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4 kittens

At the park

Posted on 2015.01.18 at 09:32
I don't like Rascal's daycare. It's a cold warehouse with linoleum floor. There are too many babies, and too many of them are crying. The teachers seem...perfectly safe and reasonable, but I don't love them.

Jammies' observation: when a business has a mostly poor and lower-class clientele, they sometimes treat their customers like children who need to be scolded. The daycare handbook was like this: no late pick-ups. I SAID NO LATE PICK-UPS! Quit trying to pick your kids up late! Yes, got it.

It comes across like, "Why am I already in trouble for something I haven't done yet?" whereas places with wealthier clientele don't do that. They blow smoke up their clients' asses and go on about how happy they are to serve.

Rascal is on the waiting list at the lab daycare that Ace and Pokey are in. I'm also grumpy about the extra half hour, twice a day, to take him to an entirely different location across town.

Hawaii and Pokey started out at a third, different daycare when they were babies, before we got in the lab school. Back in 2009 and 2010, the birth rate had plummeted because of the recession. Hawaii was one of four babies in the baby room. Plus I adored the teacher. So while it was a daycare that served a poor/lower-income group of parents, I liked it just fine. But now babies have rebounded, and Rascal's tiny baby room is packed to the gills with sobbing infants. That's the part that I hate: every time I show up, there are so many babies wailing. It makes me wonder how long they wail before someone can get to them.

Pokey seems to be fine. He's not napping well there, but that's because they can't legally swaddle him and put him in a vibrating chair. He comes home with red-rimmed eyes, and then sleeps soundly for nice long stretches, which is helpful for my own sleep-deprivation.

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Ace does gymnastics!

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Hokey Pokey does gymnastics!

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Hawaiian Punch does gymnastics!

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Rascal sleeps through gymnastics.

At crossfit, Wednesdays are now Gymnastics Wednesdays. I absolutely love it. Hawaii and I are about equally far along in learning to do a handstand.


Pokey stayed home sick on Tuesday. We played Ninja Turtles and Legos, which usually puts me to sleep, but this time I put Antiques Roadshow on, in the background. Mindless antiques commentary helped sustain me for a total of forty minutes, before I started nodding off. That is thirty-five minutes longer than usual.

Later on, Pokey and I picked up Rascal from daycare. "How do you know you've got the right baby?" he asked. "Well, I recognize him!" I said. "That's his little Rascal nose and that's his little Rascal chin."

"But what if it's a different baby?" Pokey asked. "Well, I picked out this outfit for him this morning," I said. "It's got blue and black stripes." Pokey was not at all convinced. I don't think he could pick his brother out of a line up of babies, should it come to that.


There is one last detail on M. Aaron. My mom wrote her new cousin Eli an email, peppering him with (semi-incoherent) questions. Eli wrote back an even more incoherent response. (Mom's worst question was "Once I saw a photo of a man with white hair that sort of looked like my father except it wasn't my father and then my mother whisked it away, what do you think that was, my grandfather?"  Eli's incoherent answer was, "I don't think that was my father, he wasn't related to any of you guys.")

In the email, Mom asked, "How did you find out that M. Aaron died?" We'd all been wondering. Were they checking the papers after not hearing from him for a couple months? Did they call his place of employment?

Eli answered, "Your mom told us."

So Grandma did know about his secret family of origin. At least to some extent. One possibility is that she found an envelope, "To Be Opened Upon My Death", with contact information for M. Aaron's sister. In that case, Grandma really might not have known hardly anything. But another possibility is that she knew everything, and was responsible for the rift that kept the families estranged.

I prefer a version of Grandma who is not so malicious. But historically, there are plenty of examples of Grandma being a total jerk. She loves being the queen of the brood, and I've never known her in a context where she might be subordinate to in-laws or authority figures. Maybe she was a big jerk.


Sometimes I start thinking about how M. Aaron's fake story, and how it was Truth for so many years.  How it might have stayed Truth forever (if it weren't for us obligatorily meddling kids).

I also have a fake identity - my birth name was actually not heebie-geebie - and I also lay down my version of Truth here on this blog. Jammies and I both tend to consult this blog as historical archive, and the kids might read it and retroactively shape their malleable memories of childhood.  Which means all my biases - which kid has which traits, what annoys me, what I fail to notice - becomes Truth. It's not quite as bold as M. Aaron's stark lies, but it's something. (Historians and literary types surely think about who controls the narrative a lot more systematically than this, but I control this blog.) What power, to control the story. (But maybe other people just don't care about the story. My one brother tends to have only the faintest interest in our shared childhood or ancestry.)

Sometimes when I comment on Unfogged or Facebook, I think, "I have changed the internet forever!" When I'm serial-commenting, I think, "And again! And again! And again!"


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Ace is at the park!

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Hokey Pokey is at the park!

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Hawaii is at the park!

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Rascal sleeps at the park!

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But sometimes he wakes up, too.


On Monday, Jammies' boss said, "You should apply for this internal transfer!" Jammies had seen the email about the job, and was a little interested. "You're perfect for the job," the boss raved.

Ten minutes later, the boss walked by Jammies' cubicle. "Did you email the lab guy about the job?" she asked. "Yes..." said Jammies, "I just did."

Ten minutes later, the boss lady said, "Did you hear from him and set up a meeting?" Jammies now is flustered, but said, "Yes, we set up a meeting for tomorrow."
"Try to set up a meeting for today," said the boss.

Jammies thought this was all very weird.

Then at his exercise class, he found that there were lay-offs happening, and he started to panic. "Hopefully I can move up this meeting," he IM'd me. "Maybe I'll get walked out today, otherwise."

The next morning, after the meeting, he told me, "I got the job. And otherwise I would have gotten fired." Yikes. Near-miss.

Now he will be working on race cars, actually. He'll have to go to racetracks for races and show off their demo. "Race car! Palindrome! Race car! Palindrome!" I unfortunately think, Wayne's World style.

No more trips to Korea to be yelled at.  Jammies is in mourning over the alternate world where he got fired and got three months of severance pay and spent the spring puttering around the house, but I prefer this outcome. (If we could afford it, Jammies would make the best house-spouse. He putters, fixes, cleans, organizes, and feels good about it all. Whereas I find a cozy chair, pull in my computer, and willfully ignore the chaos all day long.)


Pumping at work is killing me. To cheer myself up, I think about the fall semester: Rascal will be in the lab daycare, and I won't have to pump. Total I will have two extra hours, every single day. What a dream.

Let's go back to the park.

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Pretty day.

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Kelly Jennings
Kelly Jennings at 2015-01-18 18:31 (UTC) (Link)


I am retroactively terrified for you & Jammies, over your near-miss. An umemployed spouse is not fun. Though probably Jammies would have gotten re-employed faster than Dr. Skull! (I realize I have absolutely no idea what he does. Race cars? Journeying to Korea? Computers? Is he an anime character?)
heebie_geebie at 2015-01-18 19:18 (UTC) (Link)

Re: Yikes!

Race cars? Journeying to Korea? Computers? Is he an anime character?

I laughed out loud. He's an engineer at a company that makes microchips.
parodie at 2015-01-22 10:26 (UTC) (Link)
Wow, Jammies' experience is rather too close a call! Time off is nice but unemployment is depressing, and the world economy seems to be readjusting right now, probably not the best time to be looking for a new job.

The idea of personal narratives and how our personal narratives (truths) interact with those around us is something to which I've given some thought. I think that I would distinguish between a lie and an honestly-constructed truth, though, and I'm sure smarter people have written about this. Post-modernity, meta-narratives, etc.
heebie_geebie at 2015-01-25 03:04 (UTC) (Link)
His new job is kind of neat, too - the race car is being driven by a quadrapalegic former race car driver, who actually drives it at high speeds using only his head.

The other thing that distorts the narrative as I lay it down here is that I include or suppress facts based on other players - would my friends want to be written about behind their backs? Would my acquaintances? So I leave out major parts of our lives out of some respect and some fear of getting caught. Also, I've always felt that I didn't want this journal to become a dry daily listing of what happened, because then it would feel like a burden. Anyway, I do think it's interesting - the gap between what happens and the stories we tell ourselves and how they eventually become the reality of what happened.
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