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4 kittens

So I see.

Posted on 2015.09.20 at 20:55
Items that we have given away: co-sleeping bed, infant car seat, two infant car seat bases and one stroller base, a vibrating chair, a play mat with dangling animals, all my breast-pumping gear, all our four ounce bottles.  (Or it is imminent.)

Rascal eats table food exclusively now, having shunned the baby glop once he realized it was glop.



Also he cruises and bathes.

Hokey Pokey had his first outdoor soccer game. (Hawaii's team had a bye.) I've never been to the Heebieville soccer fields before. It's in the new part of town, where we keep our aspiring-rich people. There are other rich parts of town, but these are the new planned community economic segregationalist kind of rich-hopeful people.

 Jammies pointed out that we have 18 years worth of Saturdays ahead of us, parked at these fields, and I felt some creeping dread. It was blisteringly hot out.



Hokey Pokey scored four goals in the first quarter and then I stopped counting. It was super fun to watch him play.

At his first piano lesson, Pokey was super squirmy and unable to sit still, but he paid attention as he climbed on and off the bench. (Contrast with Hawaii, terrified to a standstill by her hulking Italian former teacher.)



Piano lessons are on Mondays, soccer practice on Thursdays, games on Saturdays.  I will drown when all four kids are doing this. The trappings of Upper Middle Classdom are overwhelming, but I want their little brains to struggle with reading music and coordinating their fingers.

.............

I got sad, thinking about 30 years from now, when my tattoos are wrinkly and my mom is dead, wondering if I'll regret not having asked her to design my tattoos. But only if she wants to design them. If she would find it a burden, then I'd rather use the darling Clare Turlay Newberry cats.

So I asked her. She gave me a straight answer: she does not want to design them. The way she phrased it is, "I don't spend hours doodling cats. It's not something I do."  What she wants is to help me modify the Claire Turlay Newberry cats to fit the contours and layour of my torso.  I'm super relieved that she gave me a straight answer, and plus, I love the solution.  (I'm weirded out that in December, I'll lay down on a guerney and they'll put an IV in me and I'll go to sleep, and when I wake up I won't have breasts for the rest of my life. I've had way too much run-up to dwell on the surgery. Fifteen years is a long time to anticipate something, and yet not make a big deal out of it.)

.............

One afternoon, the kids were playing quietly all together. So I barged in on them and discovered this: they'd swiped the salt-shaker from the dining room table. They were shaking it into their palms and licking their palms. They were also shaking it directly in their mouths.

So gross! There was salt all over the floor. Horses!

...........

This is our choke bucket:



If I see something small, I dump it in the choke bucket. Rascal has full roam of the house. The rule is that kids can check something out of the choke bucket, but then they have to put it back when they're done.

"Is my tongue blue?"



"Not really. Sorry."

Do I want to start meditating? My reasons for mediation would not be wholesome and pure. What I'd like is to have a quiet hour here and there, but since that is not going to happen, maybe meditation can stand in as evaporated condensed alone time. When I lived alone, I had this thought: "Now I can crabwalk wherever I go," because I'd be embarrassed to crabwalk in front of roommates. Sometimes a woman just wants to crabwalk. Or take naps in the kitchen. I don't like to disrupt people's expectations, but I actually want to just lay down in the kitchen if a wave of sleepy hits me.

Meditation as condensed alone time seems like it's missing the point - I should want to cherish the still mind or something. I like my mind just fine. Maybe I should buy (more) clothes and shoes instead.

(I should say, do I want to start meditating more systematically? Right now, I use it as a power nap at work when I'm groggy or overwhelmed.  I'm pretty sure that using meditation as a power nap is a form of intercultural abuse.)

..........

"What does sorry mean?" Ace is fond of asking.
"It means you wish you hadn't done something," I say.
"NO. It means you hit someone," Ace replies.
Yes, more or less.




"Can I eat this?" Ace asked, holding a small yellow circle.
"No," I said, "It looks like a piece of paper."
Ace put it in her mouth. "Look! I can eat it!" she exclaimed.
"So I see," I said.
"It's not very good," she said.
"I think it's paper," I said.

................

One thing that is massively different with kids is my sense of the day having many stages. Pre-kids, any hour was as good as any other hour. If sleepy, I took a nap, and if I was hungry, I ate, and so on.

Now a day is comprised of distinct stages: everyone is in a good mood in the morning. Everyone gets hungry (all the fucking time). Kids get grouchy in the afternoon and it is unpleasant. Some kids take naps. Everyone eats dinner. There is a bedtime routine. I like the mornings and evenings. In the afternoons, I often also get grouchy.

..........

At the dinner table, E. Messily described the aquarium in Washington DC, where you walk up a spiral staircase surrounded by a cylinder of fish.  Hokey Pokey wanted to build a model. We debated whether it would be an interesting thing to build or not.

He ran off, and returned with a cardboard cylinder from a roll of toilet paper.  We agreed that the cylinder represented the correct shape.  Later I discovered a mountain of toilet paper on the bathroom floor.
"Why didn't you just get a cardboard roll from the art cabinet?" I exclaimed, "We have tons of them in there!"
Pokey was sitting on the toilet. "I can't reach the toilet paper! Help!" which was what had brought me to the bathroom in the first place.
"I see that," I said. "That's why I like to keep it on the roll."



Comments:


The Last  Rambler
robertainnc at 2015-09-21 17:02 (UTC) (Link)
Noticing my children playing quietly always also made my spidey senses tingle--and inevitably when I went to check on them, their was a sink full of "potion" (made up of all my face cream and food coloring or such) or a bag of sugar or some other very similar salt shaker like reason for the sudden change in young child sound...as though they know the activity will be stopped if discovered by adults, so they get real quiet, which in turn...alerts the adults that something must be up.

Edited at 2015-09-21 05:03 pm (UTC)
heebie-geebie
heebie_geebie at 2015-09-28 03:13 (UTC) (Link)
EXACTLY. It is super deadly! That's how you know that the entire dresser will be emptied out and inverted, or the cat food turned into a giant sand pit.
************
violetsnvalium at 2015-09-21 21:14 (UTC) (Link)
Yes yes yes get them to read music! It's so useful! I get SO annoyed when people talk about some famous musician and say "(s)he can't even read sheet music!!" like it's a wonderful thing. Pffssshhh. Honestly, if you can't even take enough interest in your career to learn to read music... Actually no, that wasn't the point I was making. Just that learning things like that is wonderful and you never know when it's going to come in handy, and also when you can read music you can old-school illegally-download orchestral pieces by sneakily writing them down when they're playing them, heh heh heh.

Isn't the point of meditation to be evaporated condensed alone time? And if you're alone inside your brain, does it really matter what you're thinking about? Nobody else is there to say you're not doing it right. And if you feel better afterwards, then it worked in the way meditation is supposed to. I think. Maybe. I don't know.

Oh and Hawaii still rocks.
heebie-geebie
heebie_geebie at 2015-09-28 03:14 (UTC) (Link)
I think the musical stuff is training your brain in a uniquely novel way. I enjoy watching them work through it more than I thought I would - it's appealing in the same way that I like talking to people learning math.
(Anonymous) at 2015-09-28 12:42 (UTC) (Link)

Commutes!

When I lived in your neck of the woods, I had a 30 minute commute from Across The Interstate From the Capital to the Watertower of Collegetown (about 30 miles). The return trip was 45 minutes. The asymmetry drove me nuts to the point that I might have preferred 45 minutes each way. Maybe.

The next place I lived was in the Pacific Northwest, which had a 40 mile commute that was 1:45 in the morning and 1:15 in the evening. I gladly accepted the asymmetry in exchange for that precious half an hour. My boss eventually let me timeshift to avoid traffic to get an hour each way. I scored major points one day by coming in during inclement weather for what turned out to be a 5.5 hour drive. I accepted the asymmetry of the drive back being only an hour.

Audiobooks are lovely.

Anyhow, the worst places for driving tend to be the places build for x-people, that somehow ended up with 2x-people. Which increasingly sounds like your neck of the woods.
(Anonymous) at 2015-09-28 12:43 (UTC) (Link)

Re: Commutes!

~trumwill
heebie-geebie
heebie_geebie at 2015-10-04 13:51 (UTC) (Link)

Re: Commutes!

That is exactly what's going on. The capital was already a traffic disaster 15 years ago, and now it's much worse. Our neck of the woods will go down that path if we don't do some sensible planning. Hahaha. Sensible planning.
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