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.

More Travel with Malcolm Tales

We had a great time in Arizona. It was nice to see family, and everything was lovely. Here are a few pictures before I tell you two stories I want to remember.

Our hotel couldn't have been better.

The last full day we were in town, Mal's grandma wanted us to have an early Christmas. We had dinner at our hotel, then went to a Christmas parade, and finished up the night with hot chocolate and presents at their house.

Earlier in the day, Mal and I went to Safeway to get chips and drinks, and some Christmas cookies. I ended up getting a big Christmas cookie decorated as a snowman. Mal said he was ready to eat some, and I explained that it was for dinner that night. He said he wasn't going to wait for dinner, and I disagreed.

We picked out some snowball cotton candy for Mal to enjoy at the present, and he said he liked it but was still insisting he was having some of that cookie in the immediate future. Once again, I told him we were waiting for everyone at dinner.

Once we'd gotten everything and were ready to check out, Mal said, "Mom, you're a dumb, dumb guy." We hadn't been talking, so I asked, "Is it because I won't let you eat the cookie right now?" He said, "Yes." It's probably rude, but I have not laughed that hard in a very long time. I know some parents might get onto their kid for calling them a "dumb, dumb guy" (James said his insults need work because this one sounds quite childish) but it's the only way he has to express how disappointed he is. And it cracked me up.

The other thing:

On Saturday, we messed around most of the day and were returning our car at about 3 o'clock. When Mal realized we weren't keeping the snazzy blue Nissan Sentra we'd used all week, he was super bummed. He said he hated our silver SUV and he didn't want it anymore; he wanted to keep the Sentra. He cried when we returned the car. He cried when we got onto the shuttle bus to the airport terminal (but first, he cried after an employee told us to run across a circular drive to get to the OTHER bus stop because the bus was over there, and it pulled out right as we arrived). And he cried a lot during the TWO HOURS we waited for our plane. (I had gotten there early because I don't know Phoenix weekend traffic enough to plan otherwise.) Mal also kept telling me he didn't want to get on the plane, but wanted to drive back to the hotel.

In his defense, Mal was tired. He fell asleep as we were taking off. He slept about half an hour and woke up in a much better mood. But when we got onto the shuttle for remote parking, he said, "I don't want to go back to our silver car! I want the blue car!" When we arrived at our parking space, he went full-on bawling, declaiming his hatred of the silver SUV and mourning the loss of the Sentra.

I helped him get into the car seat while expressing my empathy for his disappointment. Then we took off for home.

I was impressed, by the by, with The Parking Spot. Our plane landed at 9:00 and we were at our car by 9:23. I had downloaded their app, so while two other cars waited at the manned exit to pay, I just scanned my phone and was on the road. It was great!

We got about 1/3 of the way home when I heard Mal singing under his breath, "I love you. silver SUV. I missed you so much and I'll never leave you. I love you so much!" Love the one you're with, I suppose... :D

I knew it was just a matter of time...

More on my trip with Mal soon, because there were some doozies I want to remember, but I have to denote this most special of occasions.

Ever since the last time I got pregnant at what the medical community at large  (but never, ever my awesome team of midwives at Birthwise) would call "an advanced maternal age," I've known it was coming.

And it finally happened last night:

"Is that your grandbaby?"

I expected it to be more cutting than it was. Frankly, it was anti-climactic.

Part of this might be because the lady who asked me this both called Mal a girl repeatedly, after he corrected her, and then requested a ride to a bar down the street. From McDonald's. At 8:45 on a Sunday. Bless her.

But I think that most of it was because of the work I've been doing on accepting and loving my body (and all bodies). While what I've wrestled with most has been internalized fatphobia, I feel like really examining and deconstructing biases I've been taught my whole life has helped with everything, this included.

To be "offended" by being mistaken for my child's grandparent, I think I'd have to have more stock in pride of visibly defying my age, or shame in maturing. I have neither.

Actually, a few hours before that, I'd been telling James about an article I read on the thin privilege of "small fats," or what Roxane Gay calls, "Lane Bryant fat." I told him that in addition to the "privilege" I experience of not having to worry whether I'll fit into a restaurant seat, or have to buy two airline tickets, or be told by a doctor when I go in with pain in my breast and I should lose weight and I'll feel better, I also seem to have reached a milestone that many women meet with mourning, but I find exhilarating:

Largely because of my age, I'm "invisible."

When I was young, I was on the receiving end of much overt disgust (*shudder* "You're so fat!") and impertinent assumptions (the first time I was asked if I was pregnant, I was 16) very often. There's a trauma that comes with stigma in which someone isn't victimized only by overt actions; they are hurt over and over just by the anxiety they live with in anticipating the next unwanted negative interaction.

What I'm describing as my personal experience pales in comparison to the things that other minorities and "super fats" endure every day, but it was still a big part of my younger life.

It isn't anymore.

And the reason I believe it is not is that I have reached an age where it isn't seen as my civic duty to be attractive to the male eye anymore. And so I'm "invisible," but, to me, in the best possible way. I am not on the receiving end of objective scrutiny and catcalls. I know men are being kind when they hold a door open, because they don't have ulterior motives. Some women hate that; I think it's an incredibly comfortable place to have landed.

So, being mistaken for a grandma when I'm not wasn't a blow. I wasn't taken for being any "older" than I am; my sister, who is younger than I am, is a grandmother.

Actually, there's an important lesson there: You cannot tell how two people are related by looking at them. I should never make assumptions.

There we have it: The first, and likely not the last, time I was presumed to be the grandma. Very often, when I go to bed at night, I certainly feel as tired as a grandma after a grandkid has visited all day! So it's kind of accurate.

Ol' Granny and Mal, Jr.

First time traveling alone with Mal!

Greetings from just outside of Phoenix, Arizona! It's actually quite a bit outside of it, but we'll get to that part later.

After our Disney trip, I promised Mal we wouldn't have to fly again until we go to Hawaii in 2020, but the opportunity arose for us to take a quick trip to visit James's mom, and we had enough points for airline tickets so didn't have to pay anything at all, including tax, because we also each had a $15 credit from when our tickets to Florida decreased in price. Yay!

This morning, Mal woke up about an hour earlier than usual, and two hours earlier than he had Monday. It wasn't because he was excited about the trip, because even though he knew it was coming, I haven't been playing it up as he has anxiety about air travel.

He sat up in bed asking to go to Target, so we did. We spent about an hour there, and Mal found a group of tiny squishies that I knew he'd enjoy on the plane.

Then we drove to the Parking Spot and took a shuttle to the airport. He went from being against flying at all to being pretty excited about it. We had some time at the airport, so we stopped for yogurt (I got a smoothie, largely so I'd have a cup for him to pee in on the plane, if the need arose; it did not) then went shopping and read several books in the bookstore.

When it was time to go to the gate, Mal opened a couple of his trip surprises. He was so excited! A guy across the way made the mistake of asking Mal about the character he was playing with, and he got an encyclopedic explanation.

He was itching to board by the time we did, so that was great. I think he just wanted to be in the air and have the whole thing underway. Oh, and I had not retrieved the headphones from James after he took Mal out Sunday night, so Mal did the flight with my hands over his ears on takeoff, and just for a bit when the "brakes" are on full blast to stop the plane at the end. I was super proud of him!

Oh, also, THERE WAS AN AUSTRALIAN SHEPHERD PUPPY ON OUR FLIGHT.

A lady from Phoenix had ordered an emotional support dog from a breeder/trainer in the Austin area. Rather than pay $500 to have the poor pup shipped to her in cargo (tear drop; I wish no one would choose that option), the lady got to the Phoenix airport at 3 AM, got to Austin by 8, the breeder brought the dog to the airport, then they just got on the next flight and came home. She said it cost about half the shipping charge. Oh, his name is Moose. My goodness, he was a cutie.

We had to take a shuttle to the remote car rental hub, then it seemed to take a LONG time for us to get our vehicle with "FastBreak" by Budget. I realized I should have just checked in at their regular booth, which had no line but several free agents, instead of going down to the parking lot kiosk. In theory that should have been faster, but they also have people who booked through AAA and AARP go down there, and they had significant paperwork to complete, whereas I'd done everything ahead of time. Mal didn't mind the wait. We can always find something to do.

We'd ordered this sort of "mini booster seat" for me to bring on the trip, and I have to tell you: IT IS A PAIN IN THE BUTT. DO NOT RECOMMEND. Thirty minutes later, we hit the road in Phoenix, just in time for rush hour! It took us about 30 minutes to travel the 7 miles to McDonald's, but Mal was so good. He didn't complain. And the sunset was super amazing, so we had lots to look at.

I had the most greasy, delicious mushroom Swiss Quarter Pounder. It tasted so spot on after a day of snacking on the go. Mal had his usual, and played a while on the PlayPlace.

Then we headed further out of town to Walmart to get a few food items for the room. That drive was the only time Mal complained that it was taking a long time. We'd been away from the house for more than 8 hours by that time.

When we got back in to the car to travel the last 40 minutes, I asked Mal if he wanted radio, no radio, chat, or sleep. He said he was going to go to sleep, and he did. We were super beat by the time we got to the hotel, and the office was locked so I had to call someone to come check us in. But look at what was waiting for us!

We didn't mind waiting at all, and when the gentleman came to assist us, he had a big black dog named Hank who was the friendliest pup. Now I'm all showered and ready for bed. Mal might be going strong for a while, but I've given him a deadline to at least try to go to sleep for the night. We'll see how that goes.

Thankful for a drama-free, if long, travel day. Can't wait to look around the hotel and see Grandma tomorrow!

Quick Thought About "Dumplin'" the Movie, a personal note

If you haven't watched Netflix's recent movie "Dumplin'", do yourself a favor and do. The most negative feedback I've read is that it's not as good as the book, and movies never are, so I waited to read it until I'd seen the film.

There is a lot to love about it. For me, the lion's share involved the portrayal of female friendships (mostly among high-schoolers). In almost every movie where you have an "outcast" (fat, nerd, jock girl, etc.) and then "normals," one or the other will be framed as basically evil, and one or the other will spend much of the movie plotting revenge or hating the other.

None of that in this movie. The main tension is between the title character and her mom, though there is some cursory idiot teen guy bullying (there are plenty of great guys in the movie, though; the jerks don't get much screen time or character development).

The young women in this movie are kind and supportive of each other. They might disagree, and even argue, but there is an underlying good will that pervades. I feel like this is a much more genuine picture of my experience with girlfriends.

But here is one thing that really struck me about the movie:

One of the story lines (not the main one) is of a male co-worker who is interested in the title character. He is conventionally good-looking, and straight-sized. The main character is also attractive, and is fat.

When it becomes obvious that he likes her and she sees a beauty-queen-type flirting with him, she becomes upset and tells him that they don't work "in the real world." She tells him that he should reasonably be with someone like the pageant staple girl (who, by the way, is an absolutely guileless character; not demonized at all, which, have I mentioned, I LOVE?!).

This was NOT my experience in high school.

I blame my lack of a real high school boyfriend on two things: I was fat (and, really, I wasn't *that* fat). I was not having sex. Maybe also that I'm a dork, but whatever.

I was never flummoxed when a guy liked me. I was always thrown off when a guy DIDN'T. No matter how many times it happened. No matter how consistent it was, and how much self-esteem-damage I had, and how much I hated my body. I was repeatedly crushed and incredulous when a guy in whom I was interested wasn't having it.

I seriously thought, "Do you KNOW me?! I'm super cool, and fun, and funny, and smart, and you'd love hanging out with me!" I might have felt like a flabby monster compared to my closest friends, but I KNEW I could hold my own in terms of personality and having so much to offer a relationship.

I am sure there are plenty of people who feel like Willowdean did: That if you look a certain way, you don't get the "Patriarchy Prizes" (h/t to Virgie Tovar). I'm very sad for those people, and am ready to build a world where this isn't the case. But for me, it never was. I always assumed I was worthy of love and respect and companionship. I'm going to credit my parents for that.

I've still spend a stupid amount of time in my life trying to diminish my body to fit into the ridiculously tiny box considered "desirable" by people who truly don't deserve my efforts. But somehow I've always seen that part of my struggle as separate from the person I am, who deserves good things just as much as my birthday twin, Cameron Diaz.

Blogging is Hard

In case you're wondering: Yes, we're still on the "go to bed at 12:30 AM, wake up after 10 AM" schedule. Which sounds kind of perfect, in terms of sleeping nine hours, but... It makes it difficult for James and me to spend time together, since he has to be in bed in time to get up early enough to miss traffic into his newish job; and it makes blogging a chore because I tend to actually wind down and start heading to sleep before Mal (waking up to tell him it's late enough and I'm turning off the lights). Then in the morning, there is waking up to do, and I try to get my chores done. Then that's just about the time Mal wakes up. Oh, and I watch TV. In fact, I just opened up my tablet, determined to blog, when I saw a video I'd started watching while I made dinner last night, but then got waylaid. I was about to press "play," but knew that would mean zero blogs today. :) So here we are.

Mal watching TV at the fun Disney Jr. play area at Barton Creek Square

First of all, an observation: The other day, it was a little chilly. In the middle of the day, I realized that what I was wearing -- leggings, a long-sleeved under shirt, and a man's button-up that fits kind of like a dress -- was pretty much the exact "outfit" I have on in a picture my mom took of my sister and me coming into my apartment from the store when I was in college.

For most of my life, I've skirted the edges of poverty, typically in the lower middle class. For that same time, I've also thought that it would be nice to have enough money that I could dress a little "better." Well, here we are with enough so-called "disposable" income that I could upgrade my wardrobe if I wanted to. And I DO purchase clothing that is more comfortable and better-made than I used to. But apparently having a little bit of cash in your pocket does not give you style, and so I'm pretty much always going to look like an out-of-touch stay-home cheapskate mom... because I am.

Similarly, we realized some caulking was coming up onto our dishes from INSIDE the dishwasher. At first, I thought I was pulling out some nasty stringy cheese, but realized, no... it was literally caulk. A brief internet research junket showed that it's dangerous to use any kind of sealant inside a dishwasher if it isn't aquarium sealant and therefore safe for animals (like humans). This was obviously the stuff you pipe around your bathtub.

Since the dishwasher was original to the house, built in 2007, we decided to get a new dishwasher. The first year we lived here, when we had the house warranty, we had someone come out about 4 times for various problems, and it's vibrated loudly through two cycles ever since then, but mostly worked.

We'll probably have to replace our refrigerator soon, too, and I've been eyeing these lovely candy apple red appliances. James did some research, but after he bought some Black Friday electronics, turned the dishwasher selection over to me. I found a couple of beautiful red ones. Both Smeg and Big Chill make them. And the morning I sat down to order, I ended up buying a Cyber Monday deal on a slate one (like the other appliances we have) from The Home Depot because I couldn't justify doubling the cost of a dishwasher just for it to be red. So that's how my brain works.

Mal seems to have even MORE energy than ever right now. We're going on a little trip next week, just the two of us, and I'm looking forward to getting and keeping him out for a while. He is loving being out. Wednesday, we went to south Austin to celebrate the Brownie girls' birthdays. Then we went to the mall because he loves Barton's play area (pictured above) but I can't justify driving down there just to visit the mall. After that, and being stuck in rush hour 360 traffic for 45 minutes, he wanted to play at Little Land. We closed that place down, then went to the McD's play area where he played with other kids for an hour and a half.

Yesterday, we met one of his friends at Chick-fil-A, then when they had to leave, we went to McD's AGAIN and he played there for a couple of hours.

Today, he's wanting to go to IKEA, where I can get 1.5 hours of child care for free! So it sounds great to me!

I was not premature in celebrating the end of "deedees." It's been a month since that post, and we're definitely done. The week after I wrote it was difficult. He remembered it, and wanted to go back. I didn't want to actively stop, but since we had, it was easier to say, "I'm sorry; it's too late." He cried himself pretty much to sleep a couple of nights. But he was fine. Yesterday, he was upset about a lot of things and said, for the first time in probably three weeks: "I'm not special anymore because I don't have deedees!" He has no idea how "special" nursing for four years is!

I've mentioned becoming a much more laid-back parent over the years. It might appear like "permissive parenting," but it's actually intentional and often difficult; I'm not just sitting back and letting my kid do whatever he wants because I'm lazy (which I can be, but that's not my overall parenting strategy). It's more about my trying to have empathy with where my kid is, and not allowing my pride or perceived authority be offended because how we interact doesn't look the way an authoritarian model looks. But it's so bizarre and sweet at times.

Yesterday, Malcolm was very frustrated because he had already eaten one of the Trader Joe's chocolate ornaments off of our tree. I don't control what he eats in general, but since the ornaments are for the whole family and not just him, I'm limiting him to one per day. He was furious, and kept saying that he was going to take another. I told him he was not going to do that. He yelled, "I am so angry with you right now!" I told him I was sorry he was mad, and I walked past him to see if he'd let me pick him up. He did.

I sat on the couch, and he nuzzled into my neck, crying and saying, "I'm just so mad at you!" while I said, "I'm so so sorry you are angry" and rocked with him. He eventually calmed down, and it seems so healthy to me to be able both to be mad at someone AND to receive comfort from them. 

Later, we reached a compromise of sorts in which I let him finish off his advent calendar, because that WAS his, and while I sliced onions for dinner, he ran over to show me his "ultra rare" finds, like a chocolate wreath or stockings or Santa. He kept saying, "I love doing this! I can't stop!" He enjoyed himself so much, and the calendar was for his enjoyment, so I'm glad he was able to have at it. We have a wooden advent calendar we can still use daily. It's not quite as tempting.

Oh, Mal wasn't as thrilled when he said he wanted another calendar and I told him Trader Joe's is out of them. I bought them in the middle of November because they're $1 and I know how they fly off the shelves. Ehh, life lesson, I suppose.

Here's a picture my dad took of Mal on the trampoline at the Brownies'.

We got our 23 and Me results back, and James has a much more broad base of ancestry than I do. We'll go into some of the results later, but it was a lot of fun to do. One thing it does if you want it to is it finds people who are likely your family. For both of us, it founds cousins we already know. So that was pretty cool.

We have a special project coming up that is part D's Christmas present, part a thing for the whole family. We're all looking forward to it, and I can't wait to share that, either!

Time to watch that video (hopefully) before Mal wakes up! Have a great weekend!