Archer told Hunter he was crushing his head (a la Kids in the Hall).

Hunter immediately puffed out his cheeks and inflated his head.

Because of course that's what you do if your brother remotely crushes your head ... why didn't any of us adults think of that?

Please tell me, in the comments, if you had one power/ability from a myth or fairytale, which one would you want?  No answer is too silly or too out there, go.  

Also, ask your kids/friends/partners. 

Archer's school called at 5:00 AM today to say that they would not be in session. This morning was a blur of shoveling and careful driving and this stomach ache that should not be happening because I took my probiotic and didn't eat any dairy ... crap.  I got a soy chai latte at Starbucks.  Or should I say a "soy" chai latte.  Poisoned by the mermaid ... ain't that a fairytale?

"Say my name
And every color illuminates
We are shining
And we will never be afraid again."  - Florence and the Machine, Spectrum

On Valentine's Day I went to my favorite coffee house, Seven Stones Cafe, alone to write something meaningful in Houser's card.  I ran into a few friends and sat with them for a while, and ended up having a long conversation with a dear friend who is, at the moment, unhappy with Houser.  Most of the conversation was not about that, but that part of it stayed with me.  Most of the unhappiness was due to a series of misunderstandings - yes, he did this thing, but why he did this thing mattered and is more understandable than why you think he did this thing ... what I ended up saying is, "There are a bunch of misunderstandings and the two of you should talk face to face."

"If we can so misunderstand, well then, why have we invented the
word love in the first place ?" -Edward Albee, The Zoo Story

I started thinking about all of the misunderstandings that happen in relationships, in our relationship in particular, and how what really matters is not the daily grind of disappointments and imperfections, but that I am in love with a truly good man who shows that he loves me and our life together with hundreds of good acts, repeating day by day.

I am in love with a man who does dishes every night, who works to make money in a world that rejected his education and experience (graphic design jobs in Philly dried up about 5 years ago and there has not been much of a resurgence), a man who wants to be more expressive about his emotions because I want and need that, a man who does not hesitate to watch our difficult toddler any time I want to go out with my friends and only asks when I am going to be back so he can plan his evening, not because he doesn't trust me.  I am in love with a man who works on schoolwork with his stepson and shows him music videos with great drummers, who teaches our toddler to put his socks on and to speak to people nicely.  I am in love with the most entertaining man in the room, the person who, when he is telling a story at a party, other people drift out of their conversations to listen.  I am in love with a man who doesn't like being read aloud to, but who will let me read to him sometimes because he knows I need that type of communication very much.  I am in love with a man whose father (they are extremely close) is suffering through cancer and who still manages to be productive and present in our home most of the time. I am in love with a man who has devoted his heart and his life to me and to our family without holding back.  I am in love with a man who loves the most dysfunctional cat on the East Coast.  I am in love with a man who has the most amazing laugh.  I am in love with a man who writes well and fluently, who cares about grammar and punctuation.  I am in love with a man who hates musicals and who will listen to Mandy sing if I ask him.  I don't ask him very often.  I am in love with a man who can live with a moody, annoying woman who has too many ideas and not enough time and who overthinks and talks too much and has a strong streak of perfectionism and is probably almost as bossy as our bossy toddler.  Almost.

This is our love.  This is our life together.

Happy Valentine's Day.

1. He made Honor Roll for the second marking period.

2. He got his first detention.  He was one minute late to Consumer Science Class (Home Ec, basically).  His Mother thought it was a stupid detention, but also emphasized the importance of treating teachers with respect, even when they do things we think are stupid.

3. There's a sound in Sweeney Todd, I call it the "razor scream".  If you've ever seen the show, you know what I'm talking about.  If not, it's in the first three seconds of this video.  It sounds sort of like a human scream, but there's also something mechanical about it, and they play it during the Ballad of Sweeney Todd and also when he slits someone's throat.

Anyway, I have never been able to figure out what is making that sound, not which instrument, but what actual thing in the story.  Last night we were talking about the play and Archer said, "That's the sound of the razors screaming in his head, driving him mad and urging him to kill."

Yep, that's what it is all right.

Last night I started playing some songs from Sweeney Todd for Archer, and he discovered that one of the lullabies his mother has been singing to him since he was an infant is actually from a show about murder and cannibalism.  Boy was he surprised!

Also, I asked him who he thought wrote Sweeney Todd, and he immediately said, "Stephen Sondheim."  If you hear enough Sondheim, you know when you're hearing Sondheim - there's this witty recetative that he puts in a lot of his songs that's a fingerprint, you can't miss it.  I love the word 'recetative'.

Here's NPH singing it to Patti LuPone (eeee!).  I can't wait to show Archer this one when he comes home from school.

I discovered this album by Katie Lee, it's called Songs of Couch and Consultation, and I am happy to inform you that this song is as good as its title.

We have been enjoying some wonderful Hanukkah parties.  We're now at the bleary-eyed part of the year when life looks like:

Wrap gifts until 1 am.  Wake up at 6 am.  Get ready, drop off books at library, drop off gift for child in need at YMCA (4 year old who wanted Megablocks.  I love Megablocks - you can get a big set for very little money and kids can play with them for hours), get cup of coffee #2 on State St in Media, drive to Philly, work, shop for gifts for party tonight, work more, get food, host party, clean, wrap more, wake up tomorrow and go to work ...

We are blessed with wonderful family and friends and we are showered in gifts.  We are lucky.  We are also a bit sleepless right now and need more espresso ...

Had to share this here for my bookworm friends:

Fang: I don't get to do any creative writing in my core extension class.  The next thing I have to write is about immigration.

Me: What do you have to write?

Fang: An essay from the point of view of an immigrant coming to Ellis Island.  And we have to do a bibliography.

Me: Did your teacher specify a year?

Fang: No.

Me: Well, if you choose a poor person coming over in the early 1900s, the conditions on the ships were terrible.  People huddled on the floor in family groups, not always enough beds or any beds for a transatlantic voyage, there were vermin, poor sanitation, little food ... you could tell some really gruesome stories.

At this point, Fang, who adds, quite correctly that the late 1800s also qualifies, is grinning like a jack-o-lantern.  Gruesome is his bag, baby.

Houser: My question is, how do I get you to nap?

Beeble: Your question is tigers.

Houser: My question is not tigers. Maybe that's your question.

Beeble: Nooo. My question is leopards.