My Favorite Old Lady

Grandma Olive is the coolest old person that has ever lived… or at least the coolest one I’ve ever known.  She’s hilarious, has INSANE stories from the great depression, WWII, every other war, women’s lib, and anything else you can imagine that’s happened in this century, and she sees us visiting as an excuse to pump my children full of sugar.  And isn’t that what being a grandma is really about?

She’s not actually our grandma, she’s just awesome and didn’t have any grandchild that lived here which was a fabulous coincidence because I am also awesome and I also didn’t have any grandparents that lived here.  So we decided to team up and adopt one another as family.

Verona and Olive even had a joint birthday party one year because their birthday’s are only two days apart. Verona was turning 1 and Olive was turning 92. (Verona’s not as dirty as she looks, her face and hair are just covered with birthday cake.)

Verona and I went to hang out with her every Friday afternoon for a year and a half until her daughter decided to move to out to California to live with her.  We were all super sad, but we write to each other and she comes back to visit occasionally so she can see us and have pizza parties with her friends at the retirement home.  (I’m not even kidding.  She threw a pizza party last night for her friends.)

So today we went with her and her daughter Murial to the park.

Finn got to hitch a ride on her walker.

I’ve come to the conclusion that when people hit a certain age there ceases to be a middle of the road in terms of personality.  Old people are either the coolest people you’ve ever met in your life or they’re miserable and you wish they would just hurry up and die already… something about the loss of memory and bone density pulls one to the extremes I guess.  Regardless, if you don’t have an awesome old person in your life you should go find one, because they’re the best.

Yes I’m covered in urine, but don’t worry, it’s not mine.

Monday the kids and I got back from a trip to Kansas for little brother’s senior recital… his crowning musical glory before he heads off to musical grad school.

Usually when we go back we do it for a week but this time it was a lot cheaper to go the weekend before as well so we ended up being there 10 days.  Being there 10 days made me realize why we usually go for 7.  It’s right around day 6.5 that everything stops being awesome.  Up until then the suuuuper annoying things about my parents, small towns, red states, and being blown away every time you step out side are endearing and quaint because I’ve been gone so long… but then I remember why I moved a thousand miles away from everything and the vacation isn’t fun anymore.

But the trip did finally end and Monday we flew back to Phoenix.  It is not the first time I’ve flown half way across the country by myself with two small children, not even close.  I’m well versed in the art of keeping chaos in bay for a couple hours on an airplane (or at least closing my eyes and breathing deeply while everything breaks down) and in general they’ve both been awesome every time we’ve flown.  Even last summer when we came back and they both developed raging double ear infections that we got to fly with they still did a pretty stand up job of the whole bit.  So naturally I didn’t expect anything different from this flight.

The first half was uneventful.  They played, they opened and closed the window about a bazillion times, opened and closed the tray table about a bazillion and a half times, all the normal stuff.  Then Finn signed that he wanted a bottle so I pulled him up on my lap hoping he’d fall asleep while he had it but when he was almost finished he looked up at  me and grinned… and that’s when I felt it.

Baby dude was peeing, and for whatever reason his diaper was having none of it.  He was peeing all over himself and all over me and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.

Also, this child pees more than most adults.  I don’t know what it is about his bladder but it’s out of control.

Right as I started looking around for a place I could take him to change his clothes they turned on the seatbelt sign so there was nothing I could do even if I wanted to.  I couldn’t even take him off my lap because, since he’s young enough that we didn’t to buy a ticket for him, that meant he had to be on my lap whenever the seatbelt sign was on.

And just then he realized how wet he was.  Poor dude was completely soaked… like, I’m gonna have to wring these overalls out in the sink soaked… and he was pissed.  (Pun intended.)  He wanted me to change him.  He wanted me to take his clothes off.  He wanted me to let him off my lap.  And I couldn’t do any of those things.

And he thanked me by completely losing his shit.  He shrieked at brain shaking volumes and pitches, arched his back, kicked and flailed and I’m pretty sure I saw his head spin all the way around at one point like that freaky little kid in the Exorcist.  And since this was all on my lap I was then also soaked, from nipples to knees, with his pee as well.  The tiny plane reeked of urine, childless people turned and glared, the people across the aisle from us covered their ears (dude’s got lungs), I apologized once or twice but then realized nobody gave a shit what I said so instead started loudly singing Finn’s favorite German lullaby in his ear to try and calm him down.  (It didn’t work.)

This went on for the next 45 minutes.

And just as I thought shit couldn’t go any further downhill I heard a subtle “click… click… click…” coming from next to me.  I turn to find Verona, who had been sitting there quietly the whole time, holding my phone and taking pictures of the shenanigans.

She shrugged and without missing a beat responded,

Well with logic like that.

About nine years later (at least it felt like that) the plane landed, I put Finn in the sling and piled all out belongings on my back like a freaking pack mule, and we made our way at a snail’s pace toddler’s pace out of what was now an incredibly smelly enclosed space to where David was waiting for us.

He hugged me, then backed up with a sour look on his face because he obviously smelled it.  ”Yes.”  I said, “I’m covered in pee.  No, I don’t want to talk about it.  I just want to go home.”

And go home we did.

And because I knew you would all probably ask for it, here is one of Verona’s pictures.  You’re welcome.

These are a few of my favorite things.

A few of my favorite things… all of which magically collided over the past week.

1. Hula hooping
2. Hoop decorating
3. Kids
4. Community
5. Bev Fong

Our whole church goes up to the moutains every fall to hangout for a weekend, and this year David and I made a bazillion plain hoops to be decorated by all the hoop virgins we know.  I was hoping for at least 10 people to show up… we had about 40.  It was super super fun.  And of course there was Bev (in that last picture), who is probably the coolest person I know (if I can be half as cool as Bev when I grow up I will be happy) and she became my hoop star, learning new tricks and rocking out.

6. Reading
7. Writing

Since I came home from retreat on crutches (I hurt myself saving a van full of orphans from a run away train.) I’ve had a ton of “couch time”, meaning so much reading and writing.  Incidentally, if I wrote a parenting book called “The Zen Art of Chilling The Fuck Out” do you think anyone would read it?

8. Coffee time
9. Birthdays
10. My baby
11. Bagels

My sweet little baby pterodactyl turned one this past Thursday so that morning at coffee time he had a birthday bagel.  I’m pretty sure he likes bagels more than cake anyway… actually I’m pretty sure he likes bagels more than anything.  There’s a good chance he likes bagels more than he likes me.

12. Hookah
13. Fabulous ladies

Hookah and fabulous ladies… do I really need to say more?

Bobbleheaded Babies, Illustrated

In case you hadn’t heard yet, my baby, Finnegan, is crazy freaking adorable.  I know I’m a little biased, ok I’m super duper biased, but I’m pretty sure totally objective opinions come up the same.

Here, see for yourself.

The thing you can’t see in most pictures though because he’s usually sitting down (although that’s rapidly changing) is how crazy disproportionately large his head is.  He has this fabulous giant head that is so much huger than the rest of his body and… sigh… it’s adorable.  That might just be my mommy-ness coming out but seriously, I adore that super-sized noggin of his.

Because my rambling can’t properly express my baby’s bobble-headed-ness to you I drew you a little visual.

Babies and small children, for those of you who have none, are measured by percentiles comparing them to other children their age.  So a perfectly average baby is 50th percentile in all measurements, meaning half the kids their age are smaller than them and half are larger.  A kid who is in the 25th percentile is bigger than roughly a quarter of the kids their age, and smaller than the rest.  Got it?

Here’s a simple graph.  Most kids, whether big or small, are more or less proportional.

Big bodies, big heads.  Little bodies, little heads.

Finnegan, on the other hand, is rocking a teeny teeny tiny body coming it at the 1st percentile for height.  And his head is in the… wait for it… wait for it… 95th percetile.  So he has that first tiny baby’s body with that last giant baby’s head.

He looks like this.

It’s hilarious and adorable (have I said adorable yet?  Have I mentioned that he’s adorable?) and I need to glue him to the dashboard of my car where he belongs.

I haven’t bragged in a while.

I haven’t posted any pictures in a while, so incase you were wondering the answer is yes.

Yes.  My baby is still adorable.

Just incase you were wondering.

You haven’t seen chaos…

…until you’ve watched a bunch of two year olds try to be sheep in a Christmas pageant.

Every year the little kids at church do a Christmas pageant and every year the two year olds are cast as sheep because
A)tiny sheep are adorable
B)being a sheep doesn’t require learning any lines and
C)when they inevitably get antsy and start wandering around the stage and occasionally down through the pews it’s almost like they’re in character.  Sheep are crazy like that, right?

I had been talking to Verona about this for the past few days so she wouldn’t be caught off guard.  We talked about how she was going to wear a sheep costume and a sheep hat and go up in the front of the church with the other kids and people would sing songs.  Well girlfriend was so excited to get up there she tried to run up on stage multiple times before it even started.  She was ready for the spot light!

When it was finally time for the little five year old shepherds to herd their flock of two year olds up there she decided she had no interest in wearing her sheep had and was going to abandon the flock and go chill with the angels, where she quickly discovered that she could pull her costume apart.

The next 15 minutes, when she wasn’t jumping off the stage or trying to escape backstage and having to be caught by one of the older kids or trying to dismantle other kids costumes as well or generally wandering around that is, she spent tearing her costume apart and scattering the pieces around the manager.

Most of the other sheep were wandering around or doing equally adorable two year old sheep like things so it was all good.

Finnegan was busy chillin’ in the manager with Mary.  Yep, that’s right, Finnegan was baby Jesus.  (Does this make me a virgin?)

I bet you weren’t aware there were so many chickens and exotic birds in the manger when Jesus was born.  Well there were.  So there.  I bet you also didn’t know that by “swaddling clothes” the Bible really means “blue jeans and tiny fake Chuck Taylors”.  Well it did.  And that’s just the gospel truth.  (Pun completely intended.)

DPP :: Well intentioned assaults

December Photo Project

This fantastically adorable picture of the little monsters snuggling during nap time clearly shows that Verona adores her little brother.  What it doesn’t show is that her version of love doesn’t involve the realization that tiny babies are not the same as regular people or an understanding of the word “gentle”.

She drags this poor child all over the house “playing” with him, flops him back and forth “holding” him, and constantly punches him in the hand screaming “POUND IT FINNEGAN!  POUND IT!”  99% of the time no matter how stressful it is for me to watch,  I let it happen because Finn is smiling at her like a moron, enjoying every second of the abuse attention his beloved sister is giving him.

 

Things we’ve been up to lately

A few of the everyday things we’ve been doing a lot of lately.

Homemade popsicles.

A lot of reading outside since it’s finally not ungodly hot.

Drinking fantastic beer since I’m not pregnant anymore.

Kitchen drums.

Playing in the mud while we wash all the dog cages/beds/bowls before it gets too cold.

Loving on Colic McCrankyPants.

 

New Love

I fell in love tonight.  I fell in love with a new man, his name is Finn.

I wrote about Operation Regain Sanity the other day, trying to make it as light and funny as possible but the truth is there wasn’t much light about it… there hasn’t been much light about my life lately at all.

Since Finn was born I’ve been having a really rough time.  I didn’t tell anyone, partly because I’m not someone who can easily articulate when I need help and partly because I didn’t even fully realize what was happening.  To say I’ve been depressed isn’t accurate, I haven’t been depressed, or sad, or angry… I haven’t been anything.  I’ve been empty, going through the motions that I’m essentially programmed to do, with absolutely nothing inside me at all.

I’ve been living in an entirely beige world.

Then the other night I was holding Finn when he passed out after three or four hours of crying and I realized he was one month old.  One whole month, and I hadn’t been around for any of it.  He and Verona weren’t being seriously neglected, I fed them when they needed to be fed, changed their diapers, when they cried I held them… but I had done absolutely nothing beyond what I  had to.

He was a month old and I didn’t know him at all, and what’s worse was I didn’t care.  I wanted to cry, I wanted to be horrified by this realization and break down and be disappointed in myself, or frustrated, or anything.  But I couldn’t, I felt nothing.

I had a problem.

So I started Operation Regain Sanity, hoping that if I changed the way I acted it would eventually change the way I felt.  I know if I go to my doctor she’ll probably prescribe me something, and I am not opposed to that but want to try to do it on my own first.

The past couple days I’ve been making myself get off the couch where for the past month, despite physically feeling fine, I’ve spent almost all day, everyday.  I’ve been getting back on the floor and playing with Verona instead of just letting her watch Baby Einstein and Fraggle Rock all day.  I’ve been forcing myself to do things with other people even when I’m not socially obligated to do so.  I’ve been making myself eat food… usually reasonably healthy food… even though I don’t really want to (and similarly I’ve been making food for Verona instead of just giving her toast and fruit snacks).  I’ve even been showering which I didn’t realize until I thought about it but I’ve only done a handful of times in the past month.

I’m not myself yet by any means, but I’ve definitely been feeling better.  Last night when Finn was crying I instinctively stood up and started rocking him… this shouldn’t be a big deal but up until now all I could bring myself to do was sit and hold him while he wailed as I stared vacantly off into space.  This morning Verona told me a story and I smiled… I mean really smiled… with my eyes and everything, not just the mouth smile you do when you know you should but don’t mean it.

Then tonight I was holding him during a rare time when he was both awake and not crying.  I was talking and smiling at him… something I’m sad to admit I haven’t done hardly at all in his life.  And suddenly he smiled.

He smiled at me.

A little half smile, goofy as hell but a real smile.  He smiled and me and right then and there I fell madly in love with him.

I love this kid.  And I’m not saying that because I know I’m suppose to, I’m saying it because I genuinely, honestly, for real and true, love him.

Updates

I know I invoked the “I just made a person” excuse in my last post for not having written anything in a while but I’m invoking it again here.  I’ve decided that excuse retains it’s validity for the duration of me having stitches in my lady parts.  So that’s why I haven’t been around, and here are a few updates.

On the family…

We’re slowly getting to know Finn and adjust to having a new member of our family.  Having a new baby is weird because they become a part of your life immediately but it takes a while for everyone to get to know each other so for a while it’s like having a stranger hanging out all the time.  He’s a wonderful little guy though and it’s been fun getting acquainted… love doesn’t always hit you like a truck, sometimes it grows quietly all around you.

On Finnegan…

Finn is eating, and subsequently growing, like it’s his job.  He’s healthy and I assume happy although it’s hard to know for sure when you’re dealing with someone who is still physically incapable of smiling except when he’s passing gas.

He’ll sleep at night… but only as long as he’s in my arms.  Verona is also still a little freaked out by the fact that I was gone for three days when I was in the hospital so she refuses to sleep anywhere that I’m not as well.  Subsequently, I spent every night with her in one arm and him on my chest with Verona’s free arm holding him too.  It’s like a big 10 hour hugfest that David is mostly glad he doesn’t have to be apart of.

On Verona…

I was all prepared for jealousy and regressive behavior and aggression and all the things people say happens to kids when they cease to be an only child.  False.  Verona is so madly in love with this kid the biggest problem we’ve been having is trying to explain to her that sometimes babies need a little bit of time WITHOUT being hugged or kissed.

On me…

I am mind numbingly sleep deprived, my boobs hurt, and my entire body feels like I’ve been hit by a car… and it’s fantastic!  Verona’s birth destroyed me physically in ways I won’t talk about here because I’m worried about scaring you all sterile so after experiencing Finn’s profoundly average birth I’m floored at how much better I feel that I was expecting!  Emotionally I’m loving seeing Verona and David develop a relationship with the little guy and I’m in complete awe of myself for being able to do something as amazing as create life.

Right now…

Right now Verona, Finnegan, and Mr. Crocker are passed out cold so I’m going to go eat a popsicle that I don’t have to share with anyone and then go join them.  Peace out.