All American Dad

So, Mike and I are watching "American Chopper," a really fun show--if you like big burly guys swearing their brains out while creating incredible custom motorcycles--and Mike sees a similarity between himself and the dad on the show.

I'm like, "Yeeaaahhh. Hello!"

I'm writing a story today--for my paying job--and Mike is yelling at Ryan, bellowing God-knows-what from other parts of the house, crabbing LOUDLY about the mess the kids left in the basement. Meanwhile, I'm supposed to create a really good lead that's acceptable to me and two other editors. Mike IS the guy from American Chopper.

Last Friday the kids had off from school. Two of my friends are single working moms, so I had their girls come over, too, while they worked at their jobs, which are NOT at home with a loud-mouthed, swearing husband. Four kids, nine hours to kill. Mike made himself scarce. "I want to subtract the number of kids in this house, not add, Cath. How many times do I have to tell you?"

Since I said I might take the kids to the movies, my friend B. gave me a $25 movie card, even though she only has one child. It was exhorbitant, I refused it, she refused to let me refuse it--you know how it goes. So I took the kids to the movies.
I thought something like the zebra cartoon, "Racing Stripes." But that was out of the theaters. So I thought "Winn-Dixie," a movie based on a sweet children's book. Cara: "I'm seeing that with my class on Thursday."

All of them: "We want to see 'Son of the Mask!'"

I was like, "No way. Forget it. There's no Jim Carrey, not that I liked the first 'Mask.' But this has talking babies AND talking dogs. No. It's not happening."

Them: "We want to see 'Son of the Mask!'"

So, guess what we saw? And guess who laughed her ass off? I never saw the "Jamie Kennedy Experiment," so I didn't know who this guy was. But, very funny. Particularly the part when his wife is leaving for a business trip and he is desperately, quietly telling her as she's getting into the airport cab, "Take the baby. Please. Take the baby. Just....take the baby."

That was legitimate.

One thing we never got around to doing was see "The Gates" in Central Park. We tried, but couldn't get parking. We've NEVER not gotten parking in the city. We've parked for the Thanksgiving Day parade, Christmas week. We even accidentally drove right into the Gay Pride parade and got a street space. But, not for "The Gates."

We tried parking at garages, looked down many, many, many, many, many streets. After an hour and a half, of which Mike did nothing but tell me how a: "The Gates" look like a construction zone; b: he couldn't believe it cost $21 million for orange sheets; c: he didn't know who was crazier--the people who thought "The Gates" were art or us, for looking so long for a space to go see "The Gates," we finally came home.

It was nuts. We coulda, shoulda, woulda taken the ferry and had a shuttle ride to the park. But who knew half the world would come out for this? Now, "The Gates" exhibit is ending on Sunday, and surprise, surprise, Mike won't have anything to do with trying --again-- to see it. But, when I think about it, I can't really picture the American Chopper dad enjoying "The Gates" either.

--Catherine Schetting Salfino

Sick of it all

Being snowed in for a couple of days in nearly two feet of snow made me take stock this weekend. I looked around, at what I had; at my kids, and all they have. And I realized something -- they have just too much crap. And, so sadly, I can't TiVo it away....

The problem is, we are coming off a week of severe stomach virus. Couple that with 21 inches of snow, and you have a "Shining" moment waiting to happen. We were trapped with the virus, then snow, then in a wreckage of our own making. Movie voiceover guy: "It was the stuff that HELL was made of...."

Cara was crazy sick for three days. She couldn't do anything but watch TV. Couldn't eat, couldn't move. Couldn't change her socks or brush her hair, either. She was in heaven. This meant no picking up after herself. But, when you consider that she was knocked out sick, this should not have been an issue. Surrre....

She was hit with the virus last Tuesday. I came home from a meeting Wednesday evening sick as a dog. When I came out of my stupor on Friday, I realized the house looked like something seen only in tornado aftermath footage.

Cut to the weekend. Ryan gets sick 5 a.m. Saturday morning. But he can't accept that. He has to keep pulling out toys, digging for gloves and hats in a plea for snow action--even though he'd get a raging fever whenever the Motrin wore off.

By Sunday, I'd had it with the TV being on. Cara was no longer sick and after a couple of hours in the snow, wanted to return to the comforting glow of "Even Stevens" and "Lizzie McGuire." On the other hand, Ryan, still sick, refused to lay down and take his illness like a man--"SpongeBob's not on."

So I told them we'd play with Play-Doh and the ol' Lite Brite. But first, I'd have to find the little plastic light pieces. This led to a sobering reminder that we have an Easy Bake oven that was used once, more Hasbro and Milton Bradley games than we WANT to play with (because "no fair" is shouted more often than "I connected four!"), enough Hot Wheels and Match Box cars to circle our town twice. About 49,000 crayons and markers. A jillion coloring books, activity books, and just plain BOOKS. Yet, not enough Lite Brite lights (Mike thinks they're out in the garage--see previous blogs about Mike's organizing efforts).

So, I made an agreement with the big guy (actually, it was just a stipulation of marriage)--the next person to give Cara or Ryan ANYthing before their birthdays this spring has to put $100 into savings. We need to punish ourselves. It's the only way to stop the insanity. You can't keep up with the stuff if it just keeps coming in.

Which led me to the realization that all housekeeping should be as easy as TiVo housekeeping. With TiVo, when the recorded shows pile up, you scroll through, decide if you want to keep or delete them, press a button--badabing, badaboom, done. I feel like "Bewitched." No tapes or DVDs to organize. No piles of stuff to move around.

I need TiVo cleaning for every room in my house. It could pop up a list of stuff in Cara's room: I could scroll through and click what to keep, what to delete, what to put in the closet, a drawer. Click, click, done.

Why, oh, why is this not available?? TiVo, WHY DO YOU TAUNT ME?!?

--Catherine Schetting Salfino