Sometimes OCD Is Its Own Reward. Like When You Have A Copy Of Your Deleted Post In Your Email.

(I found it! That doesn’t mean it’s any good, of course. But I found it!)

Before the pre-schooler was born, D. and I loved to travel. We didn’t think a thing in the world about heading to the beach for the weekend, or tagging along with friends who had a conference in California, or going to Orlando because we thought it would be fun to ride rollercoasters for a few days.

Now, of course, the traveling has had to take a bit of a backseat, and when we do travel it tends to be dictated by the location of animated characters. Even when D. and I have the occasional weekend alone, I’d really rather stay home than go anywhere else in the world, mainly so I can remember what it’s like to talk on the phone without having to say, “Alex, I need you to have quiet time now.” And also so that I remember what it’s like to sit on my own sofa without being subjected to repeated half-nelsons and ka-rah-tay kicks on behalf of the three year old.

But back in 2001, we took one of our favorite pre-child trips to Las Vegas. We’re not gamblers by any stretch of the imagination, but at the time we loved the bright lights, the lively atmosphere, not to mention the shuttles that travel from one end of The Strip to the other, thereby eliminating the need for all that pesky walking. Also, we enjoyed the buffets. Because we are KLASSY LIKE THAT.

The night we arrived was the night Julia Roberts won the Academy Award for Best Actress, and I’d read somewhere (probably in the People/Us/InStyle trifecta that kept me so engrossed on our flight) that her next movie was going to be something with George Clooney, something about a RING OF THIEVESTM trying to pull off a heist at a casino. And because I have my finger directly on the pop culture pulse of the American people, my immediate reaction to the premise of the movie was “Eh. Too many big-name stars. Sounds sort of lame.”

The morning after the Oscars, D. and I headed down to the lobby of our hotel for breakfast, and it was only when we were remarking on the complete absence of people in the restaurant for about the forty-third time (“Is Vegas closed?” we wondered) that it dawned on us that we had gotten our time zone change all wrong. And that it was about 5:50 in the AM. Which meant that we were eating breakfast at a time when most Vegas visitors are starting to hit the REM phase of their sleeping cycle.

When we finished breakfast, we wandered over to the hotel next door (to see the pyramids! sort of!), then to the hotel next to that (on guard! for an Arthurian adventure! kind of!), then over the walkway to experience New York City in miniature (you’re in SoHo! but you’re not!), and finally to Bally’s (there is no theme! but there are many magicians!) so that we could catch the shuttle down to Bellagio, which is a fun place to walk around for the Sheer Gawking Factor alone.

The Bellagio, if you haven’t been there, is a study in ostentation for the pure sake of, well, ostentation. Personally, I am of the belief system that if you’re going to use $400-a-yard fabric for awnings over the slot machines in your casino, you probably shouldn’t let people smoke anywhere near them. Or allow them to consume copious amounts of complimentary cocktails that could accidentally be tossed onto said awnings in a fit of jubilation or desperation, depending on how the dice are rolling.

Call me crazy.

But as D. and I made our way into the lobby of the Bellagio, as we walked underneath the Lalique crystal chandelier and moved past the gold-plated ashtrays (because really, if you’re going to spend some money, you want to put it into something that will hold its value, like an ashtray), we began to notice signs advising us that filming was in progress. We assumed that they must be making a commercial, one of those cheesy casino ads where everyone is high-fiving around a roulette wheel or laughing uproariously at the wacky antics of a blackjack dealer. And because there’s absolutely nothing we love better than watching a cameraman capture Forced Merriment on film, we headed straight for the big lights over in the front corner of the casino.

Imagine our surprise when the man behind the camera was Steven Soderbergh, a director we’d admired for several years because 1) he’s a good Southern boy 2) he’d actually visited D.’s former company several times, which in the South means that he’s pretty much family. Family we don’t know, of course, and who would probably have thought we were stalkers if we had spoken to him, but family nonetheless and 3)hello? Erin Brockovich? HELLO?

It took me several seconds to figure out how it was even possible for him to be in Las Vegas, what with the Oscars being the night before and him being the director of the aforementioned movie that got Julia Roberts the Academy Award and all. But then I realized that they do have airplanes in Los Angeles and he must have taken a red-eye flight to Vegas. I don’t have any idea if that’s true, of course, but it makes me feel all international-y and travel-y to use the term “red-eye flight” in relation to a famous director, so as far as I’m concerned it’s exactly what happened.

Once we realized that there was a REAL LIVE MOVIE being filmed, D. and I perched ourselves on stools surrounding a bank of Red, White & Blue slot machines (subliminal message: be patriotic! while gambling!), and let’s just say we stayed there for the next thirty minutes or four hours, whichever the case may have been.

Because it was still early in the morning by Vegas standards, there weren’t very many of us watching Ocean’s Eleven being filmed. So over the course of the time that we were there, we moved around the perimeter of the set, watching several parts of the movie unfold before our eyes. There was an extended period of time where they were filming George Clooney sitting at a slot machine, and while there wasn’t any action to speak of in the scene, there was plenty to see. Oh yes ma’am there was.

The highlight of the morning was when D. and I were trying to cross over to the other side of the casino and somehow ended up in the middle of the set, just a stone’s throw away from Julia Roberts’ body double and Andy Garcia. Ever the adventurous one, I immediately freaked out and started pulling D.’s arm, saying, “We’re not supposed to be here! We’re not supposed to be here!”

D., on the other hand, was laid-back as could be, playing it cool and acting like we belonged there. But Prim Polly here couldn’t take the pressure of it all, couldn’t bear the possibility that we would be nabbed by security and promptly escorted out of the hotel (much like the scene we had seen them film over and over that morning), so I ducked under the velvet rope and quickly re-claimed my spot in Regular People Land. Just like I like it.

I’ve never been what you would call a daredevil.

About fifteen minutes later, we decided that it was time to say goodbye to Hollywood and resume our regularly scheduled Vegas activities. Like finding a lunch buffet. Because while the cast and crew of a major motion picture can easily provide a memorable morning of entertainment, they can’t hold a candle to an unlimited supply of crab claws, prime rib, and soft serve ice cream for the low, low price of $10.95 per person.

Naptime

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Try though he might, Superman fails to escape his sleeping captor’s clutches.

In Which I Am Resolved

Yesterday I had an industrial-sized bout of PMS, which meant that I spent a good portion of the day fighting off a full-fledged temper tantrum over all manner of Terribly Serious Issues. (For example: Alex ate around the edges of his biscuits. The edges are the best part. Eating around them makes no sense at all. How could he possibly have developed such a habit? Clearly I have Failed Motherhood.)

And then, to add insult to injury, I had to, like, share air with other people.

In short, I was a delight. Southern charm personified.

But wait! There’s more! When I dropped Alex off at his Sunday School class, he grabbed the door handle and would not let go as he Screamed Many Screams In A Fit Of High-Pitched Screamy Madness.

Since he usually walks into his classroom with a level of unbridled enthusiasm akin to what I feel when perusing the 75% off rack at Steinmart(s), I really didn’t know what to make of his reaction. He kept saying that he wanted to go to big church, no, he wanted to go home, no, he wanted to go to his class but not without mama, no, he wanted to eat cookies, no, he wanted Daddy, no, he wanted A VEGGIE TALES MOOOOOOOO-VIE, so I finally picked him up, took him out in the hallway, and snarled the following words through my gritted teeth:

“You have a choice. You can go in your class. Or we can go home. But if we go home, understand that you can’t watch TV, you can’t watch movies, and you can’t go with me to walk the puppy dogs. Do you understand?”

“I don’t understand, Mama.”

“Oh, [trying not to hiss in the middle of the pre-school wing as such behavior is not a reflection of the fruit of the Spirit] I. think. you. do. You have two options. What’s your choice?”

He opted for his class. And when he finally walked in the room, he was all calm and nonchalant and “good morning, everybody” as he took his place in the storytime circle.

Meanwhile I had broken a sweat – complete with hair plastered to my forehead – and needed a serious dose of blood pressure medication or at the very least a stout shot of whiskey before I headed back to the sanctuary.

Happy Sunday, everybody! Peace and love of the Lord be with you!

I don’t know why I’m even surprised anymore when Sundays take a nosedive. I have long contended that it’s the primary day when the devil loves to get up in our junk, and yet I was somehow shocked when my child misbehaved, when I had a mental block about the sermon, when I found myself thinking about Why The Pre-Schooler Is On My Nerves instead of reflecting on the blessing of his little life, not to mention the goodness and mercy of God.

(And if your child has never gotten on your nerves, I salute you. You’re obviously not a human, but I salute you nonetheless, Friendly Robot-Type Creature.)

So anyway. Fast forward.

After church we went to our favorite Chinese restaurant for lunch, and Alex was obviously trying to win an award for Loudest Child Ever. I, on the other hand, was trying to smack down the mighty hormones so that my response to the Loudest Child Ever would reflect some semblance of patience. It wasn’t as easy as you might think.

A few minutes into our lunch, the manager of the restaurant came over to our table, mainly to speak to Alex. They’ve gotten to be good buddies over the last three years, and as the manager started to speak, Alex stood up in his seat, stuck out his little arm, looked at the restaurant manager and said, “Wait wait wait – I need to tell you something.”

“What’s that?” the manager asked.

Alex looked him straight in the eyes, grabbed his arm, and said (loudly, of course), “God! Cares! About! You!”

The manager was a little confused, not sure of what was said, so he asked Alex to repeat himself.

And once again the little man proclaimed, “God! Cares! About! You!”

He wasn’t so much on my nerves at that point. Mainly because I was trying not to cry in the presence of such overwhelming sweetness.

Now granted, the little man wasn’t trying to round up folks for a tent meeting. He was simply repeating a variation of the Bible verse they’d talked about in his Sunday School class. But the more I’ve thought about what he did, the more I’ve realized what I don’t do, the ways I let my boldness get swallowed up by my circumstances.

Alex learned that God cares about people. And he told somebody. He did something. He took that little bit of Truth, and he acted on it. He shared it.

I would do well to do the same.

So, I have one more goal for the year that I’m going to add to the list. Since right now there’s only one thing on the list (“Keep Moving”), I think adding something new is perfectly permissible.

And here’s the new goal: find some ways to love on some people.

Why? Because God cares about them.

The first love-a-thon is already in the works. God’s timing is good like that.

More details tomorrow….

Please Pardon Me While I Replenish My Electrolytes

Alex, the dogs and I just got back from our daily walk.

ONE HOUR AND THIRTY MINUTES after we left the house.

What can I say?

I zigged when I should have zagged. And we took a bit of a, um, scenic route.

Alex was a great sport about the whole thing. Mainly because he got to walk through a very big tunnel.

The dogs, however, were totally ticked off. Mainly because I wouldn’t let them chase the geese. Or swim in the lakes. Or catch the birds.

Anyhoo.

Moral of the story: Do not ever assume that you intuitively know where a golf course leads. Because you will be wrong.

Moral #2: Golf courses, apparently, are designed to be as hilly as possible. At least that’s what my legs started telling me around the 45-minute mark. And my legs are still just-a-talkin’, by the way.

Moral #3: Three year old boys have no limit to how far they can walk or run. However, thirty-something mamas who are just starting to get back into shape have a definite run / walk limit. And I believe I’ve hit mine.

I’ll be back later with my “real” post for the day.

In the meantime, I will be dousing the lower half of my body with some form of topical analgesic cream.

See y’all in a bit.

And This Is Why I Do Not Teach Sunday School

Last night I was putting Alex to bed, and when it was time to say prayers, he informed me that he was not interested in any prayer-saying, thankyouverymuch.

“Oh, Alex” I said, “you want to make sure you say your prayers. God made everything that we love, everything that we enjoy, so letting Him know that we’re thankful for those things is always the right thing to do. We want to have thankful hearts because thankful hearts honor God.”

The little man agreed with me and bowed his head – but I got all caught up in the teachable moment, so I kept going:

“Alex, did you know that God is your Heavenly Father? That He’s our Daddy in heaven? Kind of like a Big Daddy?”

Alex shook his head and said, “No, Mama. Daddy is on the couch. In the living room. Where is heaven?”

“Heaven is way up in the sky, higher up than the stars or the sun or the moon, even.”

“And Daddy’s way up in the sky?”

“No, buddy. Daddy’s in the living room, on the couch, just like you said. He’ll be in here in just a minute. God – who is your Heavenly Father – is in heaven, way up in the sky.”

“OOOOH, I get it, Mama. God lives in a spaceship!!!”

Clearly I have missed my calling in terms of teaching small children.

Our New Year’s Rockin’ Eve

We have been the Sneezy McSickersons at our house today, thanks to a monster of a cold / sinus infection that Mama was kind enough to pass along to all of us when she was visiting for Christmas.

It’s the gift that keeps on giving!

Unfortunately, Alex is about two days ahead of D. and me in the recovery process, which means that the youngster has a major case of cabin fever and two parents who don’t much want to venture outside the “cabin,” as it were. To add insult to injury, Alex ripped up a DVD case (why? I have no idea, but the people at Blockbuster will be none too pleased with his handiwork), lost his TV privileges for the day, and do y’all have any idea how it’s taking every ounce of strength I have not to cave and let my child watch “Max and Ruby,” for pete’s sake?

You see, the problem with punishment is that you have to enforce it. Which totally stinks. Especially when your head is swollen to twice its normal size and stuffed with cotton.

So, to entertain himself, Alex has been removing the attachments from the vacuum cleaner and using them as microphones, mostly saying, “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, it’s MAAAAAAH-MAAAAAAAH!” And then I take the stage, sneeze, and blow my nose. Tickets are going for upwards of a penny, so you’d better order yours quickly because there’s no question that the show is going to be a sell-out.

We have also made pretend phone calls to Mickey Mouse, Batman, Superman, Donald Duck, Goofy, the grandparents, and all the aunts and uncles. And do y’all know what’s CRAZY? According to the information that Alex says they’re giving him, they all got Criss Cross Crash for Christmas. ISN’T THAT UNCANNY? Alex has also called Mickey Mouse to tell him that we’re going to make some chocolate chip cookies and to ask him to excuse him because he “pooted and had gas,” and if y’all would just remind me that the next time I have some sort of cold and Alex misbehaves, I need to come up with an alternate form of punishment that does not involve taking away the television.

(By the way, right now D. and Alex are playing Criss Cross Crash, and it’s so loud that I feel like I need to TYPE IN ALL CAPS JUST SO YOU CAN HEAR ME.)

So here’s our plan for the evening, once we get the child into bed:

1) Sneeze
2) Wipe nose
3) Repeat

If we get really wild and crazy I guess we’ll wipe each other’s noses, but maybe not, because, well, EWWWW.

I actually did get my Christmas decorations put away today, and that was a huge accomplishment because I kept breaking out in a cold sweat and having to sit down and fan myself (in a word: ATTRACTIVE), and I found myself getting a little reflective about 2006. I don’t know if that was because I was running a touch of fever or because I was actually examining my life thoughtfully (stranger things have happened), but I think I’ll probably write some of that stuff down and post it tomorrow when everyone’s too tired from their New Year’s Eve festivities to care. Because I like to bury the thoughtful stuff in places where no one can find it, you see.

So now it’s almost 10, and Alex is asleep, and the dogs are all snug in their beds (it took some doing because Maggie the lab is terrified of the sound of fireworks and had a full fledged anxiety attack about 7, right around the time when Alex was calling Mickey Mouse and telling him all about his gastric woes), and I think I’m going to watch a movie.

I know! A movie!

I think it’s pretty clear that I’m planning to LIVE ON THE EDGE in 2007.

Happy New Year, everybody.