Tuesday, January 23, 2007

Life in Munchkinland

My almost teenage munchkin (aka: tweenkin) went to the music store with me the other day, because my garage door broke.

I made a deal with Scottie the Door Man. He would fix the overhead mechanism if I would string his guitar and teach him to play it.

I guess you could say I got my garage door fixed for a song! (LOL)

Anyway, I'm browsing the sheet music at the string shop while my tweenkin is chatting up her "peeps," (thats munchkinese for friends, from the root word "people. btw) when the hot rock star clerk leans over the counter and beckons me with his finger for a confidential chat.

I was intrigued. Many a moon has passed since the last time THAT happened.

"I just heard your daughter tell her friends on the cell phone that you are the coolest mom ever."
"Really?"
"Yeah. That's hot. I don't usually hear kids talk like that, unless they want something." He shrugged and flipped back his long black hair in that rock star cool sort of way. "I just thought you'd want to know."

"Thanks. Of course, the title has its downside. I have half the population of Munchkinland in my living room every day of the week."

He laughed.

"The food bill is insane, and my carpet, well, It aint the yellow brick road, but it sure has a well worn path!"

"We had a mom like that in my neighborhood. We started our first band in her basement."

"Sounds like I have a lot to look forward to."

"Oh Yeah. But don't worry, it's worth it. It's cool, having kids in the house."

Yes it is, but Ms. Mayor of Munchkinland knows the job is fraught with mishaps and mayhem.

On Sunday I took the tweenkins to our schools first Ski club event. Twelve Lakefront Lines Deluxe Tour busses filled to capacity, and I was a chaperone.

We herded em in, showed em the drill on how to get lift tickets, skis, boards and boots, and warned the beginners repeatedly to stay off the black diamond runs.

Tying shoe laces was never my favorite mom duty, but hunching over to fit a busload of em made me wish a house would fall on me.

One kid ended up in the clinic with a bruised collar bone, saying "The bunny hill is for babies." One threw up on the bus during the ride home, and I still can't straighten my spine out of the boot fitter hunch.

Overall, I'd call that a successful day.

Well, gotta run. The Semi truck delivery of snack foods is backing up to the garage door right now.

7 comments:

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zilla said...

Sweet "slice of life" post, Kelley.

Being the "cool" mom with a house full of kids does have its advantages -- I always appreciated knowing they were safe, for one thing. And I felt glad that as they got older, they trusted me enough to approach me with a problem or two.

I actually sometimes kind of miss tripping over sleeping teenaged boys in my living room on my way to rustle up bacon and eggs and waffles. They're all twenty or twenty-one now. Time flies. They stop in some times, which is ... nice.

Kelley Bell said...

Awe Zilla,

You're gonna make me cry...

Rain said...

Kelley, you sound like you do an excellent job of walking the line between cool mom and responsible mom. Not easy, I try, but I lean more toward responsible, a bit uptight. And you can play a guitar and change your own strings too, way cool.

annie said...

i'm with zilla.
it is gone in the wink of an eye.
my "baby boy" flies off to europe on the 31st. he's 24. i too remember the sleepovers, the waffles, the mess.
who knew how much i'd miss the mess?
the youngest is almost 15. poor thing has to deal with a mom that is hanging on to that little girl who dissapears a bit more each day.
lovely thoughts, kelley.

The Fat Lady Sings said...

Your life sounds fabulous, honey. And your kids sound like really good people. If a child can actually defend a parent to their peers - that parent must rock the Kasbah! And why is it, whenever anyone talks about parenting, they don't cover the everyday shit? Like tying dozens of shoelaces, or rustling up 1/2 a refrigerator full of food at 7 am on a Saturday morning? This counts just as much and more then that talk about sex or cigarettes or drugs. These are the memories that children cling to; the memories that form the basis of their own parenting skills. You win or lose the parenthood battle on a muddy soccer field cheering your child on - not in some formal discussion about brains and a frying pan.

Kelley Bell said...

Right on FLS.

That's why I am such a big fan of Erma Bombeck.

-I'll bet money you read her column regularly too.