The MOG was scheduled for a nervous breakdown last night, but we decided to go on a date instead. We called Liz, and she came and sat with our technically sleeping children. You should ask her out, if you’re single, you love God and you’re not a psycho.
We went to the movies and saw Captain America. Little-known fact: I like superhero movies. My entertainment diet, for the most part, includes things with Sandra Bullock, or Meg Ryan or one of the other blondes, but give me a decent superhero story and I’m all about it. It’s gotta be clear, though. I want upstanding good guy heroes. None of this is-he-good-or-not angst, I have enough of that with real people. So I was stoked, and then Richy accidentally wore his Captain America shirt, which made us look like superfans, which reminded me of the time he and his brothers dressed up like Jedis and Darth Maul and went to the Star Wars opening. In retrospect, we were all both ultra-dorks and also super cool.
Anyways. We drive to the ends of the earth because my GPS has not been updated in 2 years due to a lost cord, and so there are whole cities it doesn’t know about. By the time I have the popcorn and am sitting down, there’s already some guys talking in another language, surrounded by snow. *action movie essential
So here, in the 4th paragraph, is my point. I am chowing pretty hard on the popcorn and Reeses, because I’m married to a man and I have to fight for my rights, and also, I am watching the unfolding of events, which are now in 1942, so it takes a while before I glance over and notice a 2 year old in the seat next to me. Do not be alarmed, it was not my own stowaway 2 year old, I don’t even HAVE one of those right now. But be alarmed because there is blood splattering and buildings exploding and a BABY watching.
The movie, like all superhero movies, has a truly scary bad guy and a pretty high body count, because a) war and b) scary bad guy and c) good guy has to lose a couple pals, you know. So by halfway through the movie, I am constantly checking the baby to see if she’s freaking out. She’s not. She’s sitting patiently, staring at the screen. At the climax of the movie, I’m watching with my fingers over my eyes, which is how I roll when I’m concerned there may be gore, and she’s finally crawling over her dad to her mom.
And I’m not even anti-kids being grownup places. When I’m nursing a baby, they go everywhere with me. And I take my kids out to eat, etc, and expect them to behave appropriately. If they don’t, we bail. But come on, surely anyone would realize there are places you shouldn’t have a kid with you. I don’t feel like I’m old enough to pull the mom aside and say, “Honey, this movie is too scary for that baby…” like my mom might, if she went to movies more than .5 times a decade. Sigh.
I’m going to blog more about this, but I have to think some more.
Anyways, I think it was a good night out for the MOG, who is flying to Texas today, picking up the new van, and driving straight back, so we can leave again in a couple of days. About that nervous breakdown…