Monday, July 24, 2006

sorry kid...all you get is me.

I was a bit of a failure this morning. I held Ben's hand as he walked down the front steps to our house, and I watched his foot loop underneath a wire. I thought, "He's going to trip on that wire," but for some reason my brain would not connect with my body, and I couldn't move fast enough, even though he was holding my hand. His fingers slipped out of mine, and he tripped on the wire, falling flat onto his nose. It ended with his forehead thunking on the cement walkway. And then he screamed. And little spots of blood rose to the surface of his forehead, like liquid soaking through cloth. And his nose turned bright red.

I dropped everything (we were on our way to daycare) and hugged him and rushed him inside, and got his Winnie the Pooh ice pack (a chilled, decapitated Winnie head). I put on his Elmo and pressed the pack to his head while he swatted it away, and he curled up next to me while I examined his pupils and made sure he wasn't getting sleepy.

In actuality, he didn't fall that far. But God it felt like it. It was the first time he'd drawn blood on my watch, and I felt terrible.

After about thirty minutes of observing him, I decided he was okay to bring to daycare, so we brought him. On my way home, a woman in a "non-emergency medical transportation" van jumped in front of me into my lane with no signal, almost hitting me. And then she slowed down. Now this is where my flaws come into play yet again. I tried to get around her because she was going so slow, so when the lanes opened up from two to three, I attempted to get into the third lane. She cut me off again. So I got in the 2nd lane. She sped up, so I wouldn't get past her. I was pissed. I flipped her off. I know I shouldn't do this, but I did. As I looked in my rearview mirror, I realized that this woman was hardcore. She was yelling at me and shaking her fist like, "Uh-uh, bitch, I'm gonna drag you out by your hair and kick your ass." Since she appeared to be the sort of woman who might just happen to have a pair of brass knuckles in the pocket of her white medical uniform, I was just trying to get away from her at this point, and she was trying to get next to me and yell at me. Finally, I exited the freeway, and (lucky me!) she was going my way. As she passed me, she veered into my lane as though she were going to hit me, and finally she sped away.

Meanwhile, I noted the name of her company and the number on her van.

I called her company and complained, but when I hung up, I didn't feel much better. (Although I did feel a little better.) I realized that even though my temper is better than it used to be, it is still really bad. The three of you that read this probably already know I'm pregnant again. What if I got into an accident? I wouldn't forgive myself.

It would be better if once you had a child, your flaws melted away and you became a better person. All Ben got was me, this slow-moving, road-raging nutcase. I'm just going to try to be better next time.

Thursday, July 20, 2006


Last year, when Ben was about 10 months old, I took him to the park and pushed him in the swing. Another boy--a toddler--approached, and his mother lifted him up and put him in the swing next to Benjamin. She asked me how old Ben was, and I told her. I asked her how old her baby was and she told me 22 months. Wait until he starts talking, she told me. It's the best.

Ben's 21 months old now. I'm waiting.

Friday, July 14, 2006

Sunday, July 09, 2006

I just saw An Inconvenient Truth, a film that every person alive is morally obligated to watch and respond to. The U.S. creates the most greenhouse gases, but (surprise!) we have the least efficient vehicles in the developed world. The changes we need to make a major impact aren't that overwhelming. Look at these stats:

* If we raise fuel efficiency standards in American cars by one mile per gallon, in one year, we would save twice the amount of oil that could be obtained from the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge
* Raising it by 2.7 mpg would save enough to eliminate all the oil imports from Iraq and Kuwait combined
* Raising it by 7.6 mpg would save enough to eliminate 100% of our gulf oil imports into this country
Source: Environmental Attorney Robert F. Kennedy Jr.

We can all do small things in our homes and our daily lives to make changes, but we have to convince the slow-moving a-holes in Congress and the White House to want to change too.

We are taught to feel stupid and embarrassed and naive for wanting to make a difference, but taking action on this issue is an actual life/death situation, and by changing into progressive thinkers, we will meet ALL of our goals. This isn't about being a Democrat or liberal; it's about being an ethical person. You'd think these Jesus-freak Republicans would care about that sort of thing.

Friday, July 07, 2006

did you know...

that you can buy a casket at Costco? I wonder if you can get an extra wide one to fit the huge dead ass you grew from eating Cheetos in bulk...
Costco Caskets

Wednesday, July 05, 2006


We took you to the audiologist today. She said you are "stubborn," "intense," and can hear just fine. No kidding. On to the speech pathologist, my friend!


We took you to the audiologist today. She said you are "stubborn," "intense," and can hear just fine. No kidding. On to the speech pathologist, my friend!

Monday, July 03, 2006

mommy's got too much time on her hands...

the sandal you put on by yourself

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ignoring elmo

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two firsts

Benjamin put his sandal on by himself today. I was checking my email, and he quietly stepped into his playroom. He was very quiet for a minute or so, and then he returned triumphantly wearing one sandal! I cheered for him and he looked please with himself, but in a very cool, collected way. I put his other sandal on and we went out back for a while. The heat has been suffocating so far, but at least it was kind of cloudy today, so it was manageable. I had a surprise for Ben--an box of 20 brand new Crayola sidewalk chalks in all different colors, sharpened into a point on one end so that they looked like crayons.

He couldn't wait for me to unwrap them. He frantically grabbed them from me as soon as they were unwrapped, until he had nearly ten thick pieces of chalk in his hand, balancing precariously. But no, he wanted more. He wanted it all! So I kept unwrapping them, and he kept reaching for them, and then he started dropping a few on the ground. And crying. And tripping on the ones he had already dropped. And I patted him on the back and told him it was okay if he couldn't carry 20 gigantic peices of chalk at one time. He was devastated for a second, but then he plopped down and began drawing on the patio, the stepping stones, the walkway to the garage, and every inch of rock within his ability. By the time he was finished, he was dirty and colorful, so it was time for a bath. I wrenched the chalk from his fingers and put it away, and he screamed as though I had punched him. Once the water was running and he had his foam letters, however, he forgot all about his chalk.

Ben is notorious for pooping in the bathtub, so I wanted to give him a quick dip, but just as I was about to take him out of the bath, he began doing his second first: washing himself. He grabbed the baby wash from the side of the tub and instead of trying to lick it, he pretended like he was squirting the soap onto his hands and then he washed himself--his legs, his arms, and his chest. He looked up at me excitedly, and this is what I told him: You are well on your way to manhood now, Benjamin Bartlett. Men know how to wear sandals and give themselves baths.