Yesterday I was headed downtown to drool over exhibitions at Dwell on Design at the Convention Center. On the ramp that connects I-10 East with I-110 North, traffic was stop-and-go around the big curve, as usual. The car in front of me hit the brakes. I hit the brakes and stopped. Guess who didn’t? Yep, the woman behind me with the dog in her lap. WHAM. She hits me. I look into my rear-view, see her look up from said lap dog, and WHAM, she hits me again, as the car behind her impacts us.

These are the things I’m grateful for:
- Violet wasn’t in the car
- No one was hurt
- My car seems OK, just minor bumper damage, I think
- The police report was smooth
- The doggie wasn’t hurt; since it was the only passenger without a seatbelt, that really could have sucked

The other two drivers’ cars were pretty smashed up. Windshield glass, fronts accordion-style, fluids dripping from under the hoods. A far worse day for each of the other drivers than for me. Still, it sucked the wind out my sails, and I went right home afterwards, skipping Dwell. Because I just wanted a hug, and I had a headache, and I was worried I might have a lot of phone calls to make about my car. (Turns out this process is a million times easier than it used to be, thankfully.)

It was only 10:30 in the morning, but if you subscribe to the superstition that morbid things happen in threes, I was covered: I stepped in gum while giving the police report statement, and I passed a dead kitten in the third lane on the freeway drive home. Hm. Covered, but possibly jaded? Did I just equate a dead kitten with gum on my shoe? I guess I hope it was quick for the kitten; the gum can suffer.

So drive extra carefully this week, please! Pay attention. Come to a full stop. Slow for that yellow light. Put your phone away. I’m talking to myself as much as to you. Want more convincing? Read this.

My mom flew out for a visit the other week, and we had the bestest time. We visited Leo Carillo and Malibu Lagoon, shopped, and just basked in the fearlessness and fun of Vibble. Stevel and I took an overnight to Big Bear, just the two of us, which was a nice, lazy, relaxing getaway. Check out photos here!

A little video fun!

From a fun day in Irvine—check ‘em out!

Just a few photos from the park today.

Thanks to Cindy for sending my left-behind camera … So if you want to see what the little ones of my college roommates look like, here are some photos from the trip.

Vibble had a fever the day before yesterday, and we were still recovering yesterday. It wasn’t a huge deal, just low-grade, but it feels so wrong to have her be so hot. We tried to keep ourselves in check this time—last time she got a fever we took her to the ER, where everyone working there was basically like, “Um, yeah. CVS would have worked fine for this.” But this time she wouldn’t take the Tylenol, just kept spattering it out. And she was over 102, which we read was the borderline for “low grade.” And, and … she was SO HOT. And so sad. Finally, we found good tips online for how to get medicine into a toddler, and I gave her a lukewarm bath in the sink, and it all worked like magic, and hours later she was her old self again. Whew!

Between my not taking her around other kids so as not to expose anyone to her sickness, and the news-making El Nino rains we’re having here, she has serious cabin fever, too. We’ve got a playdate this morning at a friend’s house nearby, so hopefully that will help.

A couple of weekends ago I went to Baltimore. I had a terrific trip, checking in on friends with a lot going on in their lives, and also relaxing and laughing with friends. Vibble, meanwhile, hung out with her Dad here at home, and the two of them had a fabulous time. She is more and more into what Dad is doing, and often leaves me in whatever room I am in to go downstairs or wherever Stevel is and hang out. She loves to sit on his lap while he is at his computer, loves to wear his giant headphones, loves to watch him play video games, loves for him to read her books. What an adorable pair.

I feel like we’ve gotten past a difficult stage with a lot of tantrums into one with only a few tantrums now. She has become extremely FRIENDLY as well, and waves hello to everyone, everywhere. She loves to walk up to new people and just launch into babble. And dogs, oh man she loves dogs. At least once a week, some dog owner tells me, “You’re going to have to get this kid a dog!” I think it’s dog-owner code for, “Can you please get your kid to stop stalking me and my dog?”

We are definitely seeing improvement in her interest in talking. Still not as interested as other kids I know, but again, she demonstrates she CAN say all sorts of words and phrases, from “awesome” to “happy” to “sad” to “night-night, Mom.” She just doesn’t seem to WANT to that much, but it is improving. Her favorite word is “apple.” She says it all the time, points to the Apple icon on the Mac, or goes to the fridge and gets an apple for herself and tells us about it. She has also taken to giving us clues about what she’s been up to when we’ve been apart. When I return from the grocery store, she will run up to me all excited to tell me, “Ball! Ball!” Because she has been to the park to play with her ball. Stuff like that. She still doesn’t use words to really ask for things or express desire for things too much, although on occasion she does. Definite progress every day, enough that Steve and I compare notes every evening about the new words/phrases we’ve heard her say and new ways we’ve heard her use language that day.

The funniest has been the sound effects lately. My favorite example is this: When Steve changes her diaper, if it’s bad, he makes this involuntary face and sound, sort of like “Ug,” but more revolted-like. So Violet has started pointing to diapers and diaper-pails, cat-boxes and even cats, and making this same face and sound. Hilarious!

Some new photos!

Before becoming a parent, I had often noted a change that occurs when people have children; overnight, they seem to become lax about some things that have always mattered, and at the same time, insane-o uptight about other things.

The laxness is easy to explain: I had (accurately) always assumed that with a kid in the picture, priorities naturally shift, and things that were of seemingly vast importance now matter little. The elbowed-over things vary from parent to parent, but a kid takes up a LOT of room in a life, and space must be made.

But the uptight, at times almost righteous and in some cases even personality-altering, cloud that comes over parents when it hasn’t been there before used to TERRIFY me. Was this something hormonal, unavoidable that kicked in? If so, HOW AWFUL. Or was there perhaps something about parenthood that was essentially dissatisfying that made people succumb to this shift? These thoughts disturbed me much of my life. I suppose they were part of what had me convinced back in the days B.V. that I didn’t want to bear a child (well, that and my aversion to all things pregnancy and birth related, which is so intense that typing those words just now made me throw up a little bit in the back of my mouth). If I didn’t make the kid, at least the hormone part could be avoided.

Now, I’ve been complimented by friends and family on being a “laid-back” mom. I consider this an accomplishment on my part, and on the parts of the other moms I know who don’t sweat the small stuff. Because I have discovered it is not easy to keep the uptight monster at bay. I’m sure the reasons for its arrival vary from parent to parent, but here are some of the things that make my eye start to twitch now that I have a kid, things that were not issues before:

[1]

Hormones. They do lots of unpredictable things. Based on my experience of the last two years, I would not be surprised to wake up some morning with a second head growing out of my left buttock. I would just be like, ‘Oh. Yeah. That’s probably hormones causing that.’

[2]

Forces of DNA. (See also: Hormones.) I am now aware of forces in nature that are much more powerful than I am, forces like The Thing—some people call it “the clock”—which arrives in the night one day in your 20s or 30s in a vintage green Cadillac with darkened windows and punches you in the face real hard, and then as you reel whispers in your ear with its hissy hiss, “Yessssss. You want to have a baaaaaaayyyyyy beeeeee yesssssssssss.” And you can fight with it, you can fight until there’s nothing left in your arsenal of reason, but be it known you can never, EVER return to the blissfully naive days when you thought The Thing was mythical, and there is nothing you can do to stop the hissing except get yourself knocked the hell up.

And just when you think The Thing is the maximum of nature’s power, along come Labor and Delivery and Mommy Brain and the Breastfeeding Hormones and the Mama-Bear growl, all things you also thought were mythical, and none of which any medical professional, save for your psychiatrist, has enough sympathy for. Basically, you find yourself unpredictable and crazy and possessed and unable to locate an exorcist. This stuff can make you uptight, but it doesn’t, not really, because you are so in love with your new baby, even as you eye The Thing with awe and fear from the corner of your life. What CAN make you somewhat uptight is this new awareness that you are small and powerless in the grand scheme of DNA and Survival, whereas before you perhaps enjoyed carefree ignorance of these things.

[3]

The inhuman amount of patience required. I sleep most nights with someone who kicks me in the head for up to four hours and then needs me to be patient and loving as I clean up after her all day and write a blog entry in two-sentence bursts between fulfilling her demands. She is very, very cute, and I love her very, very much, but some days this is still challenging. (See also: Psychiatrist)

[4]

The constant—and I am not exaggerating here—life-and-death scenario in our house. There is a small person here whom I adore more than anything and for whom I am responsible, and she endeavors up to twenty times a day to kill herself in one of a thousand ways. Noose? Check. Dive from the dining room table? Check. “Hi, here I am sucking on a bottle of plant fertilizer from under my aunt’s kitchen sink.” Check and CHECK. The sincere seriousness of the situation could make me seriously serious all the time. If she didn’t balance this out with episodes wherein she wears a trash-can on her head or licks the couch, I might honestly die of uptightness.

[5]

The judgment of other people. It turns out we live in a society where a lot of people think it is OK to judge the parenting of another person, and then either say so to that person, or clearly demonstrate their judgment in other ways. “She’s too young to be out.” “I would never put my kid on a leash—she’s not a dog.” These are a sampling of some of the things people have said to/about me. I know other parents feel the judgments too, and I’m not saying I’m innocent of judging. I’m just saying a new parent is insecure and feels inadequate sometimes (See also: Suicidal Toddler), and the growing awareness of others’ judgments can really make you feel touchy, defensive, and, well, uptight, even with enough Psychiatry and positive reinforcement from a loving support network.

[6]

The constant judgment of the Little Boss, who is mad at me right now because I won’t let her have endless servings of chewable vitamins. Throughout the day today, she will repeatedly and loudly let me know she is unhappy with my performance, sometimes in public, and I will have to fight not to get uptight about it. Right now what helps me in this fight is to say, “Your comments have been noted by the Complaint Department.” Maybe this is cruel, but if you think so, WHO ARE YOU TO JUDGE ME!

[7]

The compulsion to compare. Violet is fast, faster than most of her peers. She is also strong. She also doesn’t say very many words. And she doesn’t always eat enough. The kid she plays with every afternoon is four months younger. He eats like he wants to GROW, and he speaks two languages and yesterday said Violet’s name. His head circumference is in the top 5 percentile or something. Is Violet’s head too small?? You see how this goes. Many of you KNOW how this goes, because right now, you’re thinking, “Hm, [you're inserting the name of your child here]‘s head is in the 40th percentile … is my kid smarter than Violet? Does my kid eat enough? What if my kid doesn’t eat enough???” And you know everything is FINE, and that you shouldn’t do all this comparing, but you are burdened now with the compulsion to do it, and fighting this compulsion all the time can make you uptight. Right?

[8]

You, and only you, know the severity of the outcome if certain seemingly “anal” conditions are not met. There often comes a moment when, if my child does not have food she LIKES in her mouth within 30 seconds, and then if she is not ASLEEP within 12 minutes after that, she will morph into a horrid screeching worm, and we will all suffer, but mostly her parents will suffer, because everyone will be looking at us like, How come you’re not good parents, don’t you know your kid is screaming, make her stop. But if these conditions have not been met, there will BE NO making her stop. It is a Point of No Return. So when you’re with people who don’t understand this, and you start insisting everyone accommodate the schedule of a small being who at the moment seems perfectly fine, you can encounter a certain resistance that makes you UPTIGHT. It’s a lot like being a superhero, or the head of the C.I.A., in that you have information the public does not have that justifies your behavior, but since the public doesn’t have this information, they don’t realize why you’re acting the way you are: My God, People, you are trying to save the world!

[9]

The inability for any human to keep up with the financial drain, laundry, diapers, dishes, and sour milk spills of an army of children wrapped into one. Right now as I look around, I am so confused. How many people live in this house, anyway? Because if I didn’t know better, I would guess FIFTEEN, MINIMUM. I don’t know about you, but it makes me uptight to live in filth and chaos.

[10]

The blessings. As they pile up on you, the reality of the loss that would be represented if anything happened to them is not like anything you have ever experienced. When I was 25, I worried about losing one of my parents. And yes, that would be extremely hard. If I lost my child? I just can’t imagine any recovering from that. And the thought of her losing a parent is unthinkable. It makes me incredibly appreciative of life, and tenaciously protective of it in ways I never was before.

This is all to say how sorry I am that I was unforgiving in the past of parents’ I know occasionally being uptight. And to say how thankful I am for the patience and positive parenting feedback I get from all of you. And to acknowledge that I fight the good fight against the uptight and sometimes win and sometimes lose. And winning and losing are individually defined. I hope we can all find balance in this … to relax and enjoy, while being “on top of it” enough to get these kids through to the other side of childhood with as little damage as possible.

Nothing big, just a few new photos.

Nutshot 3

Nutshot 9

I love how now that we’re parents, we just do what we do best, and the kiddos provide the content/ideas. Some days I just feel exploitative. Sigh. But then I change some Huggies.

Woodbridge Lagoon Day

Vibble and I leave Friday for Atlanta for a week, and from there we are on to Tybee Island for a week. Packing, planning, all while trying to accomplish a hair-brained house-wide reorganization of our junk. Spent all day Monday in the attic, and all day yesterday on the couch recovering from having overdone it. Vibble is not getting much Mom time this week. Thankfully, Patricia and David are making sure she has playmates.

Oh God so tired. So much howling and writhing. She was fine. FINE! All day. Then at about ten o’clock … I need a night.

Number one, Welcome, Ayati! Congratulations to Susan, Bobby, and Asha.

Number two, Thank you for the Milwaukee mini-tour, Kate.

Number three, Congratulations to Liss, who yesterday turned in her final assignment of her undergraduate career, and who graduates from UCLA this Saturday!

Yesterday I took Vibble to the Zimmer Children’s Museum. It’s a great place, and we ended up joining as members. This is a place a lot like Kidspace, where we went the week before last (Or was it last week? What year is it?), but targeted to a bit shorter crowd. It’s got a real airplane inside the kids can play in, a real ambulance … and then kid-scaled versions of various scenes they can play in to their heart’s delight—a hospital ER, a grocery store with cashier stand and produce section and shopping baskets … a bookstore … a bagel shop …. a synagogue … a little indoor park … a newspaper-making place (?) … all of this complete in detail and stationed along an adorable, DETAILED “street,” and all just sitting there with props and “costumes” lying about, waiting for kids and their imaginations to enjoy it. There’s also a small room full of big, thick, gym-mats designated for under-twos. We got there just as it opened, and no one showed up for about 20 minutes. So Vibble was able to walk around and explore without any bigger kids to compete with. She did not want to go in the plane or ambulance. She wanted to pull everything off of every shelf in each of the scenes. Eventually, more kids showed up—but no one older than 4—and then she was really in heaven. MUST. TOUCH. EVERY. KID. She did a lot of what Stevel calls Stalking, too, where she would single out one kid for a while and just trail them all around the place for a long time, until I put an end to it because it became so AWKWARD with the parent. Anyway, we will be going here more. It’s a great place for Vibble to interact with other kids, explore with great freedom (the place is a good size and is in a building more secure than the airport, I kid you not), and develop her imagination. It’s also a fantastic place for us to play TOGETHER, and I love that.

Which brings me to my next topic. You may have noticed that we seem to be “doing” things more and more. All of a sudden, this kid is C R A Z Y. I mentioned a few posts back a certain wildness. It abated some, but came back (Again coinciding with the full moon—coincidence? Have you SEEN the black fur on this child’s back? My furry little were-wee-one). Now the wildness seems permanent. It’s like some kind of backup-rocket-engine has engaged in there, and she has to be interacted with and stimulated constantly, or she acts out. And acting out is not pretty. Meltdowns over nothing, purposeful and violent dismantling of household areas, blatant rule-breaking (Did I not TELL you EIGHT times to stop playing in the pool of cat vomit by the TV? Mom will clean that WHEN IT DRIES!).

In terms of new-parenthood discoveries, I am confused as to why, when you have a kid, everyone warns you about the sleep deprivation of the infant stage. That is amateur-sleep-deprivation stuff. I would gladly trade that feeling for how exhausted I am by dinnertime every day now. And the last few nights? She has woken up and cried in the night repeatedly until she is in bed next to me. Which means I wake up feeling like I slept in the trunk of someone’s subcompact car. For about two hours. And that was my whole night. (Susan, I really don’t know how you’ve survived with Sleepless-Sunshine over there. I hope you have reinforcements coming to stay for a loooong time with the new addition.)

Last night I had a migraine again for most of the night, due to its being cloudy outside. See, my skull has AMBITIONS. It wants to be a famous meteorologist. Thus I would like to make it known on the record that when I die, I would like to have my organs donated, but my SKULL should be sent to UCLA’s School of Atmospheric Sciences, and enrolled as a first-year undergraduate.

I don’t know what today’s failed attempt at toddler exhaustion will involve, but I know it won’t be Gym n’ Swim. Combine the crazy active days with the contorted, cut-short nights and the fact that I’m lifting a 25-pound body every ten minutes (often while also lifting 80 pounds worth of groceries, or a jammed laundry basket, or …), and right now I feel like I got hit by a speeding subcompact car, one with a mom in the trunk. Thud. I just can’t do it today. Can’t swish her around the pool. Can’t spot her on the mats. Can’t lift her up and down during the chorus of the Pirate Song. I’m sorry, Vibble, but we will have to fail at wearing you out today somewhere where I can watch from the sidelines. Playground maybe, or the Creepy Restaurant. Or maybe David will come over and play Hide n’ Seek with you for two hours.

Just in case it comes across that I’m not enjoying my toddler, I have to state for the record that she is the cutest, funnest thing in the whole wide world, and I feel lucky every day to be getting to spend so much time with her.

I don’t want to end this post without updating you on Stevel. His recovery from the surgery continues. Still in pain, but looking less run-down now. It will still be a little while before we know how well the surgery worked in terms of improving his breathing. We will let you know for sure.

Time for Blue’s Clues. “La la la la la la because it’s really FUN!” Thinking Chair, please help me remember what day it is.

DEVIANT NO. 1: A NOSE

Steve had surgery Thursday to correct his deviated septum. He hasn’t been complaining of a lot of pain, but he is tired and uncomfortable. He won’t be able to breathe through his nose for a week or so. The hope is that this surgery will make it so he sleeps better. Well, that is MY hope. Steve is still skeptical. He’s not really a hoper. So I’m adding to my hope the hope he is pleasantly surprised. See how I have to hope for both of us? Isn’t that extra nice of me?

I would write more about Steve’s surgery and recovery, but I’m not sure he would want me telling everyone things like how, when waking up from the anesthesia, he tried very hard to get out of bed, confounding the nurses. He was groggily explaining, “I have to get home to my wife.” Aw. He missed me. Or feared me. Either way, aw.

DEVIANT NO. 2: MIA

Mia. Mia, why did you have to poop on the carpet just minutes after the carpet cleaner had left? Why?

DEVIANT NO. 3: A WOLF PUP

The week before last, Vibble was insane. Moody, impossible to please, hyperactive. Core Reactor Meltdown. I took her to Gym n’ Swim but skipped the Swim, because I kept picturing a toddler-instigated tsunami in the pool. (Take a moment and imagine it yourself—devastating scene.) Last week she eventually returned to her happy natured self again. That’s when Steve noticed the Mastadon molar. When she ate, he said, “Yeah, grind it.”

Tuesday we went to KidSpace in Pasadena with Sarah-Novelist and Megan and Christopher, and Violet had a wonderful time walking all over the place. She likes to hold someone’s hand and lead them around. She’ll come up to one of us and reach out her hand and say, “Mmm? Mmm?” Very cute.

But now I think the other molar must be coming in. Combine that with the Full Moon and the fact she walks now and therefore must walk at all times, and WHERE she WANTS to walk, and you have some challenging little stretches. Yesterday there were many times when she refused to sit in the stroller, and by refusing I mean arching her body and screaming, or slipping the binds of her restraints and standing up. She also refused to be held, and at times it took my total body’s muscle power to keep her in my arms, versus, say, in the street, or on the escalator at the mall. She was restless and hyper yesterday, so I took her to the mall in the morning and the promenade in the afternoon to get her out of the house so Steve could rest and to let her walk around some. Today I will just go straight for the playground, though, because it was too much of a workout to try and conform HER to SOCIETY (e.g. the streets thing, the doors-that-say-”Employees Only” thing, etc.). Not happening. She requires total freedom right now. I require a week in a spa.

Here are some photos from this week. Enjoy!

Excuse my shameless friend-promotion — but please read Sarah-Novelist’s first review for the National Examiner, especially if you’re a fan of the TV show So You Think You Can Dance! The more you click on the page, and the more you comment, the more money S gets in return!

CLICK HERE!

Watchy watchy!

And now Vibb and I are off to Oregon … see you when we get back!

A New Video!

(I don’t want my dad’s co-workers to have to hear the same audio over and over for TOO long.)

What do I do with it now? Paint it with puzzle glue and display it somewhere in No. 6? (Stevel has already forbidden such an act of aesthetic heathendom.) Dismantle it and do it again? Ug.

I propose an immediate puzzle exchange. Who has one to send? I will drop this one in the mail to you immediately!