Break to the Future.

It’s 1985. Doc Brown has just arrived back from the future, steps out of his DeLorean, and tells me, “Great Scott! Whatever you do, DO NOT go to 2020!”

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Why not, Doc?

“There’s a global pandemic! The world gets shut down, you won’t go into a store for 53 days, you’ll have 3 trips cancelled, you’ll forget how to talk to people or put on makeup. And when you do put on makeup, you’ll immediately smear it all on the inside of your face mask and ask yourself why you put on makeup.

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…But then, after much discussion and changes of plans and months of uncertainty, you and your husband will go to a remote beach to celebrate your 19th anniversary, taking a much-needed break from the four walls of your house.

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…You’ll share a long, deserted beach with nearly no one except for the crabs and the birds and the creepy driftwood.

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…But while you’re sitting at a restaurant for the first time in in 61 days (61 days without eating out!! Can you imagine??) (outdoor seating only, of course), you’ll get a call from your mom that your son fell off his cousin’s hoverboard and broke his wrist! But don’t worry – there will be VIDEO PHONES by then, so it’ll be like you’re in the ER with him but actually you’ll be in your condo at the beach. I’m telling you. The future is crazy!!”

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Okay, Doc. Um. Well, the hoverboard part makes sense anyway.

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So yeah.

Noah gave us an extra special anniversary gift.

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Thankfully, it hurt so little that he was confused at the fact that it was, indeed, broken.

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You see, two weeks ago, we had given his cousin Andi a Hawaiian Shaved Ice machine for her birthday. Which Noah definitely wanted for himself. But then he saw Andi on her hoverboard, another birthday present, and he fell deeply in love. Watching Andi flippantly and expertly drive that two-wheeled contraption around like she was controlling it with her mind, all while casually eating a shaved ice…

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well, it was a taste of the future.

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And Noah wanted the future.

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Noah had asked Chris and I if he could buy one with his money. We were both slow to answer, not sure of  how safe hoverboards were these days.

Chris told Noah that he would think about it while we were gone on our trip.

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So when Gramamma took Ali and Noah to visit at their cousin’s house on mine and Chris’ first full day of quiet beaches and solitude, Noah of course had to try out this device for himself.

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It did not go as well as he’d planned.

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You see, he ran into a flower pot.

 

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Which caused him to fall backwards and catch himself on his wrist. Which actually did not hurt that bad…as long as he kept ice on it. And didn’t move it. Oh and it had a nice swelling and bump to it that very much reminded me of my 7th grade wrist-breaking incident.

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I was texting with Adolfo, our Pediatrist friend, who consulted last time Noah needed to go to the ER, to find out if he thought it needed x-rays. Noah said it barely hurt. Could it (possibly-please-there’s-a-pandemic-going-on) just be sprained?

Adolfo answered. “He probably does need x-rays, but I’ll be glad to go get him from your mom take him in real quick.”

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Um, what? Aren’t you like, a busy doctor?

“I got off early today. It’s really no problem.”

Okay. We’ll take it.


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What followed on our end was several hours of tense waiting… updates… consent for care over the phone… insurance information texted… finding out that it was truly good and broken… and wondering.

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Wondering if we would need to come home.

Because if he needed surgery on his broken arm the next day, we really should pack up, cancel our trip, and drive the 5 hours home to be there with our kid.

But if he was just fixable by a quick set-and-cast, well, the kid was in no pain and was clearly going to love being King of Gramammas with his cast propped up for the rest of the weekend, so obviously us coming home would just be a disappointment and cramp his style.

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So we waited. And finally, we heard the news. All he needed was a minor sedation, a yank to get the bone back in place, a quick wrap in a cast, and he was done. He would be back at Gramammas before we could have gotten home anyway.

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All was well.

Noah became The Injury King.

Adolfo was already The Doctor King.

And we, well – we got to stay on our much-needed vacation from reality.

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p.s. – he totally signed his own cast.

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p.p.s. – And he also let Buddy the Snake sign it.

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p.p.p.s. – But he never wants a hoverboard, and has already ordered himself a Hawaiian Shaved Ice machine instead.

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If Not In Quarantine, Then When?

It has become my theme statement.

It applies to all things.

…If I can’t sit in my front yard and read for two hours without feeling a shred of guilt during quarantine, then when?

…If I can’t clean out my office closet, paint my office (no more poop beige!), the front door, and the bathroom during quarantine, then when?

…If I can’t eat ice cream every night during quarantine, then when?

…If we don’t order a construction dumpster and thoroughly clean out our basement and garage during quarantine, then when?

…If I can’t let the kids make an insane amount of mess with some crazy idea during quarantine, then when? (When I was making a grocery order and asked Noah if he needed anything and he said “Baking Soda and Vinegar so I can make explosions!!” – sure kid. If not in quarantine, then when?)

So when, as I was cleaning out that horrible mess of a closet, I found an old bag of water beads that we’d bought for a school experiment a few years back, it made total sense to go ahead and expand about 10,000 of them, take pictures of them, and then throw them on the children.

Because if not in Quarantine, then when?

Yeah. That was seriously fun. And I was only the photographer – it had to have been more delightful for Chris, the water bead dumper.

I mean for the children. The most fun for the children.

But pictures.

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My friend Kristin had told me a couple of weeks ago that I should do a water bead photoshoot because they’re just so darn photogenic.

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She wasn’t wrong. 
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There’s something in the way they hold the light that is mesmerizing.

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They also hold reflections of each other nicely, but that’s harder to catch on camera.

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After we finished ogling them and holding them and sticking our hands in them and feeling comforted by not giving the water beads ANY social distance, we decided it was time to let them live Their Best Life.

Chris had just gotten home from work, and was completely amenable to the idea of pelting the children with 10,000 squishy balls of water.

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I mean really, isn’t that what everybody feels like doing after a long day at work?

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And then the jumping bean fun began.

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And now all I can think about is… if that was 10,000 water beads, and 100,000 water beads only cost $22 on Amazon, if not in quarantine, then when?

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Diary of a Tired Mom – The Please No More Words Edition

It’s been a weird month for me.

My subconscious wants to write very badly – I have dreamed about writing blog posts multiple times in the past month.

And those dreams have not been limited to when I was asleep.

When I got my first dose ever of “the gas” at the dentist, I was so trippy that my entire being was spinning out in staticky, multicolored, 8D spirals, and as the galaxies orbited what was left of me, I began realizing deep truths such as “I don’t even exist anymore. But I faintly hear the dentist still drilling on my teeth. I wonder if she realizes I don’t exist anymore. Someone should tell her she’s wasting her time except it can’t be me because I don’t exist anymore. But wow this would make a great blog post. Wait until I describe these new colors and sensations to the world. It will CHANGE IT.”

(Right after that, I came back to existence enough to rip off the gas and vomit three times.)

(I’m pretty sure my dentist will not allow me to have such services again.)

So yeah, a weird month. But despite my desire to write, I have had a rough month health-wise, so I haven’t been able to write. I’m getting better, so I’ll try to document some of my jotted-down notes from the month.

(Except not the rest of my thoughts from the dentist’s chair. Because those would change the universe too drastically and I’m not ready to pull the rug out from under y’all like that.)


Tiers of Childhood Monologue.

In case you haven’t noticed, kids talk a lot.

They ask a lot of questions, tells the same things over and over, and LOVE to, once they can read, tell you everything they are reading.

The prime ages for this phenomenon, I believe, is between 6 and 10. Which helps me understand a little more why toddlers are middle schoolers are my jam.

(But, Noah is the snuggliest nine-year-old boy that ever lived, which entirely makes up for his endless words. Most of the time.)

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(Also he’s prepared for anything. Which comes in handy more often than you’d think. Though I did tell him I was afraid this particular preparation belt would keep me from having grandkids if he fell at the wrong angle.)

Car rides are especially difficult for words with me, because the multi-tasking of operating a large machine AND listening to my kid (because I learned long ago that I am entirely incapable of tuning out any words ever) is tricky. So I have tried to hone the quality of words that come out in the car.

And so, there needs to be a helpful chart – a continuum if you will – of the things read or narrated to a parent while said parent is driving.

Level Negative Ten: iPad narration. I DO NOT CARE what your Monsters are singing about. THAT IS GREAT that you just killed all your Minecraft villagers and goats, but is it really? Did those angular goats really deserve that slaughter? But whatever you want to do to the goats, do it – just don’t tell me about it while I’m driving. (We even have a family code word (more on that later) for QUIT NARRATING YOUR IPAD GAME TO ME.)

Level Negative Eight: Unnecessary and/or repetitive questions about the future. This seems like a placeholder in conversation that my children love to use to fill space. Thankfully Ali learned my terror of answering questions about the future a couple years ago and ceased doing it most of the time, but it’s still a favorite hobby of Noah’s.

Level Negative Six: Jokes from a joke book. Or worse, jokes they know and have already told you ten times. Jokes are excruciating 99 out of 100 times. But then there’s always that one joke that catches you off guard and actually makes you laugh, which makes it not so bad.

Level Negative Two: Trivia books and Guinness Book of World Record books. These facts, read aloud, can be sometimes interesting. But then they seem to read the same pages over and over and they begin to feel like jokes.

Level Positive Two: Hearing about the books they’re reading, or their school books. I like knowing that they’re interested and involved in what they’re reading. Although Noah sometimes gets too involved in his history book, throwing his book on the floor and screaming at our forefathers for their prejudices, poor decision making, and foolish life-ending dueling. But that can be entertaining as well, giving this oration an overall positive rating.

Level Positive Four: Family Feud Cards. This is the one random Car Conversation Savior that I’ve found I enjoy. Someone got these for Christmas, and Noah loves quizzing Chris and I on Family Feud categories. They’re actually entertaining with the same magic that Family Feud is entertaining as a show – magic I don’t necessarily understand but appreciate nonetheless. But what makes them most fun is the children’s uncertainty about whether they’re inappropriate or not when they don’t understand them.

I present this example:

Noah: “Name things that start with the word ‘skinny'”

I snorted. My first thought was “Skinny B**ch”

I wondered if it was on the card, but I certainly wasn’t going to ask.

Chris and I got a few right, then trailed off.

Noah: “Do you give up?”

Us: “Sure.”

Noah:”There’s only one left but I think it’s inappropriate.”

Me: “Oh here it comes.”

Noah: “It’s ‘Skinny Late’ with Two T’s.”

Chris and I thought for a second, then exploded with laughter.

And immediately dared each other to go into Starbucks and order a Skinny Late with Two T’s.


I’m learning how to live with an apparent extrovert.

I held out hope for a long time that Noah was just an outgoing introvert, but the evidence continues to suggest a strong strain of extroversion. The amount of sounds that need to come out of his mouth at all times is staggering. It’s mostly questions but also comments, sounds, random thoughts, and just a stream of consciousness.

As such, over the past few years, we’ve created a collection of Callahan Family Code Words. I only have to say one word, and he knows exactly what I mean, rather than me having to use up all my words telling him to use less words.

Here is the legend to the Callahan Family Code Words. We haven’t copyrighted them, and so we offer them free to help you, too, have a less verbally overwhelming life.

Rubiks – “You’re making random, repetitive, completely unnecessary noises and I let it go for a while but I now need you to cease.”

Honda – “That question is either a.) a question about the future, b.) a completely unnecessary question, or c.) you’re just out of questions for the day because you’ve asked more than my brain can possibly handle. So I’m not answering it.”

Blubbermuffin – “NO ONE wants to hear your narration of your iPad game. If you don’t want your iPad to disappear forever, you’re gonna have to keep your mouth shut while playing.”

Banana – “Quit using your mouth and start using your eyes. We’re on a hike forgoodnesssake can we enjoy the sounds of nature PLEASE.”

The nicest part of these words is that I have to be less rude as a mother. There’s much less emotional content to just say “Honda” rather than “FOR THE LOVE DO NOT ASK ME ANOTHER BLOOMIN’ QUESTION, CHILD.” He knows what I mean and he accepts it without emotion. AND, the magic of the code word keeps him from arguing with me – it just ends the conversation.

But despite my code words’ helpfulness, I do assume this blog post has fully informed you of where my headspace has been going and why I haven’t had any words left for writing.