It has been more than fifteen-and-a-half years since I published my first "blog" post, just a couple of years after the Diaryland site started, and just as the word "blog" (a shortened version of "weblog") was starting to be used. I called it an "online journal." If you're interested, here's the March 30, 2001 entry in all of its glory.
I started the blog because I wasn't ready to share the news of my first pregnancy with anyone else, but wanted a record. Then I knew that some people would want to stay updated (like my mom, and far-away friends), but I didn't want to be "that guy" sending out group emails every week. I figured an online journal was a good place to put info that people could check at their leisure, or ignore altogether.
I can't imagine how many words I've written since then. It's been a lot.
I've never had more than a core few dozen readers, and often many fewer than that. I think I took a two-year break when D was 7 or so because Facebook updates were faster and easier. Since then, obviously, I've started blogging more regularly... But the format is different now. I tend to write when I have what I think are bigger stories, or experiences or products to share.
Of all time, my most popular blog post has been the one several months ago where I made a bunch of weird food from a kid's video, and the company shared my link with their followers. The post that is visited as a result of the most searches is my review of the steak, egg, and cheese bagel from McDonald's. Yeah, that kind of insults the rest of my life. Whatever.
I've made it a point to write as honestly as I can, trying to be aware of the privacy of others. I've had to go back and remove some posts and edit some things after I've gotten feedback (times that also clued me in that maybe more people read my journal than I thought, back before they had counters standard on blog services).
I never want to make anyone look or feel bad. And I hope we can agree that, although I'm strongly opinionated and voice that often, I can also be brutal to myself.
Where am I going with this?
Oh, yeah...
Several years ago, I was divorced. When it came up, I tried to keep it classy. I actually ran into some trouble with the church I attended; it was communicated to me that my posts could be "divisive" to people reading but not getting all sides. I tried to rein all of that in; I really did. But I wanted people to know what I was going through, too.
Consequently, over the years, several women have messaged me privately to confide things like, "After XYZ years of emotional abuse, I have left my husband..." Now, I never think that the dissolution of a marriage is to be celebrated. And these women didn't want congratulations or praise or a party. They reached out because they learned, like I did, that when you elect to initiate divorce proceedings and your life gets really messy, you lose people. I think it's just a lot of drama, even if you try to keep it to a minimum, and it's hard. And some people don't have the emotional energy to deal with it.
So, in those cases, I'm so glad that I put my stuff "out there." I'm so glad that a few people knew they weren't the first, or the only. I'm glad I felt like a safe person.
Today, someone reached out to ask me a question that has had me ruminating over it for some time. It involved how you live functionally when the person who's supposed to love you the most actively and visibly resents and detests you.
Here's the truth, no finger-pointing, just reality: My older child's dad did not like many things about me, and he did not try to hide his disdain (or he wasn't good at it, if he did). I think that we got married so fast, he might have thought I had some quirks that weren't his favorite, but that the good stuff outweighed that. As the years passed, I think it just got to be too much for him. I felt "too much" a lot. Too big, too loud, too immature, too crazy, too excited. Embarrassing. On so many levels.
Now.
Here's what I want to tell you about my husband. If you're a guy, this is important. Actually, it's important no matter your gender. My husband is amazing at this. I still need to practice mindfulness about it.
Before we got married, James told me that he loved me, including the hard/bad stuff. Now, it's not because my annoying/wrong stuff is so adorable that he just can't help it. He was letting me know that he was making a choice to love ALL of me.
In fact, recently, we kind of butted heads and I said, "I'm a bitch sometimes, huh? Just a bossy little bitch." He didn't sugar-coat it and deny that. He nodded his head. And a bit later, he said, "I love that about you, too. Because it IS a part of who you are, and I love you."
Now, there's no way he's saying that when I have a bee in my bonnet that he's enjoying it big-time. What he's saying is not that we're lucky my "good stuff" outweighs my "bad stuff." He's saying it's all me, and he loves and accepts ME.
Maybe other people have this kind of thing and it's normal, but I feel like it's revolutionary. There is such a freedom to admit mistakes and talk about weaknesses and get things out in the open when you're not afraid you're going to disappoint someone out of loving you.
He's my role-model with this, because I want him to feel that same security and surety, and I want my kids to bask in it, as well.
Jackpot hit, friends.
Showing posts with label keeping it real. Show all posts
Showing posts with label keeping it real. Show all posts
Thursday, October 27, 2016
Tuesday, October 4, 2016
The Back Side of the Blessing
All day, I've been on and off about whether or not to write about this, but I'm struggling right now and decided to blog on the off chance that someone else might read it and think, "Me, too!" and feel less alone.
We've discussed before (like how I say that? I kind of feel like blogging can be a conversation, when people interact, anyway) my apparent inability to make and maintain friendships, namely with other women.
At many times in the past, my schedule was set up to allow for regular social interaction.
In Las Vegas, when D was Mal's age, I had weekly planning meetings at church: D went into childcare, and I sat with creative types, throwing ideas around, listening to music, and making each other laugh. Then on the weekends, I'd often sing or be in a drama, so I'd spend several hours on Saturday night and Sunday morning hanging out in the green room with people, eating together, sharing our lives.
Now, once, before D was born, I had a viewing party at my house because I'd been at a concert where I was definitely going to be in the televised video and no one but my friend Adrienne (and my family) showed up, and that kind of stung.
But there were other things, other get-togethers, and the big one when our planning meeting was postponed in lieu of helping me move the stuff from my house into a moving truck.
And that was all good. But, honestly, none of those people were "I have a couple of hours free; I should call so we can meet for anything other than coffee" people.
Then we moved to Texas. Again, it was easy to fall into a pattern of social scheduling: I joined a ladies' class that had regular "fellowships" (which were fun, even if they used to be highly structured to the point of being a little ridiculous), and a preschool-aged homeschool group (all of those kids are teenagers now; it's crazy!), and eventually the same thing with church and meetings. We did homeschool enrichment classes, and so most weeks spent a full day with other parents (and lots of kids). D got really involved in gymnastics, so I would chat with the moms there.
And then toward the end of our time in North Texas, I got involved in the theater and made some "hang out" friends, for the first time, people I knew not because they were other parents and our kids were small, but because we had a common interest. And that was really the first time I had "real" friends in my adult life. Then we moved.
We tried a few times to make forays into the homeschool community here (it's huge), but then D's anxiety started taking over and she's not up for big group events anymore. After Mal was born, I tried joining some different "mom" groups, and none of those took.
For a while, when we first moved, we had our small group, and then there have been other times where, say, my birthing center has had regularly-scheduled things to help get women out of the house and chatting. In the past year or so, every construct that was in place has slowly eroded.
When I go out these days, it's with my sweet little guy, and that's it. The other day, when D was up and making her "breakfast" (while Mal was taking his afternoon nap), I was talking to her about some stuff I'm dealing with with Mal and realized, even though I already knew it, that she couldn't care less. This wasn't something to waste the few minutes a day we get to talk on. I thought, "Good gravy, Mabel, this girl needs a friend."
Now, understand, I have a friend. A best friend. But he's a man. And he's an introvert. And he spends all day around people. And he's so good and attentive and sometimes, mostly in the morning, but sometimes at night, too, I feel like I'm blowing out his proverbial speakers... Like I'm talking, but we've hit a point where he can't absorb without it stressing him out. That's why God made more than one lady, I'm sure.
It's just interesting to me to think back and realize that I had a social network (in real life) and a regimen in the past that has lent the aura of friendships without genuinely producing friendships. I do have a couple of people that I see every few months, but if I'm stressed in the middle of the day and need to talk to someone? I just try to think about something else, stay in the moment with my kid, and do the thing.
In the past few months, I've just found myself struggling with loneliness quite a bit. And I'm not sure how to fix it, other than the last sentence of the paragraph above.
As an aside, I'm glad I get to stay home. It is, as I entitled this post, a blessing. It's huge. It's what I want to do. At some point in the very near future, however, I hope I'm again in the position to be a good friend to someone again.
We've discussed before (like how I say that? I kind of feel like blogging can be a conversation, when people interact, anyway) my apparent inability to make and maintain friendships, namely with other women.
At many times in the past, my schedule was set up to allow for regular social interaction.
In Las Vegas, when D was Mal's age, I had weekly planning meetings at church: D went into childcare, and I sat with creative types, throwing ideas around, listening to music, and making each other laugh. Then on the weekends, I'd often sing or be in a drama, so I'd spend several hours on Saturday night and Sunday morning hanging out in the green room with people, eating together, sharing our lives.
Now, once, before D was born, I had a viewing party at my house because I'd been at a concert where I was definitely going to be in the televised video and no one but my friend Adrienne (and my family) showed up, and that kind of stung.
But there were other things, other get-togethers, and the big one when our planning meeting was postponed in lieu of helping me move the stuff from my house into a moving truck.
And that was all good. But, honestly, none of those people were "I have a couple of hours free; I should call so we can meet for anything other than coffee" people.
Then we moved to Texas. Again, it was easy to fall into a pattern of social scheduling: I joined a ladies' class that had regular "fellowships" (which were fun, even if they used to be highly structured to the point of being a little ridiculous), and a preschool-aged homeschool group (all of those kids are teenagers now; it's crazy!), and eventually the same thing with church and meetings. We did homeschool enrichment classes, and so most weeks spent a full day with other parents (and lots of kids). D got really involved in gymnastics, so I would chat with the moms there.
And then toward the end of our time in North Texas, I got involved in the theater and made some "hang out" friends, for the first time, people I knew not because they were other parents and our kids were small, but because we had a common interest. And that was really the first time I had "real" friends in my adult life. Then we moved.
We tried a few times to make forays into the homeschool community here (it's huge), but then D's anxiety started taking over and she's not up for big group events anymore. After Mal was born, I tried joining some different "mom" groups, and none of those took.
For a while, when we first moved, we had our small group, and then there have been other times where, say, my birthing center has had regularly-scheduled things to help get women out of the house and chatting. In the past year or so, every construct that was in place has slowly eroded.
When I go out these days, it's with my sweet little guy, and that's it. The other day, when D was up and making her "breakfast" (while Mal was taking his afternoon nap), I was talking to her about some stuff I'm dealing with with Mal and realized, even though I already knew it, that she couldn't care less. This wasn't something to waste the few minutes a day we get to talk on. I thought, "Good gravy, Mabel, this girl needs a friend."
Now, understand, I have a friend. A best friend. But he's a man. And he's an introvert. And he spends all day around people. And he's so good and attentive and sometimes, mostly in the morning, but sometimes at night, too, I feel like I'm blowing out his proverbial speakers... Like I'm talking, but we've hit a point where he can't absorb without it stressing him out. That's why God made more than one lady, I'm sure.
It's just interesting to me to think back and realize that I had a social network (in real life) and a regimen in the past that has lent the aura of friendships without genuinely producing friendships. I do have a couple of people that I see every few months, but if I'm stressed in the middle of the day and need to talk to someone? I just try to think about something else, stay in the moment with my kid, and do the thing.
In the past few months, I've just found myself struggling with loneliness quite a bit. And I'm not sure how to fix it, other than the last sentence of the paragraph above.
As an aside, I'm glad I get to stay home. It is, as I entitled this post, a blessing. It's huge. It's what I want to do. At some point in the very near future, however, I hope I'm again in the position to be a good friend to someone again.
Tuesday, July 12, 2016
Ever have one of those days?
Yesterday, someone posted a set of pictures on a radical unschooling board of which I am a part. It was their "school" day (they call it "freeschooling," which I love because I feel like it is a much more realistic and colorful description of how everybody learns). It had a picture of an about-five-year-old outside on this very bucolic rural property, complete with a little pond and a barn. The first thing I noticed was that it didn't seem to be 515 degrees with 4000% humidity wherever they were. The second thing was that when this person asked, "What did your day look like?" I didn't want to share! Not pictures, anyway. We stayed home all day and basically did chores and nothing. I guess we did get out on the patio a bit in the afternoon, when it was shaded, but it was still pretty hot. The cicadas in the trees out back were cacophonous, though, so that was neat.
I'm in the middle of reading "How to Raise a Wild Child" and it's becoming ever more clear to me that if I'm going to foster a love of nature with my younger kid like I did with the older, we're going to have to end up somewhere that I can stand to be outside more than four months a year. I'm starting to have guilt pangs every time he wants to go outside and my first thought is "heatstroke and mosquito bites."
Anyway, my point is that most of our days don't look bucolic. Most of them look something like today, which was on the "grrr" side of normal, I'll admit, but still fairly typical.
Here it goes:
Mal got up and woke ME up by purposefully swan-diving over my lower legs onto the bed (from the bed). I was unprepared for such a game, but tried to shake off the sleep quickly so as to avoid his injuring himself.
We got up and I got pancakes ready. Mal ate some blueberries and played around, then after breakfast, was trying to climb back up onto the bar stool, lost his footing, and fell forward, smacking his temple on the side of our granite counter tops. Ouch!
After he settled from that, he told his daddy "goodbye" and we went into Mal's room to wave out the window and then to read some books. I hooked up a horse that walks with his pull dog toy so the horse could take the dog for a walk. This infuriated Mal, who screamed and tried to pull them apart until I unknotted the leash from the horse.
I was trying to get Mal ready to go to be at the library by 10, when it opens. We were planning to try story time for the first time. It's at 10:15, but you need a ticket and apparently they do get full. During preparations, I found a Texas redheaded centipede on the floor, thankfully dead, and after the scorpion I found in D's floor earlier this week, I called the office to request inside spraying when the pest control people come Friday. I think that's what made us "too" late.
We got into the car and left in time to get to the library by 10:05. Five minutes after the library opened. And the regular lot was full. There was a police officer directing cars to the roundabout by the book drop-off, and people were parking on the inside of it, where there isn't a red curb. Okay. I drove around it, but it was full by then, so the police officer directed me to one of the four "electric only" parking spots. Obviously, my 1997 Chevy Astro is not electric, but since she told me I could...
As an aside, I doubt there are ever four electric vehicles charging at that library ever. And I'm willing to bet that 99.5% of the time, there isn't even one.
Anyhoo, by the time I got parked, the lot was officially full, and the police office was having to tell people basically "I don't care where you park, but you can't park here." It was 10:11. Eleven minutes after the library had opened. As annoyed as I am that they'll be closing down for MONTHS in October, it looks like they definitely need some infrastructure work.
We got inside to be told, "Sorry, story time is full." Ugh. Fortunately, Mal didn't know what I was telling him would happen since he's never been, and he had fun running the aisles and messing with the catalog, which I let him. There were about half a dozen people who came in after me, and they got into story time. This means that their friends got tickets for their kids, which I think stinks. If you're going to cut people off, it should be first come/first served. You only get tickets for the kids with you. So I didn't feel too bad that Mal kept repeatedly adding the library search page to the browser's short cut bar. Have I mentioned how hot it is, and what a pain in my sweat glands it is to get out at all, much less on a pointless errand?
After that, I took him to the gym so he could get some energy out. He had fun, and got to do all of the things he wanted to, and didn't poop even once, much less twice like he has the past two times we've been to the gym. So that was good for everyone. Then suddenly, the place was PACKED. We made a quick exit for Chick-fil-A.
I usually park at the strip mall next to Chick-fil-A because their parking lot is bonkers. But for some reason (we'll see why), it was full. I parked at CFA, and fortunately got under a tree. While Mal played around in the van, rather than rushing him to get out, I decided to order from the newish app. I'm glad I did! My food was ready when I got inside, and I had forgotten that today is Dress Like a Cow Day, so that place was JAMMED WITH COWPEOPLE.
Mal and I sat down to eat, then he decided to go play in the playground. I watched him go in (it was on the other side of the restaurant; all of the tables near the door were taken, natch), then decided to head in there with him to free up our table. The line was just not stopping.
By the time I gathered up his book, his fries, his chicken nuggets, and both of our drinks (I was okay with them accidentally giving Mal a large soda, but it was a lot to carry) and got into the playground, Mal was scream/crying. He had partially climbed up on the lowest landing of the playground, then was trying to get back down, but couldn't feel the floor. His feet were dangling approximately 2 inches from the padded mat, but he wouldn't listen to me when I assured him he could drop.
So I laid down our drinks, the fries, the nuggets, the napkins, et. al., and grabbed him. By then, parents were giving me the "where were you?" stink eye. He's fast. Sorry. Can't do much about that.
Poor kid had tears streaming, but was calmer once he realized I was there. Sitting on the floor, I started getting claustrophobic. More and more people just kept coming, and there were at least 50 people in this little (smaller than standard) play area. I easily convinced Mal that it was time to go, picked up the nuggets, drinks, blah blah everything in the world, and we headed out.
Kids at two tables had spilled drinks, so there were mop buckets, chairs pushed back, and employees mopping both ways we needed to walk to get to an exit. People were gathered, waiting to get their tables back. People had high chairs in the same aisles, and had put regular chairs on the end of booth tables to allow for an extra kid. Somehow, we got out of there and into the parking lot, which was jammed.
I wanted to drop all of our stuff in the van before we walked across to Walmart to get D a few things, but there was one car at the front of the lot, parallel with the drive-through, who was holding up about 8 cars as it waited for a parking space. I would have felt bad exciting a parking space vulture, but also could not have backed out at that point, since there were cars behind my van... so we just walked over to the store.
Believe it or not, Walmart was kind of the highlight of the morning. Easy-peasy, we got chocolate milk, gummy worms, clear tape, and sugar, and were on our way.
Mal requests to see the fans now any time we go to Walmart. I think it's part of his air conditioning obsession. He signs "light" kind of when he means "fan" and says, "hot." I know what he means. One thing he has learned in the past two days is "off." He's always said "hot" for "on" or "off." Now he says "hot" and "oaffff." It's cute for real, guys!
On the way to the fans, though, I noticed that his finger was bleeding. No, it wasn't. His nose was bleeding. So my kid is Ralph Wiggums now.
When we got back out, I had to carry Mal and the groceries to the van in one trip, then go back to the buggy for our sodas. I have 25 bags in the van, but didn't want to stop to get them on our way because, you know, that situation up there.
FINALLY we were ready to come home, and were we ever. Mal stayed awake on the drive, which is always good when I have a load of stuff to get upstairs. He was sleepy, though, and wanted immediately to lay down and nurse. I put the milk in the fridge, which took too long for him, and needed to use the restroom. THAT was beyond the pale, and he required snuggles the whole time I was... busy. *sigh*
Nap time! We headed to the bed, and on the way, Mal noticed two quarters on the floor. He bent over to pick one up, smacking his forehead on the frame of our bed. And thus, he fell to sleep quickly but sadly.
I hope our afternoon is less eventful!
A couple of other things: My bike got stolen on Saturday! I'd unlocked it to get Mal's tricycle to go down to the pool at 5:20, and had left the chain unlatched. We've never had any problems here. Well, when I came back at 7:15, the bike (and ibert baby seat) were gone! Grr. People.
Here's an interesting (and a little gross, if you're sensitive) article on nose-picking, and eating boogers specifically. I was thinking about this this morning, before the nosebleed incident (which I think was because I can't seem to get the edges of Mal's nails smooth, so he's constantly nicking his facial region with his fingers, and I hate it!), that I don't smack Mal's hand away or tell him "no!" when I see him picking his nose. I'm GLAD he can do it. He has some serious production capabilities, he doesn't understand how to blow his nose yet, and I hate it when he's stopped up. So it's a relief to me. I've asked him not to wipe boogers on things, because they're very difficult to clean, not to mention disgusting. But I was wondering what I'd do if some other well-meaning adult told him not to pick his nose, or that it was gross. So I started warning him, and will remind him often, "That's fine. I don't care. It's not bad. Some people think it's gross and might tell you, or might stare at you, so you might want to do it in private." (Which, come to think of it, is the same advice I'll give when he's... you know... exploring another socially sensitive bodily region.)
Okay. I have a project I want to try to get done during Mal's nap, and I've already used up an hour! It probably won't happen, but a girl's gotta try!
I'm in the middle of reading "How to Raise a Wild Child" and it's becoming ever more clear to me that if I'm going to foster a love of nature with my younger kid like I did with the older, we're going to have to end up somewhere that I can stand to be outside more than four months a year. I'm starting to have guilt pangs every time he wants to go outside and my first thought is "heatstroke and mosquito bites."
Anyway, my point is that most of our days don't look bucolic. Most of them look something like today, which was on the "grrr" side of normal, I'll admit, but still fairly typical.
Here it goes:
Mal got up and woke ME up by purposefully swan-diving over my lower legs onto the bed (from the bed). I was unprepared for such a game, but tried to shake off the sleep quickly so as to avoid his injuring himself.
We got up and I got pancakes ready. Mal ate some blueberries and played around, then after breakfast, was trying to climb back up onto the bar stool, lost his footing, and fell forward, smacking his temple on the side of our granite counter tops. Ouch!
After he settled from that, he told his daddy "goodbye" and we went into Mal's room to wave out the window and then to read some books. I hooked up a horse that walks with his pull dog toy so the horse could take the dog for a walk. This infuriated Mal, who screamed and tried to pull them apart until I unknotted the leash from the horse.
I was trying to get Mal ready to go to be at the library by 10, when it opens. We were planning to try story time for the first time. It's at 10:15, but you need a ticket and apparently they do get full. During preparations, I found a Texas redheaded centipede on the floor, thankfully dead, and after the scorpion I found in D's floor earlier this week, I called the office to request inside spraying when the pest control people come Friday. I think that's what made us "too" late.
We got into the car and left in time to get to the library by 10:05. Five minutes after the library opened. And the regular lot was full. There was a police officer directing cars to the roundabout by the book drop-off, and people were parking on the inside of it, where there isn't a red curb. Okay. I drove around it, but it was full by then, so the police officer directed me to one of the four "electric only" parking spots. Obviously, my 1997 Chevy Astro is not electric, but since she told me I could...
As an aside, I doubt there are ever four electric vehicles charging at that library ever. And I'm willing to bet that 99.5% of the time, there isn't even one.
Anyhoo, by the time I got parked, the lot was officially full, and the police office was having to tell people basically "I don't care where you park, but you can't park here." It was 10:11. Eleven minutes after the library had opened. As annoyed as I am that they'll be closing down for MONTHS in October, it looks like they definitely need some infrastructure work.
We got inside to be told, "Sorry, story time is full." Ugh. Fortunately, Mal didn't know what I was telling him would happen since he's never been, and he had fun running the aisles and messing with the catalog, which I let him. There were about half a dozen people who came in after me, and they got into story time. This means that their friends got tickets for their kids, which I think stinks. If you're going to cut people off, it should be first come/first served. You only get tickets for the kids with you. So I didn't feel too bad that Mal kept repeatedly adding the library search page to the browser's short cut bar. Have I mentioned how hot it is, and what a pain in my sweat glands it is to get out at all, much less on a pointless errand?
After that, I took him to the gym so he could get some energy out. He had fun, and got to do all of the things he wanted to, and didn't poop even once, much less twice like he has the past two times we've been to the gym. So that was good for everyone. Then suddenly, the place was PACKED. We made a quick exit for Chick-fil-A.
I usually park at the strip mall next to Chick-fil-A because their parking lot is bonkers. But for some reason (we'll see why), it was full. I parked at CFA, and fortunately got under a tree. While Mal played around in the van, rather than rushing him to get out, I decided to order from the newish app. I'm glad I did! My food was ready when I got inside, and I had forgotten that today is Dress Like a Cow Day, so that place was JAMMED WITH COWPEOPLE.
Mal and I sat down to eat, then he decided to go play in the playground. I watched him go in (it was on the other side of the restaurant; all of the tables near the door were taken, natch), then decided to head in there with him to free up our table. The line was just not stopping.
By the time I gathered up his book, his fries, his chicken nuggets, and both of our drinks (I was okay with them accidentally giving Mal a large soda, but it was a lot to carry) and got into the playground, Mal was scream/crying. He had partially climbed up on the lowest landing of the playground, then was trying to get back down, but couldn't feel the floor. His feet were dangling approximately 2 inches from the padded mat, but he wouldn't listen to me when I assured him he could drop.
So I laid down our drinks, the fries, the nuggets, the napkins, et. al., and grabbed him. By then, parents were giving me the "where were you?" stink eye. He's fast. Sorry. Can't do much about that.
Poor kid had tears streaming, but was calmer once he realized I was there. Sitting on the floor, I started getting claustrophobic. More and more people just kept coming, and there were at least 50 people in this little (smaller than standard) play area. I easily convinced Mal that it was time to go, picked up the nuggets, drinks, blah blah everything in the world, and we headed out.
Kids at two tables had spilled drinks, so there were mop buckets, chairs pushed back, and employees mopping both ways we needed to walk to get to an exit. People were gathered, waiting to get their tables back. People had high chairs in the same aisles, and had put regular chairs on the end of booth tables to allow for an extra kid. Somehow, we got out of there and into the parking lot, which was jammed.
I wanted to drop all of our stuff in the van before we walked across to Walmart to get D a few things, but there was one car at the front of the lot, parallel with the drive-through, who was holding up about 8 cars as it waited for a parking space. I would have felt bad exciting a parking space vulture, but also could not have backed out at that point, since there were cars behind my van... so we just walked over to the store.
Believe it or not, Walmart was kind of the highlight of the morning. Easy-peasy, we got chocolate milk, gummy worms, clear tape, and sugar, and were on our way.
Mal requests to see the fans now any time we go to Walmart. I think it's part of his air conditioning obsession. He signs "light" kind of when he means "fan" and says, "hot." I know what he means. One thing he has learned in the past two days is "off." He's always said "hot" for "on" or "off." Now he says "hot" and "oaffff." It's cute for real, guys!
On the way to the fans, though, I noticed that his finger was bleeding. No, it wasn't. His nose was bleeding. So my kid is Ralph Wiggums now.
When we got back out, I had to carry Mal and the groceries to the van in one trip, then go back to the buggy for our sodas. I have 25 bags in the van, but didn't want to stop to get them on our way because, you know, that situation up there.
FINALLY we were ready to come home, and were we ever. Mal stayed awake on the drive, which is always good when I have a load of stuff to get upstairs. He was sleepy, though, and wanted immediately to lay down and nurse. I put the milk in the fridge, which took too long for him, and needed to use the restroom. THAT was beyond the pale, and he required snuggles the whole time I was... busy. *sigh*
Nap time! We headed to the bed, and on the way, Mal noticed two quarters on the floor. He bent over to pick one up, smacking his forehead on the frame of our bed. And thus, he fell to sleep quickly but sadly.
I hope our afternoon is less eventful!
A couple of other things: My bike got stolen on Saturday! I'd unlocked it to get Mal's tricycle to go down to the pool at 5:20, and had left the chain unlatched. We've never had any problems here. Well, when I came back at 7:15, the bike (and ibert baby seat) were gone! Grr. People.
Here's an interesting (and a little gross, if you're sensitive) article on nose-picking, and eating boogers specifically. I was thinking about this this morning, before the nosebleed incident (which I think was because I can't seem to get the edges of Mal's nails smooth, so he's constantly nicking his facial region with his fingers, and I hate it!), that I don't smack Mal's hand away or tell him "no!" when I see him picking his nose. I'm GLAD he can do it. He has some serious production capabilities, he doesn't understand how to blow his nose yet, and I hate it when he's stopped up. So it's a relief to me. I've asked him not to wipe boogers on things, because they're very difficult to clean, not to mention disgusting. But I was wondering what I'd do if some other well-meaning adult told him not to pick his nose, or that it was gross. So I started warning him, and will remind him often, "That's fine. I don't care. It's not bad. Some people think it's gross and might tell you, or might stare at you, so you might want to do it in private." (Which, come to think of it, is the same advice I'll give when he's... you know... exploring another socially sensitive bodily region.)
Okay. I have a project I want to try to get done during Mal's nap, and I've already used up an hour! It probably won't happen, but a girl's gotta try!
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