Friday, May 7, 2010

Street Bean

Every other Friday, I get to bake for New Horizons. After we make our delivery, it has become my tradition with the kids to cross the street and spend some time at the giant rustic table at Street Bean Espresso, a fabulous coffee shop that exists to build community in Belltown and provide meaningful employment experience for street-involved youth. I love going there, I love that my kids ask to go there and I love to mix with the extended New Horizons community that flows in and out of there. Last time we went, our entire coffee hour was one joyous reunion for me.

Today was brilliant. The barista made us each the perfect drink and none of them went down anybody's shirt. I crouched, in a ready and waiting position, at the end of the giant table in case anyone should need me to catch them or their cup. Just above the table is a giant piece of artwork that says "I Love You". That sounds sappy, but the piece is really cool. It was a great moment. Manny was in his pajamas, now streaked with chocolate syrup and the girls were scattering gluten-free muffin everywhere like fairy dust.

When we got back to the van, I let the kids play inside while I stood on the sidewalk and took in the cool breeze, still finishing my coffee. I was rudely interrupted by Glory. She sat in the driver's seat, beating her head against the steering wheel like she was a skipping CD. Honk, honk, honk, honk, honk went the horn. I opened the door and tried (also repeatedly) to explain to her that when we honk the horn, people think we need help. And we don't need help. This, I now realize, was a lie. The rest of the day I felt like going down to the garage and laying on the horn until someone realized I needed help and came to my rescue. But I didn't because I was too busy rediapering. Thank you for the duct tape suggestion Sarah.

I ended up calling the Belltown playtime because both girls pooped and because Glory would not stop honking the horn. When we pulled into the garage and I unbuckled everyone, I reminded them we needed to go inside to the change the girls' diapers. That's when Manny exclaimed, "I'm Super Ass Man! I'm here to take care of the poops!" He paused long enough for me to confirm his superhero name, which took me by surprise. Then, he added with gusto, "I'm really brave! I'm Super Man Ass!"

The rest of the day, I did not hear another word about Super Ass Man or Super Man Ass, but there were endless requests to hear about Peter Parker/Spiderman who is apparently 3 and attends preschool. Also, he has two sisters named Dick.

The kid is a natural storyteller and he has a knack for naming things, especially himself. I'm still laughing about it.


The Leftoverist said...

Hi Angie! It has been WAY TOO LONG since I have treated myself to your hilarious and insightful writing. I'm treating myself on Mother's Day by curling up in bed with the laptop and catching up with some of favorite women.

Happy Mother's Day. You are an incredible mother. You're right--we all need help. Lay on that horn.

Abigail (aka Mamatouille) said...

Angie, nice to meet you today and I'm enjoying your bloggin'! I can relate to not having "extras" and having to go deeper, though sometimes I feel too tired to go anywhere, even an inch deeper than where I am. Maybe I need a latte, too.

Abigail (aka Mamatouille) said...

I thought of something else to tell you--maybe this might not deter your twins from de-diapering themselves at night, but it helped my son to keep his on (and he was waking us up in the middle of the night screaming because he had wet all over his bed--a pain for us to change him, his sheets, his blankets--you know the drill). My mother-in-law made some homemade onesies for him that flapped from the front over the bum and then buttoned on the sides. Just an idea for your girls!