Monday, May 3, 2010

If I Paid Attention

After writing yesterday’s blog I made the observation to the Boss that I don’t think my writing is as funny as it was a few years ago when I first began blogging. She assured me that it is. She’s probably correct. I frequently hear her laughing when she reads my latest post. But it has changed. Sunday morning, on the way home from church, I discovered why.

We were five minutes from home on the same stretch of road that we have been driving for five years. In the span of less than thirty seconds, the following conversation took place in our van:

Major Havoc: How much longer until we get home?

Captain Chaos (singing): Is you is or is you ain’t my baby?

The Boss: Major, you know where we are.

Captain Chaos: Baby, won’t you please come back to me.

Major Havoc: Is it just a few minutes until we get home?

The Boss: Come on, Major. You recognize where we are. It takes the same amount of time to get home as it does every other time we drive here.

General Mayhem: I’ve figured out that there are five sub-divisions of the Dodge Charger.

Major Havoc: Is it longer or just a few minutes?

Captain Chaos (still singing): Wa-boo-da-da-beep-bop-beep-bop.

The Boss: These are things you don’t write about anymore, the day-to-day stuff like what is taking place right now.

Me: I beg your pardon?

During this conversation I was looking out the window at a large pasture with a pond in the middle of it, thinking, “I wonder if the horses are out today?”

There is a reason why I don’t capture those snapshots of Bedlam. In order to write about the day-to-day stuff, I’d have to be paying attention to it. If I paid attention to it, I’d go insane. Horses are more fun to look at. I’d rather look at horses than go insane. Heck, just in the time it took me to write the first paragraph of this post, Captain Chaos interrupted me three times with a request for a glass of water and a second slice of bologna for her second bologna sandwich, the sandwich that I had just made for her not thirty seconds before sitting down in front of the computer. How could it not occur to her to ask for more bologna while I was making the sandwich, (right underneath her nose) still baffles me. It’s far better to wait until the old man puts everything away and sits down before making a bologna request.

But I digress.

This lack of attention is the very reason why on the weekends, when the Boss is home from work and the kids are being their usual loud selves, she looks at me with dismay and asks, "How can you tolerate this all day long?" 

"Tolerate what?"

"This noise!"

"What noise?"

Deafness.  It's a self-defense mechanism.  I guess I've finally figured out from whom the children get their selective hearing.  And all this time I thought it was the Boss' fault.

13 comments:

GingerB said...

My house swells on weekends because we get my husband's two boys from his first marriage, and I spend some time every weekend kind of wanting to poke my own eyes out. So I never write about weekends. And I am quite certain I am not cut out to be a stay at home parent.

I looks to you, Arby.

Teacher Mommy said...

I'm okay MOST of the time, and then I get to the point where I'm all GO TO THE OTHER ROOM AND PLAY!! MOMMY NEEDS SOME MOMMY TIME!!! and the boys go create chaos Elsewhere.

Linda said...

I assure you, my friend, you are still funny!! Unfortunately, I don't often check into your blog, but when I do I ALWAYS put down my coffee cup first!!

I really wish I had time to be a more regular reader of blogs...especially yours!

Keep it up...and don't change a thing. Well actually, maybe you should try to pay attention just a wee bit more!!

Brownie said...

Yes - you are still funny :) Funniest when you just blog about what's happening.

But I like your "meatier" blogs, too - the one's that get me thinking :)

Pippi said...

Reading your posts makes me want to tell you my life story - probably a terrible idea both for sake of your time and the fact that this is the internet. Hehe. Suffice it to say that I was the oldest of 10 homeschooled kids. And my parents were also very religious conservatives.

I hate all the noise, and I only have two. I am so jealous of my husband's ability to tune it out. I don't think mothers can. I have certainly tried.

Thanks for your comment. It is ok to talk there.
God bless you and your family.

The Pirate Mom said...

I think men can do that better than women...which probably means that more men should be at home, educating the kids. At our house, though, we'd go bankrupt and starve if we had to reverse roles.

In other news, I've posted the meme: http://www.thepiratemom.com/2010/05/03/my-first-ever-blog-post/

Thanks for thinking of me!

~Kellie

Unknown said...

Enjoyed this entry. Where did the Captain learned that song? What a hoot. The whole image of that road trip is a hoot. Ya gotta love Bedlam.

Kid said...

Arby, It would seem that Captain Chaos only requests additional supplies when it is confirmed that she needs them. This is a good thing.

Is what I'm thinkin.

TobyBo said...

this has nothing to do with your post... but... well, I thought of you when I saw it linked elsewhere... humor around my place does not extend in this direction but I thought you may be interested (maybe for your scouts):http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bM4eJ38S7Hw&feature=player_embedded

Unknown said...

Toby...um...thanks. I think. I don't know if it is a compliment that you associate my name with gas. Has the Boss been emailing you?

Unknown said...

L., I'm almost embarrassed to admit this, but she learned the song from watching old Tom & Jerry cartoons. Everything accept the “Wa-boo-da-da-beep-bop-beep-bop” part. I made that up.

Daniel "Captain" Kirk said...

Yes, the Internet is my escape, too. I'll have to post a rough transcript of a math lesson sometime. It's a lot like this story, only less coherent.

Daniel "Captain" Kirk said...

P.S. I enjoyed the ending of the first version of this post, too. Especially the part, " Don’t ask me how I recognize the sound of Match Box cars bouncing down basement steps. I’m a parent. I just do."