Category Archives: Max

Too Much Crazy

I’m so far behind the blogging curve, and cannot even begin to organize a proper update, so instead, Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate!

Three bizarre Max-isms from the morning:

(Overheard while in the shower)

MooOOOOoom! MOM! Do beatles have teeth? Do they have to floss? What if they eat poop?

(Seconds later)

Oh, MOooOOOm. Are you out of the shower yet? MOM!MOM!MOM!MOM!…Anyway, Mom. How do cars drive on the Silk Road?

He has been awake since 4:30, anticipating Thanksgiving. I’m glad he does not believe in Santa Claus, because I can only imagine the havoc waiting for the old fat guy would bring.

I’m safe though, Because Max apparently celebrates his own Judeo-Christian holiday.


According to Max, Knishmas is celebrated this coming Tuesday. I think I can manage.

For now? We’re off for a walk around Somerville to find the Great Wild Turkey.* Hopefully the kind in a glass bottle.

*You know. Like looking for leprechauns or the gold at the end of the rainbow or any other holiday tradition devised by desperate mothers.

Sharif Don’t Like It?

This morning, while driving to school in the rain, enjoying a hit of classic Clash, Max’s Ernie-esque giggle rose above the music as he chimed in with

……Rock the CAT’S BALLS….Rock the Cat’s balls!

When I pointed out the correct lyrics, and pleaded with him not to sing about feline testes in school, he began to wail…..

Sharif don’t like it…..Rock the cat’s paw! Rock the cat’s paw.

I warned his teacher that he was full of it this morning.

If Dali Were Three

In the past few days, Max has suddenly began to draw and paint images that are very clearly what he claims they are supposed to be. So far his surrealist art includes a wolf with four eyes, and four V*AGINAS–who is not feeling well tonight; a hedgehog monster that poops a lot, the big, blue sun shining on a jellyfish and a p*enis, and just a few moments ago, a purple walking toast machine with one leg that does not bend.


Very long driving day today as we left Galveston and passed through Louisiana, Mississippi, and Alabama before arriving at our first stop in Florida. I am….what was I saying? Where am I again?

A few pictures of Max from an accidental visit to Tickfaw State Park, after he insisted I stop the car in the middle of Interstate 10 so he could play on the median with roadkill, beer bottles and shards of truck tires. Tickfaw is located about 11 miles off the interstate, just past a slaughterhouse. My stomach lurched as I drove past , yet the park itself was lovely and was redolent only of pine and moss, with a very nice RV area,tent camping sites, and a pair of playgrounds.

Eventually I will write more about the actual trip, but for now uploading pictures and sharing a quick daily update is all I have time and energy to do.

Another long drive tomorrow.

Greetings from Galveston

Where it is unseasonably cold, and the skies and surf are both rather menacing.

Inside with the sea turtles, it was a balmy 90 degrees with high humidity, and a chance of blurries. We did not stay for the entire tour, and opted to explore a little on our own before the scheduled lecture began. Max was excited to make the connection between these turtles and the books he has at home describing their life cycle. The turtles were very friendly, or rather they were until they realized we did not have shrimp.

Stewart Beach felt suspiciously like an earlier trip to York Beach, Maine. I think it may be warmer in Maine.

Max shared a piece of pizza with a boat-tailed grackle.

Queen of the Wild Frontier

Greetings from a small town in the middle of Texas, where the locals are friendly, yet slightly obsessed with Davy Crockett. The Lone Star State redeemed itself a bit on the drive from New Mexico with continued desert, mountains and the all important semi-clean rest areas, complete with large, blinking signs warning patrons to watch for snakes. Also, the speed limit in these parts is 80 mph. Fun!

We pulled off the highway and found a playground for Max. Unfortunately there were no kids for him to play with, but there was a purple dinosaur and lots of aging metal structures to climb and get tetanus on.

Speaking of tetanus, next to our hotel is a colony of feral kitties. Poor things. I walked over to have a look,crumbled up a few dog biscuits I had in the back of the car, and noticed half-a-dozen cats perched on rocks and garbage.

So we drove down the street and bought some water and a bag of cat food. As I walked towards the brush, I noticed the colony was probably closer to a dozen cats, most of them still kittens, wild-eyed gaunt and scared. This little grey tiger is a total sweetheart. His friend the black long-haired was also friendly, so I can only assume between their demeanor and the empty, open pizza boxes laying about that other people have left food for the cats as well. The other kittens hid in the brush behind the fence, and only came out to eat and drink when I backed away.

A White Sands New Year

I fucking love New Mexico. Earlier this morning I was planning the next leg of our trip and it broke my hard little heart to search for accommodations in Texas. I fucking hate Texas, or rather I hate what little I have driven through previously.

Earlier today we drove to White Sands.

The White Sands gift shop was doing a brisk trade selling thin plastic snow saucers to slide on the sand for $12.98 each. Max would rather roll on down the dunes anyway.

And ring in the New Year with a hotel pizza party.

Happy New Year!

Park It

Lest the post below sound as if we’re spending all of our down time having playdates at Donald’s house,here is a picture of Max enjoying the facilities earlier in the trip at Panther Creek State Park in Tennessee on an unseasonably warm day. In addition to immaculate, heated restrooms Panther Creek even had a merry-go-round.

One caveat about visiting parks with playgrounds: do not announce that you are going to be at a playground in a few minutes after passing an exit with a teeter-totter symbol tattooed on the state park sign. Why? Because the next park we tried to visit after Panther Creek was 213 miles off the highway. We only found out after driving a few miles and finding a more detailed sign.

Grunty and I decided that major highway rest stops should all have a simple play area. Most of them have an area to walk dogs, so doesn’t a swing set or slide sound like a welcome addition? Alternatively, an enterprising person could launch a franchise of indoor-outdoor playspaces near those odd pseudo highway exit villages that exist solely to hawk fudge, genuine souvenirs and t-shirts 3 for $12.99.

Here’s hoping for nice weather in Arizona and lots of well-maintained parks and playgrounds.

Love Stinks

This morning Max asked me

Mom, can we go to Starbucks? And just sit together?

So I took him to Starbucks.

Once inside, he sat down across from me, sucked down his chocolate milk and said

Mom, why do you love me?

I explained why, and he seemed to accept my answer. Curious, I then asked

Max, why do you love me?

Immediately a huge grin spread across his face and he replied

Because you FART!

The Leg Bone’s Connected to the ???

Max continues to be fascinated by my collection of menstrual products. Thanks to a picture on the side of the box of pantiliners which shows other Kotex products, Max insists that panty liners are available in a range of flavors: blueberry, chocolate and strawberry.

A few minutes ago, he came into the bathroom and told me he needed a Kotex because his p****s hurts. When I asked why it hurt he started to sing

Well, you see… pen*s is connected to my ankle…and my pen*s is connected to my bel-ly, my pen*s is connected to my haort (heart) and my hoart is connected to my ch—in.

Yeah, that has to hurt.

As I type this post he attached the adhesive side of liner to himself, and he is now trying to bandage my hand with a panty liner because my hand has it’s blueberry period.

Dazed and Confused

An epic tantrum just wound down. When I picked Max up at school this afternoon, he collapsed into a heap in the hallway, blocking a bunch of Bugaboos and of course, earning me the Stare of Death. He was still tantrumming ten minutes later when I peeled him off the floor and somehow managed to get him strapped into his car seat. Still wailing as I pulled out into traffic. (Still screeching nearly 45 minutes later after arriving at our house.)

After throwing a shoe at my head and barking, he started to demand

I…wu…wuu…waaa…want to heaaaahhh…..Coming ‘Round the Mount…the mount…THE MOUNT!…aiiiiin…annnnnnnnnnn

Eyes on the road, I turned the classical music station, breathed deeply and tried to locate my Inner Goddess of Mothering. When the bitch failed to appear, I scanned over to the classic rock station, and the Pilot began to dance to dueling divas.

Max: Puuu…puuu…puhlease! IHATEYOUIHATEYOUIHATEYOU! I want a treat! I waa…waaaaannnnnt a TREAT! My kneee hurts! Muh kneee hurts!

Mom Voyage and Robert Plant: I’ve tried to do all those thiiiiings the best I caaaaan

Max: I want a letter cookie! I want, I want, *hiccup* I hate you, I want…..



Robert Plant & Mom Voyage, pulling in front of the house, perfect timing I don’t care what the neighbors saaaaaaayyyyyyy

Max: Is daddy home? Is he is he is he is HE??? Daaaaadddyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

Mom Voyage: Ah, sweet! Back-to-back Zeppelin Baby, baby, baby, I’m gonna leave you……

Am I the only one parenting through a communication breakdown?

Time Passages

The years run too short and the days too fast

Max, early August 2004

Max, as I found him sound asleep on the playroom sofa a few minutes ago. He’s still a baby if he sleeps with his bum in the air and feet tucked under, right?