A Thousand Words Plus A Few More

I didn’t get a chance to tell him yesterday what a neat kid he is, how much I love having him around, how much he thrills me with his genius and melts me with his smile. Birthdays are busy days and he was immersed in water, sand, cake, the laughter and attention of his family. So I took him aside in the quiet first moments of this morning, the day after, and whispered it in his ear. I didn’t bore him with the details. Those are for me to hold close, to flip through like index cards as I marvel at all he has done, all he has become since that day two years ago, since that moment two days plus nine months ago. I love you, I said and he squirmed and ran away. As it should be.

King of the Two Year Olds
more photos at flickr

Posted in trombone | 1 Comment

Not for the Weak

Here’s a word not to google: mucus.

I know, most thinking people wouldn’t. But here I am, I have no idea how many weeks now since I first got sick – I mean I think I’ve been sick since Fresco was born so that’s 10 weeks good god and yes there were a couple of weeks in there where I wasn’t sick I’m being a drama queen – and three days after we decided I definitely have a sinus infection and now my snot is bright orange. Bright orange, like a creamsicle. And my cheek hurts again.

I went to the walk-in clinic on Saturday morning and boy wasn’t that a treat on a long weekend with only one doctor on duty and she said I looked fine but gave me a prescription for antibiotics in case it got worse. So now I’m wondering – is it worse? I still feel like crap. I am still blowing my nose all day. The headache comes and goes but is manageable as long as I keep taking ibuprofen. I have not had a recurrence of the sudden, crippling headache that struck me down at approximately 5 pm on Friday and left me writhing until shortly after midnight (combined with the blood simultaneously oozing from my right nostril, this was my impetus to go to Walk-in Clinic Hell and no I did not have my beer on Friday night even though SA brought me some dammit.) Now the snot is bright orange; does that mean I’m getting better or am 15 minutes away from meningitis? Should I fill the prescription because tomorrow is a holiday. Should I wait because if I fill it I’m sure to get better. Should I blow up balloons for Trombone’s birthday party tomorrow (oh yes, or he will kill me with his toddler rage).

I think I am going to wait. I’m pretty sure this is a viral infection, not bacterial – came right after a cold, no fever, no “sudden onset” well except for the headache. I should say, I was pretty sure, until the orange snot came long. It just kind of sings “bac-ter-iaaaaaaa!” to me, you know? Like, to the tune of Age of Aquarius.

Anyway, if you got here by googling snot + orange + sinus, come back in a couple of days and see what shakes down.

The exciting news is that I have a sinus infection at almost the same time as dooce! Sinus sisters! At least I won’t get 500 + comments on this post, half of which telling me how to live my life. Poor dooce.

Oh hey guess who turns two years old tomorrow. We went to the dollar store today for party hats and Trombone informed everyone within several feet that it’s his birthday tomorrow AND Canada day and he gets cake and oh did he mention the cake and now there are winnie the pooh party hats too OMG I’mnotquitetwoyearsoldICan’thandlethismuchwheeeeee!

Yeah, he’s excited. It’s infectious excitement though. Like the one in my sinuses but with cake.

Um. I’d better get started on those balloons.

Posted in more about me!, trombone | 13 Comments

Summer in the Suburbs

I was totally going to write, “Ha ha I am on my porch blogging wirelessly, SUCKAS” and then of course I got out there and lost the signal so now I’m back inside.

While I was on my porch, though, I heard someone calling his son, “Griffin…where’s Griffin…” and remembered that this morning at a park quite a way from here I saw another little boy named Griffin and I don’t think I could name a kid Griffin any more than I could name one Minotaur. Wouldn’t you be seeing the thing every time you looked at the kid? Griffins are kind of cool but in my mind they are totally associated with this and I can’t put a human face to the word at all.

It’s like every time I look at Trombone I think of marching bands.

(ba-dum-dum)

I wish I had a beer. It is finally summery today; sweaty, hot beer weather. Tomorrow I will have a beer. And a shower. Today I realized I could just wipe under my arms with baby wipes and then apply more pit-stick and that’s basically as good as a shower. Right?

Hey where’d you all go?

That’s pretty much it. I was just going to sit outside and be inspired by nature, do some sweet natureblogging. But since I can’t, I’m struck by how very little I have to say. Here’s two years ago today for your reading pleasure. Apparently The Mizzle (read The World) has been chock full of nuts for quite some time.

Posted in bloggity!, everything | 4 Comments

Uptown / Summer in the City

New Westminster has a downtown. It’s the area around Columbia Street, by the riverside. It’s all old-style, narrow streets (possibly even cobbled? anyone?) and alleys and downtown stuff like poor people, drug addicts, a skytrain station (two, actually) and now, revitalization and condos!

New Westminster also has an uptown. Proceed directly west at a 90 degree angle from downtown for 10 blocks or so and you are uptown. The corner of 6th Ave. and 6th St. is the epicentre of uptown. I have spoken of this corner before. We live 10 minutes by foot away, so we do most of our shopping here. Yes, I buy all my clothes at the mall, at “Sweater Collection.” Yes.

Here’s what uptown looks like on a weekday morning:

– 60% older people using walkers / canes / motorized wheelchairs
– 30% women with strollers
– 4% middle-aged people in suits
– 5% blue collar people heading to or from the Tim Hortons at the corner
– 1% hipster ( p-man?)

The library is uptown. The “good” Safeway is uptown. The London Drugs, the coffee shop I like, the coffee beans we like, the cat food we need to control our cat’s bladder crystals; all of these things are uptown. So today I journeyed there, buggy full of toddler and wee child strapped to my chest. It was a trip I intended to make yesterday but Trombone refused to leave the house, preferring instead to make endless sand castle cakes out of his “sand dirt” on our porch.

(Him: Here Mommy, here. Some sand castle cake! Chocolate!
Me: Mmmm…
Him: Don’t eat it! It’s PRETENDING!
Me: Oh, OK, thanks for reminding me
Him: Nom nom nom
Me: So if it’s pretend cake, why are YOU eating it?
Him: I. don’t. know.)

We passed an old woman with a walker. She said You’ve got your hands full! I said yes. Yes I do. We passed a couple of hairy dudes with Tim Hortons coffee. They said, You’re working hard! I said yes. Yes I am. We passed a hipster. He didn’t look at us.

We passed another old lady, balancing several potted plants on top of her grocery cart. She said, You’ve got your hands full!
I said, yes.
I thought, You don’t know the fucking half of it.

We stood at the corner waiting for the light to change. A not-terribly-old lady with a walker stopped in front of me.

You’ve got your hands full!
Yes, ha ha, I sure do.
Is the little one another boy?
Yes, mm hm, 2 months old now.

She looked at me very intently. Looked at Trombone.

Are you going to try again?
No, that’s it for us.

She shook her head. Looked at Trombone again. He stared back at her.

You don’t want to try for your girl?
No. Nope. I like boys. I love my boys. Boys are great. Anyway, it takes both kinds, right?

She kept scrutinizing me. Shook her head again. Walked away.

She seemed – mad at me. Or disappointed. I’m not even related to this woman! I’ve never seen her before in my life!

So:

1. I have heard this before: “your” girl. Like – I ordered a girl three years ago and she’s still not here? Oh and she has green eyes and red hair so don’t try sending me some random “girl” from the “girl warehouse” because I know which girl is MY girl.

I’ll know when I have her because then, only then, will I have sunshine on a cloudy day.

2. Obviously – is it your business? I mean, I will make conversation while I wait for the light to change with just about anybody but do you realize you are asking me very personal questions? Let’s talk about what a cold June it’s been, shall we? Tut, tut, looks like rain.

3. How about this, if you’re stuck for something to say (even though you started this conversation): “Another boy! Lucky you!” or simply, “Congratulations!” or what the woman I saw a few blocks later said, “Brothers! Wonderful!”

See how easy?

I’ve heard tell of people complaining that they have two girls, intend no more children and always get the “try for a boy” thing. I’ve seen it attributed to sexism. But obviously not, obviously it’s just that The World wants everyone to a) have more than one child and b) have one of each sex because

because why?

Seriously, does anyone know why? Is it from an in-breeding perspective? If we were the last family on earth and it was up to us to re-populate, then yes, it’s a bit icky, but I’d want as many kids as I could make and I’d want some of each kind so they could

…okay, yes, ew. But you see what I’m saying? Why does it matter?

Maybe that particular woman is a boy-hater. But other people have said this to me. They can’t all be boy-haters and furthermore I know if I had two girls they’d ask if I was trying for “my boy.” My former boss, when I ran into him a few months ago, referred to one boy / one girl as “the millionaire’s family.”

Anyway if I had a girl now, she’d be doomed to be the princess of the family so it’s just as well.

And…then we went to the “dark park” for 30 seconds before it began to piss rain and then home, to Casa del Penis, to serve the rest of our girl-free sentence. (And in case you were wondering, no, I’m not a girl anymore. I’m a mother.)

Posted in new westminster, outside, two! children! | 7 Comments

Moments – June 24, 2008

I am living in the moment.

How very peace & love of me, no? Live for the now, appreciate each second? Nah. I am living in the moment because I can’t remember the past and because I have no idea what the future brings.

The not remembering the past thing is new. I am still pretty good about things that happened 5 years ago. But last week? Yesterday? Gone like so much dandelion fuzz.

Of course no one has ever had any idea what the future brings. But at my old job, I could be pretty sure. Now, with three personalities at play every day, truly the world is a giant magic 8 ball that gets shaken while I’m sleeping. Sometimes I’m sleeping till 6. Sometimes I’m sleeping till 7. Sometimes I don’t remember what time it was when I got up by the time I’m downstairs having my coffee. Sometimes I’m convinced I didn’t actually sleep at all, not since last week, or was it 5 years ago.

You take my point.

This morning we went to the nearby park where the petting farm is. We call this the Animal Park. In a neighbourhood with many parks we have had to get creative about which park we mean when we take Trombone out. This park also has a water park, a big playground and a lot of green space. (Consequently, about two weeks ago, this park started getting very busy with groups of children. Preschool picnics, school field trips, (“we’re out of curriculum let’s go to the park!”) daycare expeditions, plus all the neighbourhood moms / dads and kids; 10:30 am is like the Fall of Saigon in this park. Choppers and everything. I don’t know why I mention this – maybe it’s a PSA. Queen’s Park. Don’t Go There These Days.)

Trombone likes the Animal Park. He likes two things best about the Animal Park: the chain that is strung between wooden posts within the petting farm, specifically, where the chain overlaps and he has decided it is a gate that needs fixing, and the donation box, which is shaped like a barn and has two very fascinating buckles on it. He really couldn’t care less most days about the actual animals or the park itself.

Today, two notable moments from the park expedition.

We were leaving and passed a man and his two young charges on a bench. They were opening a tub of some kind of candy. Trombone stopped right in front of them and stared. The man offered him a candy and I said it was OK and

Mommy! That man hadda chocolate! And he give one to me! Mommy! chocolate! That man a nice man! That man hadda chocolate! I want another one!

all the way home.

This moment will live on forever and I fear I will now have to go to this park every day because it’s the one with the donation box that looks like a barn AND the chocolate. (Don’t worry, I emphasized that we don’t take candy from strangers unless the strangers have really good chocolate.)

Earlier we had been inside the part of the petting farm where they keep the rabbits. The rabbits are, well, breeding like rabbits these days. Every time we go there’s a new litter of rabbits. I don’t know what they do with them all but it seems kind of irresponsible. Maybe they donate them to restaurants.

There’s a big cage with a mother rabbit and her litter of 17,000 kits. A human mother is standing next to me with her daughter, a girl of about 4, she is enamoured of these baby bunnies. Trombone is looking but not terribly interested. Fresco sleeps against my chest. The mother bunny hops through a little doorway into an adjoining cage.

Mommy, she’s leaving! says the little girl.
Mmm hmm, says mom.
Why is she leaving? says the girl.
I guess she wants some time alone, says mom.
Is she going to pee? says the girl.

The mom looks at me. I smile.

All mommies gotta pee, I say to the girl.
My mommy poops, too, she says.
My mommy poops, too, adds Trombone.

And yet, this other pooping mommy and I didn’t exchange phone numbers. I don’t get it. We had so much in common.

***********************************

And a moment from Fresco’s morning. He nestled against my chest, his head under my chin, and I patted his back softly to get out the last of the burps. He sighed. He wiggled his bum a bit and scrunched his legs up tighter, curling into a pillbug ball in my arms. He brought his left hand, that’s the sucking one, up to his mouth and let the fist rest against his lips. Just in case.

soft hair, like duckling down
beneath my chin
warm heart beating
against my own
slow sway to sleep
slow sway to sleep

a quiet pause

your weight heavy in my arms
heavy like a bag of gold.

Posted in everything, Fresco, new westminster, outside, trombone | 3 Comments