The Kids are All Right

This weekend, we found a Ziploc bag of coins in one of Mal's drawers. When we took his silver piggy bank out to transfer the bounty, I noticed a date of June 3, 2017 on the side of the bank. Mal had had a bank that he LOVED, but he'd dropped it in the floor when he was carrying it around. We'd bought an identical one, then he saw a pink piggy bank at Target and expressed dismay that we hadn't gotten one. So I let him paint the silver one with some acrylic paint we had.

I distinctly remember looking at that date a lot in the year between when we did the project and its first anniversary. It felt like A LOT longer. But this past year? It hasn't felt nearly as interminable.

Yesterday, Mal and I were killing time playing with LEGOs in the Target cafe when it hit me: This feels like "normal" parenting, like I remember from when D was little. Mal has always been a bit "more" in terms of hands-on and emotionally taxing parenting, to the point that his first few years were just relentlessly sluggish. I'm sorry if that sounds like something a loving mother shouldn't say, but it is true. I've always loved him. He's always made me laugh. And he has always been a lot harder than the typical kid.

But yesterday, it seemed like we were in "this is what I expected from past experience" land. And it was super nice! I enjoy being around Mal so much, and it's nice to be able to take him places and engage with him as a bigger kid.

Which isn't to say he doesn't still have big feelings and big needs. Yesterday, he wailed at McDonald's when his friend and another kid they were playing with refused to be defeated by his various iterations of Star Wars bounty hunters. "I can't find the right one!" he wept, tears streaming down his cheeks. "I can't get a strong enough bounty hunter to defeat them!"

He didn't seem hugely comforted by my reminder that when you're playing pretend, the only way an opponent can be defeated is if they condescend to it, and that didn't seem super likely, no matter which bounty hunter he pulled out of his arsenal.

Meanwhile, D has gotten a snake, and is spending most of the day watching the new baby peek out from a hidey-hole pretty tentatively before disappearing again. Now we have a few days at home alone because James and Mal are headed off to San Antonio for the weekend on their first solo (duo?) trip.

It's all pretty great.

The Benefits of Being "A Certain Age"

Yesterday, we were taking a friend to the doctor and I got pulled over by a Leander police officer. I had stopped at a stop sign and then turned right pretty much in front of him, so I moved right over to the left lane. I thought that's why he pulled me over, but he said it was because of the stop sign. I said, "I thought I stopped?" He then informed me that there was a difference in tapping on one's brakes and in really looking and considering traffic before moving on. Fair enough.

If I were in my 20s, I'm relatively certain (based largely on my experiences in my 20s) that I would have been given a ticket. However, a 46-year-old lady requires only a warning and a reminder to drive more cautiously.

Interestingly, he noted the small size of my car as a danger, saying if I got hit, I'd be in trouble. I wanted to say, a la "Crocodile Dundee," "You think THIS is a small car? Nah. My husband has a small car!" I fortunately digressed.

Also, in case you're my mom and you're worried, my car performs just fine in most crash tests (including the most important ones), with a US News rating of 8.5/10 stars.

Today was James's company's summer picnic, which was held at Typhoon Texas, a nearby waterpark. I last showered a couple of days ago, but today I just put on my bathing suit and walked out the door. I didn't consider shaving. I didn't paint my toenails. I am getting a cold sore, but still didn't think about wearing makeup. I didn't feel intimidated or wistful about any of the pretty young things we saw at the park. I just had fun and ate free food and enjoyed my family.

Yesterday when Mal got his Vampirina house down to play with it, he said, "Mommy! We need to dust Vampirina's bed so we can play with it!" I told James that I'd just been thinking the night before about how the 2009 me would totally judge that the 2019 me doesn't maintenance dust; I only dust when it's visible and bothering me. But I have better things to do than dust, and enough cats that being more fastidious about that wouldn't affect my allergies one bit, anyway.

Basically, I genuinely don't care what other people think (I've always not cared much, but still kind of preferred being thought of as attractive, competent, smart, etc.), I seem harmless enough not to warrant too much attention in public, and I am a lot more laid back. I'm not complaining about this age thing, even as I write this with reading glasses because just this week I've become unable to read my computer screen without them. It's all good.

This is the Life

This has been a week, guys. Mal probably had the stomach flu, and it SUCKED.

But that's not what I'm here to talk about, for the most part.

It's this: Sometimes, I resent my husband.

It's true! I love him, but sometimes, when he sleeps until noon on the weekends; or when he disappears to heat up his knees after having been gone all day and just having dinner with us; or some other thing he does or gets to do that I think, "I could NEVER just..." whatever... You know, stinkin' thinkin' (tm) sets in, and I can go to a pretty ugly place.

Fortunately, those times are few and far between, often suspiciously aligned with specific points in my, let's say, lunar cycle. Also, I love my husband and I want him to be happy, so that tends to mess up my pouty martyrdom, anyway.

However, today, I was overwhelmed by the reality that the stuff I do on a daily basis is totally amazing, and I'm very fortunate that I am able to do it.

Back to Mal's illness: He was actively ill on Sunday, like 5 instances of his being sick enough to warrant a full load of laundry (five different times) in 7 hours. After that, though, he was just spent. He's known his body can't handle much food, which is cool in that it has suppressed any more symptomatic barfing, but it's also meant he has basically zero energy.

Between Sunday at 1 PM and Monday night, he ate a hashbrown (bye bye) and about 1/4 of an apple. And he had a fever for much of Monday. So he slept. A lot. Tuesday, his fever was gone, but, again, he couldn't think about food. He had a bag of Minion fruit snacks (except for the 3 that were either yellow or orange) and a few more apple slices. And he slept a lot more. Tuesday night, he did ask for a Sonic vanilla shake. He drank maybe 1/4 of it that night. Then yesterday, he was pretty up and at 'em, comparatively, while my parents were here. But he's still been super low-energy, especially for himself, and I've had it pretty darned easy.

Today's responsibilities have basically been making some lazy breakfast for James (deviled eggs and coffee); chatting with D at length about our pigeons; and then taking Mal to Walmart for one thing but finding a sale on Powerpuff Girls Legos, and putting those together at home. Now Mal is watching TV, James has gone to lunch at Quetzal (his office's restrooms are jacked up and as long as they're having to use porta-potties, James is working remotely... incidentally, there are 20+ mph wind gusts, which I can only imagine adds to the "fun" of using an outdoor temporary toilet), and D is asleep for the day.

I do work hard. I often do so many things in one day, it makes me tired to think about it. And I feel guilty for feeling like I don't have time to sit and hang out with Mal as much as I want to. And I feel bad that I'm often very exhausted and heading for bed about the time D is ready to chat. But even the tiring stuff that I do... it's all good stuff. It's all here at home, making it a comfortable place for my people to land.

I don't get to sleep until 11 ever, but I do not have to set an alarm and wake up to be on the road by a certain time 5 days a week (or fewer, if the facilities are messed up to the point that employees wishing to avoid pooping in a box elect to stay home). I have had a nice, albeit a little sad, break most of this week as Mal has rested and recovered; like, I've read the majority of a book. Accomplishment!

My job involves things like potential apples and birds who hold freaky mysteries and lots of flowers and photographs and the lake and watching construction and demolition and adventures to places of recreation. I get to see almost everything my kids do in real time. I am surrounded by ridiculous cats. I can do a bunch of stuff in one day to give myself some slack the next day, and no one complains. If I don't feel like doing something, I can just not do it. My job security is rock-solid.

So, yeah, some days I think it'd be nice to be able to go to sleep when I want (it happens sometimes!) and then wake up when I want (again, occasionally) and do whatever I wanted for a few hours (extremely rare), but for the most part, my life is a whole dream, and that includes the husband part.

Happy weekend, folks! <3

Sometimes

Sometimes, you're just tired.

Not sleepy.

Exhausted.

Spent. 

Certain that if something doesn't give, you're going to crawl out of your skin.

And then something happens.

A memory.

A realization.

A quick "hello" in passing.

And the feeling of gratitude washes over you, soft and endless, and nothing else matters.

And you wouldn't trade that for a month of naps.

Because it's the important thing.

And you have it.

You have it all.

Half a Decade Down...

Five years ago, I had a secret. James and I were planning to get married, and we were doing it quietly for a few reasons. One of the biggest is that we're just nerdy enough to think announcing our nuptials on April 1 would be extremely humorous. Another is that we were not making an event out of it. I wasn't 100% confident that a specific individual from my past wouldn't try to show up and mess with things. There were several people in our lives who had definite opinions about our getting married (these were voiced out of love, I know, but were still negative). Plus, this is my third marriage. I figure most people are rightfully like, "Oh, again? Well, good for you, I guess."

Suffice it to say, I have made some pretty substantial mistakes in the past. But the idea I had as a 16-year-old, that James would probably dig me a lot if he just gave me the chance, and that we'd make a good pair, was not mistaken. It just took a while to pan out.

It's cliche to say "I love him more now than I did then," and I'm not sure that's an accurate statement. I was deep in the throes of limerence and quite smitten with James before we got married. But now, all of that is settled. I don't freak out any more. We were coming from such divergent places, there were times for each of us early on when we had our, "Ugh; this is hard. Is it worth it to go on?" moments. Before we got married, I mean. But even afterward, getting used to living with someone and building a family... you learn a lot, and not all of it is fun.

But we've worked and compromised and have been at a place of equilibrium for years now. I've never had that in any relationship before in my life. It's incredibly comforting, and secure, and very exciting.

Photo credit Alec Hilliard Photography

We laughed a lot that day. We've laughed a lot since. We've cried some, too. But mostly, it's been a great time. We've moved 4.5 times. We've blended a family. We've had a beautiful, eye-opening, life-affirming visit to a foreign country together in the midst of a miscarriage. We've had a child in our 40s. We've purchased a home together (his first!). We've gone through lay-offs and job searches and new opportunities. Sleepless nights, days of exhaustion, moments of joy so acute it's almost painful. Tedium. Health issues. Sharing ideas. Growing closer. Navigating speed bumps. Learning each other's strengths. Filling in where the other is weaker. Being comfortable. Being home.

And it's only been five years.

Here's hoping James takes better care of himself over the next 40 years than he did the first; I am looking forward to our 50th anniversary!

A Legacy of Industry

Last week, when James and I were discussing the plumbing stuff, he said he was glad that I was home to problem-solve and take care of everything. I appreciated the nod, but asked, "What else was I supposed to do?" James said, "There are some women who would have called me at work and had me come home because they couldn't handle it." I just laughed at that. "I am too much of a control freak. I didn't want to wait for the service people; I sure as heck wouldn't have waited for you to come home!"

This weekend when I was mowing the yard, I started thinking more about this, and I realized something that I've probably taken for granted most of my life: My mom, and really both of my parents, modeled something for me so well that I've never imagined life any other way: Industry, proficiency, and labor by the person for whom it's most convenient.

First, I will say that my parents would probably label themselves as conservative. Spiritually, their marriage is definitely complementary. But in practical, every day life, I think they're more egalitarian.

I don't remember too many household emergencies from when I was a kid (ahh, the innocence), but I can't imagine my mom pacing the house, unsure of what to do until her man got home to tell her. I do remember our car breaking down one day when we were out and about, and that Mom (in the days before cell phones) had my sister and me walk hand-in-hand with her down a very busy street in the rain for a couple of miles until we got to where she knew my grandfather was working.

If she were upset or overwhelmed, she didn't act it. Although it might have been a clue that one of the songs she sang as we walked was "Whistle a Happy Tune." We passed a bunch of businesses where I'm sure she could have gone in and called my dad a work, but that's not what we did.

And Mom was always doing *something.* It used to annoy my sister and me: We'd be watching a TV show or a movie that we wanted Mom to see, and she'd half watch while ironing for extra income or grading papers or cleaning up. We just wanted her to SIT DOWN and watch television. But I think that "go go go" mentality she inherited from her dad, my Pepa. I have it in fits and spurts.

Mowing my yard on Sunday, I recalled that both of my parents had stained green mowing shoes. I remember one would mow, and the other would make a glass of iced tea to deliver at about the half-way mark.

Although my mom most often made our dinner, it was largely a function of the fact that she got home an hour or so before my dad did. But he cooked, too. And baked. He took us girls places.

My dad's domestic proficiency was rooted in loss, unfortunately. His mother passed away when he was 9 years old. His parents, realizing that a man couldn't count on a woman to be there all of the time (a pretty progressive idea in the late 50s/early 60s), made sure that he could do laundry, sew, iron, cook.

I have memories of my dad doing laundry and cleaning, and supervising our half-hearted attempts at cleaning as we grew up.

During a stubborn period of unemployment in the late 70s, my dad ended up as the stay-home parent for a time when my sister was in kindergarten and my mom started teaching again. It never occurred to me to scorn a man's being the primary caregiver while the woman went out to work. Instead, I was intensely jealous that my sister got to spend the first half of her day with Dad, who walked her to school in the afternoon.

(This was a fundamental difference between my sister and me: I was morning kindergarten all the way. She was totally afternoon. It's a wonder we're even friends.)

The family in which I grew up operated on a "whoever sees it and can do it, that's who does it" fashion. I'm sure my parents both sometimes felt like they were doing the most or hardest work. That's only natural. But I have memories of both sitting at the kitchen table, balancing the checkbook (kids, ask your parents what that means). Both sewing backing onto a banner to affix to a hot air balloon envelope. Both being the "mean" one. Both being affectionate. Both encouraging. Both modeling. Both explaining.

And so, I suppose it's only natural that I would presume to be able to do things, and then to do them. I can change my tires (unless the jack breaks, and then thank goodness for Progressive Roadside). I can mow and weed-eat the yard. I can troubleshoot tech. I can problem-solve on the fly.

I don't need a man to help me exist. I don't need a man to prop me up.

That said, I am immensely grateful to have a man who is a partner to me, very much in the way I saw my parents' partnership. He has strengths and passions that supplement and complement mine. And where neither of our passions or strengths reach, we each just do as needs to be done. I mow the yard while he plays with our kid. We both win. He earns the money while I make sure the roof doesn't cave in around here. We both win. He holds the ladder while I hang the lights, largely because of his recent physical limitations, but also because I think he likes to look at my butt when I'm climbing. I guess he wins that one.

I forget where I was going there.

Anyway, I'm grateful to have had an upbringing that took for granted that I could do things, and that if I could, I probably should. I'm grateful that contributing to a well-running household was seen as an asset, and one that could be done at any time in any function by any person involved. It has served me well both when I didn't have anyone to help, and has both made me a blessing to my husband and grateful to have a partnership like this.

Thanks, Mom and Dad

Follow-Up (Or How It All Ended... Almost)

This is a story all about how my life got flipped, turned upside down...

Not really. Just a continuation of the previous post about home and car repairs and whatnot and so forth.

The house: The water damage guy came back on Monday (President's Day) to find that D's room was mostly dry. All of the areas where we saw water leaching and leaking from the ceiling were fine. At the wall shared with our bathroom, though, it was still damp. He moved some stuff around, took one fan, put the dehumidifier in our bathroom, and left everything another day. By Tuesday, it was all dry, so D finally got to return to the isolation chamber.

Joking aside, that kid handled the stress of having basically zero privacy for four days amazingly. It made me very proud, and hopeful for the future, since the anxiety management was so effective.

The SUV, however, is another matter: I picked it up from the shop on Thursday morning, about a week ago, to find that the gas gauge didn't work anymore. It had worked before, and we'd already had the "the battery keeps dying" drama, and I wasn't ready to handle finding a ride home and keeping the vehicle there, so I put it off for a bit. I did call them and told them what had happened, and they said to let them know when I could bring it back in.

THEN the water thing happened, and there was no way I could handle the auto repairs while we were dealing with all of that.

Also, we'd agreed to donate our Cobalt to KUT, holding off about two weeks after our SUV purchase to make sure it would run okay, and we were getting close to that pick-up with no definite resolution on the new (to us) vehicle.

In the midst of this, Mal and I drove up to see my parents and spend a night just to get some people out of our house, which was down one bedroom and one bath. The Torrent drove beautifully, and was SO much more comfortable than the car. It gets pretty good mileage, too: 24 mpg for the first couple hundred miles we drove it.

Unfortunately, the "check engine" light was still on, so it wouldn't pass inspection, and we couldn't register it. The clock is ticking on that particular item, too, as half of the 30 days have now elapsed.

So yesterday, we took the SUV back to Klingemann. After we'd been there almost an hour, they said it would take at least another hour just to get the fuel tank out, and then they'd have to evaluate what was wrong. They kindly gave us a shuttle home; I'd intended to take a Lyft, which was $11, but after 11:30, the "busy lunch" rate kicked in and it was almost $30!

Last night, they called us and said they'd put a whole new (not after-market) fuel pump in and had had the same problem. He told me he'd call me back on Saturday.

I got two calls this morning.

The first call was from a lady whose brother bought the 1/3 acre lot right behind our back lot about a week ago. I had heard them looking at it last Friday, and James had met them on Saturday when Mal and I were in Temple.

The lady is interested in purchasing our "extra" lot so she can retire here. We spoke for a bit this morning, and I learned that Jonestown apparently adopted some building guidelines that would make it impossible for our house to be built today: Namely, that homes have to be at least 1000 square feet (check) and have to have a 2-car garage (nope). Anyway, we chatted for a bit and she made it clear that she wasn't interested in haggling, so for us to tell her what we'd take for it and get back to her.

Then Klingemann called. And they made me cry. This probably would have happened, regardless of the prognosis, but he said basically this: We put in a third fuel pump and had the exact same problem, so we put it in fluid and realized that the sender is bad. I have one on order from Houston. Had we caught it last week, and we should have, we could have told you that it would cost extra. Since we didn't, we're going to eat it. We'll have the part Monday and get your car back to you then.

So. Whew.

After this, James, Mal, and I went out to the back 40 to see exactly what we'd be selling off. Long story short, we had such a good time (well, all of us but Mal, who was scared and wanted to go to our "real" back yard) that we decided we couldn't part with the land until Mal has had a chance to get out there and explore and have adventures in a few years. Maybe when we get another dog.

This tree is LCRA property, but all of the stuff on the back of the grotto, in the background, is on our back lot.

Besides, 5 years from now, that property just might be worth double what it is now (the tax assessment went up 125% after we bought the property), and that's a lot better a return than we'd get if we sold it and put the proceeds into some investment.

I have high hopes now that I might be able to get the car titled and registered next week. The only possible hold-up will be that it's an out-of-state title and the seller has zero desire to go with me to the tax office (which they recommend), but I'm pretty charming and look legit, right?

One more kind of cool thing from today: We got out for a bit and when I came home and checked the mail, I was surprised to find two prepaid cards I knew *should* be coming, but one never knows...

A couple of months ago, I'd seen an offer for this credit card where you could get what is tantamount to a couple hundred dollars after you'd spent $500 during the first three months. Please! Our car repair and a couple of household bills, and we hit it on mine AND James's. And within a week, they sent us the cards! It was just a nice, encouraging way to approach the end of this whole set of circumstances.

AND, speaking of surprisingly quick action: I filed my taxes on February 11. They estimated that I'd have the refund by March 6, which wasn't in time to make our next mortgage payment and meant we'd have to pull MORE out of our dwindling savings. However, when I logged into my bank account on February 17, IT WAS THERE. So we paid EVERYTHING off that I'd been holding out on until the regular salary payments started back up, AND we have enough to make the mortgage payment with no further withdrawals.

Whoo! Getting back on track feels good.

And lest you think it's all fun and games, I realized this morning that we're 2 weeks out from Daylight Saving Time and if we keep our current schedule, Mal will be going to bed at 12:30 AM and sleeping until 11. Ugh. Let us all hope this story has a twist and as happy an ending as all of this other stuff.

This Week in Review

So, hey. How's your week been? (Pretends to listen intently for about four seconds.) Really? Great. Mine's had some ridiculous ups and downs, plus womanly hormones, and... well, I'm just ready for a new week, frankly. Here's a roughly chronological review.

We started the week with the SUV we'd just bought in the shop for a repair. We knew it needed an EGR valve replacement, but found out when we took it in Saturday that it actually needed the valve AND a whole new fuel tank. Since salvage yards aren't open over the weekend, and the repair shop really wanted to save us some money, they asked if we could wait until Monday when they could call around. (Shout out to Klingeman Car Care on this front. We used them in Oak Hill, and are fortunate that there's one even closer to where we live now over in Cedar Park.)

Sunday morning, Mal and I were going to visit a different church than we usually attend. It starts a half hour earlier than our home church, and since Mal is such a late riser, we pretty much had to throw his pants on and get him immediately in the car. The old, boring car, because our new (to us) car was in the shop. Do you remember that part? Yeah.

We drove way out into Leander, which isn't too far, but feels like another planet because we rarely go that way (we need to; there's a Bahama Bucks pretty close by!) and found the school where the services are held. But the only vehicles there were 3 cars and the trailer ubiquitous to haul-in churches. It was right at 10, so the only options were that they'd changed their service time and hadn't updated their website, or that only three cars' worth of people go to that church, which means their website is misleading and we're not interested because I'll explain why we were even visiting a different church in a minute.

A less introverted person would have gone in to see what was going on, but instead, I sat in my car and sent an email. I have not heard back from anyone. Thanks for making us feel welcome, church!

We ended up going to our church, and for the second week in a row, Mal was the only kid there. We love our church. We love the kids who go to our church. But none of them come regularly. Ever since school started back in the fall, it's like if there's a special thing, everyone shows up. Otherwise, it's Mal and maybe one or two other kids, but 3 weeks out of 5, it's just him.

The past two weeks, he's declined to go to childcare alone, and so the week before, we just left after the children's message. This week, he was interested enough in some magnets that we stayed. But he was so happy to go to McDonald's after and play with some kids.

In case you're wondering, I went through the drive-through at Taco Bell first and got two orders of nacho fries with two sides of cheese.

Do you realize we're only at lunch on Sunday so far?

Anyway, after we got home, I researched some churches around here, and that got really depressing. Here's the thing: I know exactly what I want in a church. Obviously, the very first and most important thing is what they teach, and what they believe about the Bible, and how that informs how their church works. I can tell from about 90% of the websites I look at that it's not for us.

Another way I can tell it's a big, fat "no" is when they have 40 staff. I have done megachurches. I'm over them. I want a smaller church. But smaller churches usually mean there isn't a lot of programming. And apparently if there isn't programming, busy-busy stuff, parents aren't super motivated to bring their kids. Especially since we homeschool, I need my kids to be able to make connections anywhere we spend a chunk of our time.

Monday, we had fun. Mal and I went to Jump Street and he played for a while with some rando kids who were there, then his friend Alexei met him and they had a good time. While we were there, Mal asked if we could use the photo booth. We usually do that at Chuck E. Cheese, but it's only 2 credits, or about $.50. It was $5 at Jump Street, but he was so excited. And here's what he had in mind.

He picked the frame, too.

On Monday, the car people told me that they'd found a fuel tank at a salvage yard, $400 cheaper than buying a new one from the dealership. They still needed several new parts, but we were grateful for the break. Also, we'd actually paid enough less than the couple was asking for the car that even with the more major repair, we were only out $100 more than we had initially thought we'd be paying for the car itself.

Also, we're getting quite a bit of money back from the IRS, mostly because James's old office withheld at a ridiculously high rate when they paid him out for his PTO. When we asked them about it, they said that was normal and it had to be done that way. It made that payment less than two-thirds what we were expecting, but I guess it all worked out because we will be able to use the money to pay off that repair. And some others, but we'll get to that. We're still just on Monday!

Incidentally, I'd had to contact the person who sold us our SUV because I needed her to sign the Texas title transfer. She was really weird about it, saying she'd signed over the (out of state) title and that meant she didn't own the car anymore. I further explained that we could not title the car without her signature, so she agreed to come over and sign it, which she did Monday morning. Then after Jump Street, Mal and I saw her again; she's a cashier at a dollar store. It was weird. Maybe I've seen her there before. She left a CD in the player of the SUV. It's labeled "Travel Music." The first song is "Margaritaville," and the second song is country, which Mal demanded I stop and turn on "the real music." That's my kid!

We got some Orbeez I'd ordered in the mail, and on Tuesday, we played most of the day with those. Mal even took a bath with them, and I have to tell you that it was a lot harder getting them out than I'd anticipated.

Even Carol is intrigued. 

Tuesday, I spent most of the day on standby mode, waiting to hear from the auto shop. I downloaded Lyft (which I've never tried; we did Uber a few times before they left Austin several years ago, though I suppose they're back now) and saw that it'd only be $8 to get a ride to pick up the car and save James that trip after commuting like he does.

I stress eat a lot when I'm restless, so that was the theme of Tuesday.

Wednesday morning, I called to check on the car. They said it was going well, but they hadn't gotten all of the parts in until Wednesday, and that they'd be done with the car that day.

Oh, hey, it was also Valentine's Day. We got the kids a couple of little treats, but James and I didn't do anything for each other. I got all sentimental about how fortunate I am to have James, and was going to write a thing about it, but have realized that I don't love writing as much as I used to at this moment. I will say this: I've been in several relationships where things similar to what have happened this week were sources of stress and blame and punishing. It's so nice to be able to be frustrated about a circumstance, but not have to worry about the reaction if I am to be the bearer of unexpected inconveniencing news.

At 5:14, 15 minutes before the garage closed, they called and said they were done with the repairs. Mehh. I told them I'd get it the following day.

Thursday, I was taking D and Mal to the Austin RV Expo. I figured we'd just get a Lyft to the garage, then go on from there. But James was home pretty late Thursday morning, so as soon as Mal and I got up, we got him to take us in to get it. I noticed from the street that the hood was released, and mentioned that I didn't want to forget that when I was driving home.

After James dropped us off and left, I found out why the hood wasn't secure: They were having to jump start the car every time they needed to run it. Apparently, he'd called to tell me about it, but 1) I never have my ringer on and 2) in this case, my phone was all the way off and I hadn't looked at it since the day before. He suggested we take it in and have it warrantied out because the battery was pretty new. I explained that we'd gotten it from a private party, and he shot out a couple of things it could be, one of which was a "phantom drain."

That reminded me that James and I had both noticed a green light on the tow wiring glowing all of the time at the back of the car. Although the gentleman offered to try to diagnose the battery problem, I wasn't in the mood to deal with it, and said we'd try to figure it out later.

Outside, though, while the guys were jumping the car for me, I mentioned the tow wiring again. One of the guys brought me a fuse and said he'd unplugged it. That was apparently all it was. It's started for us every time we've tried.

Oh, but it looks like they disconnected the gas gauge. I called to let them know, but I'm not emotionally able to take it back in for a few days. I told James I should take the bill from the rather hefty auto repair and write on it with a Sharpie, "Here's your CD," then wrap the CD in the bill and mail it to the lady who sold us the car. I have many passive-aggressive ideas I do not act on. You're welcome.

Thursday, I woke up early and bought airline tickets for a trip we have planned for the fall. Southwest just released the tickets yesterday, and I'm hoping that having bought them the day they went on sale AND purchasing the auto-check-in will mean we can at least have some choice in where we sit. After that, I went back to sleep for a bit.

Later, we woke D up and drove downtown to the RV show. It was fun. The trends I noticed (since I bought my RV 7 years ago) were: Outside kitchens pretty standard, fold-down patios as an option, and electric fireplaces. D is thinking about purchasing an RV in a few years, so we scoped out some possibilities and got some budgeting ideas. It was nice, but I could tell that after about an hour, we'd reached D's limit.

We passed the AAAS annual meeting setup on the way in and out, and really wished we were signed up for that! It looked super cool. We also passed this, just sitting in the middle of the big lobby of the Austin Convention Center.

It's a breast-feeding/pumping hut.

Interesting. There are two bench seats and one little table area, and a tiny mirror. Mal and I both fit in there, and it was cheery enough for such an apparently claustrophobic pod.

When we got home, it was gorgeous out, so Mal and I spent a couple of hours in the yard, and I totally forgot about fixing dinner until James got home. Fortunately, we had some tasty left-overs.

It was too pretty to stay inside

This morning, I woke up earlier than Mal again. It's interesting. He's been sleeping 6-8 hours straight the past 3 nights. He starts waking asking for "nursies" between 5:30 and 6:30, but then will usually sleep until 9ish.

Today, while I was eating breakfast and waking up, D came into the kitchen to report an apparent roof leak. There was water pouring out of the light fixture. Fortunately, our electric system worked. As soon as the water started pooling, the breaker had tripped, shutting off D's noise-maker fan. That woke D up, and revealed the leak.

I was about to call my friend Jacob (at Birdcreek Roofing) and decided to see if I could tell what was going on first. I climbed up into the attic -- which was dark because the power was off to that part of the house -- and could first hear and then see that it was the water heater. Steam was shooting out from the top of the unit.

Here's my scientific way of choosing a service provider: Open Yelp! and look up the category. Pick the first one near me with mostly all-5-stars. If they answer, they win. If it goes to voice mail, hang up and call the next person.

I ended up speaking with Blue Dragon Plumbing. When I described what was happening, he pretty much nailed what was wrong. He was on the south side of Austin but said he'd make his way up and call me after an appointment he had.

It's interesting, I was too distracted to be icked out by the attic, and then later James advised that I not try to shut off the water to the house (which I'd done hours before) because our inspector said we had black widows in the box. Fortunately, I didn't remember that particular bit of information at all, nor did I see any spiders.

The dripping slowed once I'd shut the water off and emptied (I thought) the water heater. I called ServiceMaster to get them out and drying everything, but it went to voice mail. They were our first pick because James used to work for them, and they're recognized nationally as experts.

But I moved on because I needed speed! Tetris Cleaning Service answered and was at my house within the hour. He had a neat water-vision camera (I don't know what it's called, but it's so cool). He was able to see that we had some water at the seams of our bathroom walls/ceiling, and then D's whole ceiling was just a wet mess.

I don't know if you can see, but pretty much the whole ceiling is damp. But the water was only dripping through at the light fixture, and that one big bubble at the drywall tape.

He was able to verify that the water was clean, and that the stuff in the middle was still HOT. It had absorbed into the fancy new insulation we just had blown in a few months ago, and was holding heat. He removed all of the wet insulation (which we're still paying for, because 2 years was zero interest, so why not?), put two fans in our bathroom, and put 3 fans and a dehumidifier in D's room.

D's room is shut off now, and so D will have to find somewhere else in the house to crash. But the fact that it is closed off means that the rest of the house isn't too loud; it just sounds like when the dishwasher is running. The fans in the bathroom aren't any louder than a box fan, either.

The cats are kind of freaked out. They won't use the two litter boxes in the main bathroom because it's so close to D's loud mystery room, and because the dehumidifier drain hose runs through there and into one of the sinks. The litter boxes are surrounded. But hopefully they'll get over it and get used to it soon. We should have the fans until Monday or Tuesday, and they have to run constantly. He said "24/7," but he meant "24/4."

We filed a claim on our homeowners insurance (shout out there to my agent, Moses), but will probably end up closing it out, since it's likely we'll spend just under our deductible, anyway. I need to remember to call the adjuster tomorrow.

The water heater guy got here while the water damage mitigation guy was still here, and they both left around 4. When James got home, we were trying to decide what to do about food, and I couldn't help him decide anything. He kept talking about going somewhere, but I was so gross. I'd gone to sleep with Mal last night, deciding I needed sleep more than a shower, but then missing out all day when I couldn't catch one this morning.

James would suggest going out, I'd blanch at that, he'd say he'd go into town and get something, and I didn't like the idea of his leaving again, or of his having to drive more after his commute.

Finally, I realized I was being a giant poop and just put on some different clothes and a baseball hat, and we went to this place that has an outdoor playground for Mal... Only to find that they are permanently closed. So we ended up having dinner at Freebirds, and I felt tons better after getting some veggies and cheese into myself.

We went to Walmart after dinner and finally found Mal the only 3 color-change Hot Wheels they had left. They were only $3.50, which is anywhere from 1/5 to 1/10 the price I've found for the color-changing Cars cars he's wanted. When we go home, he played with those for a good hour, going back and forth between between the colors.

Now I'm ready to go to bed. I've done 3 loads of laundry and a dish-washing load since the water came back on. Mal's been asleep for almost 2 hours, which is an early bedtime for him. James is on the phone with his brother. D is in our room enjoying the big brown recliner. I'm tired. I'm glad James has 3 days off, and hopefully when he goes back to work on Tuesday, our house will be back to "normal." And our car will stay fixed. And things can go back to being normal.

Have a good weekend, friends!

Oh, and here's a tip: WHEN YOU LEAVE YOUR HOUSE FOR A FEW DAYS, TURN OFF THE WATER AND DRAIN THE WATER HEATER. You might never have needed it, but you do NOT want to come home to a week's worth of what we had 12 hours' worth of today.

Mal at (Almost) 3

A week from today, we'll have a newly-minted 3-year-old. Things are likely to accelerate this week, with visitors and errands and appointments and preparations, so I thought I'd take this opportunity to reflect over this auspicious occasion. I'm going to intersperse the unorganized thoughts with pictures I pulled off of the memory card in Mal's camera. All of these have been taken by him at some point during the past year (and, honestly, the vast majority of these photos are the fans in our various rooms and of our patio flooring... so, yeah, I'm cherry-picking).

Mal's vocabulary has exploded this year. He was certainly not "at level" when he turned 2, which is something like 75-200 words. But now, he pretty much knows all of the words and uses them correctly, including sarcastically and manipulatively. But as conversational as he is now, there are three "baby" phrases that have persisted: 1) boh-bos, for breasts; 2) dee-dees, for breastfeeding, his take on "nursies;" 3) la-la, which is to say "the other one," or "You're trying to put that shoe on the wrong foot; try the other one." All we have to say is "la-la" and he'll stop trying to put his shoes on and he changes feet. Or he'll look at me and ask, "La-la?" I say, "No, that's the right one."

Mal has experienced so many milestones this year, in addition to the verbal explosion.

The first time I visited my new church after we moved, it was January 1, and hardly anyone was there. The next week, they had childcare. At 2 years and a few months, Mal had still never stayed in childcare throughout the church service. I dropped him off, giving the attendant my cell number so she could message me if Mal decided he was through. I never got a text. He stayed the next week. And the next. And he has never looked back. In fact, in August when we had our student-led worship and so there wasn't "class," he cried, bitterly disappointed. He loves his playtime, and I love being able to participate in church for the first time in years.

Basically, he adores our church. From the minute we get on campus, he rushes to check to see whether the fountain is on or not. Typically, it isn't on yet when we arrive, but someone turns it on later. Somehow, in his brain, Mal has associated the piano music happening with the fountain being turned on, and he assumes that Darlene playing the piano is what activates it.

Then, as we head inside, he acts shy but loves being greeted by "Miss Jackie." Once we're in the sanctuary, he runs over to the coffee table to pick out a doughnut (usually pink or white frosted with sprinkles) and one chocolate doughnut hole. During the beginning of the service, he often goes into the "youth room" to hug the giant teddy bear or play with the foosball set. And he likes to get a name tag to "fill out"... and cut up.

When it's time to pass the peace of Christ, Mal usually says to me, "Mommy, hold me! I want to get peace!" He will high-five people and be generally charming, if, again, somewhat subdued by direct attention.

He's gotten to where he will sit in my lap for the children's message, and even hold hands during the prayer afterwards. But his favorite part is when that's over, Darlene plays "Jesus Loves Me," and he knows that's the signal that he can run into the other building for free play. (Sorry; he's not very spiritually mature.)

As physical as Mal is, gymnastics seems like it might be as good a fit for him as it was for D at this age. However, we took a free trial class a week and a half ago, and it was exhausting... for me. Mal just isn't ready to (or isn't in the practice of) pay attention to a sequence of instructions, then line up, wait his turn, and remember the instructions. They had about 40 minutes of structured class time, then 20 minutes of free play. He really enjoyed the free play, but not on their gym equipment! They have a big toy/book area where the kids can do stuff while they're waiting, and that's what he chose to do.

One issue I had with the class setup was that there were just too many kids. It might have been because it was the first class of the session, and a lot of people were like us, trying it out. But for a few kids, including mine, it was difficult staying focused in the long stretches between "turns." And there were only two adults: the coach and an assistant. So several of us parents had to walk our kids through the paces to keep them on track.

I was pretty tired after the whole thing, but since Mal enjoyed it, decided I'd let him try one more time (because they give you two trials before you have to commit), anyway. The next week, though, he made it easy on me. I asked the night before, "Do you want to go to gymnastics tomorrow?" He said, "No!" His answer was the same the next day, and I'm glad we were on the same page!

Mal has always been a big kid, weight well off the charts when he turned 2 and weighed 36 pounds. He was in the higher percentile for height, too, at about 90 cm (35.5 inches, more or less). During the past year, he has not gained a single pound! He has, however, shot up a few inches. I'll measure him later this week, but he's closing in on 39 inches, I believe.

We don't impose "arbitrary limits" on Mal, meaning that he pretty much decides when and what to eat, when to use and what to do on the computer, when he goes to bed and gets up, and that kind of thing. It's definitely made interacting with him more peaceful (compared to my first attempt at parenting a small person), which we really need, given Mal's naturally demanding personality (which my first did not possess, but was pretty phlegmatic).

While this might sound like a nightmare waiting to happen, it's panning out quite well at the moment. At two years old, Mal will often watch videos for twenty minutes, put his computer to sleep, and invite one of us to play with him. Or ask to get out the Play-Doh. Or go into his room to play with Paw Patrol. Yes, there are days (like Friday) when he goes back to the computer multiple times throughout the day. But there are also days like today when he doesn't think to turn it on at all, even though James and I were both ready for him to chill in front of some videos by 4 PM! Even though we (almost) never say "no," (unless, say, we're getting ready to walk out the door), we never suggest it, either.

Same thing with bedtime. Mal will play or watch TV or want to sit outside and look at stars or whatever, and then stop at some point and say accusingly, "Mommy! I'm tired! I need to go to sleep!" He knows when he's sleepy, and by the time he goes to bed, he's ready. Of course, there are exceptions that prove this rule. Tonight, for instance, he was going physically bonkers at around 7:30. I had to keep asking him to stop jumping on things or falling into things because he was going to injure himself. He's usually pretty coordinated, but when kids get tired, they get clumsy. Finally, at around 8:15, I asked him if he wanted to go for a drive. I felt like having him strapped in was the only way to keep him from harm, and he did want to go on a drive, but he wanted to end the drive at the park, wherein he intended to play on the playground.

He's gotten so bold on that thing recently that I didn't want to chance it. So he cried in the car for a good while, lamenting that we wouldn't take him to the park. "I'm really sad that we can't go to the yake." "I know you are, Mal, and I'm sorry." After about half an hour, he said, "I want the music class music!" I put the CD in and he listened happily the rest of the way home. When we got here, he requested that I carry him "like a baby" to his room, and he rapidly went to sleep.

To answer your questions: Yes, he still nurses to sleep. Every time (sometimes he *does* conk out in the car). Including when he wakes up in the middle of the night, which is frequently. How frequently? I don't count, but I'd say I consider 3-4 times "normal." It used to be 6-12 times, so we're improving. But, yeah, we usually "expect" a 3-year-old to sleep "better" and that is just not where we are. We're making it work.

Mal is a crazy sleeper, so we have a futon mattress on the floor. He rolls off of it almost every night. Many times when he wakes up asking for "deedees," he's lying with his feet on the pillow and his head toward the foot of the bed.

Increasingly, he has dreams. He'll say things, seeming to be awake, but that make no sense to me, so I'm guessing they're related to whatever is in his head. "Mommy, stretch it out. YOU CAN!" ??? He's also awakened at least a couple of times in the past month crying and scared. I went to pull him in one time, and he yelled, "No! I want my mommy!" I kept assuring him it was me, and he finally calmed down, pulling my arms tighter around him.

Once, we had to get up and walk around, as he insisted we get out of the bedroom and into the living room. We sat on the chair for about half an hour, then he was ready to go back to lie down.

Another remarkable thing about this little kid is that he expects to be taken seriously. When he says, "Let's go to the park!" he will start getting his shoes on because he has learned that we try to honor his wishes whenever possible.

He has his favorite places to go and things to do, but will often (as with the gym class, and sometimes even things like the library's storytime and other events) choose just to stay home. Any time we're gone for a while and come back, he croons, "Aww, I missed my home."

His favorite things to do are to go to the lake (and he has a circuit of playground, "gump rocks," visiting the doc - much to our horror - and then back up to the playground), to play and eat at McDonald's (4 chicken nuggets, strawberry GoGurt, apple juice or chocolate milk, and fries with ketchup or ice cream), go to the mall ("Mickey Mouse store;" indoor playground; inflatables playground - which he wants to enter but is terrified of the jump structures because they're loud, so we often argue about not paying $8-10 to walk around and do nothing for 20 minutes; window-shopping at Build-a-Bear; and newly a big fan of the escalator), Chuck E. Cheese, and to go to any store (drug, grocery, and even gas stations).

Mal is kind of obsessive about color order. He has a series of "cubbies" in his room with drawers that are red, orange, yellow (on the top shelf), green, light blue, and dark blue (on the bottom). One time, after he'd taken them all out, James returned them willy-nilly and I just left them, because whatever, right? But a couple of days later, Mal announced, "Daddy made a 'stake," and switched them all back.

We also have a marble maze with two pieces that have things like "water wheels" for the marbles to go through. The way those pieces came, and are shown on the box, is that the piece with the yellow frame has a purple wheel and the piece with the red frame has a yellow wheel. Mal will not allow the maze to exist like that. He insists that the yellow wheel goes with the yellow frame, and anything else results in destruction since he can't take the wheels out without pulling everything to bits.

Mal's imagination is ramping up. Many times, he'll be playing in his room and I'll think he's fussing for me, but when I go in, he's just playing, acting out an argument between two characters. He makes up games and scenarios that he has to (and can) explain to us so we can play along. He is alternately a baby, or a monster, or a dog, or a "bad guy." He also talks about what other people are doing when they're not around. And what they might be thinking or feeling.

He also recognizes that the above-pictured cat is Rudy, which is his cat. He knows that Carol is D's, and might scratch him if he's not careful. And he knows that Aish is "the pretty one," so soft, and belongs to Daddy. He tells me that I need a cat, but I assure him that I have enough to take care of without having a cat of my own.

Mal still cannot sit through a meal, so we know where all of the places with play areas are.

His favorite foods are scrambled eggs, grapes, chocolate rocks, Runts-style bones, French fries, bananas, cupcakes (but only the frosting part), yogurt, straight sugar, and Mommy's soda.

Mal doesn't really have a lot of patience for sitting down to read stories, although he likes to look at certain books. He prefers books that have pictures but no plot, so he can chat about the pictures. His favorite picture books are: The Jellybean Book, Diggers and Dumpers, Colors, The Big Animal Book, and a collection of number books my mom gave him.

Those are tiny board books, with like 5 pages each, and on every opening, the left page will have the ordinal ("2") and the word spelled out ("two"), then on the right will be a picture of that amount of something (candles) with the word written underneath. This morning, we were looking through the first book, and before I could turn the page, he said, "Wait!" Then he pointed to the right page, "r, a, t, t, l, e... for 'rattle.'" Next, he pointed at the left page and said, "o, n, e for 'one.'"

This kind of decoding isn't anything we've ever done with him, and I'm not sure where he picked it up. Anyway, on the next page he did the same thing with a drum, then said, "o, n, e for 'one' again." I assured him it would be spelled the same way every time.

He "spelled" "one" on every page, but not the object. And by the time we got to the "2" book, he was just finished with that whole exercise. It was pretty neat, though.

Mal also recognizes sheet music for what it is.

There are so many other things James mentioned when I asked him for ideas, but it's almost midnight and I had to shoo him out and tell him to stop, because as much as we might want to record everything for posterity's sake, we just can't. If I've left anything notable out, he can write his own blog post about it (hint hint).

Suffice it to say that these are the magical times. As much as I don't adore being the primary caregiver for a baby, I absolutely relish the toddler and preschool years. Yes, even on the days when I'm ready for a mental health break by lunchtime. There's just something so cool to be able to watch a kid figuring things out and growing and becoming a person totally separate from you or your spouse.

Happy almost birthday, Mal!

Here's a goofy video of Mal dancing with my keys to distract me to keep me from leaving the other day. Sorry for the weird angle, but he's pantsless. (Which leads me to another thought: he's almost totally potty-trained, something I wouldn't have believed possible a month ago. #blessed.)

Updates... from another dimension!

I have a few random things to share here, starting with this most amazing one:

Yesterday, during the eclipse, I suppose some kind of weird time/space wormholey thing opened up and sent my shirt from 13 years ago into Mal's closet. I don't have timestamps, but am including pictures with my Pepa and D to show just how long ago I had this shirt. It must have shrunk during the time travel. But there it is.

Item the Next:
The weekend before last, during the children's message, Mary asked the kids, "What's something good you can tell me about your week?" A couple of kids answered, things like feeding their pets or getting some neat trading cards. Usually, Mal kind of tries to say something when it's his "turn," but is usually just silly or shy. But this time, he said, "I helped my mommy in the kitchen." So that's a notable first! He answered a group query appropriately.

He does help all of the time. If I get out the vacuum to clean up, he pulls out the carpet cleaner, pulls off every removable part, and "vacuums" as well. If I sweep, he pulls out the Swiffer and shoves my pile around. He even helps by being an encouragement. This weekend when I was spot-mowing (read: half of our back yard), he followed me around saying, "Mommy, you a good worker!" And, yeah, our lawn mower is electric, so I could hear him.

New topic:
I had a sort of epiphany this week. There are quite a few popular sites, like Stimtastic and ARK, that sell "chewable" toys. D has several, as well as some fidget toys. I've written about this in the past, but a now-subconscious habit I have had basically since I stopped sucking my thumb at the age of 5 is chewing on my fingers. I am not aware that I do it, but like sometimes I'll pick up my phone and can't do the fingerprint recognition because my fingertip is wet. And I have callouses on four fingers. It's truly weird, because if you ask me to stick my finger in my mouth and show you what I do, I really can't. It feels awkward. But obviously I do it.

I think it's likely that I have an oral fixation, which is one likely reason I start to panic (on a fairly low level) if I don't have something to drink, and that I use that oral stimulation as a way to deal with deep thought or stress. So my epiphany was: If these items had been around when I was a kid, might my hands be worthy of manicures today?

When I mentioned this to D, my rather astute teenager said, "It's never too late to start." That's true, but I can't imagine what mental gymnastics I'd have to do to switch, since, as I mentioned, I don't know I'm doing it, often until afterwards.

But also, I'm very glad for kids (and adults!) that there's more to address the issue than just, "Put your hands down!" "You're so pretty when you're not gnawing on that finger." "You're too big to do that." Ad infinitum.

Final entry:
Literally every day, at least once and often two or three times, my son will lift up my shirt and lay with his belly to mine, perpendicular, announcing, "Mommy, I love you body." Other times, he'll just rub my stomach and be so sweet, cooing, "Mommy, you body is hot." And every stinking time, it makes my day. I mean, I know he means that I'm warmer than he is (since I wear clothes), but it's still nice to hear.

I have other thoughts on that, but will end for tonight. Mostly because I want to play a game before head to bed. Night, all!

Some cool stuff (and a sneak peek at my birthday present!)

I'm not sure how smart it is that we bought Mal a second sandbox at a time where we are coming close to breaking heat records, but... we did. And he loves it.

The first day we got it.

The next morning.

Later that same day, and gosh, it was hot.

He played with it today, too. I think he might have missed Sunday, maybe? But that's the only day so far.

It was on sale, and when we've had a couple of kids over, the first sandbox has gotten pretty claustrophobic, so we'd planned to "expand," anyway. It's a hit!

James has this week off, and planned it at the last minute, so we don't have any plans. We're just enjoying time together. Today, for instance, we had his oil changed... which is apparently a "deal" with the Fiat 500s, as some places don't carry the oil and/or air filters, so we had to do some coordination.

Saturday, I asked James what he'd want to eat this week, and he smiled at the first thing that came into his mind. "I was thinking, 'Something Mediterranean, you know, like with artichoke hearts and pineapple.' Why did I think of that combination?" Well, of course I Googled it, and the internets did not disappoint me. Tonight, I made this Robert Irvine dish for dinner. Just know that that picture is NOT of this dish. I'm not sure how it ended up on there. But this was a fabulous summer pasta! It tastes bright and light, and we both recommend it. Mal does not. He preferred mac and cheese and a doughnut. D is asleep and hasn't tried it.

We got a phone call today, informing us about the IRRRL associated with VA loans, which basically says that as long as you've made at least 6 payments on your mortgage, you can refinance at a lower rate. Our lender (not the original one, the one that bought it) is "absorbing" (read: bumping the interest up a little above baseline) the costs, so all we have to do is pay our escrow for the month's payment we'll "skip" as the new loan goes into effect.

Some neat things about the new loan:

1) It is a 29.5 year term. We were told we could do 30 years, but we plan to pay it off sooner, anyway, and didn't want to tack on an extra half year.
2) It is about .4% lower than our old loan, and the interest rate has held firm, so I'm guessing the only reason we can do it is that our credit scores no longer come into play (if you're new, there's this whole thing about not using credit, paying a card off each month, etc. that really counts against you).
3) Our monthly payments will only be $62 less a month, but even with that, $20 more per payment will go to principal than before. Also, that's $744 a year. If we kept the loan for 30 years (again, not our plan), it would save us almost $22,000! Yikes! INTEREST!
4) The "extra" in-our-pocket money from the skipped month's payment is going to purchase my very own birthday present from James!

Okay, so here's what it is...



Squee!!

I've had a ZTE Zmax for just over 2 years and I like it a lot. I can't update the OS, though, without rooting it (trying to accomplish that lately, but unsuccessfully), and so can't run some apps I'd like to utilize. Also, it's just a little too big. I love the "big" for watching videos, but I can't take a picture with one hand. I can't text with one hand. And I have a tablet now, rather than a bulky laptop, so video-watching on the fly is much easier now.

One cool thing about this new phone is that it's Daydream-ready, so if I ever want to do some VR, it can handle it.

But I LOVE the idea of Dolby stereo speakers! I like to listen to the radio, to podcasts, etc. and most phones just sound tinny. I'm excited to hear this one!

I had more stuff, but it will have to wait It's July 4 already, and I need to get some sleep! Happy holiday, friends!

Another Anniversary

Five years ago this weekend, I drove up to Tulsa to see an old high school friend. We'd both had pretty rough 2011s, losing long-term relationships and shaking our lives up; his 2012 had been worse, losing his job and then his father. He had seemed more terse and avoidant than usual online, and after his repeated rebuffing of my offers of hospitality for a couple of days' break from his reality, I just... went. I literally just hit the road with a message: "I'm coming. Send me your address." I drove there not knowing if he'd even check his messages... he didn't have a phone and he wasn't on Facebook much and that was the only way I had to get in touch with him. But I was worried, and I wanted to show up and... do something. I didn't know how much it would help, but I knew what I could do: cook.

Fortunately, he did tell me where he lived. And then he worried. There were drug deals in the parking lot, and he often heard gunshots. I had let him know I was almost there, so when I arrived, he was waiting for me near his building. I'd seen him eight months earlier, and he was markedly smaller. So skinny. So spent.

And it was a little awkward. I'd known him for 25 years, but we hadn't seen each other besides that one hour at a contra dance, in more than two decades. How do you start the conversation? "I'm here to save your life"? Is that what I was doing? I didn't know. But I just knew I couldn't do nothing.

So we went out for Thai food. And we talked for hours. The next day, we bought groceries and went to an art museum and ate at the Cheesecake Factory. We spent several hours at my hotel, cooking in the "full kitchen" that had been stocked with zero cooking implements, so we'd just cobbled together stuff from his apartment and some roasting tins I'd bought. Beef and broccoli. Brownies. Those, I remember. I made several other dishes I've forgotten.

We caught up. We told stories. We shared our favorite YouTube videos. We talked about religion and politics and it was so easy... I knew him, but I didn't know this version of him. So it was easy but also a mystery.

Then I went home.

And I was fine with that.

He was in Oklahoma, and I was moving to Austin in a couple of months, after my next community theater show.

But he messaged me and apologized for suggesting it, but asking if we could get together one more time before I left.

We did. We actually got together. Somehow. Effortlessly, almost. After my having tried to hard in our youths. Once I wasn't trying, not for that, anyway, it happened.

Neither of us was in the best place, emotionally. My plans to move were equal parts "running to" and "running away." Wiser heads likely would have recommended we each heal separately before trying to pair up.

But we did it the way that we did it, and over time and miles and discussions and texts and tears and laughter, we did both heal... not in a "you complete me" kind of way, but we healed ourselves, individually, with the help and support of a best friend, and then our togetherness got better and stronger as a result.

Five years later... On one hand, it's passed so quickly that my head spins at the drastically different life I have today compared to then. On the other hand, it feels like we have been sharing this life for so much longer.

I am profoundly grateful that, for whatever reason, I would not be dissuaded from that initial road trip. We got so tired of all of those drives back and forth, but I think every single thing, all of it, served to forge a foundation upon which we both find it surprisingly easy to build today.

Not that life is simple. We have a blended family consisting of a teenager and a toddler. We have all of the usual stuff: job, house, responsibilities, disagreements, misunderstandings. But above it all, and below it all, and around it all, we have each other. The end.

Another Group of Random Updates from the Grotto

Hello, friends. How are things with you guys? Great. Or sorry. Whichever one is appropriate. Now on to my stuff.

Lately, I've kind of been freaking out at night. All of the television shows I watch seem to be on some weirdly-timed hiatus, so there is nothing to distract me. And this is my concern: I am starting to doubt that my son will ever be able to fall asleep on his own.

Here he is, more than 2.5 years old, and has still only ever fallen asleep nursing (or in the car, or that one time in January 2015 when he cried himself to sleep in his crib, and then one other time when he was sick and fell asleep in James' arms at the apartment... yes, I remember them all because IT DOESN'T HAPPEN). This includes when he wakes in the night. He wakes up with, "Mommy, deedees."

Also, today we saw a girl at the park who I would have pegged as 6, but it's entirely possible she was just big like Mal and maybe 4? Anyway, she made it clear to her mom in full-on English that she was in need of a clean diaper. My heart sank, because I thought, "Aww, crud. That's going to be Mal." He has zero interest in the toilet, even though he'll say, "Mal pooped again!" or insist that he needs a clean diaper. 

However real those concerns are, there are a few really cool things that he is starting to do.

This morning, when he woke up and was lying in bed, I asked him if he wanted to go to Nana and Pappy's house. He said, "Nana Pappy's house? Eggs, crack... Popcorn... Phone." Then a few minutes later he added, "Cookies." When we went to see them 3.5 weeks ago, Mal played with their Easter eggs, they had gone to see a movie and had left-over popcorn, and he used their ornamental old-school Mickey Moust telephone a lot. Also, my mom had baked cookies to take neighbors, and he got some. 

Then later, we'd gone to the park while my parents had lunch with a friend. When I asked Mal if he wanted to tell Pappy what he did at the park, Mal said, "Roundabout, slide, swing, bongo drums!"

He's remembering things that happened, and he's able to relay them back. He can narrate his own story.

He is also pretending more. Some of his play is based on videos that he's watched, and some of it is just totally out of his own head. He will pull a blanket around him and say, "Get in rocket; close the door." And by "close the door," he means he wants the blanket in a solid ring around him.

Another thing he's doing more consistently is things like today: We went to eat lunch at Cici's. When he sat down to get a drink, he accidentally hit the cup on the side of the table and spilled the entire drink into the floor. I went up to the buffet line to ask for a large rag, but the guy said he'd come out and clean it up.

When he arrived at the table, Mal said brightly, "I'm sorry!" The guy said, "It's cool." The lady at the table next to us said to me, "He's very polite for such a young age." It made me proud, not for anything I've done, but because I actually *haven't* done anything; he's just seen politeness and is learning how appropriately to use it. He did the same thing at the doctor's office when the nurse had taken his vitals and was leaving, explaining that the doctor would be in in a few minutes. "Thanks so much!" he told her.

The thing that makes me happiest about all of this is that we've never insisted Mal say anything, ever. Not "thanks," not "please," not "sorry." We've never made him shake hands or acknowledge anyone... so you can know that when he does it, he's just really good at parroting or he really means it.

But another thing that makes me happy is that Mal was very light-hearted when he apologized, which means he isn't too concerned about accidental spills. I know sometimes I probably blanche when he spills something *again,* but it seems like I haven't indirectly taught him to be terrified of that kind of thing, and some kids just are.

My name is Mal. I spill stuff, and I don't really give a flip.

Oh, and even though he's not fussed by his own spills, he will attempt to help clean them up.

UPDATE: It's Thursday now, and so when I say "today" up there, I mean "yesterday," but I'm too lazy to change it.

So, as we were leaving Cici's (man, lots of nostalgia about that place, from when D was  little), I strapped Mal into his car seat, and as I was getting in, he was singing, "Go Away (Scary Monsters), Go Away" from a video channel he used to watch. A lot of times, I'll sing it (to the tune of "She'll Be Comin' Around the Mountain"), "Go away, Mal Gatannah, go away!" And he'll say, "No! Scary monsters!" But this time, he didn't play along. So I turned around to see him singing specifically to the window, where there was a giant red wasp walking around INSIDE OUR CAR.

That kid was way calmer than I felt! I jumped out and opened the door, but the wasp was kind of having a nice time walking around. I didn't have anything to "swish" it with, and I didn't want to make it mad. So I waited until it had walked up onto the ledge of the door and slammed it. When I opened the door, that thing was still alive! Finally, he got up high enough that when I closed the door, it just flew off. Whew! What a chill kid.

UPDATE: It's Friday now, and our internet just keeps going in and out so hopefully I can tell you two things I did today and we'll be done with this post!!

SMOOTH MOOVES

brought to you by ExLax

1) Today, I made dough for lactation cookies (for the first time; yes, my kid is two and a half). I had the mixer on low because Mal was napping in the living room. When I put in the first egg, half of the shell fell into the batter! No worries; reflexes to the rescue! I'll just turn the mixer off really fast-- NOPE! Turned it up to 10. Spent the next 20 minutes fishing egg shell out of the batter.

2) We got our giant popcorn refill as we left the movie. I put it in the front seat and belted it in for the ride home. It was flawless! Not one kernel spilled! When I stopped the car in the driveway, I triumphantly unclicked the seatbelt, and as it retracted, it spilled the whole box sideways into the seat and floor between the door and seat. I spent the next 20 minutes vacuuming my car.

Bonus: a grasshopper jumped into my car while I vacuumed, and I was trying to get it out of the car so as not to kill it, but I lost it. Sorry, buddy.