Monday, June 8, 2009

Underwater Moonlight

I wish I had taken pictures, but it just wouldn't have captured this.

So Maya (just 4) and Maizey (2) and I went to visit my brother in the hospital (its own ridiculously long story). Outside of the main entrance at the Lahey Clinic is this absolutely beautiful bronze sculpture, it's a life-size little bench with a little girl sitting next to a little boy, and they're reading a book together. The piece is entitled "When I Grow Up I Want to be a Nurse," and it's a gift from the family of a little boy and girl, given "in awe and gratitude" for the nurses of the Lahey Clinic. It made me all misty when I saw it without the kids.

So we went to visit Uncle Ian, and left without security having to be involved (a good day). As we walked out, the girls were drawn towards this wonderful sculpture. I see no problem with this, it's indestructible. Maizey hops up on the bench next to the little girl, and Maya tries to squeeze in next to the little boy.
"Mama, make him scoot over."
"He can't scoot over, he can't move ... "
"Is he dead?"
"No, but ..."
"Then make him scoot over!" (pushing him with all her might)
I convinced her to perch on the arm of the bench, where she very happily slung her arm around the boy's neck and began singing softly into his ear.
Meanwhile Maizey had put her arm around the girl's shoulders and was inspecting the back of her neck.
"Oh, you have a boo boo, where's your mama? I will kiss it for you. What is this? Is this your hair? You have pretty hair!"

Of course people were walking by, so charmed and delighted, laughing and telling me how beautiful this scene was. And they were right, it really looked NATURAL.

Then Maizey wants to know what happens next in the book they're reading, and the girl's got her thumb on the page and WON'T LET MAIZEY TURN IT. Maya decides to help and is trying to wrest control of the bronze book away from these completely unresponsive (and apparently very rude) children.

I said "Okay, it's time to say goodbye and go home. Say goodbye!" This usually works.

But Maizey is on the ground now, she has two hands pulling the book and one foot braced up on the bench, she's sweating and red and screaming,
"My book! My book!"
Maya is still being helpful, she's off the bench now too, and she's got the boy's arm and she's whacking it, and she's yelling,
"Give her the book, give it to her!"

This is just not how you behave. I dragged them off to the car, them screaming and crying, me laughing.

Why didn't they figure ANY of that out? Or was it me, was I missing something?

Monday, March 16, 2009

I am not allowed to talk to you because you are blond ...

Remember high school? Well, I'm not over it. It amazes me every time I run into someone that I was afraid of in high school and they are FINE, better than fine, they are nice, and interesting, and they are interested in being nice to me.

So I am slowly getting over it with actual people from high school. My daily life meeting strangers is a very different story. I find that there is a certain level of groomed-ness, or attention-to-appearance-ness, that triggers my natural pigeonholing instinct (finely honed in high school). When I walk into a room of strangers, I am immediately able to identify the people who surely think they are better than me. I will not make any attempts with these people, I'll focus on the slightly scruffier people, more on my level.

How nuts is that? And how appearance-focused is that? I'm not even talking to these people first, these are snap judgments. What the heck am I doing? I am being SHALLOW, because I am so sure certain other people are also being shallow. How can I get along with myself like that? I HATE shallowness, I pride myself on being so fair and so obsessed with looking at all possible angles and considerations that I am TRULY incapable of arriving at anything so subjective as an OPINION. That woman who drove her kids off the cliff? The one that everyone in the entire world hated? Well, I am quite confident that there are aspects of that story that we do not know that would make her a very sympathetic character. How can I be so closed-minded?

But if you are blond, please don't answer that. I'm not allowed to talk to you.

Friday, February 13, 2009

My second knitting project!

My little dress for Maya! Maizey tried it on too, but it fell off her shoulders and dragged on the ground. I finally had a pattern to guide me this time:

Adjusted and made a bit bigger, and to use up yarn from the basement.

This is the fringe on the bottom. I ran out of the black before I was done binding off, so I used some red fringey stuff to finish, and liked how it looked so much I crocheted around the rest of the edge.

Sorry the pictures are so blurry, no one would stand still!

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Do you ever do this?

Do you ever do this? Everything I have the slightest question about, I think about it on the front page. If "Mother of 2 leaves children to fend for selves in grocery store parking lot" sounds like something I don't want said about me, then I won't leave them there. Same goes for how I die, almost everything with a risk to it I imagine on the front page, so stop to help a car accident victim in a storm, yes; go hang gliding drunk, no. It's not common sense, it's what people will think. I'm not proud of that.

Monday, February 9, 2009

My first knitted project!

Maya's insane skirt. I had no idea what it was going to look like, I didn't follow a pattern, I just kept on going. I had never made anything that had increases in it before, so I didn't know how far a few little stitches go, resulting in a skirt that is a larger-than-circle skirt. I am surprised at how many compliments it gets, since it is this odd, lumpy, unmatching colored thing, but Maya loves it, and I guess it's just because she looks so darn good in anything!

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

Welcome to my home!

I am going to pretend to be my husband, whom I love very dearly, and who is pretty much the best husband ever. But sometimes I need to complain about some things. I am fantastically petty.

Hi! Welcome! Come on in! Don't worry about your boots, even if you have stepped in dog poop, please walk around on the white tile that the children crawl on. It's cool!

Do you have trash? Please throw it in the sink! That's where all the trash goes! I believe there are bonus points for getting beer caps in the garbage disposal. No one has told me this, but for some reason I seem to believe it.

When we start the laundry, we have to make sure to pack the washer beyond capacity. Jess has had to replace various parts of the motor several times now, and she is just so proud that she knows how to do it, I like to give her lots of opportunity. It REALLY helps her self-esteem.

Do you want to brush your teeth? Please do so as close to the mirror as possible, we love splatter! Also, if you can drop gobs of toothpaste in the sink and then not rinse them out, that is bonus. Would you like to shave over the sink and not deal with that either? That's our favorite!

Please remember to leave a pair of shoes inexplicably in front of both the kitchen sink and the bathroom sink. This is very important.

Would you like to sleep here? Find some way of bringing an enormous amount of grit into bed with you. If the floor has been recently swept, this may be a challenge, but it must be done.

Please put on enough blankets that you sweat yourself half to death during the night, leaving a peculiar odor lingering in the room, and convincing your mate that you have in fact peed the bed (seriously, I just sweat that much!)

Now that it's morning, I will pour us both some coffee. This countertop is too clean, so I think I will sprinkle it with sugar* and then slop some coffee in the sugar so that it won't come up without soaking it. I mean, why spill sugar if it's not going to stay? Avoid wasted effort, I always say.

Now it's time to feed the children. It's not a problem if they dump their cereal on the floor, Jess will deal with that in ten hours when it's all stuck on.

Do you think we could use a few more dishes? I mean, if all we had was cereal, then I think there should be a filthy roasting pan left on the stove, just to keep everyone on their toes. Without a little mystery, what is life, eh?

* this man cleaned up his own sugar very nicely this morning. I was so excited I almost cried. Also, none of this annoyance would happen if he weren't feeding children, pouring me coffee, doing laundry, and lots of other things that make me a very lucky person. I realize that.

Thursday, January 29, 2009

The Drunken Mothering Feasibility Study:

5:20 PM: Dinner is going, I think I'll have a few glasses of wine. One kid is sick, the other kid is the good kid, there's a movie on, and I feel like starting a blog.

5:30 PM: Dinner is done. Wait, I need to make rice.

6 pm: My hand hurts so badly. Rice is done. Chicken stew, check. Blog, blogged. Children, adorable. And soaking wet. Okay, everyone into the bathroom for diaper and wardrobe changes! Yes of course you can have more chocolate milk.

6:05: First snag in drunken plan. Husband calls from work with frozen throttle cable. I am home, and in fact talking to him on the phone, but decide to pretend that I am the answering machine, since there is no way I can drive. He is skeptical, but decides maybe he doesn't need a ride after all.

7pm: Drunken mothering study closed down when I realized things like this should stay private. As long as the kids survive, everything's cool.

This is purely satire. Really. Really.

Why I'm here.

Maya's 3. She knows I'm a nurse, and this name came the day she had all these horrible midnight shakes and sweats and went to the doctor. She had said the magic words "My pee hurts." Don't ever ever tell a doctor 1) your pee hurts or 2) you have rectal bleeding (I mean, actually, tell them, it's just that the workup is really unpleasant). I helped with the catheterization, and afterwards she was furious with me. She said "you're a hurty nurse." My heart was broken, even as I laughed! It's especially hurtful because it ties into the whole reason that I take a pill, which is that one day, in my postpartum depression, I had to hurt a patient. There was not enough pain medication to make what I had to do comfortable, and he cried the whole time. I felt horrible. I cried all the way home, pulled it together to pick up the kids, cried all the way through dinner and cried myself to sleep. I realized "I need to get this treated." I like to make people feel better, not worse. I don't get out of bed in the morning to hurt people. This is one of the reasons I'd like to get out of oncology. I love the cancer patients, but I don't want to give them chemo. I know it saves so many lives, but I never want to make someone feel worse. I am drawn to hospice and palliative care because of that desire, and because that's ALL they do, we don't have to worry about blood pressures or fevers or long-term consequences. It's just about making people feel better.

Also, I need an outlet. I need you. Even if you're not there. I love you!