The World Was Our Oyster

My parents called a few hours ago to see if we wanted to get together and hang out for a while. They had originally intended to go to Canton today and shop the flea market sales, but between the heat and general lack of energy, they decided to stay home instead. This is important because Robert and I had considered calling them and seeing if they wanted to ‘spend some time with the kids’ (our euphemism for ‘babysit so we can get out of the house and hear our brains tick’), but I remembered them telling me last night they weren’t going to be around.

So they called and I said, in my best ‘Hey, I have a great idea!’ voice, “Hey, what if you guys watch both kids for a few hours so we can get out of the house and then when we get back, you can take Harrison to your house to spend the night?!?” They, of course, thought this idea was capital, and so proceeded over to ‘spend time with the kids.’

Robert and I make our escape, head into town, and realize we have no idea what we want to do. We’re seven kinds of broke, so we can’t go shopping anywhere. Robert suggested going to see Transformers 2, which would have been a great idea, except that we couldn’t be out too late since the boy was heading back to my folks’ house and we didn’t want to keep him up all hours of the night. Besides, I wanted to do something where I could have an actual conversation with my husband that didn’t get interrupted eighty-bazillion times by, “Mommy. Mommy, look at my eyes. Mommy. Mommmmmmmmmy. Hey Mommy, look at me. Watch me! Look at this, Mommy!” (This is, of course, as all parents know, the condensed version. It repeats ad nauseum, ending only when you scream and curl up on the floor in a fetal position. Then he will say, “That’s ok Mommy—I’ll show you later.” Lather, rinse, repeat.) Finally, I wanted to do something that had nothing to do with the kids. No buying toys, no getting birthday presents for the upcoming party, nothing. No kid stuff allowed.

We ended up celebrating our temporary freedom (it is Independence Day, after all!) by going to Hastings and getting a book. About taking your kids on vacation in Texas.

Man, we’re lame.

As promised, I finally got pictures of the boy in his shirts. They are #22 from the 01/09 issue of Ottobre Design. I’m currently working on some jammies for the girl from 03/04—should have a pair of them done in a few days if I can keep the kids occupied enough to get to my sewing machine.

We went last night to see the fireworks in town. As always, they were spectacular, but the music was crap. It’s funny, because the same radio station always puts together the “American Music'” montage and I’m fairly sure it’s the same playlist from year to year. Every year, it makes me think the same three thoughts:

• They play a mix of country and John Phillip Sousa-type marching band music. In the marching band music, they always play the song from the beginning of Monty Python’s Flying Circus. I always forget that they play it and so I’m always (pleasantly) surprised and somewhat disappointed that John Cleese won’t be making an appearance.
• The inclusion of marching band music always makes me think of the movie Dummy with Adrien Brody and Milla Jovovitch. He’s this kind of sad, losery guy who really likes this girl and his best friend, played by Jovovitch, tells him that all chicks dig marching band music. The scene where he’s trying to woo the girl and starts playing Sousa is incredible!
• This musical extravaganza always reminds me how much I hate country and the lowest common denominator, pap-emotional response it evokes. I don’t mind songs that are emotional, but something about country music and its ‘Don’t Tread on Me’ vibe just rubs me the wrong way.

All in all, though, the fireworks were awesome, even if they started a full hour after the advertized start time and my kids were mucho cranky by the time they did start. Can’t wait until next year and the next show!