Tallulah can crawl. At a mere 7 months.
She had been thinking about it for a month. Rocking on all fours and scooting backwards. She was even doing this weird little thing I called knuckle walking, where she was standing up but with her hands touching the ground and trying to move around. Then after weeks of anticipation she began to crawl. Of course, we missed it. We were at Niko Nikos with some old friends. But my mom (who stayed with us for a week as part of the 3 post partum weeks she owes me now that her ankle is somewhat healed) called to fill us in on the magical details.
The next day we tried to coax her into it again, but as is the way that is baby-- no dice. So we didn't see it for a few more days. When we did see it, I would notice that she herself looked amazed, kind of like "wow, check it out!"
And then came the monolith moment of realization: crawling can get me where I want to go. Cue the music from 2001 space odessey.
Shortly followed by the mom moment of realization as she crawled over to me and pulled up on my pants leg: "oh shit. Crawling can get her where she wants to go."
Cue some kind of music that conveys dread at the thought of having to keep all the little choking hazards off the floor.
Monday, June 20, 2011
Saturday, June 18, 2011
fairhope alabama, the city of child haters
So we are leaving to go to florida on saturday for a week long stay. And we thought it might be fun to leave a day early, stop in fairhope alabama and see the sights and take the scenic drive on in to destin. I began to call the bed and breakfast establishments in the area and found out that while the economy is teetering on the brink in most of the country, it is apparently going like gangbusters in alabama. In fact, it is going so well, that while most of the bed and breakfast places have vacancies, they can and do refuse service to people with children. So while it is illegal to refuse lodging to people based on their religious or ethnic background, there is no compelling state interest that overrides cracker-ass B&B's their individual rights to protect their dusty civil war era relics from the grubby hands of children under 10.
Southern hospitality, my ass.
Southern hospitality, my ass.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
when will I be healed?
As some of you may know, before I was in charge of wiping butts and filling sippy cups, I had another employer. I was an assistant district attorney. It was a really great job, actually. I made some wonderful friends and we always had fun going to lunch and going out for drinks after work. And I would get to work late. That is at least H's perception of my job, because that is all I told him about. It never seemed right to tell him about interviewing a girl in my office first thing in the morning who had been anally raped by some sex offender her mom picked up on a bar, or about the autopsy photos of a murdered two year old I had to see before lunch, or about the douche bag who quote "really [doesn't] get all that enhancement stuff" who beat my boss in his re-election bid. It's just not good dinner conversation and so instead I just told him about something fun my friend Sheri said at lunch or something annoying that my boss M____ S_____ had done.
And I never ever told him about my most disturbing case ever, my first felony trial, which was more gruesome to me that any murder, and that is the guy who had 9000 pictures of child porn on his computer. There are things that the brain is never supposed to see. And if it does see them, it becomes damaged. Like you've been shot. My brain was shot by this loser defendant whose computer password was pussy. There was one picture in particular of a little girl about Annabelle's age. I'll spare you the details. But it was sickening.
When you have a gun shot wound or a broken bone or amputation, it heals. Slowly. But when it rains or is cold out, you still feel that twinge of pain, phantom limb syndrome, whatever. And so here I have been, in Stepford for 2 years now. And the first summer, I went to traffic court, and had a perfectly lovely conversation with a guy about his open felony warrants and he and I chatted for some time before I realized that people were staring at us, me the white girl in the suit and him the black dude with the open felony warrants. Fast forward to the fall, when my neighbor was murdered by his grandson. Decapitated. We found out about it on our walk back from the park. My girlfriend was so horrified she almost vomited. I just wondered aloud if the defendant was a juvenile or an adult. Then the following summer, when all the moms in my moms club adopted a homeless family and were trying to get the dad a job, until they found out that he had been to prison. They were all shocked and the mom who was the head do-gooder was so apologetic about it and I thought, "well of course he's an ex-con" and wondered why we weren't going to help him any more.
Annabelle doesn't know about my wound. As far as she knows, mama's job has always been to take care of her and papa and talullah and keep the house clean. Most days, I am fine with that
Fast forward to this spring when I read the Steig Larsson girl with the dragon tattoo books. I had lunch with a girlfriend and we were discussing them. She told me that she had a very hard time reading them because she found the subject matter so disturbing. I had to think for a moment. What was disturbing in those books. Finally I remembered it, "you mean the anal rape?" She said "well that, and the incest. The father and the brother." I nodded, and pretended to think it was disturbing too.
And now I wonder, when will I be healed?
And I never ever told him about my most disturbing case ever, my first felony trial, which was more gruesome to me that any murder, and that is the guy who had 9000 pictures of child porn on his computer. There are things that the brain is never supposed to see. And if it does see them, it becomes damaged. Like you've been shot. My brain was shot by this loser defendant whose computer password was pussy. There was one picture in particular of a little girl about Annabelle's age. I'll spare you the details. But it was sickening.
When you have a gun shot wound or a broken bone or amputation, it heals. Slowly. But when it rains or is cold out, you still feel that twinge of pain, phantom limb syndrome, whatever. And so here I have been, in Stepford for 2 years now. And the first summer, I went to traffic court, and had a perfectly lovely conversation with a guy about his open felony warrants and he and I chatted for some time before I realized that people were staring at us, me the white girl in the suit and him the black dude with the open felony warrants. Fast forward to the fall, when my neighbor was murdered by his grandson. Decapitated. We found out about it on our walk back from the park. My girlfriend was so horrified she almost vomited. I just wondered aloud if the defendant was a juvenile or an adult. Then the following summer, when all the moms in my moms club adopted a homeless family and were trying to get the dad a job, until they found out that he had been to prison. They were all shocked and the mom who was the head do-gooder was so apologetic about it and I thought, "well of course he's an ex-con" and wondered why we weren't going to help him any more.
Annabelle doesn't know about my wound. As far as she knows, mama's job has always been to take care of her and papa and talullah and keep the house clean. Most days, I am fine with that
Fast forward to this spring when I read the Steig Larsson girl with the dragon tattoo books. I had lunch with a girlfriend and we were discussing them. She told me that she had a very hard time reading them because she found the subject matter so disturbing. I had to think for a moment. What was disturbing in those books. Finally I remembered it, "you mean the anal rape?" She said "well that, and the incest. The father and the brother." I nodded, and pretended to think it was disturbing too.
And now I wonder, when will I be healed?
Friday, June 3, 2011
it's going to be that kind of summer
I had just finished putting Tallulah to bed. Annabelle and Hyphen had been outside mowing the backyard. (she has her own little mower that she follows him with)I was in the kitchen washing some bottles and H came in for a beer break. "Annabelle just peed under a tree, and now she is lying in the grass." he said. I shrugged. She does that a lot. Pee under a tree and lie in the grass. I went outside and Annabelle invited me to come lie in the grass. H left out the part about how she was naked. We layed down in the grass and she said as I started to say something, "just lie down mama. Look at the branches. Look at the birds."
Think I just might.
Think I just might.
the problem with those cute matching outfits from gymboree
The problem with those cute matching outfits from gymboree is that they match. Exactly. And so theoretically, you could grab a green and white frog swimsuit and actually glance at it to make sure it looked big enough for a rather petite three year old, because you know there is a small one floating around in your house. And then theoretically you could venture to the Y in 100 degree heat with kids in tow. There could be a tantrum on the way. The child watch could be closed until four, and it could be 3:15. So you could drive home. And then you could go back at 4 because you are going to have fun, dammit. And then you could drop off a baby who hasn't taken a nap all day in the competent arms of a 19 year old child watch worker named Josh. You could say something like, "josh you look about 12. what experience do you have taking care of babies, especially tired ones who refuse to go to sleep." And josh could say, "well my little brother is one and all my cousins are two and under. " and you could say "okay, good enough for me! you get stuck with this fussy baby. see ya!" Then you could go to the bathroom to dress out your 3 year old and then notice that her little suit is tight. Really tight. Which is a testament to the petiteness of the half asian frame and to how big 6-12 month swimsuits from gymboree run. And then you have a decision to make. Do you drag everyone home, or tell your three year old who is whining "it's too tight, it's too tight," "Wow you are getting big, look how fast you are growing, the water will stretch that out when we get in, let's go have some fun!"
should i tell her about it? what should i do?
well....
what would you do if gymboree screwed you?
should i tell her about it? what should i do?
well....
what would you do if gymboree screwed you?
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
I remember that ol' frio river...
It's that time of year again folks--the time where seemingly educated, successful people decide that despite the fact there is a state wide drought and despite the fact there is a burn ban which means no campfires, and despite the fact that the river is the lowest it has been in years--a real butt bumper, we are going camping.
So that leaves us with the inevitable camping wind-up, a trip to the grocery store and packing the van. And cleaning the house. Lord knows what would happen if we left for vacation and the house was messy. Anyway, H came home early and suggested that we all go to the grocery store. So we went. All four of us. And it was a pretty typical trip. You start out with two contented children, both in the cart. Then one gets fussy and wants out because we went right around the time she likes a nice, 8 ounce bottle. And the other kid, seeing that the first one is all cuddled up in her mother's arms in lieu of the bottle, wants out of the cart. This causes the other kid to want to show us everything that is marketed for kids. "papa, I neeeeeed to show you something...." This causes her father to start to get grumpy and mutter under his breath that he should have gone by himself. This causes me to remind him that this family grocery trip was his idea. Couple of tantrums ensue when papa opts not to see the disney merchandised product. Mama heads over to check it out and finds out it is a "fruit snack" which contains no fruit, and yet magically has vitamins. But because we are going camping, and because H got beer for himself, I tell her she can have the "fruit snack" because I am cool like that. We need deli meat and we get the older guy with the W.C. Fields nose who goes super slow, during which Annabelle's shoes laces (re: curling ribbon which she has attached to her non-shoe lace shoes to make them "pretty") come untied and she comes unglued because it is supper time, she has been at school all day and now she is at the Bunker Hill HEB instead of watching the wonder pets at home while I fix dinner. We go and get the produce and H walks around to get some tomatoes while I get cilantro and Annabelle announces she needs to go to the potty really bad, and it is an emergency. I ask if she can wait until Papa comes back so he can hold Tallulah and she says no, she is going to pee in her pants. So the three of us run to the bathroom. Of course she stops to get a balloon. And then she trips on her "shoe laces" and has a minor crying fit, which is totally understandable. And then she wants to return the balloon, but it is still a potty emergency. We are successful in our bathroom endeavors and head out into the store only to find H checking out. "I can't take it anymore. I don't care if we are missing stuff. This is too much for me. This is what you do, this is your job, but I can't take it anymore." And that is when I realize, he has never been to the grocery store with both girls. He usually goes by himself, because he doesn't like how I dawdle. And I start to laugh. I laugh and laugh and laugh some more. The check out lady and bag boys are laughing with us. I laugh as I go to get a coke from the deli, I laugh as we head out to the car. I laugh as we load the groceries and laugh as we drive home.
Just a typical grocery store trip. For me anyway, not for him.
I am currently smiling.
So that leaves us with the inevitable camping wind-up, a trip to the grocery store and packing the van. And cleaning the house. Lord knows what would happen if we left for vacation and the house was messy. Anyway, H came home early and suggested that we all go to the grocery store. So we went. All four of us. And it was a pretty typical trip. You start out with two contented children, both in the cart. Then one gets fussy and wants out because we went right around the time she likes a nice, 8 ounce bottle. And the other kid, seeing that the first one is all cuddled up in her mother's arms in lieu of the bottle, wants out of the cart. This causes the other kid to want to show us everything that is marketed for kids. "papa, I neeeeeed to show you something...." This causes her father to start to get grumpy and mutter under his breath that he should have gone by himself. This causes me to remind him that this family grocery trip was his idea. Couple of tantrums ensue when papa opts not to see the disney merchandised product. Mama heads over to check it out and finds out it is a "fruit snack" which contains no fruit, and yet magically has vitamins. But because we are going camping, and because H got beer for himself, I tell her she can have the "fruit snack" because I am cool like that. We need deli meat and we get the older guy with the W.C. Fields nose who goes super slow, during which Annabelle's shoes laces (re: curling ribbon which she has attached to her non-shoe lace shoes to make them "pretty") come untied and she comes unglued because it is supper time, she has been at school all day and now she is at the Bunker Hill HEB instead of watching the wonder pets at home while I fix dinner. We go and get the produce and H walks around to get some tomatoes while I get cilantro and Annabelle announces she needs to go to the potty really bad, and it is an emergency. I ask if she can wait until Papa comes back so he can hold Tallulah and she says no, she is going to pee in her pants. So the three of us run to the bathroom. Of course she stops to get a balloon. And then she trips on her "shoe laces" and has a minor crying fit, which is totally understandable. And then she wants to return the balloon, but it is still a potty emergency. We are successful in our bathroom endeavors and head out into the store only to find H checking out. "I can't take it anymore. I don't care if we are missing stuff. This is too much for me. This is what you do, this is your job, but I can't take it anymore." And that is when I realize, he has never been to the grocery store with both girls. He usually goes by himself, because he doesn't like how I dawdle. And I start to laugh. I laugh and laugh and laugh some more. The check out lady and bag boys are laughing with us. I laugh as I go to get a coke from the deli, I laugh as we head out to the car. I laugh as we load the groceries and laugh as we drive home.
Just a typical grocery store trip. For me anyway, not for him.
I am currently smiling.
Friday, May 6, 2011
mother's day vignettes
1. Taking care of an almost 6 month old.
I have never taken care of an almost 6 month old. When Annabelle was just 3 months old, my maternity leave ended and she went to daycare. She was there every day from 7 in the morning until 6 at night. Miss Mary and Miss Gloria took care of Annabelle. We picked her up played with her for a bit, ate dinner and put her to bed. We saw her for about 3 hours a day. On the weekend, we would run errands and play and take care of her together. So, I didn't realize how much work babies are, especially after they get over their sleepy newborn stage and are in the "let's play" phase. It is all day long. Eat, change diapers, play, nap, play with other kid during nap, cook, clean. Scurry around after everyone is in bed and try to put the house in order. Repeat. I also didn't realize how fast it goes by. We went on a walk the other night, and I saw a mom walking with a newborn strapped to her, and I realized, I could no longer strap Tallulah to my body like that anymore, she is too big, and I was so tremendously sad. And it happened so quickly. She can sit up now. One day she couldn't sit. The next day she sat for a few minutes and then would plop forward. By the afternoon she knew to push herself up with her arms. I got to see it happen. With Annabelle, we would just notice over the weekend "oh wow, she is sitting up," or "wow look at that, she is crawling" and we would tell Miss Mary and Miss Gloria on Monday, "she can sit up now!" or "she can crawl, it is so cute" and they would just smile, and I would realize that they were waiting for her to do it in front of us--they had already seen it. But not this time, this time I am watching it happen, and I am amazed all over again.
2. Getting grandmothered at the home depot
My conversation with the check out elderly lady at the home depot:
old lady: oh what a cute baby, how old is she, should she be sitting up in the cart like that?
Me: Actually she is almost 6 months old
Old lady: she is tiny! (looks at me with concern) she is so small!
Me: well, my mother-in-law is about this tall (gesture to my waist), so we make small babies.
Old lady: well she is cute. Now, what is that on her eye?
me: that is her birthmark.
Old lady(astounded): really? I have never seen one like that.
Me: yeah, it is on her top lid too, and when her eyes are closed it looks like a heart.
Old lady(bossy): is it going to fade or are you going to get it removed?
Me: well, it has faded a bit because it used to be almost black, but it seems to have slowed down a bit.
Old lady in baby talk voice to Tallulah: But she is cute just the same. Yes she is. She is so pretty.
Old lady in serious voice to me: there is something in her a eye. A little piece of something. (I glance down and attempt to wipe one of her eyes) No, it's in her other eye...
I realize she is talking about the chunk of sleep that had been in her eye the entire morning and I began to wonder what it is about old ladies and their kleenex/boogie wiping obsession and was wondering if my mom had somehow body swapped with this lady for a brief second, when she handed me my receipt and said with a smile, "Happy mother's day." And I said "happy mother's day to you too," because it was obvious--she is someone's mom.
3. Heartache
Annabelle has a little friend at school. Her name is E_______. When I pick her up from school and ask her who she plays with She says "with E______" and I say "did you play with anyone else?" And she says "no, just with E_______" The teacher told me that they love each other and from the minute Annabelle arrives they find each other and play and gab all day and there is no room for anyone else in their little world. What do they play, you ask? "We play SHARKS!!!!! The other kids are sharks and E______ is the captain. I am the lookout and we [shot] them down!!!!!" But this Thursday when I picked her up she said, "I am sad. E______ doesn't want to be my best friend anymore." I made some more inquiries and found out that Annabelle tried to play with E______ but she just walked away and played with another girl. And Annabelle played by herself. I felt like someone had kicked me in the gut. I considered calling the school and finding out what happened, I considered calling E_______'s mom and demanding to know what the hell was wrong with her daughter, I was frantic for a minute. My happy daughter, who can make friends with a block, who doesn't know a stranger and who loves E______, was shunned. And then I called my mom. She listened for a bit. And then she said quietly, "yes, your children will break your heart many times. This won't be the last time." Then she proceeded to tell me some long and boring story about how I missed out on gifted and talented by just one point, "I mean, I know they have to have cut-offs, but it was just one point and that awful red-headed Lori Walters made it...." and I stopped listening.
3. my mother's day blessing to you
Happy mother's day to all the moms out there. May your diaper bag always have wipes for the blow outs, bandaids for the boo-boo's, and stale goldfish in a zippie bag for the snack emergencies. May your refrigerator always be covered with magnets and artwork and have a Popsicles in the freezer. May your minivan be filled with dirty sippy cups and spilled milkshakes and glitter. May your bed always have room enough in the middle of the night for a little one and may you have patience enough the next morning to cuddle up and watch dinosaur train. May your children's hands always be sticky, may they always smell like sunshine, may they dance through the sprinkler in their underwear and oh, that you can enjoy it all, though you may be tired, though you may be weary, may you enjoy it all. May you always get sweet coos and smiles, and may you always be given the last Ariel bandaid to cover your boo-boo. May you be loved and adored by the people you love and adore the most.
Happy Mother's Day.
I have never taken care of an almost 6 month old. When Annabelle was just 3 months old, my maternity leave ended and she went to daycare. She was there every day from 7 in the morning until 6 at night. Miss Mary and Miss Gloria took care of Annabelle. We picked her up played with her for a bit, ate dinner and put her to bed. We saw her for about 3 hours a day. On the weekend, we would run errands and play and take care of her together. So, I didn't realize how much work babies are, especially after they get over their sleepy newborn stage and are in the "let's play" phase. It is all day long. Eat, change diapers, play, nap, play with other kid during nap, cook, clean. Scurry around after everyone is in bed and try to put the house in order. Repeat. I also didn't realize how fast it goes by. We went on a walk the other night, and I saw a mom walking with a newborn strapped to her, and I realized, I could no longer strap Tallulah to my body like that anymore, she is too big, and I was so tremendously sad. And it happened so quickly. She can sit up now. One day she couldn't sit. The next day she sat for a few minutes and then would plop forward. By the afternoon she knew to push herself up with her arms. I got to see it happen. With Annabelle, we would just notice over the weekend "oh wow, she is sitting up," or "wow look at that, she is crawling" and we would tell Miss Mary and Miss Gloria on Monday, "she can sit up now!" or "she can crawl, it is so cute" and they would just smile, and I would realize that they were waiting for her to do it in front of us--they had already seen it. But not this time, this time I am watching it happen, and I am amazed all over again.
2. Getting grandmothered at the home depot
My conversation with the check out elderly lady at the home depot:
old lady: oh what a cute baby, how old is she, should she be sitting up in the cart like that?
Me: Actually she is almost 6 months old
Old lady: she is tiny! (looks at me with concern) she is so small!
Me: well, my mother-in-law is about this tall (gesture to my waist), so we make small babies.
Old lady: well she is cute. Now, what is that on her eye?
me: that is her birthmark.
Old lady(astounded): really? I have never seen one like that.
Me: yeah, it is on her top lid too, and when her eyes are closed it looks like a heart.
Old lady(bossy): is it going to fade or are you going to get it removed?
Me: well, it has faded a bit because it used to be almost black, but it seems to have slowed down a bit.
Old lady in baby talk voice to Tallulah: But she is cute just the same. Yes she is. She is so pretty.
Old lady in serious voice to me: there is something in her a eye. A little piece of something. (I glance down and attempt to wipe one of her eyes) No, it's in her other eye...
I realize she is talking about the chunk of sleep that had been in her eye the entire morning and I began to wonder what it is about old ladies and their kleenex/boogie wiping obsession and was wondering if my mom had somehow body swapped with this lady for a brief second, when she handed me my receipt and said with a smile, "Happy mother's day." And I said "happy mother's day to you too," because it was obvious--she is someone's mom.
3. Heartache
Annabelle has a little friend at school. Her name is E_______. When I pick her up from school and ask her who she plays with She says "with E______" and I say "did you play with anyone else?" And she says "no, just with E_______" The teacher told me that they love each other and from the minute Annabelle arrives they find each other and play and gab all day and there is no room for anyone else in their little world. What do they play, you ask? "We play SHARKS!!!!! The other kids are sharks and E______ is the captain. I am the lookout and we [shot] them down!!!!!" But this Thursday when I picked her up she said, "I am sad. E______ doesn't want to be my best friend anymore." I made some more inquiries and found out that Annabelle tried to play with E______ but she just walked away and played with another girl. And Annabelle played by herself. I felt like someone had kicked me in the gut. I considered calling the school and finding out what happened, I considered calling E_______'s mom and demanding to know what the hell was wrong with her daughter, I was frantic for a minute. My happy daughter, who can make friends with a block, who doesn't know a stranger and who loves E______, was shunned. And then I called my mom. She listened for a bit. And then she said quietly, "yes, your children will break your heart many times. This won't be the last time." Then she proceeded to tell me some long and boring story about how I missed out on gifted and talented by just one point, "I mean, I know they have to have cut-offs, but it was just one point and that awful red-headed Lori Walters made it...." and I stopped listening.
3. my mother's day blessing to you
Happy mother's day to all the moms out there. May your diaper bag always have wipes for the blow outs, bandaids for the boo-boo's, and stale goldfish in a zippie bag for the snack emergencies. May your refrigerator always be covered with magnets and artwork and have a Popsicles in the freezer. May your minivan be filled with dirty sippy cups and spilled milkshakes and glitter. May your bed always have room enough in the middle of the night for a little one and may you have patience enough the next morning to cuddle up and watch dinosaur train. May your children's hands always be sticky, may they always smell like sunshine, may they dance through the sprinkler in their underwear and oh, that you can enjoy it all, though you may be tired, though you may be weary, may you enjoy it all. May you always get sweet coos and smiles, and may you always be given the last Ariel bandaid to cover your boo-boo. May you be loved and adored by the people you love and adore the most.
Happy Mother's Day.
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