The Entertainer

I like to think of myself as a performer. I never did any serious performing, unless you consider my role as Chacha Digregorio in Grafton High School's spring production of "Grease" serious...I do like to think I brought the house down that weekend...

What were we talking about? Oh, right. I like to think that I'm kind of a star that got away from the industry. Or maybe a talent that hasn't yet been discovered, in a Lucy Ricardo sort of way. I like to sing and dance, and I have a ready made audience of two at my disposal all the time. Unfortunately for me, one of them is a real critic.

This morning, we were making our way down the stairs, a bleary-eyed trio, and Luke noticed that it was storming outside.

"That's right," I said, and then I belted out, "It's a rainy day, it's a rainy day. We can't go out. We can't go out and play. Why does it have to rain anyway?"

"Mommy, your singing makes me chilly," he said.

Hm. "Well then, we'll just have to warm up," I said. I love a good play on words.

A few minutes later as we were playing with toys, Luke started to hum a song. "What song am I singing?" he asked. He really enjoys a good round of Name That Tune.

"Are you singing this one? Ri-ise, and shi-ine, and give God the glory glory..." I sang it out.

Luke twisted his face into a nasty grimace and shuddered. "I DON'T WIKE YOUR SINGING!" he shouted. I gave him a little space for a while. Some people just need to ease into the day.

We started to talk about breakfast. He told me he would like some apple slices, no, a banana, no, apple slices, no...I thought about the song "I Like to Eat Apples and Bananas", but then thought again. Too obvious. Too Barney. Not mature enough. And most importantly, not enough razzle dazzle.

I did a quick browse of my mental catalogue and came up with a little ragtime. Luke likes a jazzy tune, and I might even get a clap out of George if I can add a Charleston kick or two. "Yes, we have no bananas. We have no bananas today," I sang. And Charleston kick I did! I felt radiant.

Luke folded his arms and put his head, face down, on the table.

Some people just don't recognize talent when they see it. Nevertheless, I'll be rehearsing during nap time. I want to nail my new theme song, "You Can't Always Get What You Want" by The Rolling Stones.

Checking In

Well, I've been on a two-week insomnia bender, rendering me thoughtless and mostly speechless. The humor of my son staring at the plumber who came by to fix our toilet and saying to him, "I don't want to talk to you" passed me by completely. You'd think I'd be able to come up with a good story after, an hour later, two painters came by to do some caulking and painting, and Luke screamed the entire time they were there, "They're scary! Mommy, don't make me go near them," all the while climbing up my legs and pulling my skirt down. Talk about humiliating. My writing thrives on humiliation! But no, I haven't the energy.

Boy, am I tired of being an insomniac.

GET IT? TIRED!...Insomniac humor. Ha ha. Ha ha. Ha...

Anyway, I've worked really hard to get all nine of you, including both of my grandmothers, who get a hard copy in the mail, to read my beloved weblog, and I don't want to lose you, so how's about reading something I wrote five months ago and never published? A delicious tale that is sure to make you cringe at my lack of parenting skills. It's all about bribery. Here you go:

Well, I've opened one of the Pandora's Boxes of parenthood, and that is bribery. Specifically, I have been bribing Luke with treats. I had honestly never even thought to bribe him until his two-year well baby exam. His doctor gave me a suggestion to help Luke sleep through the night without his usual wee-small-hours-of-the-morning tantrums. He said that I should make a reward chart, and after two nights of no interruptions, Luke could have something special, not food-related, but something that Luke would want to work toward. But not food-related.

We went home and made a chart. Luke filled it up with smiley faces, and enjoyed watching YouTube videos as rewards for two cumulative nights of sleep. It worked so well at first, I decided to use the tactic to slay another dragon of Luke's--the Sunday School tantrums. Luke would go in every Sunday, and as he approached his room, would start crying. As he was peeled off of our legs by evil Sunday School volunteers and pulled through the door, he would throw himself on the floor, scream, convulse, kick the door, throw punches, and do anything in his power to let everybody know that he did not intend to sit in this Baptist Concentration Camp and eat goldfish and make crafts for the next hour.

We had a little meeting of minds one afternoon and I proposed that on Sundays, if he could walk in without a tantrum, he could watch TWO FULL-LENGTH MOVIES on Sunday afternoons. He sat and thought about it, the wheels in his head turning, and then that little son of a gun pushed the envelope back. No deal.

I thought about what else we could do. A trip to the park? The library? But the weather and baby brother might not always cooperate. And, those things should be a regular adventure at any opportunity, so I nixed that idea. "Candy it is," I told him.

We held up a packet of "Spiderman Treats" (fruit snacks) every Sunday morning as we left for church. We explained the operation to him repeatedly as we drove, and then walked into the building. When he behaved, he got the treat. When he didn't, we ate it in front of him on the way home and talked about how good it tasted while Luke scowled in his car seat. Was that a little bit cruel? Perhaps. Effective? You betcha.

Ever since, I've been bribing that kid with treats left and right. "If you get through the tour of the football stadium without talking, we'll buy you an ice cream at the end." Consider it done. Last night, I told Luke that if he would sing fussy George songs to keep him happy while I cooked dinner, I'd pay him one Skittle per song. That boy sang like a canary until dinner was on the table. This food-related bribery thing works like a charm.

This morning, I took the boys out so George could get his shots. Luke munched on more Skittles while we sat in the waiting room, a reward for sitting on his bottom. After the shots, we made our way back to the car, and Luke was informed that the only way he was going to get more Skittles was if he held my hand the entire way through the parking lot. Am I a Patsy, or what? Skeptical of my steadfastness, Luke ceased and desisted with the hand-holding in favor of jumping in some puddles.

When we got back to the car, he demanded his treat. "I'm sorry," I explained, "you didn't hold my hand like I told you." He argued with me, begging for more Skittles. He must not have understood me. Chock it up to the fact that when I told him no, I sounded like I had a mouth full of marbles. In truth, I had a mouth full of Skittles. "I want some Skittles!" he kept shouting as I drove. "I'm so sorry," I repeated, popping more candy in my mouth the entire way back home, "but if you stop fussing about the Skittles, I'll let you have a hot dog for lunch." Talk about a huge dangling carrot.

This bribery thing makes me feel like we're on a runaway train, headed for disaster. This is not good parenting. I've got to stop, I told myself as I pulled into our apartments. And at that point, I decided that if I can go a whole week without bribing Luke, I can buy a cute new outfit. Two weeks, and I can buy some new impractical shoes to go with the outfit. Three weeks calls for a purse...

Tales of Brotherly Jealousy

Once upon a time, there were twin brothers, Esau and Jacob, whose parents were Jacob and Rebekah. The twins had spent their entire lives, including the time in Rebekah's womb, fighting. Esau was burly and kind of dumb, while Jacob was clever and kind of wimpy.

One night, Esau came home from a long day of hunting. He was completely famished. Jacob, who had been cooking dinner, offered him some stew in exchange for Esau's birthright. Esau went for it.

Years later, as Isaac laid on his deathbed, he called for Esau so he could give him his blessing. With Rebekah's help, Jacob used goat skins to disguise himself as Esau (Esau was one hairy son-of-a-gun) and received his blessing. Esau became so jealous, his shouting shook the walls of their tent. Rebekah sent Jacob to spend time with her family so Esau could cool down. It took twenty years.

Similarly, there were two brothers named Luke and George. George's first birthday was approaching, and some presents arrived in the mail. "Can I open that present?" asked Luke. "No," his mother, Laura, told him, "Those are George's birthday presents."

"But can I open them?" he persisted. "NO," said Laura, "They belong to George. He will open them on his birthday."

"Can I open them on his birthday?" he asked. "Fine," Laura replied, "You can open George's presents on his birthday, and he will open your presents on your birthday."

Luke thought for a moment and replied, "George will open his presents on his birthday."

A few days later, Laura overheard Luke telling his father, Joe, "Me and George are having a birthday soon and we're both going to open some presents." Laura found the closest wall and started beating her head against it repeatedly.

Laura thought to herself that if her parents weren't travelling to Mississippi for the blessed occasion of George's birthday, she would probably send Luke to their house as a preventive measure. But she resolved that if Luke showed up to George's party wearing goat skins, she would at least send him to a neighbor's house for a couple of hours.