Best Mom Tip #170: Watch all of the credits

I have mentioned before that Jay and I like movies.  We REALLY like movies and usually average about 2 a month in the theater over the course of a year.  This is made possible by our proximity to our parents and the fact that we ask for movie money for every birthday and Christmas.

Last night we saw The Grey starring Liam Neeson.  It was rather more emotionally intense than I was expecting (it's about a plane crash in Alaska and these guys trying to survive it while being tracked by angry wolves) and there was a scene where Liam Neeson recovers his rifle and some shotgun shells from the plane wreckage.  The rifle is broken and useless, but where was the shotgun?  Or the rifle bullets?  Anyway, unless the movie makers wanted us to believe he had a scope on a shotgun, his bag was short either some ammo or a weapon.  But other than that I was involved and interested in the story.  And we stayed until the very end of the credits.

Jay and I always stay until the end of the credits.  I like to see who they thank and where it was filmed and what versions of the songs they used and who the gaffer was.  I like knowing that the movie last night needed both "wolf wranglers" and "snow mobile operators."  I like letting the emotion of the movie, good bad or ugly, work it's way out of me while I listen to the carefully chosen soundtrack of the credits.  I like being able to give validation to the craft services personnel and every other little name that warranted a mention on the giant list.  You had better believe that if my name ever made the credits of anything, I would want everyone I ever knew to watch it scroll by.

There are a lot of reasons I enjoy being wrapped up in someone else's story for two hours.  I like to imagine and pretend and I do so in my head quite a lot.  I love to read and get lost in great (and not-so-great) books, but I tend to be obsessive and sacrifice sleep to finish books so movies are a shorter time commitment for me.  I have a wonderful and full life, but it is also one where I wonder about things like why people keep posting song lyrics on Facebook or why decorating magazines recommend "bringing the outside in" when most of my day is spent trying to keep the outside out and off of the floors.  Guys in mortal combat with wolves is somehow more exhilarating.

Sometimes, I'm even rewarded for my credit-watching patience.  Finding Nemo's credits have the animals interacting with the words as they scroll by. The Hangover reveals the pictures of what you didn't see happen in Vegas.  Last night there was a split second at the very end of the credits that helped to tie up a slightly loose end from the movie itself.

Mostly, though, I just like to linger over the feel and flavor of the moment.  To bring my heart back out of the woods, or off the sinking ship, or home from the war.  Before I get back in my minivan and ride off into the sunset.

Best Mom Tip #142: Go to the movies

I fell in love with the movies in the summer of 1982 when my mom drove around town picking up my friends to take us all to see ET for my birthday. It was brutally hot (because it was August in Georgia) and I was so excited to be riding in a car with several other kids.

There were not enough seat belts, of course, but that was not a deterrent. We got someone from daycare without my mom being a relative or on the approved "pick up" list. We were allowed to go to the bathroom in pairs, but without an adult. My little girl is about the same age as I was that summer and I cannot see letting her take just a friend to the bathroom at our movie theater.

But in 1982 seat belts weren't required, if you told the daycare someone else would be picking up your kid it was fine, and being unsupervised for any length of time was allowed if you were with your friends and in a "safe" place.

I cried throughout the entire movie. In the beginning I was scared of the spaceship and the men running through the woods, in the middle I was so sad that ET had died, and at the end, I cried for joy that he was going home. It was the first time I understood the concept of happy tears.

Jay and I saw Super 8 this past weekend and it took me back to the moment when Steven Speilberg and I began an abiding relationship, the depth of which only I am aware. Indiana Jones was my first crush. I was really worried when the Gremlins started to eat after midnight. I wanted to be one of those kids in Goonies.

I got carried away and taken to a place of magic and possibility. I love fantasy and sci-fi, action and adventure, movies where stuff blows up, movies where there's love and magic, movies where there's strength and honor, movies about WWII, movies about the future or teen werewolves or boy wizards (although that really is born from a love of books). I do not like horror movies.

After Super 8 I had that same warm fuzzy feeling I got as a kid. The alien really wasn't that bad and he was going home. Jay and I held hands and I grabbed his arm every time I jumped from a monster appearance. We got popcorn and coke and m&ms.

I know not everyone enjoys movies like I do, but it is important to have those dates where you lean into your spouse, are allowed to snuggle in public, and get to eat chocolate without sharing any with your children.

I can't wait for our next date night and whatever magic our next movie might hold.

Best Mom Tip #122: You know what? Screw #121--keep your head down

After my post yesterday I had one of the most embarrassing trips out in public with my children ever. Then there was a family birthday dinner, a tornado, and overstimulated children to get to sleep so I didn't get to post again until today.

So picture me in the Barnes and Noble looking for a book for my husband's birthday. I knew they had the book in stock, I just couldn't see it on the shelf. (Side note: The book was listed under Business: Starting a Business, but was actually found under Entrepreneurship: Starting a Business. Isn't that a redundant category?)

I'm holding the baby on my left hip, my giant purse on my right shoulder, and 2-year-old Griffin's hand clutched tightly in my right hand. I'm wearing dirty, baggy jeans and a college sweatshirt that once belonged to my father and has a circular hole that I'm pretty sure is a cigarette burn.

This is when Griffin made a break for it and ran giggling hysterically through the giant bookshelves while I tried to catch him without running in a store. I finally grabbed him and refused to let go of his hand. He managed to talk me into letting go ("my stay wight heah, Mommy") and then he ran again. Little bugger. He even grinned as he ran away.

Again I chased him down and sort of grabbed him by the head as he ran by. Now, you need to know that when Griffin doesn't like something he just yells, "Ow, Ow Ow, dis huhts Me!" He has learned that yelling "this hurts me" gets a much faster response than "I don't want to do this!"

So he's yelling "Dis huhts me! Ow, dis huhts my head! Ow Ow Ow!" when I get down next to him and threaten him with certain pain if doesn't stop acting like this in public. That's when he added "I want my Mommy" to his litany of complaints.

The constant chants of "Ow, my head! Dis huhts me! I want my Mommy!" finally caught the attention of a pain-in-the-ass innocent bystander who felt the need to come over. An amazonian woman with a power yoga tank top and a nose ring blocked my path out of bookshelf hell and said, "Is. He.Ok."

It was not a question, but rather a condemnation. I rolled my eyes and said, "He's fine. He's just mad at life right now." She seemed confused by that response. Maybe she's mad at life, too. That would explain the nose ring.

I finally got out of the store only to find that Annoyingly Fit Girl parked next to me and had driven away before I got even one of my kids buckled.

I hate her. And everyone else.