Bums & Whores

Like most kids in the US, I read Grapes of Wrath and Of Mice and Men in high school. They were fine. I mean yeah, they were obviously Good Books, deserving of the awards and lauds, but they didn’t really grab me. I remember learning in college about how the Beat Poets collectively adored John Steinbeck and I just didn’t get it. I couldn’t see an obvious disconnect so I chalked it up to a generational thing, a different era.

This weekend I finished reading Cannery Row. I loved it. When I saw we had a Steinbeck on deck for book club this year I wasn’t particularly enthused. But this book was amazing. I finally understand the Beat love. This book made me want to go back and reread Big Sur. It made me want to go and pull the more obscure authors that I never got around to reading in college. I have a Brautigan title on extended loan from a friend I plan to dig up presently. And more than that, I intend to read everything else by Steinbeck set in Monterey.

This book was hyper real. The imagery was such a beautiful ode to the mundane, like calling mess left in a frying pan “fried egg lace”. The characters were fleshed out in a way you just don’t get anymore, and yet it felt brilliantly modern while obviously set in the past. I got a better feel for life in the 30s than anything I’ve ever seen or read previously. There was a simple plot about throwing a party for a central character and yet there would be frequent interludes focusing on a different person never heard from again. And instead of being jarring and taking me out of the moment, it only made the story richer, building the world and turning the inhabitants from sketches to living, breathing, heavily drinking kooks, lay-abouts, madams, shop owners, and friends that genuinely cared for each other.

I had no idea this book was part of a loose series. A collection of titles with cross over characters, all in the same universe. It’s what Christopher Moore does and I love that. So much of my experience reading Cannery Row was a sequence of revelations. Doc invented beer milkshakes! I guess that means the creators of “Red Dwarf” must be fans. Hazel intentionally lost a fight just to see how it felt. I guess Chuck Palahniuk must be a fan. And then I found out that my father-in-law is a huge fan and that Mr. b himself loves the 1982 movie version. Yep, it’s been added to my Netflix queue.

Fun for the Whole Family

Kirk is thoroughly obsessed with Indiana Jones. He’s seen all four movies. He has a couple of Lego sets and has fished out pieces and people from unrelated sets to fill gaps in his play time requirements. He has a cheap cowboy set that came with a cloth whip that he hauls around. He’s been freaking out about it being too hot to wear long sleeves and long pants because Indy does not wear short pants and short sleeves. His father came home from his trip to LA this weekend bearing a brown felt fedora for Young Indy to wear, even if he has to acquiesce to t-shirts and shorts. And we downloaded both of the Lego Indiana Jones free game demos on our new PS3.

Mr. b found a copy of the first Lego Indy video game on sale so he picked that up a couple of weeks ago. Has it really only been a couple of weeks? I feel like we’ve had it forever. That game is awesome. Seriously. Kirk never really got into the LeapFrog and other educational baby game systems. He would enjoy watching his father occasionally play Galaga or Destroy All Humans but that’s about it. We’re not really a gaming family. The new PS3 is for media first and foremost. So getting this game was something really just for Kirk’s enjoyment. He’s learned how to use the controller and really does a pretty good job navigating the screens and can do quite a bit before asking for help. He also remembers the pathways through the levels incredibly clearly.

What I didn’t expect is that the rest of us would become so enamored with the game as well! It started out simply enough. Mr. b needed help finding his way through a new level. I found a fabulous guide online and walked him through it. Then Kirk wanted to play the same level but his father wasn’t home so I took over the main driving duties whenever he needed help. Ronnie gets so excited when she hears the start-up music and squeals in delight when she sees the disc case. She stands in front of the tv and chatters at the little Lego dudes as they smash stuff. So gradually we’ve fallen into a routine where Kirk picks the level and starts it out. Depending on which parent is at home or available, we’ll help him and eventually he’ll get bored or it will be too complicated and we’ll finish it off. And now that we have the guide to follow we’re being totally completist about collecting all the various items to unlock characters and bonus levels. And last night I found myself playing it when both the kids were in bed and Mr. b was at band practice.

Bye Bye Boobie

I guess Ronnie is officially weaned. I didn’t really notice it happening, which is probably a good thing. I didn’t need to make some big pronouncement or anything. At some point last week, not even sure which day, she had her last nigh-nigh boobie.

It’s not like she was even actively nursing. But for the last month or six weeks she’d have her bedtime bottle and then still fall asleep on the boob. It was just easier that way. And if she woke up in the middle of the night I was still bringing her into bed with me. I started to give her a bottle in the middle of the night and put her back into her crib. I mean, her father had always been doing that if he was the one the get up with her but I was the slacker hold out.

During the day Mr. b had started laying Miss Ronica down in her crib for naps before she was even fully asleep. This was radical news to me. We never were able to quite crib train her the way we did with Kirk. We couldn’t let her just “cry it out” with him in the room with her! It wouldn’t be fair to disturb his sleeping. Hence the nursing her to sleep and putting her away already passed out. But if she was able to fall asleep on her own for naptime then that meant I needed to jump on her new skill set and let her fall asleep on her own for bedtime.

It didn’t work every time but for the past couple of weeks I’ve been able to put the Bundle to bed with her still awake. She might fuss a little bit but she’d rustle about and then be asleep by the time her brother and I tiptoed in a half hour or hour later for his bedtime. But the nights it didn’t work, it really didn’t work and I would give up and stick a boob in her mouth. I noticed the last few times that nursing her felt weird. Like, physically it didn’t feel the same. Probably because there really isn’t anything in there for her to actually eat anymore! There was a great line in Kim by Rudyard Kipling. The old high caste widow was convinced that mothers shouldn’t be allowed to raise children, only grandmothers, because mothers are too close to the pain of childbirth and the pleasure of nursing. That really resonated with me. The pleasure of nursing. It really was a pleasure. I’m so glad I had the chance to experience that fully. But it was time to end it.

So now I have to really start watching what I eat. It would be bad to unconsciously keep ingesting nursing calories when I clearly no longer need them.

You Can Help

My mom was first diagnosed with MS in 1986. I was 11. I grew up knowing that at any time, with no waning whatsoever, she could suddenly be struck blind or become paralyze and *this time*, it might be permanent. So far, she’s one of the lucky ones. She hasn’t had an exacerbation in many years. Her medication keeps things under control and she rarely needs to use a cane to walk, though she wears an ankle brace every day. Research into the disease has come a long way. But there’s still no cure and there’s still much that isn’t understood. You can help. Please donate to the MS Society to support me in the walk this coming Sunday. I truly appreciate any help you feel willing to give.

Please consider a pledge to create a world free of multiple sclerosis and support me during Walk MS: Cambridge Walk 2010. MS stops people from moving. The National MS Society exists to make sure it doesn’t. Please help by making a donation — large or small — to move closer to a cure for MS. You can also join me on the day of the event. Become a participant and side by side we will move together to raise funds that make a difference.
Whatever you can give will help. I greatly appreciate your support and will keep you posted on my progress. Imagine a world free of multiple sclerosis. We’re almost there.

Click here to visit my personal page and make a secure, online donation.

http://main.nationalmssociety.org/site/TR?px=3531245&pg=personal&fr_id=13782

Bring out cher dead!

I really thought that when I stopped pumping at work that my reading habit would go down. But I seem to be ahead of my pace for even last year’s record haul. I just started title #33 this morning, which is exactly half of my total last year. And, true to form, I totally fell down on book reviews, last discussing a single volume over twenty titles ago.

My book club selection for this month was Year of Wonders by Geraldine Brooks. I haven’t read anything of hers before but I have read nearly all of her husband’s books – my favorite travel writer Tony Horwitz. I hadn’t put together that she was *that* Geraldine until I read the dedication at the start of her book! I really enjoyed her writing style and I think I’ll read more of her books.

This book was historical fiction dealing with the imagined events in a real village in England, Eyam, that really did close its own borders in 1665-1666 to try to contain an outbreak of the Plague. The story follows a young woman, Anna, as she grows as a result of this crucible of change. I found it fabulous. Oh, I couldn’t take it out of the house to read in public until I was well over halfway through because I knew I would be bawling. But it was wonderful.

The book club ladies universally enjoyed the book as well except for the last chapter and the epilogue. I found the location of the epilogue to be unsurprising, knowing the background of the author. There was one element that was perhaps a bit deus ex machina, but not so much that it took me out of the story. In fact, there was a nice bit of symmetry with the protagonist’s ending as compared to Anna’s beginning. The last chapter didn’t bother me either. I was expecting the pat happy ending we seemed to be getting – and I would have been very fine with that! – so I was completely blindsided by the turn things took. In a good way. It perhaps retroactively altered my opinion of another character but not so much that I was disgusted by wasted time or anything of the sort.

The other complaint I’ve read is that the book is anachronistic. I actually found it to be extremely well researched and accurate. At least according to my memory of my college course on women’s life in Medieval Europe! Anna had some very modern ideas and thoughts and yet to me they seemed to follow naturally based on her experiences and observations. This was, after all, a time of great changes in philosophy and politics. Nature gained popularity over Fate as Science started to gain over Religion. I found it to be a very thoughtful way to explore that paradigm shift in a manner that made such a heady topic accessible to the average reader.

Hear Me Moan

Extreme TMI and Whining Warning: Continue Reading At Your Own Peril



This has been a very bad week for belsum’s nethers. It started off with just a bump. I found a bump on my delicate girl parts last week. Figured it was just a zit. Last weekend was the big Ronnie’s Naming Ceremony weekend with my in-laws flying up from Texas and lots of evening fires in our backyard with family and good friends. So I figured if the bump wasn’t gone by Monday, I’d go have it checked out just to be sure. Got the results yesterday from the culture they took: staph. Great. But it so far doesn’t seem to be as virulent as the staph infections Mr. b was dealing with in succession a few years ago. They just prescribed me a topical ointment to apply to the affected area. So far so good.

Monday evening I started feeling all rumbly in my tumbly. Lord knows I ate like a madwoman during all the festivities of the weekend so I didn’t give it much thought. I slept fitfully when I went to bed and then woke up about 1:30 am and spent the next two hours in the bathroom. And then made return trips at far too frequent intervals. Obviously frequent wiping, causing chafing and chapping, is just the thing to help prevent the spread of a staph infection! Oh wait, no it’s not. I was completely wrecked all day Tuesday and still extremely weak Wednesday. Started to come out of it Thursday but still tired. And yeah, when you’re averaging 900 calories on top of violently excreting every shred of food from your bowels, that’s gonna take its toll.

I really thought that was the end of it. But instead…my period has come back. For the first time since I got knocked up with Ronnie I’m menstruating. I spotted a little bit when I went on the nursing pill. And there was the lochia flow after giving birth. But those don’t count. This is actual monthly visitor action. It started out spotty on Monday but was really dark. Like my body was cleaning everything out after not being used for a long time. Which, come to think of it, was probably exactly what was happening. But by yesterday the flow became normal. Everything else? Is so not what I’m used to. Granted I’m out of practice. But I never had bloating this bad. I never had PMS this harsh. I was never ready to call it a sick day just for my stupid period before. And I’m just ridiculous amounts of uncomfortable. Food makes me ill. I’m scared to frickin’ fart. Nothing I’ve tried has brought me any relief. This had better just be part of the system overload of all this happening at once. As my friend put it, a bug sneaking in while PMS had my shields down. I just don’t know how I’m going to adapt if this will be my new monthly reality. Oh, I know there are plenty of women out there that are used to big-time horrible symptoms. But I never used to be one of them. Then again, I do remember a slight worsening after I had Kirk. That’s when the day of icky poo as a late PMS indicator started happening. Well great. So I guess this is the thanks I get for having another baby. It’s like it’s exponentially getting more extreme. Blerg.

Blanket

When Kirk was a baby he got a lot of blankets. Hospital blankets, receiving blankets, homemade blankets, store-bought blankets, flannel, fleece, jersey, cotton, quilted, doubled, lined, trimmed, he must have had at least a dozen. When he was about a year old he picked out a favorite. It was a cream colored blanket with a satin back, satin border, and deeply plush front. There was a satin panel on the front in the center of the plush with an embroidered Winnie the Pooh. He carried it around everywhere. It was about that time that he stopped going to Auntie Daycare and started going to K’s house. So we went to the store and bought a duplicate of that blankie. It seemed smart to have a second one to leave at K’s house rather than cart the same one back and forth every day, risking leaving it there overnight or, gods forbid, over the weekend.

Then Kirk’s cousin visited. He declared that Kirk’s official blankie of choice was instead a blue one, matching the color of his own Uh-Oh (a cotton Sleep-Sack) that he carried around everywhere. This blankie was similar in style to the cream colored Pooh one, satin backing and trim with a velveteen plush front, but without the center embroidery. And this one was a shower gift with no receipt so we had no way of knowing where it came from in order to purchase a duplicate.

Flash forward to today. Ronnie has just three blankies, one fleece and two handmade and flannel. That’s plenty and lord knows we don’t have space to store any others. She’s also recently chosen her official favorite. The same cream Pooh blanket of her brother’s! She can’t tell a difference between the two so far – one is noticeably more worn than the other – but she carries one or the other around often. When she gets tired she’ll lay her head down on it in the middle of the floor. She cuddles with it while fighting sleep in my lap at night. She’s starting to hold onto it when she stands up in her crib, crying to be picked up.

Mr. b wants to get her her own blanket. I’m worried if he buys something similar she might not like it as well. But is it bad for your child’s lovey object to be essentially a hand-me-down? Kirk wants to “dial” it (don’t try to tell him it’s actually “dye” because he ain’t buying that line) purple. I’m totally down with purchasing some Rit and coloring it lavender so it’s “new” to Ronnie. But is it bad to not get one of her own? To let her carry around her brother’s cast-off?

Noise Makers

Ronnie’s been a complete pain in the ass the last couple weeks. She’s super hard to put to bed at night. She wakes up the second you lay her in her crib and stares up at you in dismay and then starts to wah. She’s been clingy and whiny for her father during the day. When I get home from work she demands my attention non-stop. I spend more time sitting on the floor than on the furniture. She doesn’t necessarily even need me to pay attention to her, just be down there so that she can throw herself at me in-between menacing. She rips toys off the white shelf in the corner and flings them everywhere. She pulls books out of the tv consol drawer and destroys them. She climbs up on the couch and throws all the pillows off. She tears great hunks of fur off the cats. She is a total menace.

But she’s also frickin’ smart and has been cataloguing everything in that little developing brain of hers. She points and says, “This” nearly constantly. Half the time I don’t know which this she even means. I’ve taken to keeping a running commentary while I’m holding her so that whichever this she’s interested in will hopefully be covered. I remember Kirk asking, “What’s that” while pointing so I guess it’s a pretty common phase for babies to go through.

Ronnie’s got another noise that she makes when she’s not asking, “This.” I’m not sure how to describe it. It’s like a Spanish rolled r but it’s a th sound instead. It’s pretty hard to duplicate. I don’t know of any language that actually uses that phoneme. It took me a while to realize which sound was being trilled. I experimented with tongue placement at the back of teeth, top of palate, and front of palate before I figured it out. It doesn’t sound quite the same way when I do it as when she does but I think it’s because I have more and larger teeth. Hers sounds more like the brrrrr you make when you make the motor boat noise with your lips – only no vocalization, air flow only. Kirk had a repeat noise, too, but his was definitely a vocalization. I guess I’d transliterate it as “nngink!” and he repeated it frequently enough that we still remember it. Interesting that both of their noises incorporated sounds not found in English.

Obligatory Shakespeare "Rose" Quote

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about names as I’ve been getting everything in order for Ronnie’s upcoming naming ceremony. Specifically, how pet names and nicknames change. I find it amusing that the diminutive form of Kirk’s name, Kirkie, is actually longer. And yet it’s obviously the little kid version. Going with Ronnie for Veronica is more of a true nickname than an actual diminutive but we could have chosen V or Vera or Nic or any of a good half dozen other possibilities. We always knew that Ronnie would be the one we’d use.

But what about Bundle? I find that I’ve been using it less and less in public. I used to refer to her as Bundle almost exclusively and now I rarely even use it at home as a title. I’ll ask her “How’s my sweet bundle” but that’s not the same. Kirk still calls his sister Bundle and I’ve noticed that grandparents and family friends do as well. But none of them ever called Kirk Peepers Pie. And for the first…year or so of his life he was nearly exclusively Peepers Pie to both Mr. b and I. But did we call him that outside of the home? I guess we must not have. We used “Pie” as shorthand for babies his same age and knew if one said, “I saw a pie at the store” that it meant there was a baby the same current size as our little Pie Man. I still sometimes call Kirk Kirkie Pie but it’s definitely less common. When did it stop? I know I call him Buddy or Honey or Sweetheart more frequently than Pie now.

Hunny is Mr. b though. I mentally see and hear the difference in how I use that particular pet name.

There’s a lot of power in names. I like the old traditions of having a temporary name and then a young child earning their name once they got older. Partly that was to deal with high infant mortality rates. But there’s something compelling about the idea that a child has lived long enough to earn their place in the universe. To be recognized as an independent being and not just a baby attached to her mother. I think that’s why I waited until both my children were a year old to have their namings take place. Sure, they already had those names on their birth certificates but the ceremony is a chance to present them to the community of human beings they live amongst. To share their existence with the rest of us and acknowledge that someday they’ll be out there with their place confirmed.

What's next? Trees?

Ronnie is climbing the furniture. Literally. It happened quite suddenly to my mind. I was home sick last Tuesday and not being particularly observant of either of the kids and I realized that she was hauling herself up onto the couch. She seems to do better in the corner of the sectional, probably because she can get a better grip having an angle instead of a straight line. She has been quicker and quicker and has been trying – so far unsuccessfully – to climb the ottoman as well.

Last Monday was her One Year Well Baby (90% height! 85% weight!) and Doc B warned us she would be a climber if she was as much of a menace as we were describing. I just didn’t expect his prediction to come true the very next day.

ONE!!

We all have summer birthdays so it was weird trying to prep for an indoor party. Moving the ottoman to the side opened things up nicely.


Ronnie menaced plenty while we were trying to get organized.


I think we put out a pretty decent spread of food!


Mr. b picked out a separate slice of cake for Ronnie to menace. I was surprised that he got chocolate since he hates messes!


This mess was a doozy.


We had to strip her bare and give her a bath in the middle of everything in order to clean her up!


She wore her third outfit for the day to open presents. She got tons of cute clothes and some really great toys.


She was definitely overwhelmed by it all.

Two by Two

My appetite has been reduced greatly in the last week or two. I think I’m on the last leg of the weaning process. Ronnie has been more and more frustrated with the lack of milk when she does nurse and I usually end up giving her a bottle even if I do put her at the boob first. I’m basically down to three times a day: when I get home from work, before bed, and in the middle of the night. And all of those are hit or miss now. Just holding her and carrying her around when I get home seems to be enough mama attention. She’s starting to fall asleep sitting in my lap before bed on more than just the rare occasion. And she usually just wants to be held in the middle of the night, not really wanting anything to actually drink.

So now I have to figure out if I should switch my pills to the regular hormones or stay on the “nursing pill” for one more month as a buffer period. I’m leaning towards the latter, just so there’s a little more time for us to gradually get used to it. Veronica has her 1 year well baby visit on Monday so I need to decide before then and make sure I get a prescription.

I also need to remember that I don’t need as many calories as I’ve been ingesting. I don’t think I’m going to have the problem I had with my failed attempts nursing Kirk where I gained weight because of how much I was eating. I’m actually physically getting full but still ordering/taking proportions for nursing calories. I can think of at least three instances in the last four or so days where I had just plain too much food in front of me. Even a month ago I wouldn’t have hesitated to eat it all. Which means now I need to get back to an exercise regimen.

Coming upon Bundle’s one year birthday has also made me realize that I think I am happy with “just” two kids. Sure, three seems “right”. But there were also so many problems with three. It was always two against one. Times where all three of us were happy together were so rare that I can’t come up with more than one or two specific examples. Even now there’s always one of us as the odd man out. I want Kirk and Ronnie to enjoy spending time together. I don’t want sibling politics to be involved anymore than simple older brother versus little sister. I want them to have closeness because they have each other. And frankly, the idea of being pregnant again sounds terrible to me. I really, really, really don’t want to do that again.

C is for Cooperation

Kirk spent nearly all of Saturday in time out. He had a dentist appointment Saturday morning and wanted his daddy to take him. Fine by me, I got to sleep in longer and not get dressed. But while I was chilling with Ronnie, they got home much earlier than I expected. Kirk was so naughty and uncooperative that ultimately the hygienist was unable to do anything. Mr. b was pissed and frog-marched the man into his bedroom for an all-day grounding.

Now, we happened to be quite busy that afternoon so Kirk got let out for stuff like going to book club with Mama, but he knew he was in Big Trouble. We decided that this behavior needs to be treated as a symptom of him getting away with baby stuff that we just haven’t bothered to fight yet. So since he is now big enough to have appointments – doctor, optometrist, dentist – he has to act like he’s a Big Boy. And Big Boys don’t use sippy cups. Yep, we finally got rid of the damn sippies.

Kirk was pretty distraught when he heard the announcement his precious sippy cups were going away. He tried arguing but knew he wasn’t going to get away with jack shit this time round. In fact, by the time lunch was over he had turned it around and was excited to participate in the tossing of the hateful plastic bastards into the recycling bin. And he’s been proudly requesting his drinks “in a Big Boy Cup” all weekend, as though he had any other choice.

One nice side-effect of this all was good behavior in church yesterday. He sat quietly until the children were dismissed, and drew and didn’t make noise or screw around, even as his best friend was decidedly not behaving himself sitting next to him on the pew. And during the social hour after service, his Sunday school teacher came up to me and told me about how well behaved Kirk was and what a great sense of humor he has. The lesson she was teaching? Cooperation. HA!!

I’m not sure how long we can milk this. Kirk knows his blue blankie is the next on the line. For now though, I’m enjoying having so much space in the cupboard, now that the sippies are gone!

So Five Minutes Ago

I’ve decided that I need to take a break from vampire serieses. I’ve been reading through so many of them my brain can’t really process it anymore. First I’ll finish out the series that I’m on. And there are a couple of due-to-be-published titles coming out this year I’ll read. But then that’s it.

Since I’ve read so many of these damn things I’ve inevitably started comparing them all. I think everyone in the world knows about my disdain for Twilight, despite my initial love and addiction. I found that the Sookie Stackhouse series, while enjoyable, wasn’t as good as the television series based upon it. By the end I was reading them more to expand my understanding of True Blood than anything. Anita Blake I initially started reading after stumbling across this webcomic. That sounded too hilarious and titillating to pass up! I haven’t quite finished that series yet but so far it’s the one I like best. Even with all the sex. Or not just because of all the sex?

If these serieses were schools, then Twilight is Junior High, Sookie is High School, and Anita is College.

Anita Blake’s an urban fantasy series. It’s set in St. Louis. Unlike the True Blood-verse, where vamps have just made themselves known, in this universe vamps (and shifters and witches and whatnot) have always been known. Vampires recently were made legal in the US and there’s a big Church of Eternal Life as well as all kinds of strips clubs and other businesses. Anita is a licensed vampire executioner and works with the police department and FBI on all sorts of freaky supernatural monster crime. She’s totally badass. She’s also a zombie animator, a natural talent she’s had since she was little. She works at a business specifically to raise zombies, so lawyers can double check wills or loved ones can say good bye or whatever else may be required.

Awesomely, nearly every title in the series is also the name of a place of business that Anita visits during the course of that book’s case, which makes it a nice shorthand to remember what exactly happened. I can never remember which book is which out of the Sookie Stackhouse titles. This series has a bad rap but I think that’s a little bit unfair. Anita’s powers develop very naturally as a result of the events of each book, her interactions with the bad guys or supes, and are fully explained within the confines of the world that has been built. It just plain makes sense. And besides the preternatural stuff, there’s just so much heart-pounding action!

But nevermind the guns and the gore and the terror. Nearly everyone focuses on the sex so I thought I’d make a little guide. Books 1 through 5, Guilty Pleasures through Bloody Bones, are nearly completely chaste. Book 6, The Killing Dance, has one single sex scene. Book 7, Burnt Offerings, is back to being sex-free. Though Anita is no longer celibate, we just don’t read it on the page. Book 8, Blue Moon, again has one single sex scene. Book 9, Obsidian Butterfly? That’s right, nada. So far, no reason to get bent out of shape. And that’s over half of the currently published titles! Books 10 and 11, Narcissus in Chains and Cerulean Sins, both have a handful of sex scenes. Maybe 3 or 4 each. But again, nothing that I found excessive and certainly nothing outside of the norm established for the characters involved. Then we have book 12, Incubus Dreams. Hooboy. I completely lost track. This one definitely fits the “all sex and no plot” profile. It was kind of a mess. But then along comes book 13, Micah, and it dials everything back down. There’s only one single sex scene and more than that, it’s a return to the “simpler” bad guys of the earlier books, instead of a demi-god or a lunatic shapeshifter. Books 14 and 15, Danse Macabre and The Harlequin, seem to have found their way back to the handful of scenes level, though the former also included group sex instead of just one-on-one. And that’s as far as I’ve read.

I think the reason the dirty stuff doesn’t bother me is that while it may be complicated to explain, the series is truly about Anita’s relationships with her men. There is a lot of introspection and self-analysis going on that fits with all the characters developing in a believable manner. I don’t know that I’d recommend them for everyone I know but I definitely think they’re better than those dismissing the series as smut and nothing else.

Flotsam and Jetsam

Kirk’s taken to making proclamations of “I’m gonna buy you something” to both me and his father. The items he’s going to purchase vary from the simple to the extravagant. It’s very sweet. He totally doesn’t understand money yet. Heh.

Veronica has all but broken the television remote. Every time it’s left in her reach she has chewed it to the point where the buttons simply don’t work anymore. One evening earlier this week she managed to chew it into a feedback loop of scanning for channels!

Kirk is becoming quite the master builder. He loves regular sized Legos the most, though he’ll also use Duplos or bristle blocks or anything else handy. He has created everything from pirate ships to Lightning McQueen to the Incredible Hulk. It’s fabulous to watch his creativity in such a concrete manner.

Ronnie still won’t take steps unless you trick her. If her destination is at standing height then she might step once or twice but usually she’ll just speed-crawl over. The strange thing, however, is that she is now nearly perfectly balanced (relative to a baby learning to walk) and will spend most of her time standing once she’s reached her new location.

I’ve been going through my wardrobe and culling items. I discovered I had a box of goal weight clothes I set aside before Kirk was born. Some of them fit! Our scale has been broken since the clogged toilet disaster so that was an exciting discovery. I’ve also stopped wearing nursing bras exclusively. Boy, I need new bras.

In the ongoing attempt to make sure Kirk has good manners, I’ve been trying to impress upon him the difference between an empty “I’m sorry” to get out of trouble and a truly meaningful apology. I haven’t decided yet if we’re making any progress.

On the topic of manners, what about chivalry? I’m not sure at what point, or even if, I should start with the holding the door for a lady, letting a lady go first, that sort of thing. Respect Your Elders probably needs to come next anyway. We’re still working on Wait Your Turn If Someone Else Is Speaking.

Bundle takes showers with me now. I gave up even trying to keep her out. She loves hanging out and splashing when her brother or her dad is in the bathtub and if I’m in the shower she will lean over the edge to try to play with the water spray. She is just about tall enough to climb in. Rather than fight it, I now let her hang out below me, cheerfully splashing shampoo bubbles and sliding around in the tub.

Sunday Social

I’ve been feeling very disconnected lately. At the same time, I’ve been going through a self-analytical phase triggered by required career development exercises. On top of this has been all the family drama swirling about for several months. In the midst of it I realized that I need to start going to church.

Now, to those that know me that probably sounds radical. I am an avowed critic of organized religion. I do not believe in Christian dogma. I formally and officially quit the church in 9th grade after getting confirmed just to please my mother. However, there were good elements to churchgoing and that’s what I want to pursue. I need a sense of community. I need a support network. All my closest relationships are online, even with friends that are physically living in town. I go from work to home and don’t see anyone but co-workers and my kids because of the split-shifting Mr. b and I are doing right now. And that’s fine and it’s temporary, but I do need to retain my sanity during this phase of our lives.

I also want Kirk to grow up with the fun of youth group and having “church friends” distinct from “school friends”. He’s getting old enough to Ask Questions and while we can provide plenty of answers, I also want him to have a framework to find his own answers. I want him to gain the tools to live an ethical life and be intellectually curious and open to change and differences.

So this Sunday we went to service at the local Unitarian Universalist society. And it was great. It’s so refreshing to listen to a minister talk about the Bible, MLK Jr, Greek philosophy, Buddhism, and pan-theistic deities, all while making actually funny pop song lyric references. My friend morrigan grew up in this church so of course I was there for lock-ins and stuff but I never actually went to services. Kirk had his naming ceremony at this church but I never actually went to services. Then I discovered that K had started going. Somehow knowing that someone else was going to be there was just the little push I needed.

The look on Kirk’s face when he saw his best friend in the universe at the church Sunday morning was better than priceless. Now I just need to remember that going is part of our new routine each weekend. I’m in the midst of planning out Ronnie’s naming so that will help. And I know that my blue funk won’t last. The world isn’t actually taking me for granted, though it feels that way these days. There’s a lot of potential for change happening in my life right now and once directions are decided, I suspect a feeling of calm will return. Until then, I look forward to another thought provoking Sunday morning.

Three is the new Two?

Last night Mr. b and I talked about vasectomies. He’s apparently been doing some research about them and is not at all encouraged by what he’s read. He doesn’t want one. And honestly, that’s fine. I don’t mind taking the pill. I’ve been on it for nearly 20 years now. I take iron pills every day anyway so it’s not really any big deal to take two pills at night instead of just one. I told him that if we just keep going like we have been, there’s always a chance of an Oops, though we never had so much as a scare before I was off the pill. But more than that, I warned him that I might want to have another kid at some point in the next 7 or so years.

I’m the oldest of three kids so there’s always going to be something in the back of my head that tells me that’s the “right” number of kids to have. When Ronnie was first born I felt very strongly that I was going to want another one. I’m not sure why but now, not nearly as much. Yet it’s not faded completely so I can’t discount the notion that the nagging could resurface someday. Mr. b was quite appalled by the possibility and just went with the idea that he’ll “say no” and that is that. I don’t know that it would be so simple.

Alongside the experience of being one of three is a more primal, genetic, animal, base desire to propagate the species, ensure the continuation of my line, immortality through my progeny. There’s a collective memory of high infant mortality and the need for more hands to help sustain the subsistence. Is that a real issue? We’re probably not going to actually have an apocalypse in my lifetime, much to Mr. b’s despair. And possibly my time in the field – where I excavated infant remains that were in the trash midden, treated with the respect of being put in a nice jar at least – colors my impression of it more than someone that has only academic knowledge of the changes modern health technology has wrought. I feel quite strongly Kirk would not have survived even a century ago. So all of this adds up to something inside me akin to the Royal saying of “an heir and a spare”.

I don’t know how I would go on if I lost one of my kids. But I especially don’t know how I would go on if I lost both of my kids. So having another one I guess would be insurance of a sick sort. But even understanding my psyche in all of this, do I really want to go through it all again? The pregnancy and the birth and the sleepless nights. I don’t know. But I’m not ready to give up the option.

Almost 11 Months

It felt kind of strange to get on the bus this morning and not be carrying my pump. I’ve become so accustomed to having two things with me in the seat; it felt so roomy without it! So far I’m feeling OK. Not too full or too achy, though obviously a little of each. However, I’m sure I’m going to put Veronica straight to the boob the second I get home and get my coat off. I picked Friday to be my first day without pumping knowing the weekend would be right there in case it sucks. But I really don’t want to have to spend money on more milk storage bags and honestly, I don’t think pumping is worth the trouble anymore.

So now that Ronica is on the homestretch of weaning – whether she knows it or not is a different matter – I’m looking forward to seeing how this affects our sleeping patterns. She continues to be extremely difficult to get to bed at night, requiring multiple tries to get her to stay asleep. She continues to wake up between 2am and 4am and sometimes even earlier. (She often wakes up the second her father gets home from school or band practice or work, like she can sense his presence.) I have noticed that she’s less demanding of food when she wakes up and is more interested in being held. But since I’m so used to sleep nursing, I still just give her a boob so I can lay back down. And she still doesn’t really know how to fuss herself to sleep since we don’t leave her in her crib to cry and disturb her brother. I’m hoping that’ll work itself out as she gets older but it’s definitely something I’m wary of.

I think we’ll probably try to find a free or cheap toddler bed before jumping straight to bunk beds for the two of them. My guess is that once she can climb out of bed herself she’ll end up climbing in with her brother, again just needing the comfort of someone next to her in the middle of the night.

Ronnie is still not quite walking. Rather, she can walk and has taken a few steps, but she chooses not to. She is so incredibly fast at crawling that it would be inconvenient to walk instead. She does let go and free stand more and more often so I’m sure she’ll start doing more than just moving between the couch and ottoman before long. She’s learning to get down from the couch feet first and that’s a skill she’ll need for getting out of her bed and invading her brother’s.

Lichenin

Good science fiction should be thought provoking. You should be presented with ideas that make you really consider the way the world around you works currently. Allegory isn’t necessary but is often useful to use as a prism, to focus on something you might not have noticed around you. Too often today we think science fiction means robots and space and aliens and rockets. Instead, I hold to the old Scientific Romance definition, where you expound and expand upon a technological breakthrough and explore what that would mean for society.

Trouble with Lichen by John Wyndham was one of the most thought provoking books I’ve read in a long time. It took a long, hard look at the ramifications of extreme longevity. Robert A. Heinlein touched on some of those ideas in his Lazarus Long books but Lazarus is primarily an action figure so the same depths are not achieved. I enjoyed the thought experiment of how people really would react when offered the chance to double or treble their lifespan.

There was a feminist aspect to the book, too, which I found fascinating because of several inherent disparities. First of all, it was published in 1960. So even though the female protagonist was rather radical and wanted women to break free of their domestic routines if only they had enough time to live up to their potentials, it was all cast with the pall of the woman being a mere appendage to a man, whether her father or her husband. Like watching original series Star Trek now and being appalled at the sexism while trying to remember that it was actually ground breaking at the time. Another disparity was the fact that the author is a man. I often found myself wondering if he was poking fun or being serious about all the second-gen suffragetting about the place. I have to believe that he thought he was serious. However, I was reminded that in his The Day of the Triffids, which I read six years ago, the independent female character by the end was just happy to have a man. Maybe the fact that it was published almost a decade earlier made the difference? Or maybe Wyndam truly believes that even if a woman is smart and strong she still is “just” a woman. But I’m not offended by that possibility and instead relished the chance to really examine the current state of my gender in society at large.

The narrative started a little slowly but it continued to build and the last forty or fifty pages were definitely exciting. The climax had me tearing up with hope for humanity and righteous pride in womankind. And the twist in the dénouement I didn’t see coming until it was right on top of me.

Back Pack & Baby Toy

I had a burst of creative energy a few weekends ago and put it to good use. Mr. b had a pair of old khakis with the knees torn out that I hemmed into shorts for him. But what to do with the legs? I am too much of a fabric hoarder to just toss them into the rag pile. Instead, I made Kirk a back pack! I had a lot of fun thinking it through. Putting in a circular bottom seemed obvious but coming up with the fold-over button front took me a while.



I think I set the straps a bit too wide but Kirk doesn't seem to mind and I suppose he'll grow into them this way.





There was still a bit of fabric left after that so I decided to make Bundle a chew toy. I deliberated for a while on its shape and size and finally decided to go with a triangular block because it seemed like the easiest for her to grab onto. I added the buttons for her to pick at, hold onto, and crew on. It's "educational" because I did 1, 2, 3 on each side! She loves it and it's always covered with slobber now. Especially on the 2 side. Not sure if it's the red, the style of buttons, or coincedence...