I one the sandbox...

Remember that Bert and Ernie skit where Ernie fools Bert into saying he ate the sandbox? That's all I could think of today when I took the kids to Sturbridge Lake's playground. There's a big sandbox there, and Nico kept almost putting acorns in his mouth. Of course we'd have to change the line to "I eight the acorns" but you get the idea.

What a gorgeous day outside. Despite the huge grassy puddles from yesterday's gloom, there was plenty of room for running around, plenty of sticks to pick up, and even a cute little 2 year old girl for Nico to flirt with. Even though my son was clearly still wearing his pajama top (I honestly didn't think anyone else would be there), she flirted right back and sat next to him as he flung sand five feet into the air.

We spent over two hours running in the grass, puddle stomping, and admiring the biggest stick Nico's ever laid eyes on -- a branch that had fallen from a tree, probably from yesterday's wind. He tried to lift it up but it wouldn't budge, so he settled for touching as many parts of it as he could every time we got close. This is the kind of day I'll always love to remember... my free little bird playing at the park... and my sweet little girl sleeping in her baby carrier, enjoying her first day out in the fresh air.

Speak not

Going back to the whole thing with babies voices on records... there's one more form of creative expression that bugs the crap out of me. Spoken word. I've been going through my iPod, listening to different kid-friendly music during the day, and I came across an old favorite. Digable Planets "Reachin' (A New Refutation of Time and Space)". It's from, what, the early '90s? But I still love it, or at least most of it until the end when Butterfly insists on going all coffeehouse beatnik on me during "Le Femme Fetal".

There are certain people from whom I can tolerate spoken word. One is Henry Rollins. Think of him when you think of the kind of spoken word that doesn't make me want to gouge out my ears. There are a lot of artists I love until they word it up. Erykah Badu... Ani DiFranco... and yes, Digable Planets. And never mind the slew of non-singers who practice such literary crime. Here's a little sample of what irritates me most. Imagine the rhyming words being drug out in that monotone, semi-question-marked way. "I hate to sound macaaaaabre... but isn't it my jooooob... to lay it on the masseeeees... and get them off their asseeeees..." Barf. Ruined.

There must be some deep down punk bit of me that makes me reject this part of the artistic spectrum. Even the poetic hippie part of me cringes around the wrong variety of spoken word. It's just not tolerable. At least not to me. If I could just find the cable that connects my iPod to my laptop, I would be able to go in and edit my music. That's the rough part about having a disorganized house. It's so darn tough to find the things you really need when you're trying to keep your sanity.

Happy Moms

Happy Mother's Day to all you mamas out there.

We had a really wonderful morning/early afternoon at my mom's. Brunch, mimosas, and family hanging out, talking, and laughing. We're back home and it's family nap time. Yay!

Aloha, Mr. Hand

This evening, bleary-eyed, I caught the end of "Fast Times at Ridgemont High". I have two words for you -- Spicoli dance. This is a classic moment for everyone in my family, and is always brilliantly recreated by my brother. And my sister. In a weird way, when my sister does it, in my mind she is doing an impersonation of my brother doing the Spicoli dance. This makes it doubly goofy to me and cracks me up every time.

If you don't know the Spicoli dance, go rent this movie at once or find it on demand. Fast forward to the graduation dance when the band's playing "Wooly Bully" and watch Sean Penn. It only lasts a few seconds, but it's the best boogie-down ever captured on film.

Crazy insane

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror today and, seriously, I mistook myself for a crazy person. I'm wearing green tartan boxers with a pink tank top that does not properly conceal my white bra straps. The icing on the cake was having the strap of the nursing bra fastened outside of and around the tank top strap, rather than underneath it. No idea how that happened. My hair is wrapped in a bun on top of my head, which is supposed to make me look more neat and tidy but actually there's hair sticking out everywhere. All I need is some sloppy neon pink lipstick (with a little dabbed on my front tooth) and the look would be complete.

Well... the baby just started crying again, so I gotta go back to Mommyville.

Swordfish

The other day I happened to catch the movie "Swordfish" on tv. I'd never seen it before and had no idea it's such a sexy movie! Have you seen the cast? Oh my. This would have been one of my "watch over and over" movies long ago had I seen Hugh Jackman and his infinite cuteness when this film first came out. Halle Berry is one of my least favorite actresses, but in this movie I'm making an exception. It's my new goal to look as good as she does in that little red outfit, eating that red rope liquorice. Sadly, though, I doubt having eaten 3/4 of a bag of Twizzlers in the past four days will have quite the same effect on my body as it does on hers. I'm not punishing this bag of strawberry twists, it's punishing me. But I don't care, I'm just trying to offset it by engaging my abs every time I eat another piece. Sounds good in theory... I'll let you know how it works out.

There's also a non-fat Travolta and my man Don Cheadle. A little Cheadle goes a long way for me in any film. I don't know why. He's barely in "Ocean's Eleven" so I really have to savor his goofy English accent in that one, but "Swordfish" has him looking handsome and acting all serious in a good way. Go, Cheadle. And any time Travolta looks good enough to not make me think of "Grease", I'm highly appreciative. Right now I'm thinking of Hugh Jackman and it's blocking out the memory of who else was in "Swordfish" but I will just say that I watched half the movie on mute and I was still glued to the tv. *lick finger, twist torso, touch butt* Tssss...