How Seriously Do You Take Feminism? How About If You're Male?
"Conservatives contend that the dropouts prove that feminism “failed” because it was too radical, because women didn’t want what feminism had to offer. In fact, if half or more of feminism’s heirs (85 percent of the women in my Times sample), are not working seriously, it’s because feminism wasn’t radical enough: It changed the workplace but it didn’t change men, and, more importantly, it didn’t fundamentally change how women related to men."
-Linda Hirshman
Want more? Via Br0adsheet.
11.23.2005
11.21.2005
Chattering Teeth
Starting to worry about our Xmas trip to Seatt1e. Sigh. We love Seymour's parents and his brother and wife and their kids, but they and their lifestyles and values are wacky-different from us and ours. Because I do not have a fully developed sense of self, I find these weeks soul-crushing. I do not like feeling like I am an ass just because I am left-leaning, pudgy (the other two women are wafery, though they do not verbally obsess about it), and fashion-challenged.
There aren't any arguments, or insults, or slights. These are kind people. My discomfort springs from unintentional slights or exclusions (which in turn stem from being non-extroverted as well as perceived as the least interesting person there), and from always being greeted with a declaration that I must have lost weight!
Not that I don't have fun. Who wouldn't, as Seymour's folks are beyond hospitable, and go to extra lengths for their grandkids. They are once again bringing San+a (private audience for the kids), reindeer, and snow to their yard. But all our Seatt1e friends are going to be gone, or are Jewish or Pagans, and most likely won't come join in.
My biggest worry is that Iz will start to internalize their values rather than ours. She has already started to tell people how her "abuelos son muy ricos," in a tone of wonderment though not yet pride. I have been taking pains to tell her that we are not them, that living in a very big house is actually a logistical nightmare for slacker-leaning types like her and me. But perhaps we can get her to bug them about getting a recycling program in place.
They do have a full wet bar, though. I suspect that while I am on duty, the kids will spend a lot of time locked in the racquetball court while I gaze on from up high, occasionally saluting them with my highball glass. There will be frequent outings to non-mall, non-restaurant places (suggestions?). Also we will spend a day up in Vanc0uver visiting my three 90+ year old aunties.
I am being a complete dick about this, as well as inarticulate. Come, regale me with tales of why you also dread spending big bolts of time with your nice in-laws.
Starting to worry about our Xmas trip to Seatt1e. Sigh. We love Seymour's parents and his brother and wife and their kids, but they and their lifestyles and values are wacky-different from us and ours. Because I do not have a fully developed sense of self, I find these weeks soul-crushing. I do not like feeling like I am an ass just because I am left-leaning, pudgy (the other two women are wafery, though they do not verbally obsess about it), and fashion-challenged.
There aren't any arguments, or insults, or slights. These are kind people. My discomfort springs from unintentional slights or exclusions (which in turn stem from being non-extroverted as well as perceived as the least interesting person there), and from always being greeted with a declaration that I must have lost weight!
Not that I don't have fun. Who wouldn't, as Seymour's folks are beyond hospitable, and go to extra lengths for their grandkids. They are once again bringing San+a (private audience for the kids), reindeer, and snow to their yard. But all our Seatt1e friends are going to be gone, or are Jewish or Pagans, and most likely won't come join in.
My biggest worry is that Iz will start to internalize their values rather than ours. She has already started to tell people how her "abuelos son muy ricos," in a tone of wonderment though not yet pride. I have been taking pains to tell her that we are not them, that living in a very big house is actually a logistical nightmare for slacker-leaning types like her and me. But perhaps we can get her to bug them about getting a recycling program in place.
They do have a full wet bar, though. I suspect that while I am on duty, the kids will spend a lot of time locked in the racquetball court while I gaze on from up high, occasionally saluting them with my highball glass. There will be frequent outings to non-mall, non-restaurant places (suggestions?). Also we will spend a day up in Vanc0uver visiting my three 90+ year old aunties.
I am being a complete dick about this, as well as inarticulate. Come, regale me with tales of why you also dread spending big bolts of time with your nice in-laws.
Streaming From the Ears
Forgot other stuff, about kids mostly:
Iz realized today after diving back into It's So Amazing (called "That BOOK" by Anarchy her preschool teacher) that Seymour and I must have conceived her via "sexual intercourse."
Iz: "But what are the other natural ways to conceive a child?"
Me: "Natural? What do you mean?"
Iz: "I mean besides sexual intercourse!"
Me: "None that I can think of. None that we've used."
Iz: "You mean you did that for Leelo? And Mali too?"
Me: "Yup. What did you think we did?"
Iz: "I don't know, I thought maybe it happened up in the air..." (wanders off, looking pensive.)
Later on we had a nice conversation about whacking off (she used the term "masturbation," love that book) and how of course it feels good, that's how our bodies are designed, with clitorises that have a bajillion nerve endings, many more so than other places on the body. How despite this logic both her grandmothers would fall over in dead faints were she to use the word "masturbation" in front of them. She thought it was silly that the urethra connects to the bladder rather than the uterus, based on the way they're all pronounced.
Leelo has been off his rocker since we got back from Phx, mostly due to sugar and artifical colorings/flavorings, methinks. He's been ravenous, too. Hasn't been like this in months. His stomach got all distended and his output has been prolific. Might need to ask the biomed list about this reaction. He is hyper and hard to put down at night as well. He is also humping stuff a lot, still. Gaaah. Saying "no penis, no thank you" doesn't seem to register.
Mali is the cutest fucking baby in the world, as always. See?
She is really talking. Saying Hi There and waving, asking What's That, I swear saying "yes" in answer to questions, talking to the cats in their own language. etc. Plus she is absolutely cheerful, hilarious, hyper-social. Wonder what the MYND Inst. folks will make of her next week.
A friend's 23 month son is not really talking and listening much at all. After hemming for months as I don't want to be the messenger who gets killed, I wrote her a brief email listing my concerns, assuring her that my worries were purely language-related, and listing two community sources for evaluations and therapy. As Sage says, there is no harm in speech therapy, and, as Seymour pointed out, I'd love to be proven wrong.
After Ep and Clyde were brave enough to attempt taking our holiday family portrait (in which Iz wore her pirate hair and kerchief from yesterday's pirate party), we made our way over to Sage's son's party, which was a huge Leelo comfort zone as all the other families shared his space in some way. How totally relaxing not to have to explain or worry about any Leelo thing.
Can you tell how spaced I am? Spaaaaaace. I have had no interstitial space in which to tacke the small tasks that have piled up into monstrous towers of crap, in five weeks. All of which prevents me from living the real life, thinking the real thoughts. Coherently, at least.
Forgot other stuff, about kids mostly:
Iz realized today after diving back into It's So Amazing (called "That BOOK" by Anarchy her preschool teacher) that Seymour and I must have conceived her via "sexual intercourse."
Iz: "But what are the other natural ways to conceive a child?"
Me: "Natural? What do you mean?"
Iz: "I mean besides sexual intercourse!"
Me: "None that I can think of. None that we've used."
Iz: "You mean you did that for Leelo? And Mali too?"
Me: "Yup. What did you think we did?"
Iz: "I don't know, I thought maybe it happened up in the air..." (wanders off, looking pensive.)
Later on we had a nice conversation about whacking off (she used the term "masturbation," love that book) and how of course it feels good, that's how our bodies are designed, with clitorises that have a bajillion nerve endings, many more so than other places on the body. How despite this logic both her grandmothers would fall over in dead faints were she to use the word "masturbation" in front of them. She thought it was silly that the urethra connects to the bladder rather than the uterus, based on the way they're all pronounced.
Leelo has been off his rocker since we got back from Phx, mostly due to sugar and artifical colorings/flavorings, methinks. He's been ravenous, too. Hasn't been like this in months. His stomach got all distended and his output has been prolific. Might need to ask the biomed list about this reaction. He is hyper and hard to put down at night as well. He is also humping stuff a lot, still. Gaaah. Saying "no penis, no thank you" doesn't seem to register.
Mali is the cutest fucking baby in the world, as always. See?
She is really talking. Saying Hi There and waving, asking What's That, I swear saying "yes" in answer to questions, talking to the cats in their own language. etc. Plus she is absolutely cheerful, hilarious, hyper-social. Wonder what the MYND Inst. folks will make of her next week.
A friend's 23 month son is not really talking and listening much at all. After hemming for months as I don't want to be the messenger who gets killed, I wrote her a brief email listing my concerns, assuring her that my worries were purely language-related, and listing two community sources for evaluations and therapy. As Sage says, there is no harm in speech therapy, and, as Seymour pointed out, I'd love to be proven wrong.
After Ep and Clyde were brave enough to attempt taking our holiday family portrait (in which Iz wore her pirate hair and kerchief from yesterday's pirate party), we made our way over to Sage's son's party, which was a huge Leelo comfort zone as all the other families shared his space in some way. How totally relaxing not to have to explain or worry about any Leelo thing.
Can you tell how spaced I am? Spaaaaaace. I have had no interstitial space in which to tacke the small tasks that have piled up into monstrous towers of crap, in five weeks. All of which prevents me from living the real life, thinking the real thoughts. Coherently, at least.
11.20.2005
Yet Another List
I realize that it must bore you folks to tears to see yet another fucking post detailing my overbooked careening about town in yet another responsible parent disguise, but it is my hope that one day I will be able to look back in amusement at the carnival-that-was-my-life. Because it will get more manageable, right?
Monday:
we came home from Phoenix. Fridge was dead and full of stuff that smelled funny, and needed a full purge. Thankfully Al the fridge guy was in the neighborhood and came over to fix it post haste. I don't remember what happened for the rest of the day. Oh! We went for dinner at the sushi place and all three kids were so tired that they were relatively complacent and calm. We had a storybook family dinner as a result; very little screaming or foodstuffs thrown at our heads by irate co-diners.
Tuesday:
A regular, crazy Tuesday. Except that this one was topped with an Iron Gate meeting. I didn't go, though. We were coming off a weekend so busy that both Seymour and I were afforded only bathroom breaks, plus four weeks of shitstorm-style scheduling. I got chills and woozies as the night wore on: symptoms of The Exhaustion Flu. Seymour escaped somehow, so he kindly did all the tidying and bedtime wrangling while I nursed Mali down in front of R0me. (That show is so violent and gory that one particular beheading made me scream like a girl and jump out of my chair. Seymour laughed at me, but fuck! Asterix this is not.) Hot bath and mega-vitamin C.
Wednesday:
It worked! No flu in the A.M. Good thing because we had to go to Bezerkeley to meet with the architects. They gave us three potential designs and one is perfect. I call it The Yelling House because I can yodel and be heard from any interior location. Plus we can live in this house while building that.
Iz's conference. No new news. Our girl is sharp, grasps concepts in one shot, talented artist, yup. Now let's talk about her behavior.
Ran home to make UCZF psychopharmacology phone consult for Leelo (yes, we are thinking about drugs. We have tried everything else and it is just that time.) Leelo is such a stimmy boy, in that regard he seems to share much with the kids in a Tourette's documentary Seymour and I saw. They described their tics exactly as adult or highly verbal autistics describe their stims: trying not to stim/tic is like trying not to sneeze.
Sage arrived as consult was wrapping up and was able to stay for tea. So pleasant.
Armada (Violet's mom) wrote me that she'd read one of my stories and her girls loved it and I should publish it. Cockle-warming.
Thursday:
Spent the morning at a private school for autistic kids, to see if it would be right for Leelo in the fall. Answer: no. Leelo doesn't quite need such intense supervision and intervention, though the facilities and instructors/therapists were truly wonderful. Interesting in that two of the students looked so much like Leelo, more fodder for my theory that Leelo probably has a very specific genetic-based version of autism, as so many kids in those autism collages share his feature set.
Supervisor M went, too, and rightfully got her panties in a twist about the lead therapist's bashing ABA Therapy. She thinks people need to get a fucking clue about the difference between discrete trials (specific) and behavior modification (general).
Coffee with bad moms (late). Arrived in a huff over chi chis/ta tas billboards en route, wishing that there was some quick 8-line summary explaining the objectification of women for me to pass to Iz so that she wouldn't internalize all the unreasonable body imagery. Since I am the group bimbo and no one ever takes me seriously everyone decided to write patriarchy-bashing haikus instead.
Worked at Iron Gate because I missed my Monday shift due to travel. Realized that the drop-deadline for silent auction items was 15 minutes after class ended, and in a panic decided to offer a custom written and illustrated story in addition to the usual cheese-fest. Hopefully it will sell for lots of money but will never be redeemed.
Then to Iz's school dance concert in the evening. So cute! Dinner afterwards with Seymour and Iz.
That is going to have to be it. One of these days I will write a real post.
I realize that it must bore you folks to tears to see yet another fucking post detailing my overbooked careening about town in yet another responsible parent disguise, but it is my hope that one day I will be able to look back in amusement at the carnival-that-was-my-life. Because it will get more manageable, right?
Monday:
we came home from Phoenix. Fridge was dead and full of stuff that smelled funny, and needed a full purge. Thankfully Al the fridge guy was in the neighborhood and came over to fix it post haste. I don't remember what happened for the rest of the day. Oh! We went for dinner at the sushi place and all three kids were so tired that they were relatively complacent and calm. We had a storybook family dinner as a result; very little screaming or foodstuffs thrown at our heads by irate co-diners.
Tuesday:
A regular, crazy Tuesday. Except that this one was topped with an Iron Gate meeting. I didn't go, though. We were coming off a weekend so busy that both Seymour and I were afforded only bathroom breaks, plus four weeks of shitstorm-style scheduling. I got chills and woozies as the night wore on: symptoms of The Exhaustion Flu. Seymour escaped somehow, so he kindly did all the tidying and bedtime wrangling while I nursed Mali down in front of R0me. (That show is so violent and gory that one particular beheading made me scream like a girl and jump out of my chair. Seymour laughed at me, but fuck! Asterix this is not.) Hot bath and mega-vitamin C.
Wednesday:
It worked! No flu in the A.M. Good thing because we had to go to Bezerkeley to meet with the architects. They gave us three potential designs and one is perfect. I call it The Yelling House because I can yodel and be heard from any interior location. Plus we can live in this house while building that.
Iz's conference. No new news. Our girl is sharp, grasps concepts in one shot, talented artist, yup. Now let's talk about her behavior.
Ran home to make UCZF psychopharmacology phone consult for Leelo (yes, we are thinking about drugs. We have tried everything else and it is just that time.) Leelo is such a stimmy boy, in that regard he seems to share much with the kids in a Tourette's documentary Seymour and I saw. They described their tics exactly as adult or highly verbal autistics describe their stims: trying not to stim/tic is like trying not to sneeze.
Sage arrived as consult was wrapping up and was able to stay for tea. So pleasant.
Armada (Violet's mom) wrote me that she'd read one of my stories and her girls loved it and I should publish it. Cockle-warming.
Thursday:
Spent the morning at a private school for autistic kids, to see if it would be right for Leelo in the fall. Answer: no. Leelo doesn't quite need such intense supervision and intervention, though the facilities and instructors/therapists were truly wonderful. Interesting in that two of the students looked so much like Leelo, more fodder for my theory that Leelo probably has a very specific genetic-based version of autism, as so many kids in those autism collages share his feature set.
Supervisor M went, too, and rightfully got her panties in a twist about the lead therapist's bashing ABA Therapy. She thinks people need to get a fucking clue about the difference between discrete trials (specific) and behavior modification (general).
Coffee with bad moms (late). Arrived in a huff over chi chis/ta tas billboards en route, wishing that there was some quick 8-line summary explaining the objectification of women for me to pass to Iz so that she wouldn't internalize all the unreasonable body imagery. Since I am the group bimbo and no one ever takes me seriously everyone decided to write patriarchy-bashing haikus instead.
Worked at Iron Gate because I missed my Monday shift due to travel. Realized that the drop-deadline for silent auction items was 15 minutes after class ended, and in a panic decided to offer a custom written and illustrated story in addition to the usual cheese-fest. Hopefully it will sell for lots of money but will never be redeemed.
Then to Iz's school dance concert in the evening. So cute! Dinner afterwards with Seymour and Iz.
That is going to have to be it. One of these days I will write a real post.
11.19.2005
Magic and Disabilities, Wizard Genetics
I haven't found (though didn't look too long or hard) for bloggy opinions on the shape of autism in the Potterverse. Would wizard therapists use leglimancy in addition to ABA therapy, enabling recoveries or effecting communication breakthroughs in ways we muggle parents can only dream of? Or ameliorating symptoms at least, for those kids who find themselves in horrible pain due to gut injuries, etc., and who act out because they can't tell anyone about their agony?
What would it be like to be a blind wizard child? Deaf? Have cerebral palsy? It seems as though magic abilities would offer fantastic empowerments to disabled kids, and those who work with them.
One item I did run across was a discussion on wizard genetics. And a link to a lightning rod blog, that of the Autism Diva.
I haven't found (though didn't look too long or hard) for bloggy opinions on the shape of autism in the Potterverse. Would wizard therapists use leglimancy in addition to ABA therapy, enabling recoveries or effecting communication breakthroughs in ways we muggle parents can only dream of? Or ameliorating symptoms at least, for those kids who find themselves in horrible pain due to gut injuries, etc., and who act out because they can't tell anyone about their agony?
What would it be like to be a blind wizard child? Deaf? Have cerebral palsy? It seems as though magic abilities would offer fantastic empowerments to disabled kids, and those who work with them.
One item I did run across was a discussion on wizard genetics. And a link to a lightning rod blog, that of the Autism Diva.
11.18.2005
1001
I think Iz has finally internalized the concept that, while Dizney versions of stories can be entertaining, they often bear very little resemblance to the much grittier and enjoyable originals.
This morning she awoke asking me all sorts of questions about A1addin, and how she'd had dreams about a live action A1addin movie that was truly frightening, and what was the real story like anyhow? I whipped the Burt0n translations off the shelf as that's the only version I have at the moment and read her the first paragraph of the tale in question.
It was of course all full of "hath" language, but even so you could see her eyes light up in hearing that the naughty boy was actually from China, that he wasn't just a scamp, but was an unrepentant little shit, etc. Then she asked me why the book was called 1001 Nights instead of A1addin and I gave her the short version of Sch'zade's plight and cunning, saving the feminist messages for later. Iz was completely fascinated! So, off to Kep1er's to find a hath-less version for her to devour. (Bus leaves at 10:30 if you want to come.)
I remember my same-age fascination with Sinb@d and how many times I re-read those tales. Ooooh, I hope she feels the same way!
I think Iz has finally internalized the concept that, while Dizney versions of stories can be entertaining, they often bear very little resemblance to the much grittier and enjoyable originals.
This morning she awoke asking me all sorts of questions about A1addin, and how she'd had dreams about a live action A1addin movie that was truly frightening, and what was the real story like anyhow? I whipped the Burt0n translations off the shelf as that's the only version I have at the moment and read her the first paragraph of the tale in question.
It was of course all full of "hath" language, but even so you could see her eyes light up in hearing that the naughty boy was actually from China, that he wasn't just a scamp, but was an unrepentant little shit, etc. Then she asked me why the book was called 1001 Nights instead of A1addin and I gave her the short version of Sch'zade's plight and cunning, saving the feminist messages for later. Iz was completely fascinated! So, off to Kep1er's to find a hath-less version for her to devour. (Bus leaves at 10:30 if you want to come.)
I remember my same-age fascination with Sinb@d and how many times I re-read those tales. Ooooh, I hope she feels the same way!
11.17.2005
11.15.2005
Glimpse
Wedding was good. My pilot brother looked shellshocked, Rita was efficient and direct and amusing. Iz was a gorgeous flower girl. I really enjoyed being suspended in a cloud of relatives for four straight days, but it all came and went so fast that it may never have actually happened. I didn't have time/remember to file my ragged fingernails, bring jewelry (Seymour's mom is very generous in gifting me sparklies for birthdays and holidays so I try to bring it when she's around, as she was), assemble or dry clean a suitable outfit (went with my Steviae Nicks gear), do the same for Leelo (he wore a long-sleeved t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers), or repair the ratty shoes I ended up wearing anyhow. I certainly never had time or opportunity to replenish Leelo's take-along foods like I thought I might. So, Leelo got to eat yogurt, froot loops, peanut buter and jelly, and cookies, and Seymour and I got Leelo through the wedding ceremony by plying him with M & Ms (he's not supposed to have chocolate, excess sugar, artificial anything, peanuts, dairy, or wheat).
Mostly I was too busy to be stressed, but on the way back I realized that things had gotten truly dire when I had to feed desperately hungry Mali macerated peanuts and ginger ale during our flight, because the Phoenix airport was so insanely busy that most people had boarded by the time we got to the gate and there was no time to purchase food.
Gauge of how things are going now that we're back: The entire counter is covered with dead fridge foodstuffs that need to be dealt with (emptied, mostly, so the containers can be cleaned or recycled); Leelo's birthday presents are still gathered in a corner, unopened, on top of a box marked "Halloween," which itself is supposed to be filled with all the pumpkin-themed decorations still bedecking our home.
I have not yet written or contacted Tia Izobel to tell her how sorry we are about her son Dick's passing last month. I have not sent presents to the two last weddings we attended. I've not yet mailed birthday presents to TLF or Hayley. I've yet to even purchase them for Dee's Artoo. Or Kerali, for that matter.
There is an Iron Gate meeting tonight. I told Sage I was going but I might just have to bail. I literally, literally have not had a break (except right now while Marroqui is watching Mali while I'm supposed to be cleaning the house) to even read a book for five minutes or be by myself for a very long long time. So, if you've not seen me yet it is because I might have to kill anyone who looks at me sideways. If you've got someone on your list, though, send them my way for easy dispatching.
What keeps me afloat is the horrible yet comical image of poor, dear, vegetarian Ep, who came to the rescue of our kids' three placentas in the melty freezer and--I'm guessing from the empty containers on the counter when we arrived back home--had to transfer the nasty things into some other receptacle. Eww. Even I wouldn't want to do that. I owe her, big.
Mostly I was too busy to be stressed, but on the way back I realized that things had gotten truly dire when I had to feed desperately hungry Mali macerated peanuts and ginger ale during our flight, because the Phoenix airport was so insanely busy that most people had boarded by the time we got to the gate and there was no time to purchase food.
Gauge of how things are going now that we're back: The entire counter is covered with dead fridge foodstuffs that need to be dealt with (emptied, mostly, so the containers can be cleaned or recycled); Leelo's birthday presents are still gathered in a corner, unopened, on top of a box marked "Halloween," which itself is supposed to be filled with all the pumpkin-themed decorations still bedecking our home.
I have not yet written or contacted Tia Izobel to tell her how sorry we are about her son Dick's passing last month. I have not sent presents to the two last weddings we attended. I've not yet mailed birthday presents to TLF or Hayley. I've yet to even purchase them for Dee's Artoo. Or Kerali, for that matter.
There is an Iron Gate meeting tonight. I told Sage I was going but I might just have to bail. I literally, literally have not had a break (except right now while Marroqui is watching Mali while I'm supposed to be cleaning the house) to even read a book for five minutes or be by myself for a very long long time. So, if you've not seen me yet it is because I might have to kill anyone who looks at me sideways. If you've got someone on your list, though, send them my way for easy dispatching.
What keeps me afloat is the horrible yet comical image of poor, dear, vegetarian Ep, who came to the rescue of our kids' three placentas in the melty freezer and--I'm guessing from the empty containers on the counter when we arrived back home--had to transfer the nasty things into some other receptacle. Eww. Even I wouldn't want to do that. I owe her, big.
Greetings, Packmates!
What Is Your Animal Personality?
brought to you by Quizilla
Would one of my beloved packmates like to hang out with Leelo at my home from 12:00 to 12:45 tomorow just in case I don't get back from an East Bay meeting in time?
What Is Your Animal Personality?
brought to you by Quizilla
Would one of my beloved packmates like to hang out with Leelo at my home from 12:00 to 12:45 tomorow just in case I don't get back from an East Bay meeting in time?
11.11.2005
Off Again, in a Few Ways
Off to Phoenix for a few days, for my pilot brother's wedding. It should be a lot of fun--even though they put it together in less than three months (they're knocked up with #2 and my soon-to-be-sis-in-law Rita said she would NOT have another baby without being married) every relative on the planet is coming and it is going to be a wonderful rather than a rushed and uncomfortable wedding. Well, for everyone but Seymour and me, as we'll have Leelo and Mali. Iz is going to be a flower girl with her adored older cousin Nicole.
Floyd and TLF aren't in Phoenix anymore, they moved to San Dieggy last month. Sigh.
Short bursts re: the kids:
Leelo blew out the candle on his birthday cake. That is a big fucking deal. He has also been doing a lot more downloading on the potty, which is also a big fucking deal. Still lots of #2 accidents (less so with #1), but the continuing progress is cheery. Iz's took a tortoise's age to be a fully certified toileteer, so I can be patient.
We let the boy have lots of sugary crap (smoothies, gfcf cake) for his birthday and the backsliding is notable. But he was so happy!
Don't ever laugh when a baby climbs stairs. Now Mali goes for the stairs every chance she gets, with a big "hey look at me!" grin the whole time. She is also standing up a lot without realizing it, for instance letting go with her anchor hand to grab something because the other hand is already occupied. A free-standing structure.
She is impossibly fucking cute right now. Chatting away in her own private language all day long. It may be related to English. She makes Seymour and me very smiley and happy unless she continues to shift a second nap to late afternoon and then stay up past 10 P.M.
Iz has this new electrical circuits kit (it was supposed to be an Xmas present, but she found it in the office) and can think of nothing else. Witness the glee:
I have been really down lately, too busy. There is good busy and there is gasket-blowing busy. Also I am worried about the neurotypicality of a few kids I know.
Plus our fridge and now our freezer are non-functional. And we're leaving for the airport in an hour. Most of the items within can rot, but we've Leelo's expensive B12 shots and also the kids' placentas. Fuck.
Back Mon. or Tues.
Off to Phoenix for a few days, for my pilot brother's wedding. It should be a lot of fun--even though they put it together in less than three months (they're knocked up with #2 and my soon-to-be-sis-in-law Rita said she would NOT have another baby without being married) every relative on the planet is coming and it is going to be a wonderful rather than a rushed and uncomfortable wedding. Well, for everyone but Seymour and me, as we'll have Leelo and Mali. Iz is going to be a flower girl with her adored older cousin Nicole.
Floyd and TLF aren't in Phoenix anymore, they moved to San Dieggy last month. Sigh.
Short bursts re: the kids:
Leelo blew out the candle on his birthday cake. That is a big fucking deal. He has also been doing a lot more downloading on the potty, which is also a big fucking deal. Still lots of #2 accidents (less so with #1), but the continuing progress is cheery. Iz's took a tortoise's age to be a fully certified toileteer, so I can be patient.
We let the boy have lots of sugary crap (smoothies, gfcf cake) for his birthday and the backsliding is notable. But he was so happy!
Don't ever laugh when a baby climbs stairs. Now Mali goes for the stairs every chance she gets, with a big "hey look at me!" grin the whole time. She is also standing up a lot without realizing it, for instance letting go with her anchor hand to grab something because the other hand is already occupied. A free-standing structure.
She is impossibly fucking cute right now. Chatting away in her own private language all day long. It may be related to English. She makes Seymour and me very smiley and happy unless she continues to shift a second nap to late afternoon and then stay up past 10 P.M.
Iz has this new electrical circuits kit (it was supposed to be an Xmas present, but she found it in the office) and can think of nothing else. Witness the glee:
I have been really down lately, too busy. There is good busy and there is gasket-blowing busy. Also I am worried about the neurotypicality of a few kids I know.
Plus our fridge and now our freezer are non-functional. And we're leaving for the airport in an hour. Most of the items within can rot, but we've Leelo's expensive B12 shots and also the kids' placentas. Fuck.
Back Mon. or Tues.
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