Wednesday, August 27, 2008

25 Days, 25

Child is adequately recovered, therefore:

Look! We went to another Angels game!

I wore Josh's t-shirt & his comment was, "we are now officially that family." (That bag contained sliced apples, lemonade, cheerios, books, magazines, Dash's blanket and a portable toilet seat. Remember when you could just get off the couch and drive somewhere without having to pack?)

Waiting in line to get in

They're pretty cute, huh?

Monday, August 25, 2008

Really? Fucking Really?

I had the 25th Day of Pleasure in the bag! I was going to write about Dash's second Angels game (we won!) and Aunty's graduation party (she has a Master's Degree!) and about how this project seems to have wrapped up at just the perfect moment as I can see the light changing from the bright, optimistic yellow of summer to the faded, hunkered down amber of fall, the smell of the air going from new grass to old leaves. (When you live in LA and the temps stay right around 95 degrees through October, you become adept at noticing the subtle changes in the seasons.)

But. But I got a call this afternoon from Dash's school that some little turd knocked him off the play castle and there was a lot of blood but he didn't pass out but you'd better come get him. So.

His hair had a faint pink sheen when I got him home. By the time he woke from his nap, there was a matted patch of brown-red hair in the back of his head and the pillow was bloody. I called Josh home because I can handle a lot but I can't handle a bloody child. We took him to urgent care (we must have a fast pass or something because although we were told repeatedly that the wait was two and a half hours we were out in 20 minutes) and while the sweet doctor was cleaning and gluing him up I about passed out. Not in a "ha ha, I almost passed out" way, but in a "Josh, do you have him? Because I'm going to fall on the floor" way. Not my strongest moment in mothering.

Anyway, superficial gash, no stitches required, just a haircut and some adhesive strips.

And apparently, after two surgeries plus a c-section, two HSGs, countless blood draws (seriously, like 100 in a year) and injections into my belly and ass by my husband, I can no longer deal with the sight of blood. I am, you understand, the mother of a fearless two-and-a-half-year-old boy. And I am afraid of blood. Awesome.

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

25 Days, 24

The other night Josh & I were tickling the shit out of Dash and in between fits of laughter he starts screaming out, "Guys! GUYS!" like a little grown person.


When he was smaller he would just pick a person and focus all of his love and adoration on them. Sometimes it was me, sometimes it was Josh. Anytime he needed something he would call upon his favored. "Mommy, milk please!" Even if Josh was at that moment holding a cup of milk. "Daddy, story!" Even if I was, at that very instant, underneath him and holding Madeline. Neither of us took it personally and it was sometimes a nice little vacation from parenthood, you know, being ignored all the damn time.

But lately he's started referring to us as, "Mommydaddy." One breath, one unit, both of us.

Fuck I love him.

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

25 Days, 23

I was reading a meditation on motherhood and its effect on creativity today and it got me thinking.

I am not an artist like the author. I am not even a crafter (because being a crafter requires you to actually know a craft. and I don't. I'm a dabbler.)

I screw around on my sewing machine. I temporarily learn a few embroidery stitches (I remember them long enough to knock out a couple of ideas and then I immediately forget how to do them).
I take mediocre pictures and try to improve them with Photoshop.

Before & After w/ Pioneer Woman tutorial
I even tried my hand at what they call "craft painting."



So, you know, I like to make stuff.

Anyway, I started thinking about how motherhood has affected my creativity. Time is definitely in shorter supply, and while before Dash I could explore every notion I got into my head, now I have to really want it. I keep a list on my kitchen counter of projects I want to make. It usually takes between one and six months for something to move to the top of that list, so if it's just a fleeting flirtation I cross it off and move on. The stuff that stays? That I can think about every day for half a year and still want to make? That's the stuff I know is important to me.

So I guess the first effect is editing. There's no more frantic "making" like there was in years past. I know what is important enough for me to spend my precious resources of time and money on (a quilt for Dash, a raised bed garden) and what's not (homemade yogurt, hand-sewn clothes, cornbread from scratch).

But there's something else. Something about mothering Dash inspires me to try a little harder at the things I do make. When I was making my little embroidery hoops I can't tell you how many times I had to pull apart that damn horse and start over.

I try to embroider
It was close, but it wasn't perfect. It would have been good enough five years ago, but it wasn't good enough for Dash.

I've never once seen him even glance at those hoops hanging over his bookcase. But in my mind these are no longer ephemera. They're heirlooms in the making. (I have visions of his wife sewing those scraps of embroidered fabric into a baby quilt for my grandchild one day.) When I'm long gone maybe I'll be remembered for the grumpy gnome, or Dash's weird little Christmas stocking. I want those things to hold up and to tell the story of our family. A story that says we're a little nutty, but that we tried hard to make things fun and lovely.

Saturday, August 16, 2008

25 Days, 22

Hi Aunty,

I forgot to mention something!

(He's pooped in them twice so far--awesome!)

Saturday, August 09, 2008

25 Days, 21

I was yelling at someone in customer service somewhere when I looked over and saw this. I had no choice but to start laughing. It made whatever I was so pissed about seem much less serious.

Friday, August 08, 2008

25 Days, 20

Hey! Remember these? One of the recipients, my lovely friend Jen, started a blog about her project & I have decided to rip her off, but just a little.

Here are my first three:

("Draw your favorite tree")
This is the tree in front of my kitchen window.

("Make a mini book based on the theme, 'My Grocery List.'")
Tomatoes are, "Tommies" & Josh's Caffeine-Free Diet Coke is called "CFDC" or "Daddy Juice" (Mommy juice is Chardonnay)

Salad is "Sallit"

We call sausages, "Dirties," and hot dogs are "Cleans."


Wednesday, August 06, 2008

25 Days, 19

Some days you just wake up and decide to go to the park. Those are usually pretty good days.

Dash met a little girl named Lexi. Red hair, freckles, pink glitter Mary Janes and fingernail polish. I loved her so bad it made my teeth hurt.

The slide is plastic and every time Dash goes down the static makes his hair stand on end.


Faking it