a magic cape to protect me from the terrible lava narwhal, please....

Blogging is weird. Like journaling, with an audience. Except that I am only one comparatively clever and eloquent woman in a sea of virtual eloquence and cleverosity (which is WAY clever.er.)  It's like being on a radio, you're out there but never know if anyone's listening. Wasn't that a Christian Slater movie circa 1986? Must take myself up on the 80's film night. That, and the Pink Panther film night, the Bruce Lee film night, and the Humphrey Bogart film night. However, it remains more likely that my upcoming film nights will be a Scooby Doo prelude to "Rudolph the Red Nosed Raindeer".  Which is actually really awesome. Have you watched Scooby Doo lately? The ones with the faux Monkees musical interludes are the best. Also, Rudolph is a cultural icon. The movie is everything that was creepy about 1950's values, but the animation is unlike anything before or since. 

This is what finally soothed me in the face of prospective parenting: When it really comes down to it, my favorite things to do pretty well coincide with what small children enjoy. Silly movies, tourist attractions, and anything involving scissors, tape, yarn and/or ribbon, and, yes, I admit it, macaroni. 

I am not good at the "pretend that we're on a boat and you (gasp) fall in except that it's really hot lava but I throw out a magic cape that protects you and then I (gasp) pull you in with double-sided tape (that's my girl!) but a lava narwhal jumps out and pokes my eye but you have an extra in your pocket so that's okay and then (gasp) we row home and then can I have some candy can we can watch Scooby Doo?" I love it, love it, love it, but I admit I have to be in the mood for it and the mood rarely strikes me.

Sigh...who am I kidding? Those days of (gasp) enthusiasm are fading, fading.  Now it's telling me about the latest "Magic TreeHouse" book or making artwork together. More often it's come home, do homework, eat dinner, argue about bedtime routine, do bedtime routine, read "Magic TreeHouse" and say goodnight. 

That sucks.

But, tonight we turned off all the lights except the Christmas tree and ate the cookies we disgustingly overfrosted at the company "family christmas party" while watching, yes, "Rudolph the Red Nosed Raindeer". and it was sexist and creepy and awesome and cozy and I love my family.

I hope I can remember tonight the next time I am certain that boarding school in Arkansas would be less damaging than my parenting.