster.

So, now we have a battle before we can even get her outside in the morning. She knows when my husband grabs her collar off the door that it’s time to go spineless and find a good place to hide.

The other day he found her holed-up under our son’s bed. When he got down on the floor and said her name, she turned her head and faced the other way as if to say, “You can not see me! I am invisible! Go away with your leash and find someone else to torture.” My dog…the only one on the block who wishes she she could really be a ghost for Halloween.

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Then My Heart Bursts All Over The Entree

posted by Momo Fali on October 29, 2007

Every night at dinner, I ask my kids to tell me what was the best thing about their day, and what was the worst thing.

My daughter often tells me that the worst part was not having a pop quiz. Which is followed by me thinking to myself, “Please, please, please, let her continue to be a freak of nature and LOVE school so much that the most horrible thing she can think of is that she wasn’t challenged enough.” The best part of her day is usually that she did something cool in science class, or that she and her best friend have come up with yet another secret handshake.

My son starts with the worst part of his day, and it always varies. It can be that a friend didn’t share the bike at school, or that he was sad when his sister got hurt at soccer practice, or that he was punished for not listening.

Then I ask him, “What was the BEST part of your day?”

And, without fail, every single night, he will look around the room at all of us, point at the dinner table and say, “This”.

Why I Hate Fall

posted by Momo Fali on October 26, 2007
This is a picture of my driveway.
We walk through all these tiny leaves to get to the back door.

This is a picture of outside my back door.
All of these leaves do not end up in lawn bags,
they end up getting tracked into my house.

This is my yard, covered with a zillion leaves which need to be raked and bagged.

And, this is what is still to come.

Getting Bounced From The Bunk Bed

posted by Momo Fali on October 25, 2007

For almost six months, when my daughter was a baby, she slept in our bed. This wasn’t me being a nurturing mother. This wasn’t co-sleeping. This was an eighteen-pound baby lying on my chest because she wouldn’t sleep in her crib. Out of desperation, her father and I brought her into our room, and within a week, she had managed to slither on top of me and nuzzle her face in my neck. We slept like that every night, until she got so big that her sweaty body felt like a Toyota on my chest.

She still frequently climbs into our bed. Bad dreams, noises, upset tummy and trips to the potty end with a visit to our room. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wondered why things are suddenly a lot more crowded, and I have a lot less blanket.

But, my five year old son…well, he’s an entirely different story. He has NEVER slept in our bed. Well, maybe once, because he was sick and we forced him to. Not only that, he won’t get out of his bed unless we physically go into his room and tell him to get up. Not even on weekend mornings, when we would delight in having him watch cartoons with his sister while we sleep in.

The other night, when he went to bed with an upset stomach, then woke at 4:00 AM moaning and whining, I ran to his room and climbed in bed with him. It only took a minute to realize that his twin bed and my pinched nerve were no match, and since he wasn’t feeling well I thought he should come sleep with us. But when I asked him if he wanted to, he put his hand on my arm, stopped moaning, and in a strangled whisper said, “No. You go.” As if he was a gallant hero who was uttering his last words…”I’ll be okay. Just save yourself.”

As I climbed from his bed, I said, “I really think you should come sleep with Mommy.” But suddenly, he was a lot less chivalrous, though still full of drama…when instead of uttering a word, he simply turned his face to his wall and pointed to the door.