Reblogged:Playing With The Hand You’re Dealt…

Isn’t that what it all boils down to in life?
It isn’t always celebrating the things that go well or in accordance with our plans or even making our peace with the things that don’t. It’s finally just existing with what IS.
Sometimes we are able to do it gracefully and other times it takes a lot of plodding and prodding to get through each day.

There’s a saying by Oscar Wilde that people often smugly quote- ” There are only two tragedies in life: one is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it.”

I’ve found that while tragedy might be too strong a word for it, it does seem difficult to comprehend and accept ,what you sought out, opted for even isn’t all that it’s cut out to be or even worse…it’s not what you want. Is inadequate.

So you shuffle the deck a few times and hope the next hand is better than the one that has you staring in bafflement.

Or you chuck the cards up in the air and don’t care if they scatter all over; since it’s mimicking life in doing so.

And some of us painstakingly make a house of cards. Trying to balance each card over the other and anxiously watching whether they stay up or come tumbling down.
In the end you either end up with a steady house you used up all your cards in making and are proud of or you decide to call it quits after you reach a plateau and are still left holding a few cards for later.

It’s all about playing with the hand you were dealt.

My Son: The Superhero Decapitator

I’d caught up with a friend for a belated celebration of her birthday at a kiddy place house-cum cafe. She’s specifically kept it in a child-friendly place so the moms would be able to take their eyes off their offspring and just kick back and relax. Erm…yeah. Sure. Why not?

It wasn’t a complete disaster I ought to point out. I ignored my inner paranoiac and thought that being on the play floor and having a brand new place to bounce around in.

This is was one the ingredients that contributed to the kookiness- there was a birthday party that was already going on in the same venue and without any kind of way to tell apart the birthday kids from the non-birthday ones. Either in terms of any clothing/ party accessories or even any cordoned off area.

The 2nd and most crucial element was that I took my eyes off him because there were helpers around to watch the kids in the play area (where parents weren’t allowed). And therein lay the disastrous element.

Our group of women was sitting right at the back of the room in full view of the door to the play area and that was deliberately done so we could keep an eye on our own brats. When the birthday party group started to sing the birthday song and heralded the cake cutting I mentioned to the other ladies in the group, I hope our kids don’t think it’s time for them to have a bite of cake. Phew! Talk of ill-timed prophecies. Within a few minutes of the singing stopping and the door to the play floor swinging open and shut with the kids streaming out, an angry woman stomped out and started talking to the servers in the venue and started pointing angrily at the play floor. And I thought, “uh oh”.

I walked as inconspicuously as possible to find out the cause of a human female turning into an angrily buzzing wasp and guess what I found…my darling son had somehow slipped in with the rest of the birthday party kids and while the cake was being cut he did SOMETHING.

The cake was blue with a fondant topping of Iron Man on it. It had been kept in the display case and most of the kids had eyed it longingly while passing it by. I hadn’t seen my son eye it much and hadn’t factored the cake in as any one of the potential “boo-boo” areas of everything that could potentially go wrong. Anyhoo…L-O-N-G story short…my son pinched the head off Iron Man and ran into the play floor and was nibbling bits off the noggin while the child’s mother gradually turned into a fire-breathing dragon.

This is a red-letter day in my life for sure…ohhhh boy. Next time I’ll salute the little paranoid voice in my head and tell Ms.Optimism to go take a hike.

I wish he wasn’t so cute. Makes it harder to stay mad at him and wish him inside a strait jacket!

Shocks On The Way To School

I’ll admit it here and possibly have it engraved on a metal plate and hang it somewhere prominently…NO ONE CAN SHOCK ME AS MUCH AS MY CHILD!

While I was dropping him to school this morning he suddenly got very excited and shouted out, ” LOOK! FUCKS!” I nearly had a WTF moment myself and carefully asked him, ” What did you say?” To which the pat came the reply, ” TWO FUCKS!” By this time I had a sinking feeling in my stomach and was wondering how to tell Red that our only child had been initiated in the unholy world of profanity when the tiny paws that pass for MLM’s hands gripped my ponytail and started tugging to show me the “fucks”. And I saw them…2 dogs with small bodies, bushy tails and pointy ears like that of a FOX! DUH! DUH! DUH!

So like every ostensibly responsible mother I started to enunciate FOX properly and asked him to repeat after me but to no avail. And 15 minute car trips are hardly long enough to pass on life lessons let alone pronunciations so I let it be for then. But I’ve roped in his teachers so they can help him change his verbal outlook towards this poor poor animal who unknowingly almost caused a mother to screech to a stop in the middle of commuter traffic in the morning.

Oh FOX!

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Nothing Surprises Me…I’m A Mom!

Ermm…that’s a contradiction actually. Nothing does surprise me because a child’s mind is SO elastic that it works in ways I can’t begin to imagine and wish it didn’t.

And yet when the unimaginable (for adults) happens it’s also a surprise because the offspring chose to do (read destroy) yet another thing in his own special way.

This is what we call predictably unpredictable!

My child, who shall be referred to as Mommy’s Little Monster (MLM) hereafter, has always has a fondness for CDs. The round shape, the shiny surface and the fact when it’s put into a drive it emits sounds and images makes it totally magical for him.

He also has a VERY strong procedural memory (again a mixed blessing) and is ALWAYS doing what his father and I do. CD changing in our house is nothing short of a battle. And changing CDs in the car is CHAOS personified with one of us adults having to rescue the CD from being inserted upside down or with too much love (read FORCE)!

A few days back I tried to play one of my CDs, a rare occurrence, and found that the car music system was literally spitting it back out at me. Naturally I suspected that tiny hands of terror had been busy at work.

Today I finally got around to taking it to a repair shop for an estimate of whether the CD player was to be put to rest once and for all or if there was still life left in it. The technician opened the entire bracket to see what was wrong with the unit and out tumbled not ONE, not TWO but FIVE CDs.

Everyone was amazed. MLM was clapping for joy and chanting, “Look Look, so many CDs!”

And me? Well..am unsurprisingly surprised. And waiting for the estimate on the stereo. I have a feeling they’ll go by the DNR (do not resuscitate) instructions I gave them.

I have a feeling the remaining CDs will make  interesting wall decals until I get someone to keep their grubby little hands to themselves!

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