the adventures of leelo and his potty-mouthed mom.
11.13.2006
My Principles vs. My Ass
The incomparable photographer (and Bad-Ass Dad) Barak Yedidia came by yesterday to take our family's annual holiday photo. Being nimble and deft, he managed to capture many excellent shots including the flighty and unpredictable youngest members of the Rosenberg quintet. My husband looks gorgeous, Iz and Leelo look typically button-cute, Mali looks as funny yet darling as she always does, and I look like a dumpling.
No fault of Barak's. Several years of inattention have left me rounder than I'd imagined. I don't consider this to be a moral failing, nor do I have a complex about being skinny, or being able to fit into my pre-Iz wardrobe. When I look at the models on magazine covers, I often think that it would be nice to look like them, in the same way that I think it would be nice if my children were put in statis to avoid puberty, or if I could ride a wooly mammoth. But I do like the profile of my neck and chin to resemble the legs of a right triangle more than its hypotenuse.
The solution is straight-forward: eat less and exercise more. Eating less is generally a matter of paying attention when food is around, and specifically of keeping the cocaine-laced brand of kettle corn out of the house. Simple, if not necessarily easy.
The exercise one is a doozy. I despise exercise for its own sake. I enjoy hiking and cycling, but the opportunities are limited for the former as I've still not yet found a toddler-carrying backpack that fits my torso, and the latter involves too much gear and too much training before I can even think about riding the hills around my house without walking half the time and exposing myself to the jeers of my neighbors (not that they would--I just don't want my friends to see me walking my bike).
But guess what is right around the corner, next to our brand new fancy local grocery store? A Curves. It is on my way to everywhere. And it is supposed to take only 30 minutes. It seems lame, but is also seems like a convenient opportunity to get healthier. I could always wear a mask so my friends don't see me geeking out on the equipment.
Workout anonymity is not my real concern with Curves, though. The real issue is that the company's founder is an ardent pro-lifer, and funder of such efforts. However the franchise owner is not. I see many of the most fiery local liberals I know exercising there. I will ask them how they came to decide to join, but in the mean time I am interested in hearing opinions from anyone else on this matter, or indeed from anyone who has any experience with Curves at all. Thanks.
Yesterday our sweet sweet Leelo turned six years old. Unimaginable.
We were to celebrate with cupcakes at school, then lunch at Sewerage, and then a park afternoon with a bunch of friends. But Leelo got barfy and so none of that happened. Instead Mali and I stayed home and played Doing Laundry while waiting on/for him to feel better and vomit less.
Today we partially made up for yesterday's lack of festivities by taking Leelo to dinner at Sewerage. We were joined by JP and family (including my Auntie Cranky, JP's MIL, who is visiting). There Leelo got to have a Lassi and all the naan bread he wanted, and we sang him Happy Birthday twice--which was insufficient according to the boy being feted but would have to do as the restaurant was very busy. But I love that Leelo loves for us to sing to him. Tomorrow at his for real birthday party we will all sing him Happy Birthday as many times as he wants.
I am so impressed by all the many ways he is becoming a big boy and taking care of himself. He can now get slip-on shoes on without help, and his putting on underwear-pants-shirt routine is a slick one.
His language is improving, too. Not so much in length of sentences; more in naturalistic voice tones and affects, and in language use. He has a nice, bright, LOUD, "Hi, Daddy!" (or whomever he's greeting) that was frequently absent during the whispery Adderupp stage. If you ask him what song he wants you to sing, he'll reply with the song title, e.g., "Frosty!" (AIIIGH) instead of saying, "I want you to go sing Frosty, Mommy." Also general requests are met with, "Yes, Mommy," instead of "I want to XX on the XX, Mommy."
His potty training has been going really well, too. He hadn't had an accident for weeks until today when I was sitting with Dr. S in her office telling her how great Leelo has been on the Fukalin XR, how one example was how he hadn't "...had an accident in...OH FUCK, he's peeing on your chair, I am so sorry!" No matter, I am still going to keep him in underwear from waking until 3:30 daily, and when we have breaks from routine such as spending all morning at Sage's son Big A's birthday party in a jumpy house, we will decrease his potty interval from 90 to 60 minutes (his accident happened at about 70 minutes).
I am zonked but the point is that Leelo is a sweet dear spaceman who is trying very hard to adapt to our Earthling ways but doesn't always understand why but even so is doing so very well. It has been 3+ years since we realized that our theoretical Leelo and our resident Leelo are two very different boys. But I no longer care. I love who he is, not who he could be. He demonstrates frequently that he loves us as much as we love him. We are all in very different places than we were at that time. I like this place better.
I will post something meaty this afternoon when I have more than five minutes to gather myself together. I don't know why, but for some reason I am crying at the least provocation, which then makes me furious, which then makes me depressed and uninterested in writing. But today the kids are off and as a result we've fifteen fewer errands, which should help.
I either need more coffee, or less of it.
And, Veterans, I am thinking of you in gratitude and awe.
Whoever could have possibly imagined that our boy would turn six years old?
Sweet snuggly boy, Happy birthday to you.
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Addenudum: Barfy Birthday to You! Seymour just called to say that he's coming back home from school with Leelo as our birthday boy just barfed all over his car.
Why should you vote? Because I will ban your IP address if you don't. Because you're an asshole if you don't.
KQED's Democracy project for kids has a simple write up on why voting is so important, summarized in a way that is not entirely inappropriate for many adults I know. Do not take your right for granted. Even if you disagree with me and my politics.
Here are some sites that helped me make decisions:
If you haven't had time to do the research, then all you have to do is go through my list of propositions below (read the links, too), and then vote Democrat on everything else.
Here is my opinion on the California State Propositions. (The titles and some of the links were swiped from Pete.)
1A NO Gasoline sales tax (Sales taxes go to the GENERAL fund. They shouldn't be earmarked. This is a bad bad precendent.)
1C YES Housing Bonds so people can actually live in California ($2.85 billion)
1D YES School & University Construction Bonds ($10 billion)
1E YES Flood Control Bonds ($4 billion) Prevention is expensive, but much less costly than disaster relief and reconstruction. Just ask the people of the Gulf Coast states.
83 NO Increasing Punishment of Sex Offenders. Even Orange County conservatives oppose this one.
84 YES Drinking Water & Flood Control Bonds ($5.4 billion) While I am conflicted because of some overlap with IE, 84 is backed by almost everyone I respect.
86 YES Cigarette Tax Hike to Fund Health Services. Sure.
87 YES Oil Production Tax to Fund Alternative Energy.
88 YES $50-per-Parcel Tax for K-12 Education. Undo some of the damage of Prop 13, with respect to education.
89 YES Public Financing of Political Campaigns. Duh. Not even bothering with a link.
90 NO Limiting Regulation of Private Property. Complicated, but basically Prop 90 "...will make land use regulation in California so expensive that it will simply cease." Please read the whole link.
And of course, if you live in this area, please vote for Iz's hero Ira Ruskin for state assembly. He is pro-environment, pro-choice, and seems to actually have principles.
It is time to start Iz's Star Trek indoctrination campaign. I figured the best way would be to start at the beginning--pre-Kirk, even--and then progress through ST and ST:TNG chronologically (as produced, not the actual chronology). Local video store, here we come, right?
No, not right. The local video store doesn't really stock videos anymore. They are a DVD emporium, and they refuse to stock the astronomically expensive original series DVD's in their fancy communicator-style box sets.
I guess I can see if the library has the videos. But this is irritating, this blatant milking of the fan base.
Well Now, Hit Me Over the Head With a Roll of Toilet Paper
Mali declined tonight's bath with an imperious, "Go pee pee and poo poo in the potty, Mama." (!?)
So Seymour tossed the potty seat downstairs, said insert was placed upon the throne, and Mali ascended. She didn't actually produce anything, but she sat there for a good long time chattering about her theoretical output and also demonstrating that she has observed exactly what TP is for and how it is used:
I must admit that I am not exactly thrilled about the thought of potty training her right now. Leelo is just getting into a good groove with his own toileting efforts (he spends 7:30 to 3:30 daily in underwear--weekends too, now--with no accidents for weeks), and I don't want to jinx him by having his little sister edge into the potty spotlight.
Not much we can do, though. If Mali wants to start using the toilet, it's best for us to go along with it. And I will just have to hope that this was a one-off effort, and that she'll forget about it for another six months. At which time she will train herself within 24 hours. That I can take.
I am starting to realize that Miss Mali has absolutely no idea how to put herself to sleep without the assistance of a car ride, stroller, boob, or utter exhaustion. She is only getting about 8 hours total (naps included) of sleep per day. This seems not only undesirable but unhealthy.
What we need to do is not just transition but totally retrain her. Anyone with experience in post-weaning sleep training of a strong-willed insomniac toddler who still sleeps in her parents' bed because there's no place else to put her--or indeed anyone with half an idea of what might help--please chime in. Please!
My parents are staying with us for the weekend, so they can pick up their scrumptious and wiggly and hopefully not too incontinent puppy.
My mom is outright astounded by Leelo's progress, and I have to admit that I'm seeing big changes, too. He is calling peoples' names to get their attention--spontaneously--and asking them to do things for him: "Grandma! Time to do the bears!" (translation: "Please sing that song about the bears for the sixteenth time.") He hung out with my mom for at least half an hour, singing songs with her, snuggling on her bed, and being calmly social. He also had an eye lock on her the entire time. I spent much of that same time misty-eyed.
Though such lovely, fluid, facilitating social behaviors are increasingly spontaneous, his achieving them was not. He and his team and (to a lesser but still very enthusiastic extent) his family have been working extra hard on this specific skills set, and that effort is paying off. But he could still use more practice.
To that effect, my dear darling Jersey Girl has suggested that we set up a Generalization for Friends and Family training party:
I've been thinking about Leelo and know he has a talented team that thinks of everything, but since I am 3000 miles away and have no clue about the real details of the daily goings on with the Rosenbergs I wanted to throw in my thoughts. Is it time for a pizza party (Sewerage/The Hole) with your closest adult friends only that's a training by Supervisor M on how to facilitate generalization.
You have such close friends in your life who spend (or at least I think they do) lots of time with Leelo who might need a "booster shot"/initial education on how to sustain a social interacion. It surprises me for example, that people don't know what to do next after Hello or a hug. Your friends love you and him and would love to know! And see him a lot.
Some of your friends might think they are bugging him by doing this, or stepping over the line, or feel uncomfortable with themselves for not knowing what to do etc ... But all that can be discussed and I'm guessing you already have. [Erm, no I don't think so.]
Perhaps a big part of the "training PARTY" with Supervisor M at this time is to get it on the minds of your friends as a priority. Back on the front burner. Like me taking my kid in for her 7 yr check up finally and now trying to get in 3 servings of calcium a day.
My logic here is a) go for the gusto NOW while he is in a spurt!, b) you are blessed, for obvious reasons, with lots of friends, and c) my heart says go Leelo, go. (okay no logic there -- all heart -- Izzy would agree)
All thoughts for Leelo's sake and the Rosenbergs. Again, from too many miles away. In other words, you may have all this covered. But I owe it to Leelo to let you know my thoughts. And in this case it's so easy. Love to you and yes, it's time to send you pics of my kids.
JG, I love you right back.
Supervisor M is on board. Locals, let me know if you'd be interested. Did you see where JG said that we had to buy you pizza?
Anyhow, I am with JG. Go, Leelo, go!
P.S. Leelo put on his own shirt today; it was his first time ever without me helping in some way. The t-shirt ended up backwards, but I'll be fucked if that is anywhere close to the point.
Reader, it is with great delight that I share the following news: in one scant week, my bosoms have already shrunk to the point where my bras resemble four-day-old latex party balloons. My back and my profile are ever so relieved. The girls themselves still seem more bouncy than droopy.
I have turned over my copy of Mothering magazine as I write this so that the nursing mom on the cover cannot reproach me--but FUCK YEAH, I am so happy to have weaned my toddler! Our bond of love, latching, and lactation was loverly while it was loverly, but after almost three years of sharing myself with Mali, I am grateful to be reclaiming my body. Here are some of the reasons why, feel free to add your own:
I can dye the holy hell out of my hair. (Not sure what colors are left though, as turquoise = Iz, purple = Badger, scarlet = SJ, and pink = Lea H.)
Batik! All those carcinogenic fabric dyes in the garage are just longing to come out and play.
Marijuana. Not that I would, right? But I could. Ahem.
Nipples. Repierce or not? I think my body looked glorious with gold rings hanging from the tips of the twins, but that was the body of almost ten years ago. Plus I would have to repossess the ring hanging from Badger's ear. Hmm. I'll revisit this in a few months.
Time to start swatting salmon from the nearest river with my bear friends, and sharing in their bounty. Fish fish fish, oysters oysters oysters, raw raw raw.
I can leave for as long as Seymour will hold the fort. Once he starts accruing vacation at his new job, that is.
Mali's beloved, nasty, tatty boppy can be disposed of. Eww.
My doctor will finally consent to do a cardio workup on me so I can gauge the extent to which I need to overhaul my feeding and exercise habits.
Nice bras! With fewer than four hooks in the back, with straps thinner than my wrist, without access panels.
Oh, wait, now I have to clean the cat's litter box again. Fuck. Well, the rest of it is all good.
A friend called this morning to let me know that his father had taken his own life, two days earlier. It was absolutely unexpected, and my friend is shattered. I am so glad he has a tightly-woven net of family and friends, and that they can all take turns catching each during this horrible time.
He called during our frantic before-school shuffle, so Iz got to witness my reaction (more stoic than it would have been had she not been there, but still dramatic). I told her only that our friend's father had died quite suddenly, and that the whole family was in shock. I did not give her any additional details. I normally try to be honest with my kids, but I think that death is terrible enough without exposing them to suicide's additional layer of inexplicable sorrow. In this case, I am going to keep them under my wing.
Please witness that I got all four kids and myself costumed, made up, and out the door for Halloween. Almost in time*.
Many thanks to Ep, Clyde, Badger, Rook, Minnie, Jo, and Manny and of course Seymour for helping with Mali and Leelo once we arrived at Ep's house for the festivities.
All the kids looked great! However I didn't have the energy to take pictures once we left our house. Hopefully Badger or Jo or Ep will post some soon.
I am going to go lie down now. Oh, wait, the architects will be here in ten minutes to determine my fate, or at least the color scheme and materials amongst which I will live out my days...
*This includes tidying the entire house by 4:30 (a frantic affair, no matter how weekly); cleaning up Leelo's potty accident of shit-in-the-hair proportions by 4:45; getting Leelo's dinner together since he wouldn't be able to eat anything at Ep's by 5:00; being really rude to my Mom, Signora Blog, and Armada, all of whom called to discuss important matters by 5:15; finishing getting the kids and myself ready by 5:30; finally picking up the pizzas I was supposed to retrieve half an hour earlier by 5:45, and getting to Ep's 30 minutes later than the pizza-craving hordes had been told to expect me--by 6:00.
