playground some color replacement soy bean oil 1 ice ice baby

Friday, February 24, 2006

Orifice Boy

Orifice boy does it again. He put a teeny, tiny something shiny in his ear deep enough to require close inspection with mega flashlight, deep enough and strange enough to get a second opinion before running off to the doctor. Big enough to cause pain in a little ear prompting comments from orifice boy such as, "I put a bead (or a bean) in my ear and it hurts." But too small and deeply lodged for fishing out with tweezers by me without possible damage of ear canal and bones that live there. Worry inducing enough to require removal of offending piece by Dr. Tom who at first thought it was a lovely mountain of ear wax, but with probing discovered this--a small, gold rolled up ball of foil, probably from a Hershey's kiss, perhaps on Valentine's Day or shortly thereafter, tossed somehow, somewhere for discovery (he says in the sand table) by little orifice boy who then put it in his ear, taking years of life from his mother and adding another incident to his putting-small-things-in-small-holes repertoire that includes but is not limited to this and this and this.

Thursday, February 23, 2006

Question and Answer of the Day

Aidan's get-me-thinking question of the day as we exited the shower, "Who was the first person in the world?" But today I'm undaunted because I know that she is going to get a femininist's spin on Adam an Eve. And evolution. I'm down (or up, depending on interpretation) with evolution. Water creatures growing legs, lungs, walking on land make me giddy.

The baby making question is coming any day now. I can feel it. And I'm prepared. So prepared with answers that I'm ready to go onto Sesame Street with a new segment. There's letter of the day and number of the day and abstract/controversial question and answer of the day. Our new act will be just the thing for millions of viewers.

Half Way

While snapping a few photos of the belly at twenty weeks, A. strolled into the room where I stood in front of her mirror. She looked at me, giggled and said, "What are you doing?" "Taking pictures of the belly," I said. She then asked if she could be in the photo so I asked her to put her hand on my belly. She kept it there only long enough for me to catch this. Then skipping out of the room and chatting to herself, she was gone.

20 weeks today

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

Un-ode

Balloon.
Wherever I go
there you are.

wherever I go there you are

and there

everywhere

there you are

For Now

A few days ago A. and I went grocery shopping. Not a minute into the ride she casually asked, "How did God get created?" Still reeling a bit from her recent car ride question, "How did the world get made?" (see lost post) and an overwhelming desire to make up a creation myth of my own using characters from her favorite fairy realm book series and Harry Potter, I didn't know what to say. I asked her if it would be all right for me to think about the answer for a few minutes. She said, "fine." After about a minute of silence she asked, "What do you have to think about?" at which point I decided I'd better come up with something.

I've gone the route of "I don't know" or "Some people believe.." or "Some things can't be explained..." or "Not everyone believes in God..." before with Aidan and she has seemed receptive, understanding of the ambiguity. But I'm the one scarred by these answers. They make me feel incredibly guilty, like why would a parent tell her kid that God might not exist when really, in so many ways, it is easy and comforting to believe in God. Religion can give her answers that I can't. It can provide her a kind of comfort that I can't. This I can admit, though I find religion, in general, stifling and narrowing and often existing far from the caring, giving, loving principles that are preached.

Yes, these discussions with Aidan are short and I realize that it would be difficult for me to mess up her life completely in the space of a few minutes. But it's not the few minutes that I'm worried about. It's the few minutes plus the few minutes plus another few minutes over time until she's a grown woman and beyond that worry me. My child is trying to make sense of her world, this world, and she's looking to me for answers. When I ask her why she wants to know about something she'll confidently answer, "I just look around and see things and then I ask questions about what I see." It's simple for her. She sees things and wants answers. So then why do I have to go and complicate it all?

The truth--I don't know whether or not I believe in God. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don't--depends on the day. And I definitely don't believe in the traditionally bearded, robed white guy. Maybe God's a woman or a fairy or a unicorn or a dementor or Darth Vader. Maybe God's a light saber or a moon or purple or red. Maybe God is the geranium growing in my kitchen window or the ice crystals that form on the inside of our windows in winter. Maybe God manifests him or herself in the form of a toy backhoe being played with by a little boy or yarn being knitted into a sweater. Maybe God is Hello Kitty.

Another truth--I'm afraid to tell my children that I don't know or that I don't believe. I love these little creatures so much that it scares me, my fierce desire for them to be warm, comfortable, loved, safe, a feeling that keeps me awake at night. So if they want to believe in God in the very traditional or nontraditional sense, who I am to take this away from them, to upset the delicate balance and equilibrium of their lives? Maybe they'll need religion in a way that I don't. Maybe they'll be people needing answers like I do not. They are extensions of Tad and me. But they are not copies of us and I am constantly being reminded of this. They will make their own decisions--and they may choose differently from the ways we have. And this has to be o.k.--in the simplest sense of what o.k. is.

I did answer Aidan's question, if briefly. We talked about God for at least five minutes. I told her that some people believe in him or her and that some people don't. She immediately responded by saying, "Mom. Silly. God is a boy. Don't you know?" To which I said, "Well....God might be a girl. Why do you think he's a boy?" "Because I've seen pictures of him in a book." And then, with slight hesitation, "But I don't like the way the author drew him. I'd make him with curly hair and wings and lots of colors and something around his head. I think he's just like a fairy but a little more different. And he lives in the sky where he can fly around all of the time, like Santa Claus."

Maybe God is a fairy princess Santa Claus, flying around granting wishes, making magic, giving a Few gifts. And I'm o.k. with this. My child is o.k. with this. We're both o.k. with this. For now.

Friday, February 17, 2006

"Our Endless Numbered Days"

I get into moods--the world is changing and I am standing here kinds of moods--I want to use dashes (perhaps incorrectly) kinds of moods. Moods that make me want to do something, say something. Say anything. These moods often, but not always, coincide with a newly discovered music love, the most recent being Iron & Wine, more specifically Sam Beam's luscious, dreamy, a bit maudlin at times, pangy, stingy (think bee, not scanty) and sensual lyrics. As I prepared A's lunch this morning, in the kitchen staring into Vanana yogurt (exactly what you think it is), creamy and yellow as pale paint, the color in the new bathroom that we painted over, exchanging pale for vibrant, I poured and stared and stirred out subtle lumps and bumps and thought about people and babies and kids, listening. "Passing Afternoon" from the album Our Endless Numbered Days (thank you Donnie and James and the kid who burned Ben An Espanola Christmas Miracle/Bong Rips for Jesus a couple of years ago for introducing me to the music) came on. There's something about reference to "passing afternoon, summer, warm, open window, wooden spoons, children stir, Bougainvillea blooms, endless numbered, hymns, chosen to believe, autumn blew the quilt, misplaced seeds, sailing ships that pass all our bodies in the grass, hand remembering hers, secrets still, his tattered clothes, baby sleeps in all our bones, scared"...o.k the entire song--that gets me. And if I were a computer wiz I'd post a link here so that you would be able to hear the song. Or if I sang, I'd record myself singing and post it here. I'll do neither, but copy and paste lyrics because this is something that I know how to do.

Happy Friday to you. And if you think Iron and Wine or these lyrics suck, please don't tell me, at least not today. Thank you. Thank you.

Passing Afternoon, Iron & Wine

There are times that walk from you like some passing afternoon
Summer warmed the open window of her honeymoon
And she chose a yard to burn but the ground remembers her
Wooden spoons, her children stir her Bougainvillea blooms

There are things that drift away like our endless, numbered days
Autumn blew the quilt right off the perfect bed she made
And she's chosen to believe in the hymns her mother sings
Sunday pulls its children from the piles of fallen leaves

There are sailing ships that pass all our bodies in the grass
Springtime calls her children 'till she let's them go at last
And she's chosen where to be, though she's lost her wedding ring
Somewhere near her misplaced jar of Bougainvillea seeds

There are things we can't recall, blind as night that finds us all
Winter tucks her children in, her fragile china dolls
But my hands remember hers, rolling 'round the shaded ferns
Naked arms, her secrets still like songs I'd never learned

There are names across the sea, only now I do believe
Sometimes, with the windows closed, she'll sit and think of me
But she'll mend his tattered clothes and they'll kiss as if they know
A baby sleeps in all our bones, so scared to be alone

Tuesday, February 14, 2006

What's your compatibility baby?

About a week ago I was dining at the in-laws, sitting and enjoying an after-dinner chat with assorted folk when we got on the subject of astrology. Seems that Kaia had printed out some descriptions of certain signs so as to see who was what and why and laugh a little over the silliness of some of the descriptions, "The Cancerian grubbing about in the attic." Is grubbing about at all like mucking about? As we continued our conversation we found a need to read the printed words aloud, admire the admirable traits of each sign and laugh some at the weaknesses of each sign, those of Leo, my sign, being the most distasteful. "Unbearably egotistic, overbearing, bossy, proud, intolerant."

This morning when Cole and I woke up at four I started thinking about last week's conversation, giving special attentions of course to how to reduce the undesirable personality traits of the Leo personality. I got out of bed, went to the computer and tried to find the website from which Kaia had printed, if only to argue with the author of the description that Leos are not intolerant. Hah. Take this. And take that. I found, instead, something much more entertaining for a sleepless person with too much time for Googling and such--the NEW compatibility determiner called Astro Match. It works like this: find your sign, then find the sign of the person you are married to or in a relationship with or want to be in a relationship with. Click on 'click to astro match!' (I did not invent the exclamation mark) and voila, your compatibility with said partner will be discussed. For example, Tad is a Pisces and my astro match begins like this, "You'll find yourself drawn to the sexy, yet strangely vulnerable fishy folk." It goes on to say, "Pisces is very inventive and compliant in the boudoir, which is exciting at first but such exotic behavior can become a little distasteful (in your royal opinion) if taken too far...Then....Your roar will thrill the Fish, but when he or she rolls over into a submissive pose, your inclination may soon be to snarl and slash the jugular." And then, as if I didn't see this coming, "This is not an easy match. You'll need to compromise more than you are used to (Why didn't someone tell me sooner than this?). And...it will take very strong compatibilities from Moon and other factors to keep you in this nest for long." Thank heavens for the moon because I have been in this 'nest' a while and I plan to be so for even longer and really--what did people do before the Astro planner?

Of course there are signs that are supposedly more compatible than others--Aries, Sagittarius, Gemini, Libra and Aquarius are winners with Leo--probably signs having something to do with egocentricity, I'm guessing. So, having more time to spare, I delve into the realm of what could have been. According to Astro Match, Leo and Aries are "a truly glorious match....Perfect." Perfect? I'm skeptical here. What kind of Astro Planner is this? One I found while Googling at 5 a.m.?

Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Nearly nothing is perfect. Not this relationship. Not that one. Not any of it. Except love. Love in its barest form is perfect, not true, perhaps elusive and mystical, but perfect, my Valentine's Day message to you.

But you shouldn't trust me on this one. I am a Leo and apt to be relating this information for my own gain. For untainted information about your sign and your compatibility baby, go here .

Love *Duz

Love is
as love does
achy as morning
come round to this
pregnant pause
where teeth
and memory
printless
press full moon light
into what
ought to be

*as cute as it might be, 'does' does not mean female deer--'does' is duz, however you want to interpret

Saturday, February 11, 2006

Kids

"This is pink neck. Black beak is her middle name. And pink feather is her nickname."



Running with pink neck

Thursday, February 09, 2006

So I posted to this blog a few days ago. About questions about how the world got made. Bearded white guy in heaven vs. Big Bang. And when I published a post this morning it disappeared. Gone. Poof. Nothing. Can't find it anywhere. Anybody know how to find it?

Because I like series and my daughter and hello kitty

The sunglasses and the t-shirt are a gift from Grandma and Grandpa. The silly, spunky girlness, well, that's Aidan--with maybe a tiny bit of influence from Hello Kitty.

A and the kitty series

not ready

more

thinking

reflection

her idea

with light

glitter kitty

scrunch

end of series

Friday, February 03, 2006

Thursday, February 02, 2006

Some Thing

Something was
is something
nothing now
but then
I thought
it was.