Swiper NOOOOOOO Swiping! (If you are going to take something, go swipe me a glass of wine.) June 25, 2008

I am declaring this as an official statement.

Here Ye, Here Ye, pilgrims of Motherhood! I am officially sick as hell of children’s television.

Even as a college student, I had dreams of being a mom. As I lied in the arms of my college bofriend, I planned out what it would be like. No TV allowed, just blocks of clay in the corners of rooms and paint in buckets so they could paint the walls. I would make all my own organic foods picked out of our garden. I would hand stitch all of their clothing with hemp and frolic in wild open fields with my babies, wearing weaved daisy crowns on our heads and some shit like that. What an asshat.

Then I had Alpha. Oh, I was a proud first mother with all the best intentions. I would not even DARE to let him watch anything when he was a baby. I logged his bowel movements in an excel spreadsheet. With multiple tabs. I made homemade apple sauce, peas and he only drank soymilk. When Bambi came along at a whopping two pounds, we were freaked out for a year so: TV became a little more familiar. Thomas the train and Bob the Builder became familiar friends. By the time Cracker came around, it was hot dogs, pudding, goldfish and after-dinner drinks for Mommy and Daddy. I started to get an itchy rash when hearing Elmo’s voice and my butt would clench listening to the teletubbies theme. But believe you me, bucko, that shit was ON.

Cracker recently became completely obsessed with Dora the Explorer. Ahhh Dora, our little bowl-cut bilingual friend. I love her and I love that she teaches my children to say “por favor” instead of the ol’ stanby “please”. Cracker was previously addicted to Dora’s madcap animal rescuer cousin, Diego, but she has since moved on…

I have taped every episode on our DVR and she would scream “Dddoooorrraaahhh!” at the top of her voice. It’s on quite a bit. There are, of course, regulated breaks. We go out side, we play, we eat, we do puzzles, we read, we play with all of her Dora and Diego toys, but somehow it slowly creeps back on…

I find myself cleaning one room and as I am doing that, the kids are utterly destroying the family room that they are in. When I return to the room*, it’s feckin TRASHED

(*This is not my home, merely a prototype. You get the idea and most probably relate.)

I moan and I cry a little bit and I send them to their rooms. (“DON’T MESS ANYTHING UP! I JUST CLEANED IN THERE!”) I cry because I KNOW that they are trashing the rooms that I just cleaned. I pick up the shit that I have tried to throw away numerous times and has been stealthy picked out of the garbage can by little hands. I find an eleven month old banana stuck in the bottom of the Lincoln log holder and I think I crawl over a little urine on the rug and my blood pressure rises with every bend of the waist and Dora is turned up to volume eleven and our little Amiga is bitching and moaning about Swiper stealing something, (Diego’s Bobo’s are not much better) and I have to yell,

SWIPER, YOU LITTLE FUCKIN’ DELINQUENT, STOP TOUCHING HER DAYUM SHIT AND PISS OFF!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And then I cry because I have cramps and look at the clock and see how many hours it is going to be until I can have a glass of wine. Usually it is around 9:30am and that is always a very unfortunate thing.

Next fantasy…no more TV.

Where’s my glass?

I Once was lost, but now I’m found. June 18, 2008

Why?

Glen and Mar with The Swell Season at the Chicago Theatre June 15th, 2008

*Note: there is virtually nothing funny here. This is a seriously serious account of one of the most fabulous nights of my life.*

So, if you know me and regularly read this blog, you know two things:

(1) I have a slightly unnatural obsession and mad crush on Marketa and Glen. The concert the other night put Mike and I over the edge. We would star in the new TV show, “Swingtown” with them. Of course, we wouldn’t, but it’s the thought that counts. That, and, they would look at us and go “ew”.

(2) The last concert I went to, I was abused by a drunk young feck and cried in the bathroom because I am old and fat. (Please visit the Aunt Barbara thread.) I have since realized that I could be older and I could be fatter. All better.

(3) I have been in a little funk and have not really been inspired to blog as of late.

I am now re-inspired.

The show was the most incredible and emotional concert I have ever seen. I have seen a lot. Sorry, Stones, my #1 all-favorite band. You have just had your Start Me Up asses kicked by The Swell Season.

We brought my mom as a thank you for turning us onto the movie. After Once opened in theaters here, she begrudging gave up her copy to me, shoving it my hand and said you will fall in love with this BUT GIVE IT BACK. She almost broke her foot last week while sitting for my middle kid “Bambi”. She jumped into the pool to save her from drowning. She insisted on going to the concert ON CRUTCHES. She yelped when I suggested that she stay home. “WHAT? Are you KIDDING me?” If she were dead, she would demand that we drag her body to the seat and duct tape a glass of wine in her hand. Nice visual.

And let’s face it: we all were a little bit of a mess, me and my mental state was of course, the sloppiest. I was hit with a neurotic stick repeatedly for a couple of hours. From the very first song I was clutching Mike’s knee and smacking my Mother’s arm: “Oh my God, I LOVE this song! Oh my God, I LOVE this song! Oh my God, I LOVE this song!” Glen is hilarious. I would be laughing once minute and blubbering like a baby dropped on her head. I am a true idiot. Could it have been the Margaritas that the cocktail waitress kept bringing us? Perhaps. But I was Spongebob Drunk Ass absorbing the love in the room. Chicago Theatre is one of the most beautiful theatres on the planet. I have seen some pretty big names perform there for the last 25 years and they officially own that space.

And let’s talk about

Definition of Chemistry: ” Miraculous power of transmuting something common into something precious.”

They are both insanely charming in their own right.

They are both gifted and blessed with the upmost talent and that special something that makes people stop everything, shut their mouth and listen with all the power one can muster. And they are a couple. When Mike and I saw the movie at my cousin “Apricot” and …I don’t have a name for him yet..how about “Celinelover”? No, he would be pissed. Let’s call him “Coconut”. I digress. While watching the movie, I was shocked at how I reacted. I burst into tears watching the “Falling slowly” scene and was like “what the fuck?” I looked at Mike to laugh at myself, rolled my eyes to laugh at how stupid it was that I was blubbering like a baboon (Do baboons blubber? Or is it whales?) Then I realized that Mike was SO man-crying. I guess I was moved at the sheer beauty of the scene but maybe because, being a musician, it was so honest and in the moment and beautiful. These are the moments that I cherish when I perform, whether it’s in front of hundreds of people or when I am simply singing a lullaby to my kids.

The point I guess I am trying to make is that I don’t know if they are really a couple. That is the magic of the movie. [SPOILER ALERT – JUMP THE THE NEXT PARAGRAPH OR YOU MAY WANT TO SLAP ME IF YOU HAVEN’T SEEN THE MOVIE} It’s doesn’t have the neat, tie-it-up-in-a-bow Hollywood ending that we are used to…but you leave wanting them to be together. And, holy shit, they are really in love in non-movie life. You can’t make that shit up. You see it in every look they give each other. Every time they approach each other between songs and whisper something (like we can hear anyway, haha). It’s a beautiful dance and if they are indeed, not a couple, they have figured out that, shit, it sells CDs and sold out concerts because whether it’s real or a ruse, it’s romantic as hell. If it’s not true, please don’t ever tell me. It’s the ultimate documentary of love with a hell of a soundtrack.

Let me just wrap this nonsense up with two more things

(1). I loved their other tunes, not just the ones from the movie. The band featured some of the Frames members, including a guitarist from Chicago and Liam, the violinist was breathtaking. The gorgeous song Moon was insane, Marketa was mesmerizing and the acoustic closing of the show was knock-your-socks off brilliant. It’s true, I couldn’t find my socks after the concert.

Here is a really bad cell phone pic of the last number.

I didn’t even mind that we got home at 1:30am (I am sure that the band was still partying at their room at the “W”) and I woke up with a HELLA hangover with the baby at 6am.

(2) Marketa and Glen, if you ever read this, which you never will, don’t be scared. My fascination is harmless. Ever heard of John Hinkley? No. Nothing like that.

It feels good to be back.