Tuesday, April 6, 2010

Tiny Boons

So I am on a mailing list for an absolutely hysterical guy from Britain, Mil Milhouse, and every so often he publishes a newsletter that is worth waiting for no matter how long it takes to arrive. (Go to his website, here: http://www.mil-millington.com/ when you are done with this blog. NOT BEFORE, or you'll never come back! You're welcome.)

Mil hates Facebook, but finally caved in and started a page called "Tiny Boons" wherein one may document those small but meaningful good things that happen during your day. (Before you get too worried about how sappy and nice that sounds, he means things like, say, finding out the chainsaw is out of gas when your demented girlfriend goes to start it up to hack away at you with it. You know - nice little things like that.) Well, today's blogtastic entry is going to ninja his name, and without remorse. Also, by the way, without the cynicism and hilarity, because, trust me, today is all about the sappy mommy moments!

:: insert pause for fetching of insulin for those with sugar issues ::

So, first: the Devil. She is sitting in her chair in the living room, watching Yo Gabba Gabba (Why, God, WHY!?! Oh, wait - she's the Devil. It all makes sense, in context...) quite contentedly and calls back to me over her shoulder, apropos of nothing, "Momma... I loves you. I loves you all day AND all night! You make my heart feel squishy."


Now a funny (peculiar, not ha-ha) thing has been happening to me for a while, and I've been hyper-aware of it since the eval/Day-of-Formal-Official-Writing-Down-and-Confirmation-of-All-My-Worst-Fears-About-Jamesy, -O- CRAP!

To wit: whenever one of the other 2 kids does some preshuss thing, ahmahgawd, a little teeny bastard of a voice in my head wonders - in a horrible stage whisper - if Jamesy will ever be able to do the same thing. And while I of course dispatch the other 10-12 people living in my head over to knock the ever-lovin' crap out of the teeny bastard immediately (followed by the ghost of my grandmother, leveling Sicilian death-curses), it's always too late; the seed has been planted. A little tiny heart twinge. Not a heartBREAK, or anything, more like a little.. heartbruise. An owie.

HATE IT. (And am I the only one who does this?)

So of course, when the Devil goes all pink unicorns and fluffy kittens on me, the Teeny Bastard chimes in practically before the words are done leaving her lips. But today, o ho! Today! TODAY I WIN! Because...

Tiny Boon #1

Although usually a depressing little loop about whether I will ever enjoy such an utterance (or even hear my name) from James begins at this point, today..


For real. Looking at me. Over and over till I responded.

::trying to not jump up and down while I type::



AND... (yes, AND!!!)...

Tiny Boon #2

... when I went dashing over to him in response, grinning like a lunatic...


I even did an experiment, and made an exaggerated frowny-face at him while I had his full attention (to which he responded with a very serious look), and then smiled again and SO DID HE!!

Yeah, yeah, he'll probably never repeat it in front of anyone, especially not an evaluator, and yeah, it's not REALLY tiny, boon-wise, but it's my blog dammit and I can call it what I want because JAMESY SMILED AT ME AND CALLED ME MAMA!!

Woo hoo!

1 comment:

  1. Frankly, I'd call those pretty honkin' BIG boons, myself. Even now, and my kids are in their 20s. You go, Mom.