Tuesday, January 29, 2019

Stealing Mal's Cupcake

This weekend, while we were walking around the neighborhood and checking out new construction and robins (which are migrating through), Mal decided that he wanted cupcakes.

Laura agreed that those are always a great idea and made us some.

He started licking the icing off. I heard her grumbling about his immediate demise. I warned him that I'm pretty sure that she'd make him just the icing if that's what he wants, but he better eat the cake too, since that's what he said he wanted.

He did.

Yesterday, I came home and immediately sat down to supper. Mal started begging for a cupcake.

Woman told him to back off, since he'd already had two that day, and we only had 4 or 5 left.

So he switched tactics and asked to *look* at a cupcake.

I told him that I was planning to have a cupcake for dessert. I asked whether he wanted to look at my cupcake while I finished eating supper. He claimed that he did.

So I got one. Laura had switched up the way she iced them, to try to save her wrists, because the icing was really thick. Mal has decided that he prefers the ones with swirl icing, because that's what goes on "real" cupcakes. I got one of those.

I set the plate down in the middle of the table. He stared at it a while, then pulled it closer to him. Then he stared at it some more before he pulled it close and smelled it. Then he stared some more before he caressed it gently. Then he pulled his hand back, stared some more, picked it up, fondled it, and put it back down.

This went on for quite a while before he took a bite.

I made it a point to look at him and make faces the entire time. Then I left him alone when it was clear he was ready to start eating.

Later, I acted shocked that he'd taken a bite out of my cupcake.

He started by insisting that he just couldn't resist. Then he accused me of stealing it from him.

Laura jumped in to explain that I'd actually gotten it for him because I'm nice and the whole thing was a game.

I have to keep reminding myself that he's only 4 years old.

Fast-forward to today.

I got to work from home. When I got to a stopping point, Laura got some pizza from Rounders (which is awesome...I highly recommend it, and I don't like pizza all that much).

When she got back, the three of us each got a slice. We started with their basic cheese (which includes things like big gobs of ricotta but not sauce) and added mushrooms, spinach, and artichoke hearts.

Mal's pizza is more just basic cheese. It really looks like it has tomato sauce.

He didn't actually join us. He just sort of fluttered around the edges like a butterfly with elephant feet  (he's *never* pitter-pattered) while we ate.

I think Laura managed one bite before he decided he needed her help going to the bathroom.

She rushed to that before I. While they were gone, I decided that his plain cheese looked like a tempting alternative. So I decided to cut off a bite.

I felt bad for cutting off the tip, since that was always my favorite part. But where else do you start, and who knows when he'd actually get around to taking a bite?

And it was really good too. I'm doubtful about the tomato sauce now.

When they got back, Mal looked at his pizza, then looked at me. Then he carefully asked "Daddy, did you steal my cupcake?"

I had to guiltily admit that maybe, possibly, just a little, I couldn't resist.

After that, he couldn't eat it. I don't know whether I ruined it for him or if it was the fact that the cheese had gotten twisted.

It was that way before I touched it, and that *is* what he complained about...but who knows?

Monday, January 28, 2019

No Polar Vortex Here

Our windows are open. While there are record cold and windchill temperatures in the north and northeast, it's 70 degrees here.

I keep looking across the street.

The house doesn't look any different, but it "feels" different.

Last Thursday, our 26-year-old neighbor, the one who brought us a bunch of goodies for the dog right after we adopted Shelby, and who had such an incredible story about her childhood adoption and reconnection with her birth mom as an adult, took her own life.

I saw her every day. She and her husband have several dogs, not all of whom can be walked together, so she usually made a couple of trips every morning and a couple in the afternoon.

I know she struggled with mental health. She wanted to have a positive outlook, but had also been through so much. I didn't know her very well, and we only spoke a few times in person and several times when I was still on Facebook, but I know two things about her: She loved her husband, and she loved animals.

I dated a guy once who had a lot of grief and anger about his own childhood. He was also disillusioned about how his adult life had turned out. Once, he told me, "I wish you were enough to combat all of that. But you're not enough. No one is enough."

And, of course, he didn't mean me. He meant his feelings for me, and the kind of hope caring about me gave him for the future.

Regardless, I feel for my neighbor, and hope he's not suffering from self-doubt, wondering too much why he couldn't be "enough." I wish I knew him well enough to extend that thought. Maybe someday.

Here's another thing: Panther Cat.

Panther Cat is what Mal calls the black cat who has been around since before we moved in.





Apparently, Panther Cat's mom was a stray around here. She had babies, and all of them died/disappeared except for this one. My neighbor said she wanted to keep the cat, but couldn't.

Still, Panther Cat was part of the family. As much time as he spent in our yard and fighting over our porch with Carol, when the dogs would go out for a walk, Panther Cat always followed them. You'd have thought he was on a lead.

Once, I saw him slow down in front of the biggest dog, who tripped over him, and neither snapped at the other. It was incredible.

I haven't seen Panther Cat since our neighbor passed. Maybe he was scared off by all of the activity. James said there were 4 sheriff's cars, a ladder truck, 2 EMTs, and some other vehicle with lights and sirens.

I can't think about any other possibility. But I hope he comes back soon.

Saturday, January 19, 2019

Cavities

Hey, so remember last year when Mal had a bunch of cavities and I freaked out and we didn't really do anything about them but up our cleaning game?

Yeah, they've progressed.

I went to a different dentist and while they were able to get x-rays (and only 1 was blurry!), they recommended the same thing: general anesthesia.

I don't like it any more now than I did in September, but: 1) I see how quickly that one tooth is deteriorating, and now one of the surface caries is an actual cavity (there's a difference; feel free to Google); 2) I feel zero anxiety about this office like I did the other one.

I'll be much happier at about 6:30 Monday morning when Mal's securely out and getting fixed up, but my normal parent nervousness about helping him transition to sleep with a scary, weird-smelling mask on his face is not the overwhelming panic and intuition to "STOP!" like it was at the other place.

Also: James made a decision in November to leave a job he'd only had 3 weeks for the job he has now, and I'm SO grateful. He was a contractor at the first job, and the insurance was prohibitively expensive through the tech recruiter.

We are so fortunate to have really good insurance with a low deductible. We are able to process the anesthesiologist through our health insurance, and even with a low $250 deductible after which we pay 10%, we've paid them $900!

The rest *should* be covered by dental, but I think there's a $1500 limit on that, and we might just exhaust our benefits for the year on this one thing. I guess the good news is we've hit Mal's deductible and half of our family deductible, and January's not even over yer.

So wish us luck on Monday! And NO MORE CAVITIES.

Just One Thing.

It's hard to believe this month is only half way over. There has been a lot so far in 2019!

The check engine light came on in the SUV, and after having put more into repairing it last year than we did in purchasing it, we decided not to have it fixed. Or even checked. Because $150 for a diagnostic check (to be more specific than just having the codes read) is still more good money than we wanted to throw after bad.

We sold the SUV dirt cheap and bought a new vehicle. That we still don't have. The dealership managed not to tell us it needed a special-order taillight and a pair of tires before it could pass inspection; that is, until we were already at the dealership. I was unimpressed but we like the car, the price was right, and we needed something.

We could have brought it home, but I didn't relish the idea of taking Mal back down there to wait in the service center for two hours while they did the necessary repairs. Still, they'd told us it would be Tuesday. Tuesday, they told us it would be Friday. When I balked at that and pointed out that it would have been courteous to have informed us that it wasn't inspection-ready any of the many times we communicated before going in to test drive it, the salesman said he'd push them to have it ready today.

The taillight didn't even come in today. Now he's promising it by 1 PM tomorrow. Or a loaner. Just something. But it's WAY DOWN THERE in Austin, and I am not driving down two MORE times.

Just a note, people in the automotive business: THIS IS WHY PEOPLE HATE BUYING CARS.

When I was picking out the car, I selected a couple through Chase, and then the dealerships reached out to me. On Friday night, I told one guy we were looking at the car we ended up buying the next day. He asked what kind of car it was, and proceeded to tell me how terrible those cars were because they're so expensive to repair and that the least failure will total it out. I informed him we already have one and like it very much.

Then today, someone else called. I informed him that I'd already purchased a vehicle. And since we've already been through this, when he said, "Do you mind if I ask what model?" I said, "As a matter of fact, I do. Goodbye," and hung up on him.

***Two days later***

Re: The Loaner.

Yeah, the second taillight still did not come in, and ya girl lost it via text. I told him to cancel the contract, which he informed me had already funded so they couldn't. In hindsight, they probably knew it'd be a week before the parts came in, and only said "Tuesday" because that was the second business day after we applied for the loan, at which time the loan would go through and we wouldn't be able to reverse it without penalties. SLEAZY.

Due to my going off, he offered to send a porter to pick me up so I wouldn't have to pay a Lyft $30, which I was more than willing to do to pick up my very own permanent car. I ignored him while he sent multiple texts telling me to give him the "okay" because the porter was standing by. After I'd done some research, I asked him a couple of questions and said, "Please just answer those and don't send anyone."

After THAT, he offered to follow the porter over to our house and bring the car to me.

Well, why didn't you offer that in the first place, big guy?

Squeaky wheel and all, we have a Nissan Altima in the driveway that we might not need or use at all, but at least it's available and I won't have to pay $30 to drive down there whenever the car is finally ready.

OH! A kicker here: When he dropped off the car, the salesman said to me, "You know, between two tires and two taillights, they've spent almost $1000. They are barely making any profit off of this car."

SURPRISE! I DO NOT CARE ABOUT YOUR PROFIT MARGINS!

All right. This was going to be a post about many things, but it's really long, so that's it for now. More stuff soon.

Tuesday, January 1, 2019

More conversations with Mal

Me: You need to poop.
Mal: I just did.
Me: Did you? I'll see it when you get up.
Mal: (sitting on the toiled, closing his legs so I can't see inside the pot) It's invisible poop.
Me: What?! I didn't hear it, either!
Mal: Because invisible poop is very quiet. It goes like this: (silently mouths a "bloop")

++++++

Mal: My uncles have inchy pliers. They're awful, so no one wants them.
Me: Then why do your uncles have them?
Mal: Because they have gloves.
Me: What exactly is an "inchy plier"?
Mal: It hurts unless you have gloves.
Me: Okay, what do they look like?
(Lots of discussion I didn't understand.)
Mal: It's like a bear trap.

++++++

Me: Where did Pappy and Nana's Christmas present go?
Mal: I don't know. Someone must have stolen it.
Me: Does it happen to be under the blanket on your bed?
Mal: No. I didn't steal it.
Me: Really? Then who did?
Mal: A raccoon.

++++++

Me: I love you.
Mal: I stopped loving you two weeks ago.

++++++

Mal: You took a piece off my creation!
Me: I'm sorry; you wanted me to build you a monkey and I need it.
Mal: (punching his fist into the box of Legos) Dammit!

++++++

Mal was in full meltdown mode as I was trying to get him dressed to go on a fun Christmas outing one night. I had asked him to come to me so I could put on his shoes, but was in his room, refusing. I walked in to pick him up and make him get ready, but as soon as I bore him aloft, he put his head on my shoulder and cooed, "Oh, this is nice."

++++++

Me: Daddy will be home soon!
Mal: I don't love Daddy anymore.
Me: That's too bad. Daddy loves you.
Mal: No, he doesn't. He doesn't want me.
Me: He absolutely wants you!
Mal: No, he doesn't. He wants Harrison.

++++++

Mal: (in a fast food play place) Mommy, come up here with me!
Me: I can't. There are too many kids here.
Mal: (sing-songy) If you come up here, I'll buy you a pony!

++++++

Mal: I want to go to Walmart and get a flip toy!
Me: We're not buying any more toys. You just got a bunch of toys for Christmas and it's too much.
Mal: Mommy, I just need ONE more toy. That's it. Then I'll be happy.

++++++

If James or I says something to Mal in the car and he's not into it: Please! I just need a little piece of quiet!

If we are wanting to go somewhere and Mal is not interested: I just wanted to have a quiet day!



Resolve isn't all it's cracked up to be

At about this time in 1992, I had resolved to drop some significant weight. I did this because, after a Christmas weekend with my maternal family, my husband at the time seemed to have an issue with how the women in my family aged, in terms of body size, and even though he swore he never would have said anything to me about it, he finally did after I pressed him and wouldn't let him keep shrugging off the disdain that he was unsuccessfully trying to hide.

Side note: When I asked him why he never mentioned his problem with my weight/shape earlier, he said, "Because I was afraid you wouldn't marry me." At some point during this whole discussion, he pulled the car over and, crying, begged me not to leave him. I told him I wouldn't. And I didn't. For more than 5 years. But, honestly, now I see that it's really difficult to come back from the knowledge that your partner has a fundamental problem with something about you that is ingrained in your DNA.

I specifically wanted to share an incident I've been remembering lately.

For Christmas, one of the things James got me was a one pound Reese's Peanut Butter Cup package. Each cup weighs 8 ounces and is multiple servings. It's lasted me a week and I just ate the final bite. I've had it for dessert for most meals since Christmas, and I'm not tired of it yet. Perfect gift.

26 years ago, I swore off of most of the food that I loved. I limited myself to 1500 calories and 7 grams of fat per day. I also committed to exercising every other day no matter what. If you think about it, this is how many people's New Year's Resolutions shape up. I wasn't doing it for the calendar; I was doing it to "save my marriage." Actually, I was doing it to keep my partner from being disgusted by me, which, again, in hindsight, was his shallow problem and not mine. He expressed displeasure, and I had to do all of the "work" to assuage it. How effed up is that? Plus the fact that it lead to years of my feeling like crap about myself. And it probably barely registered on his radar. In fact, he probably felt like he'd done something constructive.

We'd gone to visit my parents one weekend, and I remembered a really good chocolate shop near where I'd worked at a daycare when I lived in town. We all visited, and everyone got chocolates except me. It wasn't my "cheat day." I distinctly remember asking to see my then-husband's white bag, with three perfect candies nestled into paper cups at the bottom. I stuck my nose into the bag and inhaled. I can still smell the rich chocolate smell of those bonbons.

My mom asked me if I was going to eat one, and I said no, that smelling them like that was just as satisfying.

Which, of course, it wasn't. But that's where my brain was at the time.

Now, I did lose a bunch of weight. I got a lot of kudos for my efforts. I was praised for having discipline and self-control, for being "healthy" and for approaching the culture's version of attractiveness.

It was all bull, of course, because I was not healthy. I was obsessed with food, obsessed with maintaining a lifestyle within a hamster wheel, running to retain the supposed love I'd earned with my efforts.

Worst of all was this: Anyone who knows me knows I adore chocolate. It and pizza are the foods I could eat for the rest of my life and not get sick of them for at least a couple of years. You guys know that. James knows it. I'm certain my ex-husband knew it. But he was okay indulging in something I would have very much enjoyed while I abstained out of loyalty to his desire for how I should look.

Do you see how messed up that is?

Every time we went out to a restaurant when he got off of work and he ordered steak and potatoes while I ordered nothing because it was after 6 PM, and the waitress asked repeatedly if I was sure I didn't want anything at all... he never encouraged me to eat if I were hungry. He knew my rules and enforced them with his quiet approval.

He was allowed access to things that would have brought me joy because his body was naturally smaller than mine. And he never once advocated for my pleasure as a whole person. He was more invested in his own social currency, having a trim wife.

MESSED UP.

As we launch this new year, if you feel the motivation to make life changes based on the very arbitrary changing of the calendar, then I urge you to examine your motivation for doing so. Trying to become the best version of yourself possible is admirable, and it's hard work. I'll never believe that shrinking is tantamount to "better" nor will I ever again buy into the notion that making fundamental changes to oneself in order to obtain or hold on to the affections of another person is a productive goal.

In 2019, be kind to each other and be kind to yourself. And if you encounter someone who is not extending you the same respect, it might be a good exercise to look into that, to have difficult conversations, and to set boundaries. Best wishes to all.