>Tuesday Tidbits are the posts where I sum up all the little things that happen in our lives from one week to the next; the little things that aren’t interesting enough for me to write an entire post about (though you all know I can spin a boring tale out of pretty much near anything), but which may or may not be of interest to you.
- Bug developed a fever yesterday and went to bed without any fuss. Which meant he really wasn’t feeling well because he’s had an on-again, off-again cough for about three weeks now and has been fighting us at bedtime to the point where we’ve been giving in and letting him sleep with us all night, not even bothering to move him into his bed after he’d fallen asleep. (You should know that when I say to the point where… I mean he wrapped his arms around my neck, said, “Mommy, hold you in Mommy’s bed. Bug sleep in Mommy’s bed,” and I gave in. I never said I was super strong at denying him Mommy love at night.)
He woke up crying at midnight:thirty, as Tony calls it, burning up with a temp of 101.5 F. Which isn’t high enough to see the doctor right away, but high enough that his little body felt hot enough to set the bed on fire. Of course he developed a fever last night, of all nights. Apparently that’s what he does on the nights before Tony jumps the next morning. It’s like his way of saying, “Here’s a good luck present for you, Daddy. A night of broken sleep so that when you wake up at 4:30 to jump out of an airplane with a new parachute that you’ve never used before, you’ll be at your BEST!” Because the last time Bug got sick with a fever was also the night before Tony made his last jump. I offered to sleep on the futon with Bug so that Tony could get four more hours of uninterrupted sleep, but Tony took it instead, stating that he can sleep anywhere. Poor guy.
- This past weekend Tony took Bear to the Arts and Crafts Center to sign her up for some summer lessons they’re offering there. Because drawing is her life!, we put her in a four-week, eight-lesson drawing/cartooning class for kids ages 5 to 13. Best of all, as it turns out, her BFF, A.P., from across the street, is also going to be in that class. So it’s like the best of everything for her. We’ve also put her in an international doll-making class that Tony didn’t realized was for kids age 7 and up, but I think she’ll have fun even if it’s a little beyond her current crafting abilities.
- More movie reviews from someone who is not at all an authority figure on the subject:
Seven Pounds. I wanted so badly to like this movie. Friends of ours had recommended it to us with rave reviews, and I love Will Smith, but man, this was a hard movie to get through. It took Tony and I two nights to get from start to finish. Now granted, we didn’t even start watching it until almost 11pm the first night, but it wasn’t until the last half hour that we finally got it. I suppose that was the point, but really, I don’t watch movies often enough (despite my recent posts about them) to spend that much time wanting to like something I’m watching and failing at doing so. I liked the concept; not the movie itself. It might have made a better book.
He’s Just Not That Into You. Not bad, but not the greatest chick flick I’ve ever seen. Much too long; they really could have cut about half an hour and still reached my limit. I was expecting better from the creators of the SATC series.
Transformers. The first one that came out a couple years ago and which we just watched this weekend. Actually, I very reluctantly agreed to watch it this weekend and two minutes into it decided it was worth my time. I laughed my way through it, not because it was a comedy (which it’s not) but because there were some really funny parts. You might think this movie is for kids because it’s based on the cartoon series from the (70s? 80s?) but it’s not. It’s a movie for all the little boys who grew up watching it in the (70s? 80s?) and are now in their 30s and who yelled out, “Optimus Prime!” so loudly that they woke up their sleeping children in the other room from the sheer excitement.
Speed Racer. Whoa baby. Very much NOT a kid’s movie, despite the fact that it’s based off a Japanese cartoon by the same name. I was so unimpressed I slept through most of it, but Tony stayed awake to watch the whole thing. He wasn’t impressed, either. So not our type of movie.
- Remember the fun ball pit I created for the critters a couple weeks ago? Well, they hardly use it at all (which justifies the fact that I haven’t purchased any more balls to make it any more fun), but the cats play in there several times a day. So it’s not all for naught.
- Two Saturdays ago, Tony asked to play a full round of golf with his golfing buddies. We each get a certain amount of spending money each pay period, and Tony puts a certain amount of his aside to play 18 holes of golf once a month. (I spend mine on books.) That Saturday was his day to play in June, and he spent six hours of our family time on himself.
So this past Saturday I requested a full six hours of family time to myself. I had intended to grab my laptop and head somewhere with outlets, WiFi, and coffee, but instead I stayed home where I readily had all three, plus my bed to sit upon. At 9am I kissed my family members goodbye, grabbed my coffee cup, and locked the bedroom door. I think I emerged now and again for bathroom breaks and coffee refills, and Bear did knock on the door once to get permission to do something-or-other because she’s not used to asking her daddy for such things, but I pretty much got my six hours of Me Time.
Yes, I spent it all online. I was being productive; the fruits of which you’ll see tomorrow. It wasn’t quite as out-of-the-house as I’d hoped, but at least I didn’t have to get dressed or put on
a brapantsshoes. That’s a good day in my book. I’m looking forward to Tony playing golf again next month, because I am so using this card from here-on out. - Tomorrow’s my 22nd birthday. For the eighth time. You can thank Tony for that logical math, because on my second 22nd birthday he pronounced me un-agable. Then again on the third and fourth ones, and after that I pretty much came to know what to expect. Only Bear is truly honest about my age, because she’s five, and five-year-olds don’t lie about their parents’ true ages, and also because I’m pretty sure my parents don’t want to admit to being old enough to have a daughter who is about to begin the final year of her twenties.
In honor of the occasion, I’m giving myself – and all of you – a great big present. No, I’m not telling you what the surprise is. You need to wait until Wednesday to see. I think you’ll like it; I know I do.
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