ok, so I realized if I post about things that I regret and that torment me I might end up putting my head in the convection oven. Soooo how about a change of pace?
The hubby and me took the offspring to see “9”. It was breathtakingly, beautifully bleak. The little sac-people (my name for the creatures) roaming about in a barren, post-apocalyptic wasteland kept us on the edges of our seats. We were sucked in and rooted for them fervently to survive, although for what reason we did not know. The ending was pretty open-ended.
I really appreciated the digs at military states, “peace”-keeping robots first helping the nation destroy its enemies and then turning around and destroying humanity. They also took on “the Church” . #1 declared himself the de facto leader of the motley group of sac-people. He made a bunker for them in a Church. They were basically hiding inside until everything blew over, living in fear, not fighting back. The Church burnt down and they were all thrust into the environment they feared. Interesting concepts, symbols, and archetypes were at work throughout the film. Pretty heady stuff for children but what do you expect from Tim Burton? I enjoyed it immensely.
On the way back my youngest daughter’s friend’s incessant chatter was beginning to take its toll. She started singing the Day-O song and my foster son and youngest daughter started to join in. My oldest son quickly snapped, “I will not tolerate any Al Qaeda references!” Everyone paused, and then he sang deadpan, “Come, Mr Taliban hand me a bandanna.” We all howled.
My children are very funny, droll, and quick-witted. I took my youngest daughter to Legal Seafood about 3 weeks ago to celebrate the onset of her menarche. We talked about menstruation formulas (how many pads do you need for school?), and special hygiene tips. No need for “The Talk” because all of my kids knew the Birds & Bees type info since they were in elementary school. We end up talking about societies’ unfair expectations for women’s appearance.
“What is the thing about big boobs? What is wrong with little boobs?” she asks with an exasperated air. “Well nothing is wrong with them, but for some reason right now in America they are all the rage. I mean everyone is getting these huge implants now its kind of crazy!” I reply. “But you said you wanted to get implants.” she reminds me. “Well, I wouldn’t mind having them a bit bigger, they look good in certain clothes.” I answer, feeling a bit sheepish.
“Mom, you would probably get gigantic ones!” she says with an impish grin. I decide to play along. “Yeah I would totally get the hugest ones, they would help me get more patients, I’d be the psychiatrist with the huge boobs!” I giggle and take a sip of my soda. “No Mommy it would make you lose patients. This would be you, “Um I see, so how did that make you feel?” And you wouldn’t be able to see your notebook over your chest so you’d have to hand it to your patient. “Here, could you write down how that made you feel please?” And then your patients would go to the receptionist and be like, “Um I would like another psychiatrist please. Um, maybe a guy or one that doesn’t have big boobs, because um, I can’t really see her face, so I don’t know how she feels about the way that I feel?”
She acted the whole scenario out with hand gestures, facial expressions, and different voices. It was side-splittingly hilarious. I laughed until I was choking. I told her she is very funny and I love her so very much and I can’t wait to see what kind of woman she will grow up to be…
These are the days that hold the darkness at bay.
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