Happy Good Friday!

I have no idea what that means except that it’s the Friday before Easter. And something about meat. or fish. And Jesus.

Circle Time Rules

ANYWAY, let’s move on. Usually we have Circle Time! on Saturdays, but I’m livin’ on the edge and doing it on Friday. I used to do this weekly, but now I only do it when I have something fabulous to “share” — such as this song, “Lonely Boy,” by The Black Keys – and the fact that my baby girl is finally herself again.

Let’s all take a moment of silence in appreciation of strong-ass antibiotics and doctors who give a shit.

So, if you can watch this video without experiencing a profound improvement in your mood, then, well, I don’t know. But I’m not worried because I don’t think it’s possible.

I love this band, this song and THIS FUCKING GUY. He is a boss. I want to know him.

Watch, enjoy.

xo

So I know we haven’t had a Circle Time Saturday in oh, I don’t know, forever, but I’m inconsistent and unreliable and that’s pretty much all there is to say about that. Anyway, I had to share this song with you all because it is, apparently, a miracle song. And it’s Circle Time, and that’s what we do at Circle Time: share. But don’t forget the rules:

Circle Time Rules

Anyway, many moons ago, when Georgia was just a few months old, she was screaming in the carseat. Not new. What was new, though, was the song that came on my Ipod. It was “Perfect Timing” by the Drive-By Truckers. Almost as soon as it started, the baby stopped crying. She just stopped.

When it was over, she cried again. So obviously we replayed it twenty-seven times and deemed it her “favorite” song. The next time she cried, the kids started wailing to put on her “favorite song,” and I did, and it worked. To this day, I tell you, this song pretty much always soothes her. We hear it a lot. Occasionally she’s pissed enough that no amount of the alt-country-miracle-song can please her, but most of the time, this song works. It’s actually a little weird. Thank God it’s a damn good song.

Okay now you share: do your kids dig any music? Do you dig any music? Come on people, share. SHARE damnit SHARE. It’s Circle Time. Everybody at Circle Time SHARES!!! If you don’t share you’re never getting invited back to the circle and everybody will hate you. (You see. This is why I’m not a kindergarten teacher.)

I wish I could do deep meaningful shit with my kids all the time. I do. I wish that.

But I can’t.

I wish when we spent special time together it was to knit and garden, sew pants out of upcycled wool, build things out of repurposed tires, visit abstract art museums. Paint, dance, frolic.

But I can’t.

I mean I CAN. Physically, I can.

But I can’t. Mentally. Ya feel me here?

Sometimes, I just need to pay money and do something easy with the kid – a guaranteed win. An outing that’s an “in the bag” kid pleaser with very little work on my part.

You know, like going to the movie theater to watch Transformers with your 5-year-old son, after purchasing on his behalf a large, buttered popcorn, one Sprite, one package of regular M&Ms and one package of Sour Patch Kids.

So it’s a PG-13 movie.

So it cost $40.00 we really didn’t have.

So he ate enough preservatives, sugar, additives and chemicals of unknown origin to destroy a few million brain cells.

So we didn’t really talk. Or learn anything of any use AT ALL (except, perhaps, that hot women can run full speed through a burning Chicago, dodging falling buildings and Decepticons, while wearing 3-inch spiked heels! Okay, seriously people, I gotta write a blog post about the way women are depicted in those damn action films. I’m vomiting a little just thinking about it.).

So it wasn’t deep or profound or particularly meaningful.

And I felt a little guilty that our special date together – our just he & I time – was a few hours sitting in a theater, watching large metal machines beat the shit out of each other and long-haired women with big lips dodge bullets and squeal.

But there was no preparation. No thought. No arguments. No cajoling. No disappointment when the child in question gets distracted after 10 minutes – more interested in gluing his finger to the table than furthering the objective of the well-thought-out, Waldorf-life craft project.

So it was perfect.

And halfway through the movie he crawled on my lap. And he sat on my lap the whole time. And I smelled his head and kissed his cheek and rubbed his bony little arms. And I watched him laugh when they laughed and get nervous during the fight scenes because you never know – this could be the first time the good guy loses…

And in the car we talked about who’s better: Optimus Prime or Bumblebee, and he reenacted the fight scenes and I realized I finally know the Transformers’ names like his daddy does, and he finally got an hour of uninterrupted mom-lap time.

And I gotta say, the whole thing blew wool-felting right outta the fucking water.

Well, yes. It was a really crap movie. Like bad.