Wednesday, July 27, 2005

My baby's leaving me

I blinked and he crawled. I turned my back for a second, and he pulled himself up to stand. I took a nap and he got a tooth. While each advancement is a new reason to celebrate, I also find myself mourning the loss of my baby. In just a matter of months he will be replaced with a toddler. My little bun, my armful of baby yumminess won't come back. I can hardly stand the thought of it. I guess I didn't expect to feel sad about this, so I am taken quite by surprise. I know that I will love little toddler Munch as much as baby Munch, but I am just not ready yet. I need another year, maybe. It all just needs to slow down! The though of his gummy smile turning into a toothy grin makes me want to cry.

I had a hard time when my fragile newborn became a chunky baby. I tried to memorize every feature, gesture, and cry. But as with dreams, just as I tried to grasp the memories and file them away as permanent records, they escaped my grasp and evaporated. Our memory is poor archival tool indeed.

His head just smells so lovely when it is damp with sweat.

Wednesday, July 20, 2005

Love Shack

Can a vacation feel like a vacation when you are on permanent vacation?
- or -
Can a vacation feel like a vacatin when you take your 24/7 job and your homework with you?


We had a brief respite with eight of our dearest friends at the Russian River. We rented a "cabin", complete with gourmet kitchen, hot tub, kayaks, and wonderful views. We spent the weekend finding various ways to relax, explore the river, eat, and drink. We saw seals and salmon in the river. We played games and drank girly drinks (even the boys). Griffin stayed up too late and napped too little, fearing that he would miss something.

And I fell in love. Actually, I met an old love and rekindled the relationship. When we were last together, I was a child and subject to amaturish whims. I stashed this love away and pushed it from my mind. Now, I simply can't imagine now how I managed these many years without peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Oh, what a passionate reunion! How could I forget the soft whole wheat bread, the salty sticky peanutness, the oozing strawberries! A tummy filled with peanut butter and strawberry jam is happy indeed. It fill without overloading. The sensation lingers long after the event itself, bestowing an afterglow of satisfaction. PBJs are a whole different experience at 33 than they were at 8 or 10. Only once you have sampled cuisines of the world, the curries of Bangkok, the moles of Oaxaca, the kebaps of Istanbul can you really appreciate the simple perfection of this all-American dish, the perfect balance of salty and sweet, crunchy (of course!) and gooey. Fruit, nut, and grain in perfect balance.

Go make yourself one right now. You will be glad you did.

Wednesday, July 06, 2005

Baby, baby, baby

I haven't said much about the Munch lately. I guess I am afraid of being one of THOSE parents. You know, nothing to talk about but the baby, what the baby ate, baby poop, baby's new cute bah-bah sounds, baby likes Cheerios, baby, baby, baby.

I spent a full afternoon on Sunday with my friend Judy. We talked about loads of stuff, very little of which had to do with my progeny. I swear there were times I almost forgot about him entirely. It was like a little mini vacation. I realized how much I enjoyed being my own self for a little bit, and how I really need to try to do that more often. Of course, I was thrilled to see him when I got home, and he was pretty happy to see me too.

We've decided that it is time to have a regular babysitter on the docket, so that we can have a regular date night once a week or so. Where does one find one of these? The nature of babysitting seems to have changed drastically since I was 13. Now all I hear about are semi-professional babysitters who are nursing or child development students, who drive their own cars, are fully certified, and charge a small fortune to what still amounts to putting the kid to bed and watching some TV. Some how I thought that I had a bunch of good babysitting karma saved up from my teenage years, when I charged $1.50/hr, organized games and activities, cooked meals, and helped with homework. No such luck. I can't seem to find my 13 year old self here in the neighborhood. I would probably be arrested for leaving my child in the care of a child - reckless endangerment, or some such.

He's been a doll lately. Constantly chattering nonsense, laughing like a maniac, and having his own little "rock out" sessions where he throws his arms in the air and goes into ecstatic convusions. Usually while I am trying to feed him. He still fights going to sleep as if he were fighting off death itself. I think he is convinced that there is a party somewhere and I am making him miss it.

Oh, and he scoots. He scoots fast. I leave him in one room while I answer the phone and find him in another when I return seconds later. He's a little human Swiffer. He drools all over his shirt, then scoots - Swiffs - all through the house, collecting all sorts of filth and debre as he goes. And I would have sworn that the floor was clean. We have this little game. He scoots to the electrical cables/entertainment center/outlet/plastic bag when he thinks I am not looking. I swoop down and tell him quite sternly, "no! no, Griffin!" and he laughs. It's a wonderful game. I am sure there will be dicipline problems for years to come as a result.

Another scantron quiz awaits me in class tonight. Can I borrow a no. 2 pencil?

Saturday, July 02, 2005

Excuse me...

...but what the FUCK is Tom Cruise's deal? He is beginning to very much resemble his role in Magnolia. He's really whacked out. I am waiting to wake up to the headline that he has blown his fortune on steriods, speed, and a massive tiara for Katie (excuse me, Kate).

He's an okay actor - I have even enjoyed him in some of his roles. But he is certainly off my okay person list. He's getting downright creepy in his professed adoration of young little Kate. And his
statements on the Today Show about psychiatry and psychology are just off the deep end.

1. Psychiatry is a medical profession. Psychology is a science. They are not faiths or ghosts, and therefore it is not a matter of "believing in" them or not. They are not people, so "agreeing with" them is also not an option.
2. Psychiatry is not a pseudoscience. Scientology is. (Daily Show, June 27[?])
3. I can't say for sure (I'll have to check my notes), but I seem to remember from one of my classes that neither Paxil nor Ritalin are anti-psychotic drugs.

Read the interview. Take a drink every time Tom says "Matt." And tell me if the world wouldn't be a better place if this guy were on Ritalin.

Additional fun at:
Dr. Tom Cruise, MD