Wednesday, March 09, 2005

Part 2: Fun with Fisher Price

After the bus ride from hell, I took the subway another 45 minutes out to Braintree MA where my sister picked me up. I felt bad it was so late. Total travel time, 6hrs and 36 minutes not including the 20-minute car ride to Duxbury. I felt guilty I was so late coming in. As if I had any control over it. My sister is a mom now and is very into schedules. So I was worried I might have thrown off her schedule for Robbie. Luckily he was already in bed when we got home. We stayed up late talking and catching up. Until eventually Jen went to bed. Naturally at 1am I started doing my laundry. This is what happens when you live in NYC and don't have a washer and drier. You will cart your dirty clothes across 3 states to wash them for free and yet you will avoid going to the laundry mat that is a block away from your freakin' apartment for weeks until one morning you are faced with wearing either

A. The same jeans for the 7th time that are now so loose they make your ass look like you crapped your pants.


B. A reject outfit. A reject outfit is a pair of pants or a shirt that was an impulse buy or something you used to wear when you were skinnier and now you can't decide if it looks retarded. So instead it sits in your bottom drawer or smooshed in your closet mocking you every time you look at it. My reject outfit is a pair of jeans that are a little too high waisted for my liking. They can only be paired with a long sweater even though to the naked eye nobody would think they were highwaisted, that doesn't matter because I know and if I think about too long I get freaked out and have to take them off and then back in the drawer they go.

So I did my laundry and watched this reality show on TBS called "Faking It” which was about this girl who wanted to be a swimsuit model but she was this shy, sorta average looking girl from somewhere out in the Midwest. The idea is that she'd have these people coaching her on how to be a swimsuit model all week and a makeover and then she'd go up against real swimsuit models in a contest and the judges had to figure out who they thought was faking it. If she fooled them, then she won. Which she did. I really don't know why I started talking about this.

At this point is was super late so decided to go to bed. I closed my eyes and listened to the hum of Robbie's humidifier in the room next to mine. I pulled the covers way up to my chin, so I was wrapped papoose -style. And thought how nice it was to be away from NYC.

It was so quiet.


I woke to the sound of a screaming crying toddler and glanced down at my cell phone. Oh God. I've been asleep for 3 1/2 hours.

Dear God what is up with my neck? Caaan't tuuurn it to the riiighooouch! Oh please please please go back to bed Robbie...please...your Auntie Sandy drank way to much wine the other night and then endured the bus trip from hell and she's very cranky and now she can't turn her head to the right and she hasn't had a cigarette in 36 hours now because when she goes home she doesn't smoke anymore...Hmm...wonder if Jen hears him... Oh man I feel like death...must sleep, why did I stay up watching Faking It? That's a great show though. Please Robbie go back to sleep??? Please...Oh yes! heh heh Jen is up...woooow she's good...he totally stopped. I love his little munkin voice. My sister is amazing. *yawn* I wa....zzzzzzzzz


No Robbie that's the doggies. Robbie no. No Robbie no…no Robbie... *insert tantrum* Okay someone needs a nap come on let's go upstairs.

No, no, no, I need a nap Jen I need a nap.

*Screaming continues then a barely inaudible "mah mah mah mah noooo mah mah" *more crying*

I know punkin; you are tired I can tell.

Why yes I am, you see I only got 6 hours of sleep and well you know I'm not really good with that I'm more of a 8 or 12 hours girl you know?...Oh you're talking to Robbie.

Oh god forget it I need to just get up.

After several cups of coffee and some scrambled eggs I was feeling a little more like myself. Jen brought Robbie down from his mid morning nap and asked if I could watch him while she got everything ready for the trip to my parents house. Robbie is a little over a year and walking now. When he walks he looks wasted. His favorite thing is when I hang him upside down from his feet and when I run ahead of him, hide behind a wall and then jump out and scare the living shit out of him. Both send him into giggle fits like I've never seen. I keep telling him that in a few more years he's not going to think that's so funny and if he starts doing that to strangers he'll be arrested. I think he understands.

When my sister was done she joined Robbie and I in his playroom. We started talking about Fisher Price Peoples and how different they look now. My older sister Jen used to create entire worlds with Fisher Price Peoples. It was like a Fisher Price Soap Opera that as a kid I loved to tune into every day. It had returning characters, love affairs and deaths. It was our own personal One Fisher Price Life to Live.

Now Fisher Price Peoples were huge and had arms. Since when do Fisher Price Peoples have arms? And since when can did they stop making the small enough to choke on? I mean honestly, it's a wonder I survived.

I noticed that one of the Peoples was a farmer...and he was carrying a sac of what was supposed to be grain but it looked like he was packing an ounce on him. Robbie was mesmerized with the Peoples especially when you made them talk and move. So I decided to make up a little story for him.

" Why Hullooo Robbeh! I'm Farmer Doo-bie... I like to grow weeed Robbeh...because I'm all alone on this here ranch and there's nothin' else to do but get wassted you know what I mean Robbeh? Farmer Doobie needs some friends here... maybe a lady friend."

My sister lay curled up on the rug in fits of laughter. I'm glad she has a good sense of humor. I'm also glad Robbie hasn't really learned to talk yet.


Blogger laurenbove said...

Oh Sandy: You are so damn funny. I fucking love you, you silly momma.

I don't know what was better, the dirty and too tight mocking clothing? The repulsive high-waisted pants that we kept but really cant tolerate wearing ( btw: just throw them out for goodness sakes - I finally did.) ... The Fisher Price Soap Opera...I can totally completely relate to (loved onelifetolive and why do the FP people look so different..have you seen the new Farm? The door doesn't moo anymore you have to jam the cow or whatever upon the special moo button in the cow's pen) or your mister doobee who I'd luh-huv love a visit from any time now!!!!! (burbs prevent enjoyment, nuff said)

You should have a column in the NYT Arts and Entertainment section. I would read it religiously.

Regarding your trip: You will remember this when you have a little one and staying up late drinking wine has its price. Do like I do...teach the child to sleep. No waking up b/4 7am. It's a directive from GOD. If you know you have til 7, you can plan your celebrations better. Know what I mean, jellybean?

6:37 PM  
Blogger laurenbove said...

This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

6:38 PM  
Blogger laurenbove said...

double post, sorry S!!

6:38 PM  
Blogger S said...

Thank you thank you Lauren! Wow that's so cool. You rock!

So you've seen the Fisher Price farm...I know you do have to jam the cow. (um...wait...that sounded bad) But I'm still getting over the fact that they make sounds at all. And they are huge! There is really no way you can accidentally swallow one. ha ha Farmer Doobie needs to visit me soon too :)

12:47 PM  
Blogger laurenbove said...

Hi: Firefox/blogger sux today.

Yep, we have the farm among other FP childsized micro environments. I'm looking at it right now. The thing I don't like about the "cowmoobutton" is that it's indiscriminant. You can take say, the bulbous chicken or horse and shove it on the button, still moos.

If you put the chicken on the farmers cot, the chicken will snore. This quirk of the indiscriminant button sounds would be realllly funny after Farmer Doobee's visit. Don't you think? I can picture myself in fits of laughter unable to gain a hold of myself.

Excellent post, as I said. I love the way you describe the intricacys of the woman's mind with those intricate truths I thought were my own secrets.

5:34 PM  
Blogger S said...

Oh my god I was imagining playing with the farm after a visit from farmer doobie and I started laughing out loud at my desk. I mean you really present a very important point. I mean, what sort of confusinig messages does this give children?Cows...making chicken clucks, a farmer who moos??? This is just wrong. I think it's good that Robbie has someone like me to explain to him the REAL inner workings of the farm.

6:04 PM  
Blogger laurenbove said...

Yes, Let's go to F.P. with our concerns as adults for the children we love. Maybe we could get hi-paying consulting gigs... Meanwhile...Robbie and Sammy will play with the farm and mess with our heads after Farmer Doobee's ill fated visit.

7:31 PM  

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