Growing up, I was a huge fan of Shel Silverstein. I read, re-read and recited tons of his poems from A Light in the Attic and Where The Sidewalk Ends. In fact, I got a role in my very first play in 4th grade by reciting “‘I will not go to school today,’ said little Peggy Ann McKay. I have the measles and the mumps! A gash, a rash and purple bumps!”

I bought both volumes of poems for Owen and River for Christmas and we’ve been delightedly reading them aloud before bed ever since. They seemed really into them for awhile, despite some of the drawings being WAY CREEPIER than I ever remember and some of the poems being downright horrifying. (Sorry we read “For Sale”, you guys! That poem where the weird screaming guy tries to sell his kid! I WILL GIVE YOU MONEY TO TALK ABOUT THIS IN THERAPY IN 20 YEARS! MY BAD!)

However, none of the poems can compare to what the twins are really obsessed with: another Shel Silverstein book that I had never before read. It was another Christmas present from someone else and they show no sign of ever putting it down. They demand it at bedtime every single Saturday and lately, we’ve been taking turns reading it aloud as the twins can read the whole thing and then some. But also because by now, we’ve all got it memorized.

I wouldn’t really classify the book as a kids’ book. I mean, the meat of it goes completely over their heads. (Like a ‘for kids but really for adults’ Pixar movie, I suppose.) In fact, the first time we read it, I almost cried. I found it so incredibly sad.

The book is about a circle that is missing a piece. He goes off in search of his missing piece and does all kinds of things until he finds it—he passes a beetle, a butterfly lands on him, etc. and as he goes along, he sings a song about how he is looking for his missing piece.

Toward the middle of the book, he meets various pieces but they do not fit. They are too big or too small or they don’t want to be his missing piece. THEN! OH JOY! He FINDS HIS MISSING PIECE! And you think the book is going to end happily!

SPOILER ALERT:

It doesn’t. Well. It does, I suppose. Just not in the way you expect.

He realizes that with his missing piece, he cannot be himself. He can’t sing his song, he can’t talk to the beetle or the butterfly, he can’t do anything he did before. So at the end, he gently sets down his missing piece and goes on his way.

THANKS, SHEL SILVERSTEIN.

FOR SHATTERING ALL OF OUR DREAMS.

I have heard there is a follow-up to this book called “The Missing Piece Meets The Big O” so maybe something is resolved but I haven’t yet read it and let’s be honest: it sounds like a porno.

THAT IS NOT THE POINT OF THIS BLOG ENTRY.

The point is that I love the book so so so much, way more than I did the first time I read it. It really resonates with me, someone who often feels like I am missing a piece but who is also reluctant to give up some of herself to find that piece. I still wonder if it is possible to still be me AND have a missing piece.

But that is neither here nor there.

What I really want to share with you is that when the song comes up in the book:

Oh, I’m lookin’ for my missin’ piece
I’m lookin’ for my missin’ piece
Hi-dee-ho, here I go
Lookin’ for my missin’ piece…

Owen and River belt out a tune that is just UNREAL, singing it with a very particular melody that they made up. It never ever changes. And I often find myself humming it randomly throughout the day because OH, it is pretty catchy. (Those twins are musical GENIUSES.)

I’ve been thinking about the fact that the twins’ interest in singing this song and reading this book will eventually wane. They will attach themselves to something COMPLETELY DIFFERENT as kids are wont to do. (Maybe so mething like Pokemon and that will cause my insides to spontaneously combust and I will die.) And oh, I will be so sad when they are no longer on my lap screaming out the lyrics to MY MISSIN’ PIECE with raw emotion and artistry.

And so, on Saturday, I attempted to capture it on video so that it would be preserved for all time.

My favorite thing about the song is Owen’s commitment to it. This rendition is particularly soulful as he croons his missing piece song like a singer-songwriter on a stool with his guitar. I especially love his attention to detail. Namely, his observation that ‘looking’ and ‘missing’ do not have ‘g’s and he abbreviates them appropriately. WITH FEELING.

I present to you now, Owen reading the first few pages of Shel Silverstein’s “The Missing Piece” which of course, includes him singing an evocative rendition of the Missing Piece Song.

You are welcome in advance. HAND THIS BOY A GRAMMY.

Lookin’ For My Missin’ Piece from The Spectrum on Vimeo.

On Sunday night, I started my car and waited for PCG to hop in the passenger seat. As he did so, the car sputtered and died. I tried again. It started no problem. And then, death.

I attempted to drive it home and realized that everything was fine as long as my foot was on the gas pedal.

However, if ever we were idling at a red light? It would stall. And let me tell you, driving in Queens means there’s a red light every three feet so BOY THAT WAS A FUN RIDE HOME.

I had to fight back the urge to scream/cry/recite the book of Job/etc.

We made it home safely and I promised PCG I would look into getting it fixed. And by ‘look into’, I meant that I would text my sister’s boyfriend, Matt, a car aficionado to see if he could take a guess at what was going on.

That was days ago.

Today I met PCG for coffee.

PCG: So what happened with your car?

Me: What about it?

PCG: Did you find out what’s wrong?

Me: No! Of course not.

PCG: Well, did Matt have ideas?

Me: I don’t know.

PCG: You don’t know?

Me: I didn’t text him.

PCG: Did you call?

Me: Nope.

PCG: Why not?

Me: I don’t have his number.

PCG: Sooo, what you’re saying is that you’d rather not know.

Me: Right.

PCG: And since you haven’t used the car in a few days and there’s no urgent need to know, you’re just going to let it sit there as long as possible and ignore the whole situation, aren’t you?

Me: Um. Yes. That would be how I deal with things.

PCG: And this is effective?

Me: ENORMOUSLY.

I’m not quite sure how I discovered Maggie’s blog but discover it I did and I’ve been reading it regularly for years now. I have an undying love for her, despite the fact that she has no idea who I am. (I love the internet, you guys.)

Maggie was my inspiration for taking my Mondo Beyondo class and the subsequent Mondo Beyondo list I created in an effort to dream bigger, aim higher, add more Awesomeness to my life.

After I published my last post about signing up for an Italian class, I wandered over to Maggie’s blog to find that she had recently signed up to learn French! COINCIDENCE? PROBABLY.

In that post, she wrote this, which was so magnificent for me to read because I just kept nodding my head up and down being all YES YES YES!

When I first made my list, some part of me thought the simple act of writing things down would magically make them happen. Like once I realized that I wanted to pick blackberries and make pies, I’d just find myself passing blackberry bramble on a walk one Sunday with a bucket in hand.

As I’ve started to cross things off, it has genuinely surprised me that I have to plan fun. I guess some part of me thinks that fun will just happen, even very specific types of fun, and that I shouldn’t have to actively put aside time for that stuff.

HOW TRUE, MIGHTY GIRL, HOW TRUE.

I relate to this so much.

Sometimes I click over to read my Mondo Beyondo list and I’m all, “Ohhh that was such a cool thing I wrote down. I WONDER WHEN THAT’S GOING TO HAPPEN TO ME.”

As if the onus is not ALL ON ME to live my life the way I want to, to take responsibility for everything, including my Big Fat Crazy Dreams! Oh, Laura. You are too funny when you think the Great Wall of China will magically appear in your backyard so you can see it in person! SO CUTE YOU ARE!

I suppose that’s why it felt so good to sign up for Italian lessons. Even though logically I know that the cash could’ve been used for something else useful—a new vacuum for the apartment! Or, living room curtains! Or some things I really just WANT—that green blanket from Pottery Barn to throw at the foot of my bed! Five new pairs of shoes! A day at the spa!

Something inside me paused and listened to the voice that said no no no BIGGER BIGGER BIGGER.

Something that will change you permanently. Something that will cause you to view your world differently. Something that will shape you and mold you into something better. Something FUN! because yes, as Maggie says, you do have to plan out the fun sometimes.

That Mondo Beyondo class changed my life in many ways one of which was encourage me to stop waiting for things to happen. Stop sitting around and thinking OH IT SURE WOULD BE NICE OF MY LIFE WAS COOL. TOO BAD IT AIN’T.

Go out and DO things! MAKE things! Create things! Accomplish, laugh, race, build, reach out, slow down, go go go!

This is how I want my life to be—brimming and swelling, full of all things beautiful, creative and marvelous.

Five days to go until MAMBO ITALIANO LESSON #1! I can hardly wait!!!

(c) photo courtesy of cgoulao

DUDES.

How are we doing with our resolutions?

Why did I not just pick one thing to change about myself this year like ‘get a hook to hang up your wet towels instead of throwing them over the doors in your room’??

That sounds easy.

My resolutions just sound ridiculous at this point.

BUT I WILL NOT BE BROKEN DOWN. OH NO I WILL NOT. So here we go.

February Recap!!

FRIENDSHIP

get together with married Ashley - SUCCESS! We got breakfast a few weeks ago before going to work! It was so fun! And delicious!

get together with non-married Ashley - FAIL/SUCCESS! I did NOT do this in February but we have plans to get some drinks next week so I’m going to go ahead and count that as a success and hey February doesn’t have as many days as the other months so IT MADE THIS WHOLE THING HARDER.

call D and see if he wants to get Thai food - epic FAIL here because I can’t seem to find the time. (The above drink date got penciled in about a month ago. HOW ABOUT THAT? I suck.)

HEALTH

try a different class at the yoga studio - SUCCESS! On Valentine’s Day, I went to both hot yoga AND hot pilates which is essentially, a pilates class in the hot yoga room. It is an hour of torture that sadly didn’t really kill my abs but annihilated my inner thighs. I had trouble walking for about three days and the soreness didn’t go away completely for a full week. A WEEK, PEOPLE. I keep trying to find the time to go back but they sadly offer the class only a handful of times and I can’t seem to make it work. AND YET. SUCCESS!

keep going with the no-sugar-during-the-week thing - This is hilarious because I had two donuts today. And a vegan chocolate cupcake yesterday. And a mini Twix on Tuesday. And…YOU GET THE IDEA. February fails in the sugar department. I blame all the snow.

CAREER

I succeeded at writing down a new show idea AND a song list. A new improv class has not opened up this ENTIRE MONTH which is so frustrating to me but I joined a practice group which begins this weekend so that’s sort of great? I did not make it to a ballet class. So, some success, some failure, c’est la vie.

MONEY

pay another $300 down on the credit card - Actually, I paid $500 down. And then my car broke down and I paid $700 to fix it. All on the credit card. FAIL.

pay for new bed in cash - charged this baby too but immediately paid it down. SUCCESS!

SPIRITUALITY

get your damn self up 30 minutes earlier to solidify AM meditation HA HA HA. The funny thing I forgot was if I got up 30 minutes earlier, I would die by 7 pm because I am a toddler who needs tons of sleep. I am amending this item for March and it is going to say GO TO BED 30 MINUTES EARLIER. We’ll see how that goes.

pray/pause between meals - FAIL. Completely forgot to start doing this. March, the Lenten month of doom, seems like a good time to try again.

OTHER

join the freaking library/check out Ulysses and Italian CD’s - HAHAHAHAHHAA! A branch of the library five blocks from my apartment! And another one five steps from my office! AND I STILL HAVE NOT JOINED THE LIBRARY! This is getting hilarious, you guys. HILARIOUS I SAY. The reason this has yet to happen is because I still haven’t run out of reading material from Christmas and also, I found an alternative to learning Italian that doesn’t require Italian CD’s. More to come on that in a bit! But I will say that once I run out of books, I will HAVE to get to the library. So far though, still speeding through novels my dad bought me over the holidays. WOO!

sell old bed on Craigslist - Decided to keep old bed in apartment. Am currently lending it to my new roommate who moved in and did not have a bed. I’m not getting any extra money for it but I figure she’s a recent college grad who could use a free bed so WHY NOT?

And now, without further ado, some new resolutions for March! I’m going to reduce these a bit as this month is already underway and I already added a big commitment or two.

FRIENDSHIP

* Call D and see if he wants to get Thai food
* Make plans with M

HEALTH

* no sugar during the week! PUT DOWN THE MINI TWIX!
* go back to Hot Pilates so your inner thighs can ache some more

CAREER

* set up a time to meet with accompanist and run through song ideas for new show! RECORD IT!
* sign up for improv class if one opens up

MONEY

* cancel Blockbuster online subscription AKA Waste of Cash, You Never Watch The Movies That Show Up In The Mail

SPIRITUALITY

* go to bed half an hour earlier in order to get up earlier so you can meditate in the AM
* pick a Sunday and go to church during Lent
* pray/pause before meals

OTHER

* buy a hamper - YOUR LIFE IS SO FASCINATING!

BONUSES THAT HAPPENED THIS MONTH!!!

So! Here we go! Fun things that happened that were not planned at all!

I booked a commercial you guys!

Not a huge one. It shall not be on the television. It will be on La Internet. But whatever! It’s great! This is important because I have wanted to book some acting work FOR A VERY LONG TIME and even though it was one day of shooting and the pay was small and I knew the person who cast me in it, IT WAS A FANTASTIC TIME! And I was proud.

Also! Because that commercial paid me a tiny bit of pocket change and because the federal government is offering me a tax refund as their way of saying thanks for voting for Obama, I was able to not only pay off my car repairs but register to take a REAL! LIVE! ITALIAN CLASS!

HEY MAMBO! MAMBO ITALIANO YEAH!

OH GOSH! I’m SO EXCITED!

Screw getting CD’s from the library! THAT IS FOR SISSIES!

I do better when I have people there to teach me. AM I RIGHT? And a financial incentive to show up. So starting next Saturday, for ten straight weeks, I am heading over to the Italian Language and Cultural Center on the Upper East Side to take some lessons. Grammar and conversation! Like a real ITALIANO! GRAZI! PIZZA! WHAT! How exciting!

And so begins my tackling of Mondo Beyondo #3. Speak Two Languages Fluently.

I am obviously not planning on becoming fluent in ten weeks or even in a year. But this is a start. And it makes me so happy! It’s a class that has nothing to do with my career, no pressure to succeed, learning for learning’s sake which I love love love!

Also this, from their website:

Depending on the time of your class, you’ll be served either cappuccino or sparkling Prosecco while learning the bella lingua and the bella vita of Italy.

I’m guessing Saturday mornings don’t qualify for me for sparkling Presecco but A GIRL CAN DREAM, CAN’T SHE?!

Wow, guys! March is going to rock!

Whenever I find myself next to someone at the bank, filling out a direct deposit form or a withdrawal form or who knows what, I make it into a race. I want to see if I can beat that person to the teller window. Or, to the line that is quickly forming in front of the teller window. I thought it was just me that plays these ridiculous games but this morning, as soon as I picked up one of those attached-to-the-desk bank pens to fill out my deposit form, the man next to me looked over at my stuff and suddenly started writing faster. HE wanted to beat ME.

He didn’t succeed. But it was finally nice to be challenged in the Race You To The Teller competition. Usually, I feel like I’m playing a game I made up in my mind. Today, I was validated in knowing that it isn’t just me and that other people play this game too and also that tellers get startled when you run breathlessly up to their window and slam your hand on the glass screaming HIGH FIVE! YEAHHHHHHHHH.

…

I live every day with the understanding that most people around me do not know my name. It’s like the theme song from “Cheers” except…opposite. I don’t know why this is. People surprise me daily—my co-workers, my mom, etc. But I find more often than not, when I’m wondering if that person in front of me has any idea who I am, I am proven correct. They have no clue.

I don’t know what it is about my face or my name that is so forgettable. Whenever I take a class, it takes approximately ten weeks for new classmates or teachers to call me by name without stumbling. And I’m always that person who runs into others on the street and I’m all, HI EDGAR! And Edgar is silently cursing, “Oh sh*t, crap, I know her from somewhere, who IS she!?”

I’m always gracious and constantly repeat, “I’m Laura!” when people blanky stare at me. It’s just getting to the point where I find myself reintroducing myself to people who SHOULD know me by now. Like, my boss. And my boyfriend.

“It’s LAAAAURA,” I say slowly, spelling it out.

And PCG is all, “Uh. I know.”

…

Last night I had two separate nightmares. One was that the world was ending a la “The Road” (can you tell that movie scarred me for life? Holy, I saw that in NOVEMBER and it still plays over in my mind) and the trees were falling down and PCG and I had to save ourselves but we didn’t know how and we couldn’t get out of the city and we were going to drown in the Hudson River and die.

The other nightmare wasn’t so much a narrative as much it was the constant awareness that if I didn’t pick my purse up off the bedroom floor, roaches would surely crawl inside it and then later, when I was carrying my purse around the city, I would randomly be distributing roaches everywhere I went. This never happened in the dream, mind you. It was just a persistent haunting. “PICK UP YOUR PURSE OR THE ROACHES WILL COME.”

At one point, I sat up in bed and was all MY PURSE IS ON THE FLOOR! ROACHES?!!!!!!!!

And then I fell back asleep because all that dreaming was making me tired.

…

My secret fear is that I am an expert at nothing and average at pretty much everything except for driving a car which I am exceptionally terrible at. I wish there was one thing that I did better than most people, something that made me stand out and made people say SHE IS SO GOOD AT THIS. This makes me wonder why I need people to say that I’m good at something but also why it seems that people have specific talents and skill sets and I’m sort of just moderately okay at most things.

Perhaps THIS is my strength. To be decent at a LOT of things? I mean, WHAT A GIFT, RIGHT? I can speak English coherently. I can blog regularly. I can take care of kids without killing them. I can sing on-key. I can take a ballet class without tripping. I can jog three and a half miles. I can tell a funny story. I can cook you a few passable dinners. At the very least, I can make you a snack. I am immune to poison ivy.

Is this okay? Is this enough? What if average at everything is all I will ever be? IS THAT ALRIGHT!? Well. Average at everything except driving a car because OH MY GOD sometimes I drift into lanes without even NOTICING I DID THAT.

…

The great thing about being in your late 20’s is looking back at all the stuff you did and thought when you were in your early 20’s and laughing hysterically at yourself. Not in a mean way. Just in a, OH MAN! SO GLAD YOU ARE NOT LIKE THAT ANYMORE.

I wonder if this happens continually as you get older. There is a wonderful line in an Indigo Girls’ song that goes, “Every five years or so, I look back on my life and I have a good laugh.”

I am finding this to be true. But I want to know when the turning point is when you say OH I AM SO GLAD I AM PAST THAT and you start saying OH GOSH I WISH I STILL HAD THAT. Maybe it’s when you’re 85 and you’re all, OH HOW I WISH I COULD REMEMBER MY LIFE AND GO TO THE BATHROOM ON MY OWN AGAIN.

In reality, is it a bit of both? For example,  ”I’m so glad I’m not as neurotic as I used to be but oh man how I would love to have my body from high school back!” Unless you are me because I was fatter in high school. But you get what I’m saying, right?

ANYONE?

…

Last night in philosophy class, a woman shared that when she’s meditating, solutions to some of her problems just seem to magically arise. All that seems to come from my meditation lately is, WHEN THE HELL ARE YOU GONNA EAT BREAKFAST? I AM STARVING. I decided NOT to share that in class because it didn’t seem very philosophical.

…

I have no way of summing this blog post except I will beat you in the race to the teller’s window EVERY TIME and I’m a bad driver but I have a healthy appetite and I am sort of loving being almost 27 and I’ve been better lately about taking my multivitamin except the zinc in it makes me nauseated and why can’t they make a multivitamin without zinc? Who freaking needs zinc? More importantly, who needs zinc when it makes you BARF? And this is your friendly reminder to pick your purse up off the floor because THE ROACHES and WHAT AM I TALKING ABOUT and IS IT FRIDAY YET OH MY GOD?

 

*we are coloring in his room*

River: UGH. What is that sound?

Me: Someone’s playing music in the living room.

River: I do not like that music!

Me: Oh! I do! I think it sounds nice.

River: It’s not nice. It is MAKING ME SO ANNOYING.

…

Owen: Do you know what I’m going to be when I grow up?

Me: I have no idea. Please tell me.

Owen: I am going to be an ice skater. And a rockstar.

Me: WHAT AN AWESOME IDEA.

Owen: I know.

River: Do you know what *I’m* going to be?

Me: No! Please tell me!

River: I am going to be a skiier and an artist and…

Me: A rockstar?

River: NO! BETTER!

Me: WHAT?

River: A LAWYER.

Me: A skiier, an artist and a lawyer?

River: Yes.

Me: Do you know what a lawyer does?

River: Yes! Lawyers help people!

Me: They do??

River: YES THAT’S WHY I’M GOING TO BE ONE.

Me: Oh my God. I wish I was five again.

…

Owen: Laura, I love you more than anything.

Me: I love you too.

Owen: I love mommy more than anything. And daddy more than anything.

Me: And River?

*pause*

Owen: I love River less than anything.

Me: Oh! That isn’t nice! You’re a family! So you love each other!

Owen: I love mommy and daddy more.

Me: Okay, sure.

Owen: I love my grandpa more than anything.

Me: Oh! That’s so great.

Owen: But not grandma.

Me: Oh! Why don’t you love your grandma!?

Owen: OH because grandma just TALKS AND TALKS AND TALKS AND TALKS…

…

Owen:  Daddy, I ate all my lunch today.

Owen’s dad: Really?

Owen: YEAH! I ate both my quesadillas.

Owen’s dad: You did!?

Owen: YEAH!

Owen’s dad: Owen, is that true?

*pause*

Owen: Um. It’s false.

Things have been a bit quiet in Spectrum Land as I’ve been spending most of my free time hauling furniture from one end of the apartment to the other. I am now the proud owner of a new bed, a new mattress, a new box spring, and a new huge bookcase which actually fits all my books. (For now, of course. Imagine that!)

I feel like quite a grown up. My new bedding is superb and perfectly matches the freshly painted walls which…I did not paint. My roommate painted them. And then two weeks later, decided he was moving out. He’s…special that way.

I hope to get some pictures up soon as I am so so happy in my new space. Right now it’s just a mess.

One thing that shocked me the most was how much higher off the ground my bed is now that I have the box spring and mattress. My old twin bed had a mattress on it from IKEA which was more of a foamy futon-y type thing and as such, I didn’t sleep very far from the floor. Different story now. I’ll tell you how I realized this:

1. I went to sleep in my new bed.
2. I set the alarm on my Blackberry and placed the Blackberry on the floor next to the bed to charge while I slept.
3. The alarm went off.
4. I reached for the Blackberry to shut it off.
5. I underestimated the distance between bed and Blackberry.
6. I fell out of bed onto the floor.

GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD MORNING SUNSHINE! YOU ARE DUMB.

Um. Yes. So I’m…adjusting to my new space. In all aspects. HOORAY?

Other than that, my life is a bit boring right now. It’s snowing again in NYC and it seems like winter is holding on tight for dear life. I wish it would let go, just a little bit, just a tiny bit.

I am knee deep in audition season and not minding too much. I’m always tired which is a negative but surprisingly, I feel grateful that theaters are operating and people are coming through with funding. The competition is ridiculous but it feels good to be able to go out and do my thing, even if it doesn’t result in something tangible.

It’s almost the end of February and I STILL HAVEN’T JOINED THE LIBRARY. I don’t even know why I make New Year’s resolutions when I can’t be bothered to commit. COMMIT LAURA. YOU CAN DO IT. THE LIBRARY IS RIGHT NEXT TO YOUR OFFICE. Gah.

I am also failing on the sugar front because I bought these truffles from here for Valentine’s Day for PCG. And “for PCG”, I mean, for myself. I ordered the beer & pretzel truffles, the southport cupcake truffles and the olive oil truffles. YEAH. THEY ARE INSANE AS THEY SOUND. Go get some, tiger. I know you want to.

WHAT ELSE WHAT ELSE?

You guys, I feel boring.

This is what winter does to me, I suppose. I buy chocolate. I fall out of bed. The usual.

I hope to have something interesting to say tomorrow but don’t count on it, folks. I’m going to try NOT to fall out of bed tonight. I’m going to make that my only goal. It’s snowing and I’m sleepy and the figure skating finals are on tonight and OH how I wish I could spin around on ice skates like that. MY LIFE HAS NO PURPOSE.

PASS ME A BEER. AND THE BEER & PRETZEL TRUFFLES. AND LET’S CALL IT A DAY.

I went to Whole Foods and on the way out, knocked over a jar of tomato sauce in front of at least thirty people and it splattered all over my jeans and one of my shoes AND the floor AND the cheese display?

‘CUZ I SURE DO.

I babysat the twins last night after a long day of work, something that doesn’t usually happen as I normally see them on Saturday afternoons. I was looking forward to seeing them but more than that, I was looking forward to their bedtime. The Olympics were on and I wanted to sit on the couch in peace, maybe eat some dessert, maybe stare mindlessly at the figure skaters’ butts. WHO KNOWS.

I felt slightly guilty about this. I mean, I don’t want to be that person who’s like, ENOUGH ALREADY, GO TO BED. Though I vaguely remember my parents’ hitting that exact wall with me and my siblings and I suddenly related so much. It made so much sense. Sure, they cared about our bedtime and us watching too much television but mostly, some nights they just wanted to be LEFT ALONE. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! Was that so much to ask!?

So, that’s how I initially felt last night. But of course, as soon as I saw them, my heart sort of melted and I was like “Oh darnit. It’s 7:30 already!? That only gives me an HOUR of play time!”

And then River began singing his world reknowned POOP POOP POOPY song and I thought to myself “It’s ONLY 7:30!? A WHOLE HOUR MORE OF THIS? UGHHHHHHHHHHHH.”

We played a little game we made up called “We’re taking the C train to the museum” which was every bit as enthralling as it sounds. Then I switched the television on to the Olympics musing, “Hey River, want to watch some skiing??” assuming he would do what the twins always do when I try to show them something awesome: say YEAH and then abruptly walk away because BORRRRRRRRRING.

Instead, River stood transfixed in front of the television.

“WOW!” he exclaimed as the athletes flew down the mountain.

And then, copying an adult phrase he likes to use:

“THAT IS INSANE!!!!!”

It is! THAT’S WHY IT’S THE OLYMPICS!!! I told him he could watch some more if he got into the bath and for the first time ever, he RACED toward the tub, begged me to wash his hair and then immediately asked to get out so he could watch more of the Olympics.

I wrapped him in his favorite elephant towel and put him on the couch.

“Do you want to read a story tonight? Or watch a little more of the Olympics before bed?” I asked the twins.

“THE OLYMPICS!” they screamed.

I think Owen just wanted to stay up and play a little more. But River was completely entranced. I pointed out the order of who was winning when it flashed up on the screen. I told him what countries the athletes were from when they appeared, explained the medal system, pointed out the timer and how the fastest one down the mountain wins.

It hit me that they are growing, getting bigger, broadening their interests and their attention spans. I had noticed it earlier in the night when River made the connection that the suction cup on one of his toys was exactly like that time we used the plunger in the toilet.

THAT’S EXACTLY IT! I had exclaimed and then stared at him like, WHY ARE YOU SMARTER THAN ME? OMG.

River asked if I would sit with him and watch the skiing and I was all, ARE YOU KIDDING? Twist my arm, this is what I’ve been wanting to do ALL DAY.

I put Riv’s pajamas on, grabbed a container of dairy-free cookie dough ice cream from the fridge and curled up next to him on the couch. His hand immediately reached for my hair (his version of having a lovey) and his eyes began to get heavy. In a few short minutes, the little peanut was asleep on my shoulder and no longer commenting on the insanity of the slalom event which was sort of sad because it cracked me up.

I picked him up and carried him to bed as Owen followed me and climbed into his bed by himself. I tucked him in next, a contented smile on his face, waiting for me to sing “You Are My Sunshine”, even if “River isn’t awake to hear it”. I dutifully complied, a kiss on the forehead, left the bedroom door open a tiny bit.

I think it’s natural to get a little “Enough already, go to bed!” with children. After all, you’re an adult. You’re not a kid. And attempting to relate to them can get a little exhausting over and over again. But I also think that when you’re lucky and have ice cream to calm you, the thing about kids is that they make all the stuff you were going to do by yourself so much better. Sitting on the couch by myself vs. sitting on the couch with River.

I think my preference is pretty darn obvious.

When we last left our tale of the Heroine and her Vehicle From 1998 That Was Slowly Dying a Slow, Expensive Death, there was pretty solid evidence that the car was leaking something. And you know with a car, that something is never a good thing. It’s not like it happened to be leaking dollar bills onto the pavement and driving was getting SUPER hazardous because all these people in my neighborhood kept DIVING after my car trying to snatch up free money.

Yeah, no.

It was leaking coolant.

I came to this conclusion because the liquid was a bright color and also because the CHECK COOLANT light kept flashing on the dashboard. I know! I’m a freaking car maniac. Pretty good for a girl, AM I RIGHT?

I initially took the old gal to Pep Boys and after about four hours of watching terrible television, they told me the coolant tank was leaking and to get a new one and no, they couldn’t help with that because the car is so old, they don’t make that part anymore, have fun at the junkyard KBYEEEEEEEE.

And this was my face:

I decided that going to a junkyard sucked. I also couldn’t find the part I needed on the internet. (WHAT? THE INTERNET HAS EVERYTHING!!!!) My mom suggested that her mechanic might be able to find the part for me and confirm the leakage problem, just in case Pep Boys made an incorrect diagnosis. This was, of course, ENTIRELY plausible considering last time I took my car there, they forgot to put the brakes back on correctly. SORRY ABOUT THAT.

I decided to take my mom up on her offer and dropped the car out on Long Island to get checked out.

Two days later, my dad called.

LAWRA, he screamed into the telephone. THE CAR IS DONE.

What!? How can the car be done!? They had to locate a random part, order it and install it. What the ??

NO NO, my dad yelled. THERE WAS NOTHIN’ WRONG WIT THE CAR.

Me: ????????????????????

Dad: ‘DEY KEPT IT FOR TWO DAYS. NO LEAKIN’. NO COOLANT LIGHT. NOTHIN’ WRONG. ‘DEY COULDN’T FIND DA LEAK.

Me: ?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So I HALLUCINATED that part of my life?

Dad: YEAH. PROBABLY.

And this was my face:

So Pep Boys made up that whole thing about finding a leak and a finding a junkyard and I made up that part about finding coolant all over PCG’s garage and the coolant light on the dashboard.

WHAT THE ??

There is no happy ending to this story because something seemingly unrelated happened and it was way worse than JUST KIDDING ABOUT NEEDING YOUR CAR REPAIRED. I like to title this part of the story, THAT TIME YOU DID NEED YOUR CAR REPAIRED. (Wow! Talk about creative writing! I am ON IT today!)

I headed out the door on Saturday morning to go to pilates. My car had been sweetly parked on the street for a few days, amid some snow and ice. I put the key in the ignition and the car purred slightly but never fully started. I tried again. And again. And again, hoping for some magic.

I texted PCG who is in Austria.

DON’T TRY STARTING IT TOO MANY TIMES. YOU’LL FLOOD THE ENGINE, he typed.

No worries, I texted back. I would never do that!

Confession: I had already done that.

But no big deal, the damage was done. And it had nothing to do with flooding the engine. (Or maybe it did?)

I thanked the good sweet Lord that my father is anal retentive and insistent about me having a AAA membership. (THANK YOU CRAZY DAD!) I dialed the number and some sweet Jamaican woman assured me that someone would be by to tow it immediately.

“Do you want it towed somewhere specific?” she asked me. “Or should we choose a AAA certified mechanic?”

Hmmm. Pep Boys “We Forgot To Put Your Brakes Back On/We Found An Imaginary Leak” vs. AAA Certified Mechanic.

OH GOSH! THAT DECISION WAS SO HARD TO MAKE.

The good news was that the AAA Mechanic kicked ass and came to tow the car within an hour. The other good news was that he called me a few hours after that to give me the prognosis. And of course, that’s the bad news.

There was a short in the wiring that caused the starter to burn out. AND THAT IS NOT ALL. It also caused the battery to die. So I needed that short repaired, needed a new starter and a new battery. Plus the cost of labor. The mechanic felt so bad charging me $75/hour for labor they gave me a flat fee of $145 and told me not to worry about it.

I figured a starter couldn’t cost that much money. RIGHT? And a battery? HELL. I pay a few bucks for some double AA’s for my remote control at Duane Reade. HOW BAD COULD THIS BE YOU GUYS?!

I’ll tell you.

Well, no.

My cartoon self will tell you because if I have to mention it myself, I’ll probably keel over and die.

Um. Yeah.

The interesting thing about this is experience is what I observed about myself and my reaction. Originally, the repair was going to cost $500 and then quickly, once the mechanic noticed the battery was gone too, it became $700. I was ice skating with the twins when I got the phone call. My stomach sank when I heard the news and yet there was no need for some hyper crazy emotional reaction. I mean, obviously my CARTOON SELF was a different story. But my real self? Disappointed. Frustrated. But not crazily so.

I have always been a sensitive person. Hand in hand with this has been my penchant for the dramatic. (Who’s surprised? Answer: Nobody.)

This might sound crazy but I don’t think that my dramatics were always a demand for attention. Rarely ever, actually, even considering my chosen career path. I believe that my sensitivity, my ability to feel EVERYTHING so damn deeply, even when it had NOTHING to do with me caused me to get overwhelmed very easily. Couple this with a bit of anxiety, particularly as a hormonal teenager/young adult and things quickly escalated from ‘an unexpected car bill’ to THE END. OF. THE WORLD.

I used to think that my sensitivity/dramatics were ALWAYS necessary. After all, I was an extremely empathetic person and I was extremely in touch with my precious feeeeeelings and emotions. After some philosophy work though, I’ve come to the conclusion that more often than not, the histrionics cause me a ton of stress that is unnecessary and not useful in the slightest.

I couldn’t help but applaud myself a little bit as I realized how I was evolving as an emotional, reactional person.

OLD LAURA

NEW LAURA

There you have it, folks. I’m recognizing that being able to control my emotions is helping me conserve that energy for other more useful pursuits. I’m trying to retain my capability for empathy, sensitivity and compassion while working to reign in the unnecessary hysterical screaming that often accompanies really ridiculous things that do not matter in the slightest.

$700 is $700.

It is not filing for bankruptcy.

It sucks the freaking big one because I’m in the middle of buying some furniture/saving for a trip to Europe this summer/paying down my credit card debt.

But hey! I have a car! And now it’s all fixed! And even though I want to punch it for being a JERKFACE, I’m smart enough to know that that would HURT and in a fist fight, a car always wins. Duh.

OKAY?

OKAY.