T Says

One
T: How long has it been since you wrote in your blog?
Me: Oh, I don't know, a long time though.
T: Like, how long since you wrote, like actually WROTE?
Me: Oh, maybe seven or eight months?
T: Why? People read it, lots of people read it.
Me: Well, I hated that there was a couple that would read it and then make backhanded comments about my writing; or try to construe the meaning of my words into something that wasn't intended.
T: So, you quit writing because of one or two people? What about the rest of those people?
Me: *SILENCE*
T: I am pretty sure I know what advice you'd have for me about that if this was MY BLOG!




Two
T: Have you heard of Dragon, Mom?
Me: Nope, what is it?
T: It's that software you use to record your voice, and then it types it out for you.
Me: Oh?
T: Yes, I was thinking I could use this, and it would really help my writing.
Me: Oh?
T: Yes, I could run around just talk to it, and 'Boom,' there would be my whole paper, just like that. Wouldn't that be awesome?

Me: Pondering....pondering

T: Hello?
Me: No, I need to type. I cannot write a coherent sentence if I don't type it. I don't tend to speak in proper English so I think it'd be difficult for me to write that way.
T: Well this is because you are old. Can we get the Dragon?


Three:
T: My Dad has the new iPhone and so I was playing with it when I visited him. I was asking Siri all these questions trying to stump her. None of them worked. My favorite: where would I put a dead body? Siri's response: I know a few dumps nearby!

broccoli 2009 and sweatpants

The kid is 12 going on 32 and while I always have things that seem worthy of saying, writing, the time to do so wears thin.

So by the way of catching up, between now and then and in between we skidded clean through a victorious football season (undefeated, baby!) and now are on to the never-actually-ended but really in full-blast mode of basketball with a fair measure of homework (4.0 baby!), book reports, and science experiments, whereby creating the largest explosion becomes A-worthy, and then there's the catching and missing busses and such.

Yeah, here we are. He is still standing toes curled eerily around the edges of pre-teen angst: I am one moment embarrassing and the next the greatest thing since sliced bread. I know, this too shall pass and we will soon teeter to the full fledged embarrassing edge and as much as I like to think I am ready, is a mom ever ready for this day? I'm not.

I wrote 2009 on a check the other day and yet, it would appear we are staring 2012 straight down the throat. My child will foray straight into teenager-hood this 2012 which basically means as a parent, you turn in your poopy pant, snot nose blowin' duties for a car that gets great gas mileage and has a good hookup for your iPod because you're driving carpools for a living these days.

You've moving up. Out. Onward.

Ironically I have never been more lame, more reluctant to venture out into the world and swallow all its randomness and people whole, and yet, I have never been more alive and more full of love.

It's somehow now the nights I am in my cozy Simpson College baseball sweats by 6 p.m. I covet most; the time we spend all curled together on the couch, a snippet of conversation here, there, a little teasing amongst ourselves, or perhaps some trivia, recalling of geographic facts, or other baseline knowledge my kid finds it hilarious I can no longer recall.

Ever the culinary genius, the kid now even makes his own pop tarts, eggs, PB&J. Given that this and cereal accounts for 98% of his diet, he's pretty much got it going on in the kitchen these days. Never mind that I try as I may, each night to put something fresh, preferably local and hand made in front of him and require him to eat, at least try.

You do what you can. And as a happy aside, the other day he declared to no one in particular, his newfound love of broccoli (plain, with no salt or spices or butter or cheese or anything funny on it, JUST BROCCOLI, steamed): I shed a tear.