Spin Me I Pulsate.

Who knew that a Black Flag song could really be used to illustrate a toddler's attitude?

Gimme gimme gimme
I need some more
Gimme gimme gimme
Don't ask what for

Sitting here like a loaded gun
Waiting to go off
I've got nothing to do
But shoot my mouth off

Gimme gimme gimme
Give me some more
Gimme gimme gimme
Don't ask what for

I gotta go out
Get something for my head
If I keep on doing this
I'm gonna end up dead

Gimme gimme gimme,
Give me some more
Gimme gimme gimme
Don't ask what for

You know the world's got problems
I've got problems of my own
Not the kind that can't be solved
With an atom bomb

Gimme gimme gimme
Give me some more
Gimme gimme gimme
Don't ask what for

Gimme gimme gimme
I need some more
Gimme gimme gimme
Don't ask what for

Sitting here like a loaded gun
Waiting to go off
I've got nothing to do
But shoot my mouth off

Gimme gimme gimme
Give me some more
Gimme gimme gimme
Don't ask what for

Today has been one of those days that people should hold up as examples before anyone gets their ass in the family way, a day to prevent unwanted teenage pregnancies and unwanted married pregnancies for that matter. A day that makes me want to drink beer until it exits my body of it's own violition.

Oh dreaded tantrum, your name is cheezies....

Vivian decided that she would NOT, under any circumstances, have a nap. She wasn't tired, despite the eye rubbing, the blankie cuddling, the laying in the lazyboy. And DAMMIT WOMAN, she wanted cheezies now, not later.

This developed into a bit of a civil war for the afternoon, which ended with TV time being halted, with no attempt for reconciliation on either side. She was left to pout sadly from the extra chair in the kitchen, as I attempted to make something not fatty that she might eat.

Apparently, chicken stirfry was on her "no-fly" list.

While I didn't get mad, I found myself looking at her a few times, and wondering how on earth my mother didn't beat the living hell out of me. I was spanked, a lot (with reason I'm sad to admit) but considering she was sick, I'm surprised she didn't sell me to the gypsies she was always warning me from. (How's that for dating me-my mother worried about gypsies coming to the door to rob us-I always had this image of some lady in a black dress with tiny children under her skirt who would run around and rummage in our living room)

I also found myself looking at my girls as we walked to the thrift store for our weekly shopping trip. They were tickling eachother with grass stems, and I suddenly thought of all the people I know with sisters who don't get along, sisters they don't like, sisters that don't talk to each other anymore since that thing with the turkey and the boyfriends, and I swore to myself to take a picture of that moment and never ever lose that memory, or my two daughters, my irritating, loud, sweet endearing daughters giggling in the sunlight together, sharing that little smile that sisters seem to have.

They drive me batty-I freely admit it. But I am blessed to hear their giggling voices tearing around the house in the morning, freed from their room at last. I am blessed to have one, and then both, negotiating for lap space, for that dirty little girlchild smell.

I was hit with the sudden thought that even for all the contraceptive properties of my children, there are these magical moments where I stop and time slows and we don't move, and I know that 30 years from now, or 20, when one of my babies has her own baby, it will all come rushing back to me, and I will know that I did not take enough time to just be within time. And I might regret that. I will regret that.

So I have saved that moment in my mind, that moment shining with goldenrod and grasshoppers on a school trail. Because one day, I'll miss the gimme gimme's, and I'll think of sly tender moments on a summer day.

Posted by thordora on Tuesday, July 25, 2006 at 7:23 p.m. | Permalink