Action Links

Hey, locals! State Assembly candidate Ira Ruskin has a blog. Please check it out.

Also, you must buy Barak's beautiful book. All proceeds are going to the cause of kicking Bush the fuck out of the office he usurped:



What Barak has to say about it:

I am now offering the images from my Naked Truths series in book form. In addition to the images, essays by some of the models and myself will be included in the book. All proceeds will be split evenly between moveon.org and America Coming Together, two organizations I feel are doing valuable work towards removing George Bush from the oval office.

EEG

Leelo had an EEG at Stanffford this morning.

We had to keep him up until midnight last night and then wake him back up at 5 A.M. this morning, so he would be properly sleep-deprived for his 8:30 A.M. appointment. All this because they needed him to fall asleep during the procedure.

This is what he looked like during the exam:



They had to swaddle him in sheets so that they could glue all the wee electrodes to his scalp and chest. Then they had to secure all the electrodes in place with a gauze wrap that left only his face showing. Oh yeah, he just loved it.

The technician assured me that she was used to screaming, non-compliant children, but I wasn't really worried about her, nice as she was. No, I was sick with sorrow over not being able to communicate to Leelo why we were torturing him for an hour. He was absolutely terrified, and sobbed for 30 minutes straight until my 50 refrains of Good Night finally got him to zonk out.

Then she woke him up by flashing bright epilepsy-inducing lights into his eyes. Poor little bit.

Thankfully we've a two-week buffer before his MRI. I'm guessing they'll have to sedate him for that one: his final neurology test. Afterwards, the doctor is supposed to tell us what the combined MRI, EEG, metabolism, and amino acids tests have revealed--if anything.

Therapist L is here now, and is trying valiantly to work with our groggy boy. I am going to take a five minute nap before retrieving Iz from school, and then picking up Danielle for the afternoon facilitated play group.

What Barak Said, But He Doesn't Have Permalinks and Jo Does

Local residents read this now.

Two Exciting Weekends

TLF and I have some great plans for this weekend. Or rather, I have some great plans and hope she's up for them.

Tomorrow:

-The cafe is closed, so we will hit the Suraaaj lunch buffet instead. I've been to visit her in Phx three times, and we've yet to find comparable Indian food. Anyone who wants to join us is welcome.

-Afternoon of slothfulness. Perhaps a walk up to the caves.

-Dinner at Godfather M's faboo restaurant in The City. Sans kiddies.

Sunday:

-Up Pasta Bowl. Go to excellent, wacky farmer's market. Stuff kids with the best ice cream anywhere. Let them go nutty at the huge crazy playground. Deal with my super-strong craving for soft polenta with pesto, goat cheese, and caramelized red onions.

-Go on lovely afternoon drive from Pasta Bowl to excellent beach which is supposed to finally have good weather this weekend. Avoid sharks. Have dinner at beachside restaurant.

Monday: Lounge and recuperate, then put her on a plane for home.

I'm also getting excited about the next weekend--our annual foray into hedonism and self-indulgence--even though we don't leave for eight days. Ep! Jo! Ms. Jane! Alas, no JP or Badger, even though I had carefully arranged things so that the latter playmate could share my room and I'd finally get to tie her to her bed...to stop her from smacking me because of my damn loud pregnant snoring.

It will be fun nonetheless. We will do whatever we like! Browse bookstores! Go to the beach! Linger over coffee, having conversations that last longer than five minutes! And everyone else can tie on as many as they'd like, because I can't.

Um, yes, that is my definition of hedonism. Sad, eh?

Fricking Frack

Apparently each of my posts has a unique URL--but I've no idea how to transform those addresses into permalinks.

However, as a cheapass I still prefer free though cantankerous Blogger to its competitors. Even though it hates Mozilla/Firefox.

More Barfing!

Poor Iz, she's only had some soda and a bite of croissant today, and it all came right back up. I have to applaud her for using DivaLea's technique of running for the non-carpeted floor. We will concentrate on the tiny sips of water for now.

Seymour and I are both zonked from lack-of-sleep. He says it's good prep for returning to newborn land.

I am more worried about exhaustion fucking up his planned desert mountain biking trip with Floyd. Floyd has traded The Little Flower to me for the weekend, in exchange for my spouse. I hope everyone's well enough to have a good time. TLF hasn't been in Deadwood for quite some time, so I want to make sure she gets to do everything she wants to. Although unfortunately the cafe is closed for the long weekend.

Leelo Milestones

Leelo figured out how to ride his tricycle yesterday, all by himself! He only got about three feet, but it was entirely self-directed. Seymour, Iz, and I all broke out into applause and cheers. The boy seemed pleased--this is something he has initiated and pursued on his own, with only moderate coaching from the rest of us.

Our short boy has also finally grown legitimately big enough height-wise (he's plenty big width-wise) to wear size three pants. This only a few months before he turns four! I have boxed up all of his size two clothing despite a few lingering still-fitting pieces. He will only wear age/size correlated clothing for now.

He couldn't find me for a scant few minutes yesterday, and so stood at the top of the stairs yelling, "Mommy? MOMMY?" Name usage is a big deal for him.

I asked him what he wanted to watch yesterday afternoon, and he said "I want to watch The Wiggles!"

Okay, first of all, IMHO The Wiggles only used Australia as a launching pad. They are originally FROM HELL. Gaaah! Second, he's only been allowed to see them in hotel rooms when we're on vacation, so what the heck? How did he even remember them? But, as with all long spontaneous requests, he will get what he's asked for. And then I will leave the room.

No One Looks Cool in a Minivan

A few days ago I spied a stylishly dressed woman crossing a parking lot. I sighed and felt mild nostalgia for the days when I wore clothes that didn't easily double as sleepwear. Then she got into the driver's seat of a minivan, and her aura of coolness dissipated like that. Pfffft! There is nothing hep about being a member of the minivan driver corps.

Which probably makes you question my hesitancy about purchasing such a vehicle--I mean, I am the president of Dorks-R-Us. And I already drive an equally goofy-looking wagon.

The wagon is rationalizable, though. I tell myself that some cool people drive wagons. Artists who need to haul around their wares, parents with boutique farms who need to get the kids to school and the produce to the farmer's market. None of these people drive minivans.

The minivan is the point of no return. The one-way ticket to both practicality and dorkitude. Seymour says that since it's the car we need, I just have to slap a KQED sticker on it and suck it up. And no, I can't paint it fluorescent orange. He did suggest that, if I was looking for some way to make the minivan stand out, he could install a fake gun rack in the back.

Anyhow. Iz was up all night barfing--she's got whatever Leelo and Eliz had. Poor girl. I will be nursemaiding today. Thank heavens Therapist L is scheduled for a brief session this afternoon--I might be able to eke out a nap.

At Least We've Got Santa Fe on Our Side

Godfather M took this shot while vacationing in New Mexico last month.

Two Grouches

As I think I've mentioned before, Leelo is back on just about all foods except chocolate, peanuts, and citrus. I don't think we'll ever do much citrus until he's potty-trained, as it gives him a huge diaper rash, but it is time to start experimenting with the other two.

Leelo jump-started the chocolate reintroduction himself, yesterday. He spied the cookie display at the grocery store, and loudly announced, "I want a chocolate-covered cookie!" He got that cookie, damn straight. So what if it was only 9:00 in the morning.

While he tucked in, happy as a vindicated mole, I got weirdly and pre-emptively defensive, just waiting for someone to jump all over my ass for letting him eat chocolate in the morning, so I could then chew their judgmental butt off. Why? Just grouchy, I guess. It's been hot for too long.

Iz is currently in her room with her tutor, doing her best to make that pleasant, earnest lady's life hell. Sigh. She is a cute girl, but we need to get her some sort of isolation chamber for when the grumpies hit. Maybe it's the heat with her, too.

This morning, as I was walking her to school and explaining to her that, when we get our minivan, we will need to start practicing dropping her off on the corner, she turned around and announced that I could start right now--she could walk the rest of the way herself. So I left her at the corner of the schoolyard and observed as she meandered around, dawdled, and finally made her way over to her room in plenty of time for class. Another milestone.

She refuses to be known as Iz at school, btw, even though she's never been called anything else. She is Isobel, with the Spanish pronunciation. That is what her teacher calls her, that is what all her classmates call her. Weird. I keep wondering who it is they're talking about.

The Third Trimester

I'm officially there as of today.

This means, among other things, that I can't see around my belly well enough to take a decent hack at the undergrowth, and will need to get a bikini wax before going to the beach next weekend. I don't know about you, but whenever I hear the term "bikini wax" I also hear the Psycho violins in my head. Not very excited about it.

It also means that my twins are so large that I have to be careful to align them each time I put on my bra. If I don't, then my bosom bears an uncanny resemblance to Marty Feldman each time they stand at attention.

This also means that I've gone absolutely wacko with the nesting. Leelo and I spent the morning at a car dealership, cruising minivans. It is only by the greatest exercise of self-restraint that I am not moving around all our bedroom furniture, since the current configuration doesn't allow for the bassinet to be by my bedside. I'm picking up a used crib from some friends today. I've been cruising the local listings for used glider/rockers (I know from experience that nursing on our hand-me-down couch will tweak my back badly). I've ordered the car seat and its matching, interlocking double stroller. Somehow I finally realized that my current, almost-four-year-old parent backpack looks like someone spent hours carefully rubbing it with crud, so a new backpack is on the way, too.

The last three items are all black, which is practical but kind of odd for baby gear, don't you think? But I am sick to death of navy blue, and the kind of colorful stroller that I lust after but would never buy doesn't come in a tandem version.

Which reminds me, female people, please stop wearing black tops with khaki bottoms. At least accessorize with orange socks, or something!