Will You Please Be Quiet, Please?

Today after school Laura had a check up at the orthodontist's. I was a little beat by then because I hadn't slept well, and I'd already had an outing to have lunch at a new place with Normal Neighbor and one of the K(C)athies. It was such a lady lunch place. I mean, the restaurant name made a pun with the word "thyme," everyone in the joint was in tennis clothes, and they are selling earrings and purses in there. Ladyland. There were a couple of men waiting for a table, and I was like, "Dudes, so Chipotle was on fire?"

So then, at the dentist's, I show up in my wig, which they think is a rather dramatic makeover, given that they have no idea what's going on with me or why I'd be wearing a wig, so this occasioned a lot of different conversations about cancer with everyone in the place, from the doctor to the scheduler. Don't get me wrong. I love the talking. Just a talkin' all the live long day, it's what I do. Telling acquaintances that I've had breast cancer can tax my reserves, though, as it requires that I package a comfortable but informative "here's what's up with me" experience for them, giving them the details they want and reassuring them that I'm really doing well while not getting too dark. Everything, including the less pleasant aspects of treatment, is woven into a narrative of progress and the eventual restoration of health and it's all fine. I am not at all flippant about this. I mean that this conversation has a goal and if you will relax, I will get us to our destination.

Honest to Pete, while I was chatting with the hygienist, Hank went to the glass-front fridge and brought me a bottle of water. "Mama, this is for you," he said. (Days ago, he and I had had a conversation in which he asked what would happen if you drank too much water. I told him that you could hardly manage such a thing--that you should drink a lot and it will make you feel better. He had said, "Mom, you should drink a lot of water to make you feel better.")

Other wisdom from Hank that day: "Mom, God's son's name is Bob God."

After we were back in the car on the way home, the kids got into one of those periods where they both have important things that they absolutely must tell me and must get my feedback on at that exact moment without any delay. If this requires talking over each other, so be it. Half of what Laura says comes from her fantasy life, and half of what Hank says is repeated in an eerie five-second delay from what he just heard Laura say. But zomg they must both be heard right this instant! Mom, tell Hank I am talking! No Laura, I have to tell Mom a question! And it got to be too much.

"Okay," I said. "That is enough talking. Everyone stop talking. Right now." They didn't believe me. These children are African violets. Each tender, jewel-toned petal has been brought to vivid color by a rich, full spectrum of parental attention. But also by our sometimes ignoring them.

Laura said, "But Mom, I'm just going to sing a song." Don't, I said. Hank said, "Mom, I need you to spell DUNGEON." Understand that the child can't read or write, he is three. He just likes to hear me spell things. I said, "Mama can't spell right now." "But WHY?" he asked, as I pulled up to a traffic light. I thought.

"Because I'm turning left," I said. And they were silent for about two minutes, which let me listen to an old Jayhawks song and concentrate on my unprotected left turn.

Once while I was being examined by my midwife, the talk turned to audio books and whether we liked listening to books while driving. She told me that she'd been getting through Faulkner's Absalom, Absalom! this way. I lifted myself up on my elbows. "No way!" I said. That has got to be the least likely audio book ever." She nodded and said, "I have to shut it off when I'm turning left." That still makes me laugh.

I think we need to see if "I'm turning left" can serve as a temporary excuse for not doing other things. Hell, even stuff you don't do in the car. I didn't read that article you emailed me because I was turning left. I didn't RSVP to her party because there was no arrow. I will not wear those Spanx because there is no turn lane.

You have Matt to blame for the length and vapidity of this post. He is watching the Celtics game and I have no choice but to bloooooogggggg. Can't watch Lost, can't watch Frontline, can't watch 9 by Design. Do other people have more than one TV?

I'll stop now.