F.i.in.e Moods

Well, true, it's pure speculation,

But I get the feeling I'm starting

To have the memory of a hamster.

Seems to me, it used to be much

Better, if not sharper, than it's

Seemingly wanting to go now.

It gets pretty ridiculous, really,

How I don't remember things

Or how I forget what I'm doing.

In an instant, poof, thought's gone,

What was I looking for again?

Or, where did I put my cards?

When did you say that?

Oh, I was supposed to do that today?

My favorite is mid-conversation

Blips when words play hide and seek,

Or when the train of thought is snuffed,

For absolutely no reason at all,

And you're in a total blank en direct.

Always awkward when that happens.

So, yeah, I guess it's one of those things, 

But the feeling I'm starting to have the

Memory of a hamster seems certainly fitting.

- with permission, and inspired by a memory Alan J Ripley shared with me about his grand-son which I found was too precious... my attempt to render the moment that I can so easily visualize... oh, and the waiter was arguing it had to be 3 scoops, instead of 2... so yeah, a total and utter wanker, as the Brits would say ;) 

They were having a miserable time

At a chic restaurant where the

Meals were meant to be top of the line

Haute cuisine, but it was all horrendous.

As if that wasn't bad enough, the waiter

Was a bit stuck up about the menu and

Didn't believe patrons could make requests

As to what they prefer or want in their plate...

All the way down to how many scoops

Of ice cream there can be in the dessert!

It was so far from impressive, they knew

This would be the first and last time here.

However, at the end of this unpleasant

Experience, upon finishing their desserts,

Their little grand-child told the waiter to

Tell the chef that his scoops of ice cream

Were "the best meal he'd cooked today",

In his way to pass on his compliments.

The little child couldn't have known

How much that would make their day,

Oh, but did it ever.

- warped reasoning:  self-protection for self-destruction...  

Another reason I didn't tell you was

To protect my willful avoidance.

Had I told you, you'd naturally have

Wanted to advise me and make 

Me see the problem I didn't want

To confront at all at the time.

Had you known, then I'd have had

To consciously ignore you and

You definitely never deserved

To be treated so inconsiderately.

I found all justifications to never

Let you know right out what was

Going on 'cause I couldn't face your

Disappointment or alarm... again.

I was on a path of self-destruction.

I didn't want anyone to stop me,

And knew, you'd have insisted on it.

- my eldest son at 2 years old... I laugh about it now, of course, but when that morning came my way, can't say the laughs were finding their way to me yet lol  the joys of parenthood? ;)

« Maman !  Maman !  Savon, partout, partout ! » is something along the lines of "Mom, there's soap everywhere", but said in a two-year old's fashion... 

It was one of those mornings

When time was a bit short

And departure had to happen

More than sooner than later.

I was a single mom of a very

Inquisitive, resourceful two-year-old, 

Who always kept me on my toes, so to

Speak, always getting into things.

But in the rush of that morning, I was

Taking five quick minutes getting ready in

The bathroom, door open to keep an ear

On my son.  We were fine for a few minutes.

About three minutes in, my son came

Trotting up the hallway to where I was,

Repeating:  "Maman !  Maman ! 

Savon, partout, partout !", a bit alarmed.

On hearing this, I didn't readily

Understand what he meant,

But a sinking feeling did form

As I walked the hallway to go see.

My son trotted behind me, then

Passed me, as I approached the kitchen.

First I saw all sorts of soaps piled, mixed,

And spread on the living room carpet.

That was my sight on the left,

As I was turning right to the kitchen

Where my trotting son was leading me.

As we entered, we went sliding across.

He on his side, on the ground,

And me almost following but still

Standing, though my feet clearly

Aquaplaning, not gripped to the surface.

Turned out my little darling

Had found our big container (4L+)

Of vegetable oil, and poured

It all out on the kitchen floor.

My ride was arriving in two minutes,

And I had a grand mess on my hands.

My son covered in oil, all the way to

His hair, and my work shoes imbibed.

Not counting the thick lake on the floor.

I think I felt a little surge of tears

'Cause I really didn't know how I'd

Make it on time to work that morning.

Aw, his little face, I couldn't get mad.

He was just being curious and I should

Have been more vigilant is the truth of it.

But being a single mom can be a bit tricky:

Can't be everywhere all at once,

And toddlers are stealth masters

When they know they're doing

Something they shouldn't be doing.

I swear, no unusual noises,

Heard absolutely nothing.

The carnage, though, was most

Impressive, in so short a time!

- my youngest son at 15 months upon seeing for the first time...

We were standing in line

At the pharmacy, my little

One in my arms while we

Waited.  All of a sudden,

My son's face and eyes all

Illuminated with the happiest

Surprise of his life, it looked,

Excitedly nodded and said,

With so much awe, it glowed:

"Chocolat, Maman ?

Chocolat ?", as soon as he

Noticed the cashier who had

The darkest black skin - and

She of course heard him.

I, shocked, wanted to melt

Into the floor right there,

'Cause it's not the reaction I

Could have even imagined,

But I could see the woman's

Shoulders going up and

Down from the giggles she

Was trying to keep discreet.

- my eldest son at 2 years old... he switched letters in some of his words as most toddlers do, he also switched between French and English, 'cause he didn't know yet that he was working with two languages... "fuck" is just a distortion of the word "truck", not that he ever heard the word "fuck" around him... other words he distorted also came out sounding exactly like swear words... in French, he'd say "crisser" (québécois swear) instead of "glisser" for sliding... 

« Un » = "a"

When the boy was a small child

He was fascinated by machinery

And every time he'd see a big vehicle

He'd excitedly cry out:  "Un big truck!"

The only problem is that when he

Said it, it came out as "Un big Fuck".

Then you'd hear his blushing mom say

"Yes, a big Truck.  It's a very big Truck".

- it's a bit peculiar too how their exasperation, irritation stemmed from their surprise at how a 7-year-old kid couldn't just accept what they were saying with the appropriate awe for the miracles they were explaining... I simply couldn't grasp how any of it was possible... that it's because he was the son of God was just weird...  

It isn't like I went out of my way

To irritate the church ladies as

A child, it's just they weren't ever

Giving me satisfactory answers

To my ever-growing questions I

Could never get clarified by them.

All they gave me was nonsense

I couldn't wrap my head around,

And their irritation cemented the

Feeling they had no clue themselves

What all of this was about, or why

They loved it so much and I should

Be feeling as much love for it too.  

It just didn't make any sense to me.

There were too many gaps and

My seven-year-old mind didn't

Like not understanding the whole.

It made me distrust this is anything

To be taken seriously, 'cause no

One had any explanations for it.

For any of it in its entirety, in fact.

The explanation is that there is none,

You must have faith it is 'cause they

Told you so.  I'm irritated with you,

But trust me, what I say is the truth,

Doesn't inspire anything positive.

It was never my intention to irritate,

But I just wanted to understand,

And their answers weren't cutting it.

Was it insolence?  Of course it wasn't.

I just wanted to better understand and

They weren't doing anything to help that.

Oy, dear mind,

There you are

At it again, you

Relentless fool.

You already know

It's no good for you

To take the hand

That'll lead to ruin.

You know too well

The results of that

Unfortunate path.

Stay clear, y'hear me?

Argh, for goodness sake!

Can't turn my back

On you for a minute,

Can I?  Stop it, already!

- m'brain is in French mode from writing loads of official communications lately... but all that literary French I've been writing made me want to loosen it up for a moment, so wrote this text in spoken Québécois... sorry, and good luck translation tools... I get a serious kick from the results...

ouin, ç'plutôt clair

que tu n'pourrais pas

t'en crisser plus que

comme dans l'an 40.

ouin, j'vois bien ç'qu'tu

fais-là, on dirait qu'tu't'

crois vraiment trop, mais

dans l'fond, t'sais rien.

ouin, on peut pas s'o'stiner

avec ç'qu'yé évident, là,

facque, continue d'me

traiter en cave, enwèye.

ouin, ç'pas fort, mais

c'est ça, j'y peux pas

grand-chose autre que

d'te r'garder aller...

ouin, ça m'fait rire.

l'bâton pourrait pas être

fourré plus creux, et un

nono, ç't'un nono ;

y'a rien à faire avec ça.

j'étais assise, paisiblement

dans mes pensées, quand

tout d'un coup, t'es sorti

de nulle part comme un

"bat out of hell" et tu m'as

fait sursauter en dehors de

mon pauvre petit corps...

rough translation...

- « Tellement inattendu » is "So Unexpected"...

I was sitting, peacefully

in my thoughts, when

all of sudden, you came out

of nowhere like a

"bat out of hell" and you made

me jump out of

my poor little body...