Bing bing

Tallulah is one of those kids who carries around a blanket. Her name is Bing Bing. My sister in law knitted her for T when she was born and truthfully, she was always partial to it, but bing bing really became a necessity when she had her pneumonia/collapsed lung last year that landed her in the hospital where she underwent multiple suction procedures that caused her to vomit and extrude massive amounts of phlegm. Bing Bing got us through that.

Bing bing, of course goes with us places. Like to fort davis and Florida and grandma's house and also to the grocery store and the gym, and while I usually discourage taking toys to those kinds of places, because they will be forgotten, I don't feel that way about Bing Bing. You see, she is part of our family, and you don't forget your family.

And since she is part of our family, she is quirky like everyone else in this non-traveling freak show.

Bing Bing is a girl.

Bing Bing does not like other blankets. She really, really, does not like them. "Bing Bing don't like dis one." So we fall asleep slightly cold and then I have to go in there later and cover Tallulah up. The only blanket she can tolerate is the comforter on our bed. So after waking up cold, she and Bing Bing come in our room and T says when I cover her "oh, dis one ok. Bing bing like dis one."

If Bing Bing is mad at you she will hit or attack you. Just ask hyphen.

If Bing bing loves you she will kiss you and cuddle you. Just ask me.

Bing Bing sometimes doubles as a long haired wig, a dress and a baby sling/ nursing cover. Tallulah strongly feels breast is best when it comes to her dolls.

Bing bing does not like the cover to Richard Scarry's Best Storybook Ever. She thinks the lion is too scary and doesn't want it anywhere near her.

Bing Bing has a nickname. It is "the bings the bongs."

Bing Bing is who T turns to when she is in trouble or scared or sad. "I need my Bing Bing, " through tears and a quivering lip. And she is so pathetically sad you give in to her and don't care about her being spoiled because kids who carry blankets around like they are a life line and just too damn cute.

Bing Bing will be three soon and I just want to say, "happy Birthday," Bing Bing, we love you.

boo

thoughts and happeniings

1. Annabelle had a book character parade at her school today, and lucky for us, her pippi longstocking costume from last year still kind of fits, so there you go.

2. It rained really hard yesterday and today and we were worried trick or treating would be rained out. There is a neighborhood nearby that has Halloween the night before to avoid truckloads of kids from other neighborhoods. Other less desirable neighborhoods. There is something about this, one of the isms or ists, that H and I, while not liberal people by any means, don't like and so even though we were invited to participate, we opted to take our chances with the weather and go today. It turned out great. Tallulah was Cinderella and corrected you if you called her Tallulah. "no, you mean Cinderella." Annabelle opted for Froehlin Maria from the Sound of Music. She was very specific, and wanted to be in the costume where Maria arrives at Captain Von Trapps home in the ugly dress carrying the guitar. Thanks to Ba Noi and Grandma for making the costume and H for his superior crafting skills--he made the guitar case out of foam. And thanks to the crazy mom who invited us to a safari birthday party a couple of years ago where the favors were straw hats.



3. I will not eat one piece of Halloween candy this year. So far there have been reeses peanut butter cups in my house for 11 hours and I have not eaten one--did I mention that when I was a junior in high school and sick for an entire year the only thing that I wanted to eat was reeses????? I totally love these things, so this is a Halloween miracle. Thank you O Great Pumpkin.

4. The problem with not being a liberal non-racist or non-elitist is that you must remain a beacon of calm, smiling and non-judgmental light, when a 10 year old child shows up at your door and tells you she is dressed up as a stripper.

5. H should have his PhD in pumpkin carving. This is freehand.



6. I taught Annabelle and her bff the 80s classic "trick or treat, smell my feet, give me something good to eat, if you don't I don't care, I'll pull down your underwear." That one is like a fine wine. Just gets better....

7. My mom called this afternoon and asked me if I remembered what we were doing this afternoon last year. She was here caring for me during my post acl repair time. I couldn't remember, but she did. We were at Target trying to find candy and I was in one of those motorized carts for the elderly, crippled, infirm and obese. And it went really slow and we had to get another one and there was almost no candy left because we waited for the last minute. She remembered how much fun we had passing out candy and how much fun we had dressing up the girls. I remembered how annoyed she was with me for using Tallulah's birthmarks for her puppy dog spot eye and then I found myself thinking for the first time "thank you God, for my acl tear, because it meant my mom got to come over here and do so many fun things with the girls for almost a month, although she almost never bathed me during that time, and that would never have happened without that tear, so thanks. But, please, don't tear my other one."

The Lord works in mysterious ways, especially on Halloween.

Help me I'm on a bad date

Help. This is real time, people. My date is watching the baseball fame rather than paying attention to me. Baseball. He just asked me who I am texting. I am ignoring. We are at shepherd park because he is too lazy to take me somewhere good. Pizza crust is not pretzels and our fried ravioli look like hot pockets and smell like fancy feast. I look like ass because I don't care about my appearance any more. My attempt to engage him on conversation, by asking him where the worst place we've ever eaten has failed. I say Pho tau by. The little roaches. Little roaches. Of course he won't agree, because of some kind of nationalistic pride. Thomas BBQ. Squirrel gristle sausage. Yeah that was bad.

We can't go home. They are showing Mary poppins and we want no part of that.

And to add insult to injury, my buzz is wearing off.

Shut. I might proofread this. Might.

Hotel California is playing. Ok. That's ok.

Complaining about children's birthday party that he had to go to this morning. Don't care.

There are some really ugly guys here. No one with a bald spot should ever wear shorts after 6 pm

My date wants to see nary poppins. Shit. I mean, no thank you.

I just ordered another glass.

Everyone here is ugly. I should go. Despite my mom jeans, I don't fit in.

We agree that this place sucks. We agree on everything, that's why we are so boring.

My date is the best looking man in this bar and he is wearing an orange swatch so you know he is cool.

There is someone really short behind the bar. Really really short. Damn.

My date is making a grocery list with his new app while I blog. Agh. We are those people.

I have a scab on my hairline.

We are full on tattoo nation. Dreadful. Maybe I should just get a tattoo like every other person.

A man with a willie nelson pony tail and cut off shirt just sat down at the bar. He had long earrings, tats and a potted face. Where the f does he think we are? The montrose? Who the f does he think he is? Tiffin?? We don't like people with personality here in GO. Where is my ugly bald friend????

My date just nudged my foot to show me this man. See? Perfectly in sync. Boring.

I am ready to kick my knees up and step in time.

Tommy and Tallulah

Last year, during her dog obsession, which continues through this year, Tallulah received a few stuffed animal dogs for her birthday and Christmas. Most of them had a spot on one of their eyes. She named her favorites, Tommy, Snoopy, and Strawberry. She played with them off and on and when it was time to combine the girls' room, she, of course, needed them, along with about 10 other stuffed animals on her bed.

Shortly thereafter, she noticed that tommy had a small-ish, brown-ish stain on his underside. This presenteda problem because this is a child who won't use a napkin with a stain, who tells on her sister when she is looking for socks and dumps the sock bin on the floor "and now my room all messy." This is a child who is somewhat anal retentive. You can decide if that needs a hyphen or not.

She announced that tommy had poop on him and she didn't want him on her bed. Actually, she didn't want him in her room. But, I made her feel bad about it and told her it was not poop, it was probably chocolate. "Okay mama, it not poop, it just chocolate, but he sleep on de flu-owa now." This has continued and almost become a game for me --when I make her bed, I put tommy on it, and always hear this indignant bellow later in the day, "who put tommy on my bed???"

She is unhappy with Miss C_____ who has come every other week to help us clean our house since my acl tear, and of course, now hyphen is in love with her and we can't let her go. Grrr. She tries to tell her not to put tommy on her bed, thankfully, miss C______ doesn't understand this impudence, and I don't translate.

But she couldn't quite get rid of him altogether. Annabelle told her, "you are mean to tommy, if you won't love him, he can be mine, I will take care of him." No, she decided to be abusive rather loving and letting go. So we were back to our old game, her trying every which way to not have him anywhere near her stuff. Did I mention that this is my child that actually throws away her starburst wrappers, rather than keeping them for "my candy wrapper collection."

Today, however, we had a breakthrough. "If tommy mine, then I can do whatever I want with him, and I want to give him to Annabelle." She said it defiantly, like I was trying to force their relationship, which in a way I was. Now he lives on Annabelle's nightstand, next to her bucket of rocks.

Cue odd couple music now.

Bereft

It's that time of year when the days are shorter and the leaves change and when Annabelle coughs until she vomits. And tonight, after a rousing game of hot potato, where everyone's antics had us all screaming with laughter, she started coughing. And then her face got all red and her stomach puffed out like it does when this happens and then we were in the bathroom, with me holding her hair back while she threw up. We are pros at this. The other night, we were able to get just a small amount on our bed before she made it to the bathroom. There were a couple of years where we weren't so lucky.

It's asthma, it's allergies. It's whatever. It doesn't mater really. It will go away by April and she will run around and ride her bike and perfect her boogie boating skills over the summer before it come back again in September.

It's still no fun to watch and so, in the way of vain people everywhere, I turned my attention to studying myself in the mirror, at my elbows specifically and how terribly wrinkly they are. My face may seem youthful to some, but my elbows? Pushing 50, not 40 . I started to draw the bath water, and stared at my daughters' perfect skin, smooth, peaches and cream. Milky. milky is the word my friend, a woman from my church, used to describe her baby's skin. My mind has been drifting toward her for the past week or two, ever since her baby was rushed to the hospital after he almost aspirated at home. What was wrong with him is too complicated for me to explain, but it involves early infantile seizures, an underdeveloped trachea and jaw, and an inability of his brain to tell his lungs to breathe.

Was wrong. He is gone now.

She was generous enough to post his journey home on caringbridge. You can see it here http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/ourtinymystery. The part that got me the most was when a minister from Dallas, who had been following her trauma, drove down to comfort her and told her to imagine placing Andrew into Jesus's arms.

I am sad, I am angry, I am grateful, I am being a better mother. It has united us in prayer. That's what we are all saying and it is true, people from all over the world were praying for this child and my neighborhood, my parish, my community, we are all bereft. It is all that anyone is talking about.

But to be honest with you, I wish we weren't united. I wish we were all as self centered as we always are and she were at home with him, swaddling him, changing his diaper and wishing she could get some more sleep, the way mothers of two month old babies are supposed to be doing. I would trade that for united in prayer. I don't feel united. I feel untied.

The way I like Cheetos vs the way Tallulah likes Cheetos

The way I like Cheetos:
If I am driving in SA TX with my mom and we are on mulberry and she says "pull over at the diamond shamrock so we can get a snack and gas the car,"  I do.  And I know snack means a dr. Pepper and Cheetos.   And I get her some Cheetos and we continue on down to river road to look at that one little area of houses that look like they are from various fairy tales while she back seat drives me and we munch on Cheetos.  That is when I like Cheetos.

The way Tallulah likes Cheetos
Tallulah likes Cheetos all the time.  I recently discovered  this while the three of us were at the zoo for Annabelle's five and a half birthday celebration.  She asked for Cheetos.  Since I had not been on river road lately, I assumed she meant Doritos, since that is my fake cheese product chip of choice, and since we had just had some coming back from fort davis.  No.  The child meant Cheetos, and let me know that in no uncertain terms.  "When have you had Cheetos?" I asked.  In true birth order style, Annabelle answered, " she had them when we were at the beach.  Uncle g--- had a huge bag Of them and they ate them all."

Fast forward to the grocery store this week, when she was having a melt down because she was hungry, we were almost in line and she saw the small bags at the deli counter and asked if she could have one.  At this point I was so sick of her tantrums I probably would have given her a scotch on the rocks if she had asked for one, so I bought it for her.

Today, we had baptist music class. As we were leaving for Second, she said "mommy after music class can we go to the  grocery store?"  I thought it was a weird thing to ask, and I said " no sweetie, we don't need anything from the store."  We exit the freeway  and she says" mommy I want to go to the zoo."  I explain we are going to music class, and in the way of the problem solving second child she says, " mommy, I know, we can go after music."  I tell her it will be hot, but, I will think about it.

After music, I have thought about it and realize-- no, I am in jeans and it is hot as balls and there is no way in hell we are going to the zoo.  So I explain how hot it will be and how much she hates being hot.  And then she is is quiet for a minute.  "Mommy, can we get some Cheetos?  Can we go to the beach with Aunt T?  She has a big bag of Cheetos."

Ok.  I get it now.  She really likes Cheetos.  Which is good to know, because she is the most finicky child I have ever known, and this is coming from someone who survived her first 20 years on peanut butter alone.

At the zoo

Getting to know all about you....

If mom and dad are the sun and Annabelle is the earth, then annabelle has her own little satellite. And her name is Tallulah. You, know tallulah, right? She is the other child that lives in my house. She does everything big sister tells her to, and repeats everything she says. She likes pippy longstocking, she likes fräulein Maria, she only wants to wear dresses, and she is 5 and is in kinder, or at least she wishes she was....

But she also likes elephants. And wants an elephant sprinkle birthday party. And she likes to have a clean room and will tell on a certain older sibling who "twowed hewr socks all over my flo-ah and now my room all messy."

And now her planet earth is gone for 5 days a week and we both need to figure out what to do with each other.

The first couple of weeks we were running errands and doing beginning of the school year stuff. But now that everything has settled down, we have enrolled in a mommy and me music class at second baptist (still second to none). It is the first such class we have done together and the poor forgotten child is almost three.

And we had a blast together. I did this same class with planet earth, when she was about 18 months old, and it was fun. Planet earth was always the first in line, always stood near the teacher, always running around the room when we marched for Jesus.

My moon is more cautious. More in my lap. More on my hip when I march for Jesus. Then the clouds clear and she really shines. She raises her hand to answer a question and she sings and shakes her shaky egg. In the end of the class, she loves the bubble time, but she doesn't stomp on them, like planet earth did. She tries to catch the small ones on her fingers and squeals with delight when she is successful.

Then we go to the Galleria to try and find a shirt for H, being unsuccessful, we eat lunch . I have a sandwich and she has a pink sprinkle cookie, teddy grahams and chips, because why do grandmas get to have all the junk food fun?