Thursday 7 April 2011

I WANT IN!!

What is it about humans and wanting to be absolutely everywhere, even places we don’t belong. It’s as if we have an inbuilt genetic need to seek out the prohibited, the dangerous, the unwelcoming, or even the ‘just none of your darn business’ areas, and of course we want in.

The funny thing is, what got me thinking about this was watching the King over the last few months in our kitchen – he’s like Yoda, okay, he's got a few pounds on Yoda, when it comes to studying human behavior. He is in cruiser mode now; he gets in that walker, gives me that look that says get out of my way or I will figure out how to move through you, and sets off like Magellan across the tile floor. Funny thing is, no matter how many things I give him access to, be it cupboards, drawers, toys, kitchen utensils, the King wants what he can’t have - but of course. The forbidden areas, the locked cupboards, the cleaning supplies, the oven. If you are a parent, you know the drill. What they have they don’t want, and what they don’t have, well, that is the Holy Grail.

As most of us know, this doesn’t change from the King’s age to mine (some of you are still in denial to this fact and it is why you can't seem to commit to anyone person for longer than three months; but that's another blog for another time). In fact, I almost think that with knowledge and ego, it gets worse over time. Suddenly wanting into the cleaning cupboard becomes wanting everything we don’t have: longer legs, the ideal job, a younger face, better hair, lover, car, you name it; cause what we don’t have is attractive, alluring, mysterious, and what he have is, in the King’s case, a wooden spoon that only makes one sound when you whack it against a highchair tray. And how dull is that?

And as predictable as the sun is going to set, the moment we gain entry or are given in to, and suddenly the world is our oyster, it dawns on us that it was all about the quest and not necessarily the prize. Haven't you ever tried to get into a club, restaurant or group at school (or what have you) and once you did, you quickly realized that being on the inside wasn't as great as you thought it would be; the food came out cold, the people were dull and laughed at their own jokes and the atmosphere was a whole load better on the bus ride over. And yet, for some of us it takes years to figure this one out. Hence, why so many industries are taking our money hand over fist – cause they know that if they keep us in the hunt for what we could have, we’ll keep coming back till it feels different. Ah yes, that old fallacy.

So I caved in and gave the King access to one of the cupboards he was pining to get into - I find fatigue and surrender go hand in hand these days, and for now he seems happy enough to take out every pan that is in there. And of course, he bangs them on the floor with a victorious look on his face that suggests contentment…for now anyway.

Monday 4 April 2011

3.14159...THAT'S ALL I GOT

313-995-5095, that’s the phone number for Pizza House in Ann Arbor, Michigan. Yes. I still remember the number. And the fact that I can remember the phone number of the place I used to order chapatis from (if you don’t know what they are, oh did you miss something…well, about six inches on the hips actually) is the kind of thing that terrifies me and gives me hope all at once. I mean, I can barely remember my son’s middle name – it’s either Alexander…or Ayrton, we’re Formula One fanatics, have to check the passport – and yet, I can remember a phone number of a pizza place I used to call in college. Granted, I dialed this place far too often, and what it says about my appetite is slightly frightening. In fact, I blame this establishment – yes Pizza House, I am calling you out – for my freshman 15. Okay 20, but in all black I could pull off looking downright cherubic. That’s such a sweet euphemism for round as a donut isn’t it? Sweet and very misleading.

I also remember my best friend’s phone number from when we were fourteen (don’t worry MF I shall not give it out). Don’t you miss phone numbers? I mean actually remembering phone numbers. Now I barely know my own phone number let alone anyone else’s. And of course every now and then I have that sobering moment when I realize that in an emergency, if I lost my phone and I was running through the rain on a dark night towards a phone box being chased by an axe wielding maniac (it could happen), I wouldn’t be able to call anyone as I don’t have their numbers memorized. Okay fine, I could call 911 (or 999 if I was being chased in England), but you get my point.

Gone are the days when we needed our memories. Now we have blackberries, iphones, computers, and so on, to do all our remembering for us. We don’t even have to remember birthdays thanks to Facebook. And people, when you get 300 people wishing you well on your birthday on FB don’t get too excited, if it wasn’t for that reminder in the top right hand corner (unless they’ve changed it, again) they wouldn’t know your birthday if it landed on them from space. I figure, as my son grows up, the only way to combat this problem is to walk around the house reciting Pi – at least then he stands the chance of memorizing a number longer than his ATM code.

Much more importantly, I wonder if a chapati would fit into a fed ex box?

Sunday 3 April 2011

THE ROYAL WEDDING

You know how they say never white to a wedding…they do right? I could be confusing that rule with don’t wear white after Labor Day – not sure what the British equivalent is…I think, 'don’t wear white period, cause if it rains you’re screwed.' Yeah, that must be it. Anyway, I suppose the point is, don’t wear some poufy meringue style dress to a wedding and upstage the bride. In fact, try to look elegant, but do the bride a favor and make a few mistakes on your make-up. It’s her day after all; throw her a bone for god sakes.

With all this fuss being made about the upcoming Royal Wedding – I suddenly thought about how awful it would be to be getting married in England, in April. Talk about being overshadowed on a regal scale. [In Nebraska, I'm thinking you should be okay]. Even worse if you’re name is Kate. In fact, if there is a Kate or Will in your wedding party, just call the whole thing off and elope, save yourself the agony. For those of you outside Britain and happily going on with your lives without having to hear every last detail about their upcoming nuptials, consider yourself very lucky.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m very happy for good ol' Wills & Kate and I think they make a very sweet couple. On the same token, I feel actually very sorry for them that this one supposed magical day of their lives is being put under such a microscope. No surprise there however. She of course is being accused of losing too much weight; not enough weight; picking the wrong dress; right dress, wrong bridesmaid, right caterer, wrong hairdo…you get the idea. Every move this woman has made in the last few months has been heavily documented and dissected. The last two headlines I read recently discussed how she likes an 800-calorie burger – cause that’s important - and that Wills won’t be wearing a wedding ring. If I were Kate, I’d have a word with Wills about that one. Then again, the likelihood of him walking into a bar and trying to pick up an airline stewardess while he’s at a conference seems pretty unlikely, purely cause he’ll be the guy with a security detail flanked behind him.

Then there is the fact that along with the wedding photos one would have to stand still for – I’m thinking in their case this may last around 8 days - you would have to accept that your face is going to appear on a variety of commemorative dishware across the country. I don’t know about you, but seeing my face on a plate would freak me out. In fact, I would love a set of dishes if I ever got married but I do not want to be ON a set of dishes hanging on someone’s wall in Slough. Then again, she is marrying a Prince, and I suppose when something like that happens to you, you quickly become aware that life is never going to be the same.

Come to think of it, are you allowed to yell at a Prince for constantly leaving his pants on the floor? Something tells me they may have a staff to make sure petty things like that don’t happen….Well Kate, you certainly have your work cut out for you, for starters, it’s going to take perseverance, thick skin, and a lot of hard work…I of course know these things, cause in our house, we have a King. It's a full time job I tell you.

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