Warning: Bad Poetry and Sentimental Dribble
When I was in fifth grade I wrote a series of stories about a squirrel and knew that some day I would grow up and be a famous author. I went on to study creative writing in college where I realized my dreams far outstripped my abilities. I wrote lots of bad poetry and even worst fiction. However, as time has gone by I’ve learned to appreciate those young attempts at creativity for what they were – honest yearnings. I stretched beyond my own ability to communicate.
Recently, my father sent me one of those early poems and ironically said “I think you wrote this when you were 14″. No Daddy, I wrote it when I was 21. Although emotionally I was probably closer to 14. This poem will not win me any awards or accolades, but I did think it was a sweet tribute to my own father. With sheer terror in my heart I have decided to share it with my gentle readers (if you are not gentle, please don’t read).
Father
The road to Hell is paved with good intentions
And if it is “we’ll cross that bridge when we get there”
Math is just shorthand for English
And science is applicable to your everyday life
What are you going to do with that English Degree?
There are girls boys date and there are girls boys marry
Here’s 5 dollars who ever heard of a poor princess?
Don’t tell me how to operate the VCR, I’m an engineer
Who doesn’t know the name of Grant’s horse?
I believe I said NO, what didn’t you understand?
Go ask your mother
Spouting feminist dribble again? -Good
What have you learned in school? What do you know?
Actions speak louder than words
Mother — she’ll be just fine — let her go
Is It Just Me Or Does Chuck E Cheese Make You Hate Yourself?
David has been working very long hours. The kind of hours that breeds family dissatisfaction. This afternoon as Lucy and I sat in her pop-up princess clubhouse, discussing the many sides of Barbie, she said to me, “I can’t wait to party with Daddy tonight”. When I passed this along to David he felt obligated to bring “the funk” tonight. He declared that we would go to Chuck E Cheese. Now, I recognize that for most families this is a special event, but this took on even more significance in our house because this would be our first visit. Yes, at five years old Lucy has NEVER been to a Chuck E. Cheese.
There are several reasons why I dislike Chuck E. Cheese; the lack of teeth in the people taking my order, the unease that somebody is spitting in my food, the fear of hidden child molesters, bad pizza and the proliferation of germs on every hard surface. However, all of these could be overlooked if it wasn’t for the suffocating air of pathetic suburban living that seems to envelope me when I walk in. They should hang a sign above the door that says “Abandon all hope of ever being cool ye who enter here”. Chuck E. Cheese is a flash point of all things that are terrible about living in the suburbs. I’m eating bad pizza, on paper plates, watching a 16 year old dressed as a giant mouse make unruly children scream and march around a giant indoor park. I’m being charged $40 to play carnival games that are rigged so my kid can’t win, but instead receive 10 tickets that they can redeem for an equally tacky trinket that will be in my garbage in less than 24 hours. There is absolutely nothing redeemable about the experience and during the entire time you feel even more pathetic for having been sucked into this vortex of mediocrity and bad taste.
There are good things about the suburbs. I don’t worry about my kids playing in the backyard. We have a backyard. The house we own is about a 1,000 sq feet larger than what we could afford if we lived IN Dallas. We have safe, good public schools. I’m a five minute drive from anything I could ever want or need. However, my house looks like about 75% of the other houses in my neighborhood. My husband has to drive an hour to work. I can’t walk to anything except the doughnut shop and the middle school.
Unfortunately, sitting in Chuck E. Cheese I feel as if I’ve disappointed the younger more idealistic version of myself. As if I have finally sold out and perhaps this is what bothers me most. Sitting under those fluorescent lights with the odd combination of grease and disinfectant wafting in the air I feel embarrassed. I’m better than this. My kids deserve better than this. And all of this self-loathing and contemplation is spurred because of Chuck E. Cheese and their terrible pizza. That is why I doubt we’ll go back.
Lucy Explains The Unexplainable
In this brief video Lucy tries to explain why things are going missing in our house. Specifically, she is concerned about the sudden disappearance of Max’s last pacifier. Hmmm……..
** sorry about the poor lighting. See what happens when an amateur is given a camera?
