Watching All The Way Down

Cary actually noticed its greatness first.

See it all from their perspective.
They were there every hilarious step of the way.

The Lion King 1 1/2 is actually really clever. Disney sequels aren't usually up to adult snuff. Jules and I (and Cole) watch endless movies and shows together (including all four of The Descendants*, which I can barely keep up with since I have to jump up constantly apparently for juice, milk, crackers, diaper changes, assistance fluffing pillows, you know).

And I keep observing of some productions: Wow, that was really creative. Now Jules has started saying that too.

"I just want to watch *insert something*. It's really creative. We can cuddle (liltingly)."

She knows me too well now.

I've entered an alternate reality that's beyond binge-watching. We're binge-living.

I love belting out 'Into the Unknown' from Frozen 2. Both my kids hate it when I do it. Which makes me love it more. You know when Tom Hanks shouts "I have made fire!" in Castaway? Well that's how I feel. "I am a parent!"

These are my weeks, probably like other people's weeks:

This is hard.

This is easy.

This is hard.

This is easy.

A year ago I was weighing how we could afford a co-op** in Brooklyn if we went to NYC next – if I somehow got a job there and Cary started flying commercially. Last time I almost sunk into my idea of the East Coast publishing high life, 9/11 hit right after my summer in D.C. I never know whether to feel lucky I missed catastrophe or whether I missed out on some life-altering experience for the better.

One day New York City or Paris or Seattle will get me, starring in my own romcom minus the rom and plus some years to my appearance. For now I'm content (cough cough) and trying to be tough living the comedy of errors that is Jules and Cole.

Turtles All the Way Down art print by Dianne Gage

Jules has taken to snails. Hunting them down and holding them captive, er, taking them as pets. Cole found one that had escaped – much to Jules' glee – then 20 minutes later he accidentally stepped on it and cracked its shell – much to her despair. She found an empty snail shell in our yard (read: a long-dead snail's shell) and somehow got the new, yet traumatized, snail inside it. Needless to say it didn't make it.

Jules often says when she grows up she wants to live in Fallon, Banana (she means Nevada). It has proven more successful than Coronado to her. Touché. She doesn't fully understand yet the beaches and endless sidewalks, as well as only remembers the going-places, the reservoir and pre-school friends and teachers. We used to go to this great Reno zoo and this supposedly breathtaking San Diego zoo has proven a letdown. Jules' first world problems are real AF.

When I get tired of watching with them, I've taken to reading alongside them – immersive mysteries and YA novels and a negotiating book or any other books my dad sends me.

I take endless pictures of the kids when we're not endlessly watching, which makes me look like a better mom than I am.

I have more time to blog now.

Work hours are dwindling as I was between jobs yet again since I decided to take a news desk job on the brink of a pandemic. I also bought a home in 2006. I make such good choices sometimes.

But slowing down to almost a standstill – when not getting up and down off the friggin' couch or scrambling to write a press release during naptime or movietime – hasn't been all bad.

"At some point in life the world's beauty becomes enough. You don't need to photograph, paint or even remember it. It is enough. No record of it needs to be kept and you don't need someone to share it with or tell it to. When that happens – that letting go – you let go because you can."

—Toni Morrison, Tar Baby, 1981 (or since I'm bearing all, I really read this in John Green's Turtles All the Way Down – recommended)

*On Netflix and 'Under the Sea' is a Descendants short story. Woot woot.
**The HOA will getcha.