Category Archives: humor

The Day Jake’s Ladybug Ran Away


I can still hear the faint murmurs of my son’s 40-minute meltdown when his pet ladybug, “Lady,” flew away. We kidnapped this 4 year old, or 4 day old bug (whatever the spot things mean), at the top of Mount Aspen. Jake loved her, cared for her, nurtured her, taught her to ride a bike, and started a 529 plan in her name. About a quarter of the way down the mountain, Lady flew to the floor and made a mad dash for freedom.

 

Jake jumped out of his seat and flew towards the door. This caused the gondola to start swinging. According to the warning sign that pictured a man falling backward out of the gondola to his unexpected demise, wild swinging is strictly forbidden. “Jake, you can’t jump around. Do you see what happened to the unfortunate man on the sign?”

 

Jake continued searching, solely focused on the whereabouts of Lady. “Hey, do you guys hear her? I can hear her. Do you hear her?” he said with desperation, like someone who could put a straight jacket to good use.

 

Though we tried, we could not decipher the cries of his lost ladybug through the cranking sound of our transport. “There she is!!!” Jake screamed with the delight of a boy finding his long lost puppy (or recently lost ladybug). Regardless, it was with total elation that he offered his stick, which she eagerly climbed onto. A few more minutes of bonding, and she playfully climbed up his shirt. “She’s sooo happy,” Jake cooed.

His joy quickly turned to horror as Lady made yet another stab at freedom. I caught her, only to have my daughter Ryan beg for a turn. I put her on Ryan’s hand as Jake frantically tried to woo her back to his stick. She crawled up Ryan’s arm, pulled out what appeared to be a miniscule pair of binoculars, and scoped out the opening in the window. She looked back at Jake, with a tear in her eye, and with one final heroic effort, vanished into the thin mountain air.

 

A guttural wail came from Jake’s mouth… “I TOLD YOU NOT TO LET RYAN HOLD HER!!! I TOLD YOU! She loved the stick! She hated that spot on Ryan’s arm, and now look what you did! Sheeeeee’s gooonnne! I want Lady back, I WANT LADY! She loved her stick, and she loved me! She wanted to live with me on her stick!”

 

Mark and I looked at each other, him losing it, and me wiping away a smile as not to diminish Jake’s loss. Calmly, I looked at Jake. “Honey, she’s a ladybug. I think she wanted to go free. That’s why she found the open window and flew out of it.”

 

“NOOOOOOO, she loved her stick!” Jake cried, tears uncontrollably streaming down his face. “I want my ladybug, I want my ladybug! I want her!”

Now both Mark and I are openly laughing. Well actually, I am laughing on the inside, which is causing me to cry. “Jake, in the short time I was lucky enough to know Lady, I knew her to be a free spirit. Yes, she liked you, and your stick, but she’s not the type of bug to waste what might be half her life on a single stick. She wanted to explore and see as many sticks as possible.”

 

“NO, NO!!! She hated Ryan’s arm and it made her leave! I told you not to put her there!” Jake continued, as I officially lost it. While holding up the stick like a lighter, I started singing “Lady.” A song we later recalled was ironically sung by STYX. It went something like this: “Lady, LAY-EE-DAY why’d you have to fly out the wi-i-i-in-dow?”

 

“Mommy STOP it! It’s not funny! I MISS LADY!” Jake wept, reverting to a grief-stricken state. Mark and I looked at each other in awe of this display of inconsolable, illogical, Oscar worthy, unceasing hysterics. “Jake…honey…baby, she lives on this mountain. She’ll find us at the bottom, I promise.”

 

“No-She-Won’t!” Jake screamed, stamping his foot on each syllable. “I promise she will,” I said, resolving to find another ladybug, or spend the rest of our trip trying.

 

He then paused, and answered with the irrefutable rationale of a six year old: “She won’t! She doesn’t even know which hotel we’re staying at!”

 

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The Proof. Can You Dig It?

Evidence

I did not lie in yesterdays post. Notice the trashcan has fallen down. I was going to pick it up for the picture, but I was scared he would come out cacti a-blazin’ and outline my body with “do not cross” tape and reflectors.

FYI in this neighborhood they will cite you for not promptly bringing in your trashcan from the edge of your driveway, but apparently it’s okay if you throw it in a hole and tie it to your tree.

The First Sleepover

Whenever one of my children does something new, I’m scared something bad will happen.  Yes, I’m one of those highly obsessive, and illogical thinkers that jumps right to the ‘nth degree. For instance, when my son was 5, he had his first sleepover with this best friend (who is my bestie’s son). Though I’d known him since he was in utero, I was convinced said friend would smother him. 

Sure, he could do something more common, like draw a mustache with permanent marker.  He could put my son’s hand in a cup of warm water and pray for him to wet the bed, but no, I went straight to suffocation. Now, this child we’ll call him Leon (because I don’t know any kids named that) has no criminal record and has never smothered anyone, that I know of; but, I couldn’t sleep. No, instead of celebrating my evening of freedom with a raucous romp, or even catching up on a good book (which is code for US Weekly), I was up every hour wondering how many pillows Leon had access to.

When J came back still breathing I was thrilled. We went for a swim and when he got out, he stripped down and wrapped a towel around himself … all normal and un-suffocated!

J: Mom do you know what balls are?

Me: Sure you have tons of balls, baseballs, tennis balls…

J: Nope. (Drop towel lift penis and squeeze sac.) These are balls. See, one … two, see cause they’re like balls.”

Ry: Like the balls on my tongue?

May that be the only context in which she utters those words to me ever again.

J: No Ry, these are balls, see — ball, line, ball. (Squeezing and pointing so Ry can get a good look.) Mommy’s talking about my balls and you’re talking about tongues.

Me: Nooooo, Mommy isn’t talking about your balls, Mommy is just listening.

J: Mommy, what do you know about nuts?

How do we moms find ourselves in these conversations? And when did we all get so advanced? I think at 5 years old I would have spent a sleepover debating whether it was true that only Big Bird could see Snuffaluffagus or putting tacky blue eyeshadow on my Barbie styling head and then retired to my rainbow sheets, with the matching rainbow comforter, that said, I’ll take this over smothering every time!!!

 

Weekly Column 4: The Specialist

Every time I take one of my children to see a specialist I am reminded of my first time going to see one with Jake when he was about 4½ months old. Jake, who was 5 weeks premature, cried for the first 4months 13days 16hrs 32min of his life (straight). He would only sleep in an upright position and we found that his car seat was the best option. We would keep it in the Snap n’ Go and park him into bed every night.

When he finally cut back on the tears, it was like walking off a tarmac and into a library- I could think again. I noticed his head looked a little flat and took him to a pediatric neurologist. Dr. Gore or Dr. Bore as I prefer to call her, examined Jake for plagiocephaly, or “flathead,” to see if he should be fitted for a helmet. Yes…that’s correct, a helmet. Looking back on our visit, it seems all of her comments were excessively vague and rather benign, but somehow she managed to coax me into a state of agitation.

Dr. Bore is one of those people who is impressed with her own brilliance, and likes to speak unexcitedly as she tries to overwhelm you with her superior knowledge. Silently, Dr. Bore waited as I changed and then undressed Jake, never uttering a word until I was safely sitting in my chair. This reminded me of the way my father behaved when he had some horrific news to impart which could be something as tragic as selling the family car. “Jenny, are you sitting down?” As if I might faint upon hearing such horror.

With Dr. Bore, however, I sensed the silence was not some kind of soap-opera-esque melodrama. It was more like: I-do-not-waste-breath-on-distracted-ears kind of silence. I literally sat there with fingers crossed trying to remember the rules governing such situations. Do you cross both hands for extra luck? No, no I think one cancels the other out, right? And does that make it zero luck, or does it skip right to bad luck? Oh man, now what do I do? Of course, my toes! I uncomfortably fidget, contorting my fingers into a series of svengali half-crosses in what seems to be verging on an epileptic seizure to erase the obsessive thoughts echoing throughout my head. Speak lady so I can stop torturing myself!

After a long exaggerated sigh, Dr. Snore begins to expound on the two theories as to why his head is flat. The first being a severe complication in which the skull plates prematurely fuse causing the brain to grow out in any way possible- the side, the top, the nose…which could not only lead to deformity, but brain damage as well.

I am about to cry. Why is she speaking volumes on this subject? Just say, this is not the case with your son.  JUST SAY THAT! I get frustrated with my vain attempts at telepathy, and interrupt her.

“Do you have any reason to believe that’s his diagnosis?”

“I’m just going through the possibilities, please allow me to continue.”

Oh, I’m sorry my desire to rule out a gruesome existence for my son has gotten in the way of your neurology-for-dummies lecture. Please don’t let my nervous breakdown shorten your diatribe. The sound of the paper bag I’m breathing into helps to drown out her voice until I hear, “…and the second and most likely possibility is called positional flatness. This is caused by spending too much time sleeping or being on ones back.

Hello? Is anyone home? I told you he spent the last 4 months sleeping in his car seat; doesn’t that ring a bell? Why do specialists always insist on discussing the horrible and unlikely option first? I should probably just go now, but I decide to prolong this torture…

“Well you’ve seen a lot of heads, is his severe?”

“Look his head is flat. I’m not going to tell you that something flat is round. Its flat.”

Gee thanks Magellan. Do you get the impression I have a 5th grade education? What tipped you off the finger crossing fiasco?

She goes on to check his tone and development. All that anguish and I get to stay longer for a freebie, what a perk.

“He has poor muscle tone, he doesn’t roll he doesn’t tilt, he doesn’t grab…what does he do?”

“Raspberries.”

“Hmm…tsk, tsk…just keep an eye on him for the next couple months.”

Really, I should do that? Cause us uneducated folk we like to kick our kids out of the nest at say …I don’t know…5months. “Fly free little birdie, and go earn some money it’s time to pay Momma back.” But if you think we should wait…

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The Toony Awards – What It Would Be Like if Kids Cartoons Walked the Red Carpet

I was watching the Oscars, which as everyone knows is the Super Bowl for women and gay men across the globe. Unlike real sports, the best part of Oscar night is the pregame. I had them all Tivoed: E!’s red carpet with Ryan Seacrest, Network with a cameo by Ryan Seacrest, and TV Guide’s Joan and family where Ryan Seacrest is actually a cousin (by marriage). I had shamefully missed the original airing and was trying to watch the next morning, hoping that I would not be disturbed. What could be worse than accidentally catching a glimpse of my NY Post which would surely have the night’s biggest upset under a very clever play on words? My daughter, who is obsessed with anything princess, was running around the house in my shoes and begging to play.

I envisioned the start of what could potentially be my favorite yearly ritual and sat her on my lap. “Look Ryan, look at all those princesses.” She was unimpressed and within minutes was bored to tears, literally. Well she is 4.

“Mommy put on the Backyardigans,” she chanted bouncing up and down on my ottoman. So off went the pre-show and on came those imaginative little animals who I think are supposed to live in low income housing, or at the very least something government subsidized. Like them, I began to create a whole different world. A world where the characters of our favorite kids cartoons get to attend an  awards show, a show for the celebs of the under 5 set, a gala of epic proportions.

Leo:         “Hello I’m Leo here with June of the Little Einstein’s and welcome to the Red Carpet for the annual Toony Awards. Unfortunately, my sister Annie is with Rocket and Cooper Anderson in the Gobi Desert. I’m told they’re singing baba waba Osama to Beethoven’s 9th, in a bunker that strangely resembles Salvador Dali’s “The Persistence of Memory” picture of melting clocks.

Quincy is not here because he is attending a rally for “Out” magazine.Not that an effeminate black male who is scared of the dark and plays multiple instruments including the flute, piccolo, and triangle has to be gay, he’s just exploring his options.

But, we are on a very important mission right here in Orlando Florida, cartoon capital of the world. Let’s check in on June who is with the cast of Blue’s Clues.”

June:       “Hi Joe, I want to ask what is on everyone’s mind… What are you wearing?”

Joe:        “I have on an green on green striped tuxedo by Ralph Lauren purple label.  Side Table drawer is wearing a runner from Isaac Mizrahi for Target and a vintage Tiffany lamp.”

June:       “Well she is truly glowing. Let me ask you Joe, is your acceptance speech written in your handy dandy notebook?”

Joe:         “It actually is, and the notebook was encrusted by Judith Leiber to look like a handbag.”

June:       “Fabulous may I see it? I see a crying boy in a monochromatic shirt, a can of gasoline, and a pack of matches. Hmm, these clues can be so hard to decipher.Leo back to you”

Leo:        “Well it looks like another banner year for the Latinos. Regretfully, Handy Manny will not be able to make it due to a citizenship issue however, he did build the stage. Dora is up for best actress in a Series Over-Using the Word “Aaabre”. She appears to be solomente. This is a smart call after last year’s awkward celebratory french kiss with her cousin Diego and that highly disturbing make-out session with her pet monkey, Boots. June do you have any celebs over there?”

June:       “Yes, I am watching the Mystery Mobile pull up, and what an entrance! Shaggy, Scooby and what looks like the Harlem Globetrotters have appeared like magic out of a huge puff of smoke. They seem to be heading this way however, it may take some time as there legs are spinning, but they are actually not moving…Ah welcome fellas today must be very exciting.”

Scooby:  “Reah, reah, rexciting.”

Shaggy:   “Hey, like do you have any snacks, we’ve like got the munchies.”

Scooby:   “Reah, runchies.”

June:        “I actually do not, try the E! booth they don’t pay that vampire Seacrest the big bucks for nothin’. Hey Leo, getta load of that clown walking down the carpet.”

Leo:         “Yes, June there’s JoJo and right behind her are the Disney princesses, who as you probably heard spearheaded a recent movement forcing cartoonists to draw underwear on all female characters. This of course is in response to circulating internet pictures of a fully plucked Daisy Duck exiting a limo on her way to Minnie Mouse’s “2 Weeks Jack Free” celebration… Monterey Jack, that is.  Let’s ponder that while I send it back to June and the cast of Rugrats.”

June:       “Hi, Tommy and Angelina Pickles, your show is up for it’s holiday special “Santa Woks” is that a cooking show?”

Tommy:   “No, I have a wittle twouble tawking… I’m 1.”

June:        “I see, well as you probably know you are one of the only Jewish cartoon families ever drawn aside from the short lived series “Moisha and the Shiksa.” And here you are nominated for a Christmas special. Angelica, don’t you feel it’s your responsibility to be role models to young Jewish children and to break stereotypes?”

Angelica:   “We took our image very seriously as we calculated the estimated earnings of ‘Santa Woks’ vs. our original script ‘2000 years of Bondage.’ Which by the way we are producing, but in another film genre. We just signed Ron Jeremy on to play Moses’s staff”

June:        “Well I’m sure Quincy will want to check that out. Leo back to you.”

Leo:         “Everyone is still waiting to see if Barney will walk the red carpet. He has been rather elusive after rare footage was released on UTube of him purveying fire whiskey to minors and singing “I love you, you love me” to Callou, Little Bear, and Oswald during a raucous sleepover. This ended in the wee hours of the morning after they allegedly took turns riding Thomas the Train.”

“Well that’s our time…Enjoy the show!  Leo OUT!”