I remember in vivid details the two times that I found out I was pregnant. I even remember that I bought the pregnancy test that told us that Firstborn was coming at Big Lots. I clearly remember wondering if I could be certain that I was going to be a mom on the word of a pregnancy test that had cost me less than two dollars.
I will always remember the night in Minute Maid Stadium that I cheered myself hoarse after Craig Biggio made his 3000th hit. I think I may have even shed a tear, even though two days before I had no earthly idea who Craig Biggio was. You’d have cried if you’d been there, too. It was very emotional for all the Astro fans and I got caught up in the emotion of the moment.
I remember where I was on the day that George Bush was inaugurated. I had just given birth to my firstborn child a few hours before, even though I had begun labor with him the morning of the previous day. Apparently Firstborn had a vested interest in the highly contested election and refused to come out until the matter had been settled once and for all.
The moments when we become aware of major life-changing events become memories that we freeze in time to savor forever. Tomorrow, I will have just such a life-changing event. If all goes as planned, tomorrow, for at least one moment in time, all of the clothes that my family owns (except for whatever clothing we may be wearing) will be clean and put in their proper places. I know that good-time feeling won’t last long, and sooner or later someone will take a bath and create more laundry, but I hope you’ll join me in celebrating the occasion in your own way tomorrow.
It’s time to start packing the suitcases that will be our home-away-from-home for the next however many weeks, which meant that I had a lot of laundry to do over the past few days. I’m still not finished, so there’s still a chance I won’t have my moment tomorrow, but I’m closer than I’ve been in a very long time. I don’t mind the washing, drying, and folding, but I hate the putting away. Today while I was folding laundry, the kids were watching Max and Ruby. Do you know them? Maybe you’ve heard their theme song?
“Max and Ruby. Ruby and Max. Max and Ruby. Ruby and Max. Max and Ruby. Ruby, and her little brother Max. Max and Ruby.”
And someone got a nice fat check for writing that little ditty. You’re welcome for the gift of that song running around like a lunatic in your brain for the rest of the day.
I don’t know why I bother analyzing kids’ shows, but I do, and several things bothered me about Max and Ruby today.
First of all, I think someone else is doing Ruby’s voice. I haven’t watched the show in awhile, and her voice didn’t sound the same to me today.
Second of all, where are Max and Ruby’s parents? Their grandmother shows up fairly often, but we never see M & R’s parents. They certainly trust Ruby with a lot of responsibility. It seems like a lot for a little bunny to handle.
Third, why hasn’t someone sent Max to a good speech therapist? He just doesn’t seem to have the vocabulary one would expect from a bunny his age. A lot of things could be cleared up easily if Max could only speak in complete sentences. Like today. We spent a good ten minutes looking for Ruby’s lost tooth when all along Max knew and was trying unsuccessfully to tell us.
These are the things I pondered today instead of making a plan for how I’m going to get an endless list of things done before Ray the Mover gets here on Monday. MONDAY?! I don’t think I can get there from here!!
P.S. This post may also explain why my children have been led to believe that our TV doesn’t show Caillou. A bald-headed four-year-old is just more than I can handle. Even on days that I feel like pondering.