Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Round and round they sped.
I was disturbed at this;
I accosted the man.
"It is futile." I said.
"You can never-"
"You lie" he cried,
And ran on.
-Stephen Crane (1895)
I love this poem. It's for every 'realistic' person who told a 'dreamer' that something wasn't possible.
I'm sorry, that's a disgusting rhyme from my childhood.
But on that note, I'm getting serious about losing my baby weight. Can you even call it baby weight when your baby is now walking, talking and poking my stomach because she likes the way it jiggles?
I've had it. I'm sick of making excuses. Excuses like, "I'm too tired to exercise" or "My only comfort in the day is ice cream!" It's all lies. Lies, I tell you, LIES!!!
When I met Froggydaddy I was 107lbs. Now...I'm not.
I'd like to take this moment to blame my child for my weight gain. While prego, I ate a tremendous amount of Ben & Jerry's, pasta, bread, and ultimately gained 43lbs. It was Froggy's fault. She craved carbs and sugar. What was I to do?
I'm now 123 lbs. And I'd like to be 115 lbs. At 5'3", that's a healthy weight and one I could be happy with. By April 1st, I will be that weight. And if I'm not, you have permission to call me Fatty, Fatty 2 by 4.
No more ice cream, no more burgers, no more pigging out at night when the baby goes to bed. I'm going to swim, walk, and jog this flabby butt to 115lbs. Hold me to it!
Monday, February 26, 2007
Hey mom, I found the coolest toy in your purse today!
At first I thought it was a tiny pillow, like for my dolly. But then, I tore the sucker apart! It wasn't a pillow at all. It was a kitty sleeping bag! But before I could get the kitties all packed up for camping, I noticed the floors were dirty, and that's when I realized this wasn't a kitty sleeping bag, no, no, it was a mini mop for the kitchen floor. And I love helping mom clean!!! So I scrubbed the floors for her. She just laughed and took my picture.
I said, "thanks for the help, lazy bones!"
Then I pulled a piece off the mini mop and stuck it to my belly! It was so neat. I looked up at mom like, "did you know that when you're done mopping the floors, you can store this thing on your belly?" She laughed again and that's when I realized that it wasn't a mini mop at all.
It's was a belly bumper. So if I run into something (which I often do), my belly bumper will cushion the blow. Hey, thanks for looking out for me mom. Wait til I show all the kids on the playground how cool I am!
Friday, February 23, 2007
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Wednesday, we skipped work and went to the zoo!
"This better be worth the drive!"
"What are you lookin at?"
I asked Froggy if we could go to the zoo everyday, she said, "oh mommy, if we went everyday, it wouldn't be special, now would it?" What a brilliant child! Okay, she didn't really say that, but she did say, "meow" and "oooo ahhh ahh".
"Why can't we pet the kitties, mama?"
"Because they'll eat you, honey."
"J" and "S" laughing at the seals. They put on a show for us.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Anyway, I was making a statement, man! This baby gets too much attention. What is she, the new Dalai Lama, or the second coming? No, she's just a baby, and I was here first, thank you!
Mom and Dad are off the hook for a little while, then I'm upping the ante. Next time, I'm eating something they really care about, like the sofa. That oughta get their attention.
I have a confession. Before I was a mom, I used to judge other moms. At the grocery store when a 2 year old screamed "GIVE ME MY CANDY!" I quietly thought to myself, "I'll give you some candy kid!!!"
Before I was a mom, when I saw a toddler with a pacifier, I thought, "another parent who can't say 'no'." Now, my toddler actually carries two pacifiers around the house, alternating them, stacking them on toys, and caring for the little faux nipples like they are mini friends, capable of conversation and feelings. When I try to hide the pacifiers in my purse or table, she will search, climb and destroy to get what she wants. Pacifiers are her baby heroin, and I dread the day we have the intervention, and admit Froggy to the Malibu nuk rehab clinic.
Before I had a child, when parents brought their restless kids to a restaurant, I would give them that look only people without kids give parents, it's the "uh, next time, order in," look.
Before I had a baby, I thought co-sleeping was just an excuse to avoid sex with your spouse. Now, I know it is. (just kidding.)
Before my child was born, when my friends felt guilty about going to a movie, or to dinner, I thought they were letting their children run their lives. Today I felt guilty about leaving Froggy with her dad while getting the car washed. Realistically, I know she's having a great time with her dad, but my psycho-mama brain says, "What if there's an earthquake and you can't get to her, or Daddy forgets to give her the iron and zinc at exactly 2:30pm, or Daddy falls asleep and Froggy figures out the safety latches on the cleaning supplies cupboard, and how to simultaneously push down on the bleach bottle top, while turning, and I come home to clean floors, but total anarchy!"
I never thought I would actually enjoy talking about strollers, sippy cups and bedtimes. Now, it's more fun than politics, and no one gets hurt.
Before Froggy was born and my mommy friends couldn't do something because it interfered with nap time, I thought they were a little cuckoo, and catering to their kids "schedules". Now, I understand that nap time is LAW. I would walk through fire, drink molten lava, donate a kidney to assure Froggy gets her nap at exactly the time she needs it. As a mom, I've learned that the window for nap time is so small, limited, fleeting and if you miss it, even a copacetic baby transforms into a monster-Chucky-doll-baby capable of high-pitched tantrums, bizarro body flailings, hunger strikes, and a household under baby sleep deprivation siege!
Phrases like, "use your indoor voice," or "use your words" or "play nice" used to drive me nuts. Okay they still do. If I ever say that, you have permission to call me a yuppie, slap my face and say, "Snap out of it!"
And before I had Froggy, I thought moms were pretty sappy, crying at any commercial with a baby, sobbing during the retelling of their baby's birth, finding every smile, laugh, sniffle, pout, toot, and gesture from their child as the most beautiful, fulfilling, and miraculous moment ever experienced on earth. I thought they were nuts. And I will never judge another mommy again. Because I am now the queen, the president, the reigning nutso mama, capable of anything I once promised I would never do.
Monday, February 19, 2007
Shine down on me!
Sissy Snuggiekins swingin' in the sunshine
Froggydadda and Froggy swingin' together.
Froggymama and Froggy!
Sissysnuggiekins spent the night. She slept til 1:30pm! Do you remember those teenage days of sleeping the day away? I remember waking up feeling like I'd wasted a day, but now, after a baby, sleep seems like pure bliss!
It's hard to imagine scraping ice from windshields, or shoveling a sidewalk. I must say, I've adjusted quite nicely to this aspect of Cali living. The only thing we had to remember to put on Froggy was a hat and sunscreen. Sure beats mittens and boots!
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Pics of us in Venice last weekend. This homeless guy was Liberace on the piano. Froggy had a great time, jamming with the Hare Krishnas, playing at the park, watching all the dogs walk by, and letting the sand slip through her fingertips. We stopped at our favorite book store, where they have a cat named 'Esma' who looks exactly like my childhood cat, Kricket. Froggy charmed everyone she met, and said "HIYYYYY! BYYYYEEEE" about 200 times. It was a great day.
Here's one of my favorite poems for Valentine's Day.
i carry your heart with me, by e.e. cummings
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)
Sunday, February 11, 2007
"I'm a drug sniffing dog, and I just found some crack. Guess I'll be getting that biscuit soon."
As Froggy, FD and I were walking along the beach, we ran into my ex-boyfriend and his dog. No just kidding. He was just some coo-koo who thought short-shorts were the perfect accessory to a 150 pound chow. I swear that poor dog is embarrassed. Look at his face closely. It's shame I tell you, shame.
Friday, February 09, 2007
She left a note on my other neighbor's door.
When "E" returned home from work, she found it, along with my note about the plumber coming between 9-11am, because our faucet was going to be replaced. "D" had actually slipped her suicide note under the plumber notice, as if it were less important than the water getting shut off.
From my kitchen window I saw "E" motioning to me with frantic arms, screaming, "D killed herself."
I grabbed Froggy out of her high chair and ran into the apartment. "D" was in bed, with headphones on, sprawled out, mouth open. She looked dead. Her dog kept jumping on her and looking up at us, like, "It's about time you got here!"
While "E" was on the phone with the paramedics I saw "D's" chest rise and fall.
I screamed, "She's alive, she's breathing!"
And I heard "E" repeat this to the paramedics like an echo, or dejavu.
Everything was in slow motion. People say this happens during a car accident, heart attack, or earthquake, and it's true. It feels like every second is distinct and a separate piece of time. It's as if the moment from here to there becomes jagged instead of fluid and you can physically feel the jerk and lurch of life. That watery feeling of losing time transforms into a painful recognition of the slowness of things. There are no transitions, just beats, like a cartoon strip, or film reel.
E and I were shaking, reading suicide notes, looking for pills, trying to keep Froggy calm, who kept repeating "D's" name.
I held Froggy in one arm while listening to "D's" heartbeat. It was fast, like the baby rabbits my sister and I saved from the lawnmower -wild, frantic, and alive. I could hear air going in and out, sometimes with ease, sometimes like a snore in the lungs; her breath hovering above her body. And then there was nothing. I yelled to E, "Tell them to hurry!"
"E" called the paramedics again and again.
A firetruck, ambulance and two police cars were there in minutes. And if time is relative, it could have been three weeks of repetitive sentences, "D, can you hear me?," D, hang in there, D, you're going to be okay."
The paramedics were extremely calm, as if they were in slow motion too, and understood this weird new world of taffy-stretched time.
Questions flew at us.
Did she leave a note?
Does she take drugs?
Are there pill bottles?
Was she depressed?
When did you last see her?
Has she attempted suicide before?
It became painfully clear how much I didn't know about my neighbor, even though we chatted nearly everyday. But how often does a conversation about dogs, family, and life drift into questions like, "do you do drugs, have you tried to kill yourself before, do you have an HMO or PPO?, What's your relationship like with your mother?"
We talked about Froggy's teething, a good veterinarian for our pets, the mailman, other neighbors, shopping, picking up dog poop in the yard, but nothing like this.
We were helpless as they took her away in the ambulance. We read her suicide note to see who to call, find her mother's phone number, find a reason for this.
She had been in physical pain for years and couldn't take another day. I knew this, but didn't realize it had come to the end. When the EMT's carried her out, I wondered if we had betrayed her.
She wanted to die, to be out of the physical and emotional pain. And I couldn't help but imagine what it would feel like to wake up knowing that you had tried so hard to die. Would she be thankful for life, or angry that she'd failed at death?
We stayed with her for five hours at the emergency room. After a CT-scan, the Dr. assured us, she would make a full recovery.
We are taking care of her beloved dog, and are waiting to hear what happens next.
E and I, along with other friends visited "D" tonight in the psych ward. It was like a chapter out of the book, "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest." Men were wandering the halls in diapers, asking us for candy or spare change. The nurses' aides seemed shady and incapable of real care. "D" was drugged and angry.
I'm terrified for her, and wondering what we actually saved her from. Maybe death would have been better than this?
Or maybe we all are now completely aware that she needs more than what she was capable of asking. I feel guilty, sad, so afraid for her. It will be such a difficult recovery, and nothing will ever, ever be the same. She has tempted death, and no one can forget that.
For four years, Froggydaddy and I have lived in this apt, and "D" has always kept her living room window open. Yesterday it was closed. And I didn't notice.
We are all so connected in this world. We are all family. We are all responsible for one another. Our neighbors, our friends, everyone we meet.
Now I see the signs, the closed windows, and I'm sorry our help came so late.
Please say a little prayer, chant, sing, send love to "D". She is a lovely person, who deserves better than the life she tried so desperately to escape. Thank you.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
Send this website to everyone on your email address book. If ten people on your email list give $10 - that's $100, just from you! Tell the people on your email address book, to send this website to their address book. We could raise millions!!! You never know who will contribute.
Ya know that stingy aunt you have, who cuts coupons and buys toilet paper in bulk? She's just waiting for an opportunity to save 30,000 lives. Eight-five years of using industrial tp has left her a sore tushy, but lots of mula for a good cause!
I know we can raise $25,000 this year, but we really need your help. Enlist your friends. This really is about saving lives. I wouldn't ask for you to give otherwise. We would love 100 people walking for Froggy in May.
Monday, February 05, 2007
I DON'T NEED NO STINKIN' VEGETABLES!
or the alternative title
TU MAMA, THE SUCKER
Sunday, February 04, 2007
Froggy is an active child. And by active I mean cuckoo-running-around-the-house-getting-into-trouble-and-capable-of-mass-destruction-in-seconds-active.
I've baby-sat, nannied, and have always been around kids, and I can honestly say, Froggy is the equivalent of four children - four times the energy, four times the laughter, and four times the trouble.
I'm not complaining, because her mischievousness is entertaining and I'm sure a sign of a genius in the making, right? But by the end of the day, when I'm changing a poo diaper and she's flailing her toes in the air, twisting like a pretzel, while screaming "KITTY!!!" I dream of the docile child, the inquisitive and quiet child, gently pondering the days events. But no, she is a whirlwind until her head hits the pillow.
Today, while "trying" to get dressed (at 3pm no less), Froggy pulled all of the diapers out of the basket, took everything off the night stand, including a glass of water, pulled my shoes out of the closet, found a penny, put it in her mouth, showed it to me, put it back in her mouth (I took it out), scared the cat under the bed, opened her diaper cream and smeared it on her hands, and licked the floor. And you wonder why I'm still in my pajamas at 3pm?
She is one of a kind. I love this kid, but boy am I tired.
Thursday, February 01, 2007
I so need nights like tonight, when I'm filled with that beautiful thing called hope.
To read more about how the cure is possible, click here.
And don't forget to make a donation, because hope is only possible if we have your help.