we all scream. just in general.

My husband and I have never watched a horror movie together. Our movies usually include but are not limited to: 1) a bomb that needs to be dismantled or everyone will die 2) white collar crime, like stealing office supplies, 3) Bruce Willis in ANYTHING and 4) explosions. Mike can’t watch scary movies because he says they give him bad dreams, and if he wanted to be scared, he’d look at his checkbook.

It’s a little sad that a movie genre I grew up with and wholehearted love can’t be shared with the man I married. But then again, I don’t share his love of football. I don’t ever get in the way of this, it’s just I’m not wired to figure out what’s going on so I just sit next to him while he’s watching and browse The Sports Cliche List until I say something right. Most of the time I’m way off, like the other week when I said, “That Edgerrin James is a leader both on and off the field!” And Mike turned to me and answered, “Oh really? He’s a leader? He just joined the team three weeks ago.” Another time, I made some random out-of-my-ass comment that the Baltimore Ravens’ playing has really suffered this year because they lost their star running back and Mike retorted, “That’s interesting you say that because they’re undefeated this season and they lost their running back to free agency three years ago.”

Last night I went out with my friend E., who is new to Seattle, so I thought we would have fun at a comedy show, since Seattle is supposed to be really funny, right? I mean, it’s a city full of socially awkward people who perfect their funny quips before they log off Facebook.

We went to Giggles for their showcase of some local comics, some of whom were very funny and others WERE NOT FUNNY. There was a girl who was good, but told THE OLDEST JOKE, the one about how she went to a seafood restaurant and instead of “men” and “women” on the bathroom signs, there were signs for squids and marlins. There was another comic worse than that, this guy who took first place at a Seattle comedy competition and told the crowd to boo the host because he wasn’t right there to introduce him, plus he yelled after the poor guy, “And how far did you get in that contest I won? Loooooser!” I thought, what kind of panel of judges would actually award this asshat an award for anything other than a hot buffalo wing eating contest or a bet to see how long someone can go without feeling a woman’s touch? He continued with terrible jokes about “happy ending” massages that weren’t to his liking and eating pizza alone and I thought, “This, my dear sir, is why you are single. Plus, you look like you get sweaty when you eat something spicy.” The whole time he was on stage I kept thinking where the nearest movie theater was so we could go erase this memory with something better like Paranormal Activity.

After the show was over, we did watch Paranormal Activity, which was a good movie but I kept thinking how Mike wouldn’t like it because Bruce Willis isn’t in it, the couple in the movie were sharing the same blanket every night and never changed the sheets and some stupid teens in the audience were not using their INSIDE VOICES even though people kept telling them to shut it which of course they didn’t. Even outside they yapped to each other that it was a true story and I had to keep from yelling at them, “STAY IN SCHOOL, KIDS!”

And something not as scary, but still suspenseful is this action-packed video of Nathan trying to eat a spoonful of ice cream, but that success hinges on his father’s mercy:

we all scream for ice cream. from mona on Vimeo.

October 25, 2009 | Filed Under Uncategorized | 5 Comments 

do I want a boy or a girl?

When Mike and I found out we were pregnant, Mike said, “I hope the baby’s a girl.” For a long time I was on board with that idea, joking to people that I’m only going to find out if Baby 2 is a girl. If it’s a he, well, he’ll have to wear some girl clothes I’ve secretly been hoarding in the trunk of my car. At least for the first year. I desperately wanted a girl, a little girl with my hair and coloring who would grow up to kick ass in speech and debate, dominate her Gifted and Talented Calss and would choose Stanford as her campus for the month she spent at Junior Statesman of America. I wouldn’t live through her, I want her to replicate my life. I wanted a little image of me, a mini-Mona, because that’s exactly what the world needs: someone who cannot calculate the tip at a restaurant but tell you exactly what episode of The Simpsons and/or Friends this reminds her of.

I knew Nathan would be a boy even before I found out, but with this child I’m not so sure. What if my initial pining jinxed me? Or just jumbled up my maternal instinct so I’m confused, like when Mike asks me a math problem and he’s not going to let me shrug it off or distract him by offering some WIFELY DUTY (a gift that keeps on giving for thirty minutes or until Deadliest Catch comes on, whichever is first).

I was at a work event a few weeks ago and someone brought his two sons who were barely a year apart from each other. The way I saw the two boys move from headlocks to holding hands and back again made me think, “A boy wouldn’t be so bad. A brother for Nathan would be just fine.”

A boy would be nice! Boys are sweet, especially mine. When we we’re getting ready to walk out the door and I kneel in front of him to zip up his coat, he’ll pull me in and right before kissing me full on the lips, he’ll turn to his father and say, “DADDY! LOOK!” like he’s going to be Oedipus 2K9. The other day I was napping in my bedroom but forgot to turn off the light. Nathan barged in, the door banged against the wall, waking me up. I saw him reach up to the light switch, flip it off, and then announce, “I sleep with you, Mom!” He hoisted himself onto the bed and snuggled next to me until both of us fell soundly asleep. I don’t know if that’s a “boy” thing or just a Nathan thing but suffering through the “No! I don’t want to!” tantrums just for those sweet moments makes me feel hopeful for the next child and the lovey dovey times to come. Or maybe I’ll give birth to Damien and right before jumping off the balcony, I’ll yell, “THISSS IS ALL FOR YOUUUUU!”

But really, what I want is Nathan and Baby 2 to have a relationship like I have with my sister, Bobbie. Bobbie is my best friend. Every day she calls me and the time difference sets our conversations during my lunch break and her morning exercise routine and we spend the time mostly talking about kefir, what she learned in the Sephora beauty book, our kids, and then other times we just exchange impressions of our mom. I always enjoy every conversation with her and I feel my anxiety rise when I don’t get to talk to her because we talk. A LOT.

illus. 1: Where my minutes go

illus. 1: Where my minutes go

Bobbie is ten years older than I am, and for many years she was just my idol, the big sister who came home from college during Christmas break with fancy things like a Caboodles jewelery case and rich girl smelling lotions. She knew things about wine and Depeche Mode and was a size 2. It took a long time before our lives were more comparable and we could relate to each other and before I was truly grateful for a sister who will call me in the middle of the night asking if she can tell me a secret only so I can answer, “As long as I can tell the whole internet. And mom who is on the other line.” I want that for Nathan. I want that for this child.

My ultrasound is scheduled for the week before Thanksgiving, so I’ll know by the holiday if I’m hosting a boy or a girl in this body party. Either way, we’re going to celebrate. Maybe this time, the child will have Mike’s eyes and my everything else. Here’s hoping.

October 24, 2009 | Filed Under Uncategorized | 7 Comments 

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