I Love Monday

Moses is gone for a work meeting for a little while (in Hawaii of all places) so Garion and I are on our own. Just the two of us. Mom and son bonding time. We had a very busy weekend that included breakfast at Brandy's; a trip to the swimming hole at Beaver Creek (where Garion put up a good fight about leaving when it started to rain: "but Mom!, there are only 7 seven drops on my window, see we didn't have to leave"); two viewings of the Incredibles (Friday night and Saturday night); laundry; dishes; grocery shopping; seeing WALL-E; a game of Chinese checkers; a long walk around the neighborhood; one prolonged argument about why Garion could not have a new peanut butter an jelly sandwich just because he accidentally tore the top slice of bread while making the sandwich; and smaller "discussions" about how Garion is capable of cleaning his room by himself (b/c he's capable of making the mess by himself), how Garion cannot wear shorts to church, how he cannot have two desserts, and how, no, he cannot sleep in my bed because Dad is gone and now in there is room. To top it all off, we engaged in a practice know in our house as "torture by haircut" where Garion screams and cries as if I were using pliers to slowly remove his fingernails while, in actuality, I use clippers to cut his hair and try to make him look like a human being and not an English sheep dog. It was such an ordeal that I stooped to very-very-bad-mommy tactics and offered dinner at McDonald's and a partial viewing of Superman if he would just hold still and let me finish. (Notice the absurd amount of screen time Garion has had in the last three days, I am such a wuss when I'm on my own). I found myself wondering again and again this weekend how one single little person could embody both the love of my life, the person I would throw myself in front of train for without a split-second's hesitation, and also the person who, if I hear him say, "Mom" one more time will maybe make me stick that kitchen knife in my eye so that I will hopefully be distracted enough not to strangle him. I so want to be that calm, in control mom who loves every second she spends with her kid, but I was so, so glad today for Monday morning and daycare, and the prospect of 8 quiet hours in my house to, of all things, work on prisoner cases.

Breaking News

Garion lost his first tooth tonight. He delivered the news to us, while getting ready for bed, with Walter Cronkite like gravitas. He said "My tooth is out," in sort of the same tone that that mission control guy used when he said "the Eagle has landed." Anyway it was all very exciting and I'm feeling a little befuddled because I remember how much sleep I had to loose when that tooth came in and now the stupid thing has gone and fallen out. And there's a big adult tooth in its place and my baby isn't a baby anymore. Sniff.

I still have not solved the problem of "what does the tooth-fairy do with all those baby teeth?" I think I'll just hang on to them for awhile until an answer presents itself. Also, I have to hurry up and figure out what the tooth-fairy is paying these days. I used to get a quarter. Seems a little chintzy for 2008, but the kid is only 5 and I don't want him to start putting on airs, what with all the riches he'll have. Maybe fifty cents?

Moses Runs

A few weeks ago, Moses started a blog to chronicle his training for Imogene. Yes, he's training! I think he was afraid of the 8 hours of evil looks he was bound to get on the way home from Imogene if he didn't train and was still alive at the end of the race. Anyway, Moses has been taking my Garmin with him for his training hikes and is documenting his training with lots of graphs and statistical analysis. It is very scientific, yet charming and entertaining. Just like Moses.

Swimming Lessons

To the left is a really bad picture of Garion's first day of swimming lessons for this summer. Garion is the barely visible blob just to the left of the ladder. This is Garion's third summer of swimming lessons. Up until now, he has hated every second of them. I didn't even tell him he was starting swimming lessons this summer until about 4:00 yesterday afternoon (the lesson started at 5:00). Surprisingly, this tactic seemed to work. Garion gave me five minutes of the usual "I REALLY don't want to take swimming lessons." I have him a thirty second answer that boiled down to: tough pattooties, you're going and we're not discussing it anymore. He then asked me how many swimming lessons he had to take and I told him when he could show me that he could swim across the pool by himself, without touching the bottom and without a life jacket, he would be done. He seemed to be heartened by the fact that he might not have to take swimming lessons every summer for the rest of his life, and pretty much sucked it up. I was very proud. Then, miracle of all miracles, I think he actually had fun during his lesson. Whew!

We arrived at the pool about 15 minutes early because I have still not adjusted to the fact that Flagstaff is small and you can get all the way to the other side of town in 10 minutes. While we were sitting there, I told Garion that this was the pool where I learned to swim.

"Really?" he asked. And then eying a group of teachers in the corner, "Which teacher did you have?"
Me: "Well, it was a long time ago, so I didn't have any of those teachers."
Garion: "Because none of them were even alive yet?"

I started to say, "no." Then I stopped and looked again at the group of teachers. They all appeared to be maybe between 18 and 20 years old--college aged. I think I was 12 the last summer I took swimming lessons.....about 20 years ago.

Me in the agony of the realization of the passage of time: "Well.....yes, I guess they probably were not alive yet."
Garion, very helpfully: "Or they were babies."

Dear God, Please Save Me from Myself, Thank-you

For the better part of the last year, I have been contemplating adopting a dog. I have asked everyone I know for advice and we even had a doggie-prospect come visit us for a day. The doggie-prospect didn't like us too terribly much and ate the wooden blinds off of our front door to demonstrate his feelings. He went back to his foster-family. Since the day of the ill-fated visit, I have been unable to commit to the adoption of a canine friend. I would very much like a running/walking companion and I like the idea of having another living being in the house with me during the day. I'd also like Garion to have the experience of caring for living things and the life lessons that go along with that care (although I realize of course that any pet will ultimately be my pet in terms of daily life maintenance and cleaning which is what makes today even more unbelievable--what was I thinking?). To be honest, I could live without the running companion bit and be very happy with a cat. But Moses and Garion are allergic, so cats are out. What I can't decide is whether I would really like to have a dog or if I just like the idea of having a dog.

Anyway, after the doggie-prospect went home, while trying to decide whether I have what it takes to be a dog-owner, I asked Garion if he really wanted a dog. He said yes. I then asked him, if he could have any pet in the world, what would it be? He lit up like a Christmas tree, and with a look of complete rapture said, "a mouse!" Dang. That is not at all what I had in mind. I said, "what about a hamster or a gerbil?" "No." A mouse, and no other creature great or small could it be. Sigh.

So a month later and after lots of big puppy eyes from Garion (maybe I really don't need a dog?), and a few chores later to earn the money for their purchase, this is what came to live with us today:

Ugh. Do you see its little mousy tail hanging there and taunting me with its not-at-all-charming, rat-like hairlessness? They would be so much more tolerable if they could have a nice little furry nub, like a bunny. This mouse also has a twin that's a bit camera shy. A little reading on the internet informed us that mice are social creatures and prefer not to live by themselves. Check. We went the pet store and asked for two male mice. The lady asked us if they were feeder mice or pets. Pets. She then tells us, "they are a little territorial so just keep an eye on them or they'll....basically eat each other." But they don't like to live alone. Lovely. And exactly what am I supposed to do if I notice them eating each other, I wonder? Because I really do not have a contingency plan for mouse-on-mouse cannibalism. I just was not born equipped with that skill-set. "What about female mice?" we asked. "A little better," she said. Hmmm. Not really confidence inspiring but, okay, give us two females.

The original plan was to name the mice Stuart and Ralph after Garion's favorite mice in literature. I have re-christened them Ralphina and Stuartette, but Garion is skeptical, so they might be re-named. Garion is, of course, elated to have his new roommates and I on the other hand am not sure I will be able to sleep tonight. They scurry around with their hairless little miniature rat tails, and climb the walls of their cage, and if they get out I think I will probably have a heart attack and then have to move out, housing market be damned. Maybe I will have to adopt a dog just to have something warm and fuzzy and not-willies-inducing, with a furry tail for crying out loud, to take my mind off the mice. That live in my house. That I am actually consciously feeding. (On the way home from the pet shop, Moses said I could always get a rat terrier--ha.ha.)