tales of an e r nothing

So, yesterday, we had a little family fun. A little family together time. Actually, it started out as a little Cardo and v time, but that didn't last long.

Recently, Cardo was sick. The last few times he's been sick, he's felt pain in his chest. The first time, the pain subsided when he was no longer sick, but this time that didn't happen. He was calling the cardiologist for a check-up and mentioned the pain.

"You're not going to like this, Cardo," the woman at the cardiologist's office told him, "but we want you to go to urgent care or the emergency room."

He came home from work and I took him to urgent care, where he had an EKG. Then, the doctor there told us to go to the emergency room. Either I could drive him there, or she was going to call an ambulance. I drove him. We got him checked in at four in the afternoon. I left after an hour to pick up Pic from school. As I was leaving I started crying and Cardo had to comfort me, which is crap because we were in the ER for him, not me. I walked out to the parking garage and sat in my car and sobbed somewhat hysterically while lobbing expletives at the universe at large. After a few deep breaths, I went to get Pic.

When I picked her up and told her we were going back to the hospital because Papi's heart was sick again, she asked about his room. She remembered the hospital room and the little closet that they use as a shower (where he got one shower the last time he was hospitalized for five days...Pic and I helped him and got somewhat soaked in the process). She seemed to think it was kind of cool that he was going to be in the hospital again.

To make a long story short (TOO LATE!), the three of us hung out in the ER for eight hours total. I didn't want to leave without Cardo -- I didn't want them to admit him to the cardiac wing again. Finally, at eleven-thirty, after Cardo had gotten an ER room, we asked the nurse how much longer it'd be for the blood test results. He said, "Honestly, you're going to be here for a while. At least two more hours." Pic and I gathered our things (Cardo and I had both brought our backpacks knowing that we'd be at the hospital for a while), kissed Papi and left. This is when Pic realized, "Wait, hey, maybe I don't want Papi to have to stay here." I didn't want him to stay either, but I pretended optimism that he'd be out soon and that we'd come back and get him (he wanted to take a cab, but I wanted to get him).

Pic and I went home and put on our pajamas. I poured some cereal for Pic (Trader Joe's Oat and Bran Swirls that a friend once implied looked like little piles of dog crap). Cardo called. It had been maybe thirty minutes so I started to freak out that they wanted to keep him, but he said he was being released. We sped back to get him and we all came back again. Apparently this pain was unrelated to the Broken Heart Syndrome he experienced/suffered from (?) in October. Not that we have any freaking idea why he had this chest pain, but there you have it.

This morning, I slept until eleven. Cardo got up with Pic, but he fell back asleep in the living room. I'm just glad we're all home together and that he's okay.

Highlight of the night? At one point, I said, "I have a lot of reading to do when we get home." Pic responded, "I have a lot of playing to do."

I've never been a fan of the ER (and I've spent a decent amount of time in them...mainly thanks to Auntie Peecho) and last night did not help. I just want to get in and out, but it never works that way. I get so frustrated because I feel like the people working in the ER have no sense of urgency, like they have all day (or all shift at least) so they'll get to you when they get to you. And, obviously, this is true, to some degree. They can't take care of everyone at once. I know that they are doing their best. No one was rude to us last night. The triage nurse showed genuine concern every time I talked to him. And, I'm sure that, overall, it's better that the ER employees aren't frantic, because then the people coming in would probably just panic more.

I also hate being there because I just want everyone to be better. At the same time that I want out, I want everyone else to be taken care of first (but not really...it's hard to explain). Ugh.

Memorable moments:
* Pic, Cardo and I shared a plate of hospital cafeteria food. This has to be some of the most unhealthy food ever. I think it's some subversive way to get more patients. (I'm just kidding.)

* Pic watched some wildly inappropriate tv. (Yes, keep in mind I'm pretty strict about what she watched. Her television viewing choices are limited to PBS. She also watched Disney animated films and some god-awful videos we have, like Blue's Clues, Dora and My Little Ponies. Not much more than that, though). She watched an episode of The Family Guy (I just cannot like this show...at all) in which someone kept yelling, "Go to hell! Go to hell!" and "Bastard! Bastard! Bastard!" She hasn't repeated it, though...yet.

* Pic tripped over some cord in Cardo's ER room and the nurse came rushing in to ensure that Cardo was still alive.

Ah, fun times. Now I must go continue to read stuff that I didn't understand eight years ago and that I still don't understand now. I'fac, I'm pretty sure that I don't want to understand it. Ugh.

anyone? anyone?

Okay, there are a few of things I'm looking for and I'm wondering where to find. Can anyone help? Where, online or here in the Biggest Little City (or around here) can I find

-- shampoo bars?

-- loose leaf tea?

-- a good place to take Cardo for his upcoming birthday (because, I'm not taking him back to the same place from last year, which was good, but is now questionable).

Thanks much, in advance.

affirmations

I am a lone reed. I am Jack's medulla oblongata. I am a work in progress.

Okay, so that last one's the one. I am constantly reminding myself what a friend so adamantly told me the other day, 'I am a work in progress.' It's so hard to really accept this when so much of the future is so uncertain, though. I want to know things for sure. I want assurances, people, and I want them now (and possibly a goose to lay a golden egg). Everything I do seems, to me, to be so end-all, so important. I let myself get so wrapped up in my own little, tiny dramas and freak myself out.

This semester makes me nervous. There are so many stupid little 'what ifs.' I'm not a fan of these. And, yes, I know that one day, years from now, these nights of sleeplessness will be but vague memories and I'll shake my head wearily at the stress I put myself through (this is what I do for fun: stress) and not understand why. There are brief moments of clarity when I know that things will be resolved in some fashion and it'll all be over and life will go on in some sense (or, at least, this is what I let myself believe at times). But...what if it doesn't? Huh? What then?

Wait! Nevermind, that thought does not compute. Really, I don't want to think about it. The people on my committee have known me for at least two years and I'm pretty sure they want to see me succeed (or, at least see me be able to get the crap out).

So, in order to keep the panic at bay, I've been given some other advice recently:



Also, Coach J's post resonated with me today. That song always gets me.

opposite land

When we were little, Peecho and I would play 'Opposite Land' where we said the opposite of everything we meant. Yeah, it was annoying.

Anyhow, I just found an article that represents a kind of opposite land for me. (It's old...I'm still working through sweetney's archives.)

babycake

So, in case anyone is looking for a baby shower cake (Poke?), here's an idea.




(Not surprisingly, I got this from Cake Wrecks.)

a little night music

This is what is currently stuck in my head. I bought a collection (4 albums) of The Divine Miss M's music as Costco recently.



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P.S. Cheesy fun (I had forgotten just how incredibly cheesy this movie is, nevertheless, I'll continue to watch it).

minutiae

Last night, I was exercising in my living room. I was doing a balance-ball routine that I've only ever done once before and it's been quite some time. I felt some trepidation starting it because I remember it being a difficult (though short) routine. I got through it with no problems though (okay, except I felt like I might have pulled some wonder-muscle all up my left side), and I came into the office to tell Cardo, 'I don't know why I thought that was so hard...it's actually really easy.'

Then, I woke up this morning and oh geez, my thighs and butt are so sore that I can't even squat down. I'm a total wimp.

One more note: Dora makes me want to drop the tv over the balcony. Pic is watching some Dora dvd we picked up somewhere along the way and the show is beyond annoying. The characters tell you where they are going about five times in a row at the beginning. Underground river! Forest! Tiko's party! UNDERGROUND RIVER! FOREST! TIKO'S PARTY! (And on and on, I won't do that to you.) I feel like I should embrace Dora because my child is half-Mexican, but I don't care. The show is just annoying. We'll just keep getting books from the library like Te Amo, Bebe, Little One, and I'll be satisfied with that. I can no longer handle this little obnoxious screamer with her and her friends' insistence that my child find the (very obvious) forest on the screen and scream out that we are next going to THE FOREST!!! If Pic needs to identify more with other Hispanic children, she can go visit her abuelitos in Mexico for a while. Or, novel idea, she can go to school. [Actually, in her class, she is only one of two Hispanic kids, but I'm sure that when she goes to elementary school, there'll be more 'brown' kids like her (and, yes, Cardo and Pic refer to themselves as brown).]

things that make you go "hmm"...

Cold white rice is even grosser [is that a word?] than hot white rice.

in which i whine...and the earth weeps

[It was really hard for me to kill the alliteration there, but I really didn't want to use 'world.']

To appropriate some wonderfully famous words: It’s not easy being green.

I’m trying to cut down on the amount of paper I use, I am trying to do more and more on my computer (which uses power…ah, dilemmas, fun stuff). However, I have a hard time reading things on the computer screen, so I have printed about about a billion pages worth of reading this semester. I like pages to turn and margins to scribble in. I like the materiality of paper. I love paper, in fact. And books. And I have many, many books and much paper. I’m only somewhat decent at this game.

This aside, we are continually making strides here at La Casa B to be a bit more friendly to our little rock. And, you know what, Costco is our friend.

Recently, I have been whining (ah, with this whining) to Cardo that I want glass storage bowls instead of plastic. Costco delivered. The lids are still plastic, but the bowls are nice, thick glass. Costco also sells in bulk, of course, which is nice. We've been using Method soap since I decided to take us off antibacterial soap here and Dooce so nicely provided me with an alternative when she featured a container of Method on her 'Daily Style' feature. Costco so nicely offers huge refill containers of Method so we still have the original small containers which we periodically refill (when I get around to it). We also have Kirkland Signature (Costco's brand) environmentally-friendly laundry detergent and their environmentally-friendly dishwashing liquid. And, tonight, we bought Pic some more reusable cups (yeah!). Fifteen dollars for four and they are BPA-free.





I still have the little plastic containers to put Pic's lunch in (the glass containers are a bit on the big side for our lunch bags and I have to include a freezer-pack in her bag for school) and most of our travelmug things are plastic, but other than that, the plastic has largely been banished from our kitchen. I send Pic to school with actual metal and wood flatware. We both still have our Mimi the Sardine lunchbags and I've switched us over to cloth napkins (except Cardo, who kind of refuses to use the cloth napkins).

Oh, and I use things like Trader Joe's Citrus Shampoo and their Tea Tree Oil Face Wash, but until recently I've just been using Johnson and Johnson's regular yellow baby wash/shampoo for Pic. We bought this at Costco and it takes us about a freaking year to use up a whole bottle. I've wanted to get Pic something a bit friendlier, so I finally just went and bought her some Method baby wash.



[The babywash is Rice Milk + Mallow (as in marshmallow...as it says on the container). Pic smells yummy, but every time I see 'mallow,' I think 'tallow,' and I wonder why I would want my child to smell like rendered animal fat.]

These are small steps, I know, but I'm making an effort here. The nice thing is that Cardo goes along with me in most of this. At the beginning of our relationship, I was afraid that he would think I was some kind of total freak for doing all of this, but he's pretty supportive.

So, yes, we're making strides, but I still drive way more often than I should. Often I have four or more lights burning here because I have to dispel the gloom at twilight. We've got countless electronic gadgets that need to be plugged in (okay, so not really 'countless,' I'm sure I could count them if I tried, but I don't want to). We buy way too much crap that we don't need. I use Google. I sometimes still get plastic bags and paper to-go cups. And, have I mentioned my little book obsession? I'd take some pictures of our bookshelves but it's a freaking wreck in my apartment right now and I can't subject you to that. And, for the rest of my life, I'll be buying more books, printing out more articles, making more copies, ecc. Also, I'll have to be writing some articles, traveling for work, publishing at least one book, ecc. I'm surprised there are trees left. Perhaps I should look into a tree-planting program to start replacing some of these. (Are there such programs?)

So, I'm interested in hearing what other suggestions you all have, please, for keeping us alive and cancer-free for at least a little while. (I haven't mentioned lately, but I'm pretty sure that at some point in my life, I'll be told I have cancer and I am beyond terrified of this moment.)

For instance, Poke and Mr Poke are looking into cloth diapers. This is something I wish I would have been more forceful about. Cardo said that if we used cloth diapers, he'd never change a diaper, but, geez, we threw away a lot of plasticky-badness full of baby surprises.

What else have you all to offer me in the way of suggestions?

nickelwho?

I recently told a friend that I wasn't familiar with Nickelback. She seemed surprised. I am wondering if y'all know Nickelback's music and if you think it's worth checking out? I didn't get around to asking her opinion of the group, but perhaps I'll remember to ask her today.

Okay, so I'll leave you with what is stuck in my head right now...and, no, I have no idea why this is so.



Oh, and just a little not-unrelated* bit of information: listening to someone sing well (or well enough to touch something inside me**) = total turnon. It's like Wanda with the men who speak foreign languages (without the humping of banisters...or barristers).



* Litotes strikes!
** Pun not intended but there you go.

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P.S. Apparently not only do I talk to myself even more excessively than usual when I'm tired, but I also become increasingly inappropriate.

open letter

(un)Dear Semester,

You suck.

All my lovin',
v

open letter

I have been composing this letter in my head for a couple of weeks now. Just so you know the extent of things here, when I can't even post a proper blog entry.

Hello out there,

I am barely treading water over here. I cannot even think of a better idiom. I cannot even play with this one because what I am experiencing feels so much like I would imagine drowning to feel.

I often let myself believe that 'this time' I will sleep like a normal person. I will get to everything in a wonderfully timely fashion and I will have time to actually sleep when all the rest of La Casa B is slumbering. However, somewhere deep inside, I know that I never believed this.

I have been pretty much nonstop reading for the last month. (Hey, I did qualify that statement...I know, I'm not reading right now...well I am reading as I type, but whatever.) I will be pretty much nonstop reading for the next twelve weeks. Actually, at some point, there will be more writing going into the process, although the reading will not diminish.

In light of this information, I have decided that I have to stop telling people that I will do things. I cannot. I just cannot do things. I don't care how enticing these things sound. I'd love to go to the climbing gym. When the weather is more friendly, I'd love to go climbing outside on actual rock-faces. I'd love to go snow-shoeing. I'd love to just hang out. However, these things are becoming less and less possible with each passing day. Every time I take time out to do something like this (or like posting a blog), I have to deduct that time from sleep so that I can -- you guessed it -- read some more.

I am losing all sense of self here (though I am, ironically, no less self-centered, obviously) and that is not easy when I am at the end of a definite stage in my life. I am supposed to be making major decisions here, but instead, I'm muddling through Marx, slogging through Shakespeare and groping my way through Greenblatt. I'm liking myself less and less with every passing day, but so far, I'm managing to cling to something like reality and sanity (I just knocked on my wooden desk). This hold, however, I know to be tenuous.

I know, I know, I know that I am not the first nor the last person who has gone/will go through this. So many of those I know have already done it and with grace. This is a first for me though, folks, and every day, I dread failure. I know that I should ac-cen-tuate the positive and e-lim-inate the negative (or something), but that's a hard ideal for me to stick with at the moment. I am trying to focus only on the day to day, but that isn't entirely possible because I also have to line up what is next for me and mine.

And, all this talk about me when I can't even figure out who that is is infuriating...to me.

So, I am going to be a lot less accessible to most everyone for the next three months. I apologize for this in advance. This does not mean that I love you and cherish you any less. If I'm snappy or loopy or just hysterical (you know, being in possession of a uterus (that I don't really use) and all) and insane, I really apologize. If I ramble for a good part of class, I'm going on autopilot here and I don't even know for sure if I possess this autopilot of which I speak. I don't know how to get through this without being almost wholly self-centered, but if you have suggestions for successfully getting by, please let me know. For those of you who have been here (no matter where, just in any stage of your life), I'd appreciate some understanding. For those of you who are not nearly as dramatic as I, please just feel free to ignore me for three months.

A fond farewell and until we meet again,
v

P.S. This does not mean that I will be silent here. This is how I release and I can do this in the middle of the dark which is probably preferable for those of you who prefer to sleep at such times.

doin' a little marlowe swing...

cv...ette

I just finished putting together my CV and it is not even a baby CV. It's pathetic and I really don't want to send it to my recommenders, but I must, right? Right.

Anyhow, I possibly have a date today. Excitement abounds (I'm not being sarcastic here...Cardo and I rarely have dates).

Then, tomorrow is the big day. I think we'll make Pic some breakfast (probably an egg made by not me) and then take her climbing. We've been wanting to go but have I mentioned I'm in my pseudo-comps semester? Yes? Okay, just so you know.

After climbing, then chissa? When we get hungry, Pic wants to go to a local casino for a buffet lunch. Don't even ask. Okay, so you're curious anyway? We went a couple of times over a year ago, when the casino wasn't what it is now, back when they had a locals'* special and Pic has latched onto those two memories. Buffets are kind of a waste for me because I don't tend to eat much at them and I feel that I'm supposed to or something. (And, of course, it looks like I eat even less than I do because I don't want my food mingling on my plate so my portions are small and well-spaced.)

After lunch, we'll possibly take her to the ice skating rink. I hope they rent skates small enough for her.

After that, again, chissa? We'll probably all be exhausted so we might come home for a movie and some Sir Philip Sidney (because no Valentine's Day/birthday is complete without someone defending some poesy, no?).

Okay, so she knows none of this, so don't tell her. Due to illness and mental imbalances and lack of planning and people being out of town, I think we'll hold off on any bigger get-together until the next weekend. Have I ever mentioned that we aren't people who really celebrate stuff? Yeah, we're not that great at it, but we try. I'm sure at some point, she'll want an actual birthday party at some horrendous venue like Up-Chuck E. Cheese or somewhere like the current craze amongst her schoolmates like Jump Man Jump. Eh, I say. Eh. We pretty much suck at the social, Cardo and I, and Pic is stuck with us. Poor little pie.

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* I recently read the word 'local' as 'lo-cal' and thought, 'Huh, I wonder if that's anything like So-Cal?' I know...my utter genius astounds you.

insomniac music theatre

That was like the one thing I watched on MTV. Oh, wait, nevermind. That and Daria and Aeon Flux (which I probably spelled wrong, but I'm too friggin' tired to look it up.

Anyhow, how I've never posted this before is beyond me.

G'night.

"Runaway Train" -- Soul Asylum [can't embed the video, sorry] It's been a long time since I've seen or heard this, and now I'm depressed. Sorry, guys.

So, here's something less starkly, scarily real. (I chose this one mainly because I love the fact that in the note on the side it is pointed out that this girl (who looks my age, geez) is homeschooled, as in 'Yes, homeschooled children can be talented,' as if that's being contested...yes, I know some of the biases (or perspectives, if you will) about homeschooling.)

129 sonnets to go...

129 sonnets, read one over, figure it out, 128 sonnets to go.

Ha! Okay, so a songwriter I am so definitely not. One who finishes her reading before the day of discussion I am also not. I just can't stay awake that much longer and finish these. Actually, I probably could, but then I would be forced to sleep all tomorrow. That's just not going to work, people.

(I'm in word processing mode...I just hit the little apple key and 's' to save this. Yeah, I'm an automaton right now.)

So, Cardo and I are still debating what to get Pic for her birthday (and I can share with you because she doesn't read this yet). He wants to get her a Disney Princess dress-up dress. I do not. He says, 'It's what she likes. She'll like it.' I'm all for the shaping of the child into a shape that doesn't so resemble Disney princess. Anyhow, we went to the Disney Store and looked at the dresses and saw a Belle gown for $80 and had simultaneous heart failures (this isn't really funny, considering Cardo's heart, but I'm using the phrase anyway). I knew that looking at the Disney Store would be risky, for just this reason, but he wanted to look there anyway and I wanted to hang out with him for an afternoon (this was last Friday when Pic was in school). We also looked at Target and at Wal-Mart. He wants to get her an Aurora dress, I think, but we didn't see one of these anywhere we went.

I don't have a clue what I want to get her. I'm thinking sleeping bag. She really wants one. Our dearly beloved friends just bought a house (their first and possibly last) and Pic chose a room for her own. It was designated as their office so I suggested she could just sleep in there in a sleeping bag. She was all for this suggestion, so now she wants a sleeping bag. I looked a bit online for kids' sleeping bags and, freaking deal, most of those are covered with trademarked characters. I just want a sleeping bag, not an advertisement. I swear that not everything I owned growing up was covered in some mass market character. I did have a Barbie and the Rockers lunch box, and later, in high school, I had both a Scooby Doo and a Little Mermaid lunchbox. I might have also owned a few pieces of clothing with such characters on them, but I can't recall any at the moment. Now, though, this marketing is like a disease and sometimes it makes me crazy (can you tell?). So, anyway, I'd like to get her a cute, un-brand-splashed, not too expensive sleeping bag. Thoughts?

Okay, while I have you thinking, what about a gift for Cardo? I asked him if we were exchanging Valentine's Day gifts this year and he got kind of quiet and gave me a look as if to say, 'Duh, I bought yours last month.' We aren't gift-exchanging people so my somewhat unromantic question was, I believe, warranted. Other than giving birth to our child, I don't believe that I've ever given Cardo a Valentine's Day gift (and, hey, isn't that enough? and, he was nice enough to not pass out so that's enough for me). Cards, yes. Dinner or lunch, yes. Gift, I don't think so. So, do you exchange gifts with your significant other? If so, please give me some ideas. And, no, I can't buy him a Silvia, so I need actual, affordable ideas, please.

Grazie mille.

Now, I have to go pack up all of my four thousand books for tomorrow (er, today) and throw* together some lunches and pretend to sleep.

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'Throw them?' Pic would ask me had I said that to her. She's very into what things mean right now and creating definitions to her nonsense words. And, she's very into denotative meanings of words, which made a recent message from a friend to 'shoot me an e-mail' something of a concern for Pic.

genius

Okay, so last night I proved the stunningness of my genius. I showed up for class a bit before four, thinking, 'I'll be early and then I can review my reading notes before class.' Thinking, 'Class starts at four-thirty, right?' The small bit of a room filled up pretty quickly and I had to ask, 'Doesn't class start at four-thirty?'

No.

So, while I'm not a newbie at this, not at all, I still play one in real life sometimes. Thanks be that I had planned on being so early.

Anyhow, it's resting time in La Casa B. This basically means that Pic will go into her room and then further off into her little (or big?) world of make believe for about an hour while I read as much as possible of As You Like It and The Alchemist as I can during that hour.

I promise that I'll try to stop whining about my lack of sleep and my gargantuan magnitude of reading here, but I might not be so successful. I'll try to keep it light, people, I promise. However, did I mention how far behind I am in my reading? Can I get through one-and-a-half plays and 154 sonnets before tomorrow? YES, I CAN! (It's apparently catching, isn't it?)

Oh, one more note: just four more days until my child is four! Holy criminy.

indie day

Four years ago today was Pic's estimated due date. However, she held out for a bit. Today was already special for another reason...Indie's birthday! Indie who I miss oh so very much. Well, happy birthday!

asleep i am not

One Minute Writer from yesterday:

If you had one extra hour a day, how would you spend it?

Okay, I have several options here. I'd either read because I'm never going to finish all of this reading any other way or I'd sleep because that's the only time I'll have to sleep or I'd just sit and cry because of all of the reading and the zero sleep.

p.s.

Just as my reading was beginning to put me to sleep at two o'clock this morning, Pic started calling out for Papi. Because he's sick, he needs his rest and, anyway, I was up. I went in to check on her and she was curled in a circle (as she says) but completely uncovered. I covered her up, tucked her in and sang her "ABCs" and "Twinkle, Twinkle."

Now, I'm off to read ALL day today. Almost finished, almost finished, almost finished...with this semester.

coming up for air...and grapes

I am so woefully behind in my reading. Okay, so I was behind from the first second of this semester, or so I feel, yet this is not a consoling thought. I keep having to remind myself that three-and-a-half months from now, this constriction in every part of my body might let up a wee smidge.

I have been frantically reading for several hours now. Well, reading and being a mamma and a wife and an everything else. After I gave Pic her bath, brushed her teeth, helped her on with her pajamas and put her to bed, she called me in to read her a story. I, being the frantic, frazzled freak that I am, went in and told her, 'Okay, but this is the last time I'm coming in here tonight, unless there's an emergency, like you're bleeding or your legs falls off.' (Yeah, I know, thanks for the nightmare-fodder, mamma.) So, I read her The Berenstain Bears Tell the Truth and then I left her to wind down so I could retreat to my cave and fall back into Renaissance Self-Fashioning. But then, she didn't ask me to come back in once, just as I'd asked of her. This would be nice -- hey, thanks for following my crabby directives, kid -- but she didn't call me in to sing "ABCs" and "Twinkle, Twinkle." This is our nightly ritual and has been for years (holy crap-on-a-stick, I can use the term 'years' in talking about rituals I perform with my daughter). But, tonight, she just went to sleep, cuddled in her covers, her light on and a book open under it. It's not like we've never missed our ritual before (there were those four non-consecutive nights when I've been out of town without her), but I'm still sad. There have been other times when Cardo's sung to her, but she didn't call for him tonight either. There have been other nights when she's fallen asleep and not asked me to sing to her, but tonight just feels different, worse (this is probably how I feel on all of those occasions and I've just forgotten this).

I don't want her to feel alone and I don't want her to feel like she's a distant second to my school work. However, tonight, I was more focused on my school stuff. In the grand scheme, my family is first and, honestly, it's probably really Pic first and then Cardo. However, in the everyday workings of things, there are things that I feel I have to get accomplished and Pic has to entertain herself. I don't think this would bother me as much if I were at a job outside of my home and she was being taken care of by someone else (Cardo, her teachers, whoever), but being at home with her and pretty much ignoring her makes me feel like Craptastic Mamma. I don't know where I picked up this heavy, heavy guilt, but I'd like to offload a good portion of it, please. I think that, in general, Pic is happy. I think that I take pretty good care of her. I think that this semester won't last forever (but, really, maybe it will, because there will always, always be another one in my grand life-plan).

Ah, well, I don't even have cry here any longer because As You Like It awaits my scholarly gaze.

song of the moment

"Heigh-ho the Ariel,
the farmer and the cow."

I'm sure you'll never guess the artist.

from the mouth of the babe

Earlier this afternoon, Pic informed me, "Abuelita is my grandma and Papi's mamma....She gives lots of kisses."

True and true, little one.

Things will be somewhat quieter around here these next few months. I'm so freaking inundated with reading for school, I'm struggling to not feel like I'm sinking under. Maybe Pic will teach herself to read and do some of my reading for me, as Cardo has already declined to do any of my reading.

happiness and dinner

Today, the weather was most unwinter-like. It was so warm and sunny, I knew Pic and I had to get out or I'd regret it. Also, she hasn't been napping during the day and this makes me crazy because I need her to have some rest. Anyhow, today was pretty awesome as far as just being with my kid.

This morning, we headed over for storytime and our Ms Judy fix. We came home so Pic could clean her room and I could wash the dishes and then we headed back out. We bought lunch at a local sandwich place (as in, it's nearby -- it's part of a chain, but it's not Subway or Port of Subs), walked to the post office to mail some bills (ugh) and then trekked over to a park we often glimpse on our way back from the library. I started to get a little panicked because I chose to take one of the many walking trails/paths instead of just following the streets and I thought I might be going in the wrong direction (totally possible when we're dealing with me), but we eventually found the park. We sat at a shaded table to eat and we had to don our jackets again, but only briefly. We played for a while, Pic skinned both of her knees three times and scraped her forehead at one point, chatted with some other parents and their kid and then headed home again.

I love this about being a parent and having the flexible schedule I have. Sure, I don't get paid much and sure, I'm still a student and I'm still paying tuition so our financial situation isn't ideal, but I get to spend tons of time with Pic. This isn't always peachy-keen, jellybean, of course, but today was nice. I wanted today to last, except I actually wasn't thinking that at the moment. I was being in the moment. The zen-mamma in me, who I didn't even know was there, took over for a good six hours.

By the time we got home, I was exhausted but Pic seemed pretty animated. I made her go to her room for 'resting time' as I always do. She played for a bit while I browsed back issues of Time. I stopped hearing chatter and singing come from her room and this is what I found:



Ah, beautiful love.

Cardo woke her up a bit later and we headed over to Costco (we seem to spend a good deal of family time at Costco). Then, we came home and made dinner. Pic had an over-easy egg, yogurt, an apple and the rest of her smoothie from Costco (I hate these, they taste chalky to me, but she seems to really enjoy them). Cardo had to make Pic's egg because, as she informed him, 'Mamma makes it wrong.' I tried to make her one the other day, but it was wildly overcooked -- not burnt, just overcooked. I don't eat eggs that are not baked into something, and I have no real idea how to make them unless you want them scrambled with a bit of milk and cheese (I don't eat these either, I just know how to make this particular dish). Anyhow, because the egg I made her was overcooked, she couldn't get to the 'cheese.' My child thinks that the yolk is cheese. It doesn't matter if the egg is hard-boiled or over-easy, as long as she can see a discernible yolk, she is convinced it's cheese. At the moment, we just think it's too funny to correct. And, anyhow, she actually eats it and we don't want to mess with that. (I honestly don't even know how to define egg yolk to her without freaking her out anyway.)

Cardo and I ate sandwiches. Mine was deli ham, cheddar, spinach and avocado on a cheddar kaiser roll. Mmm.



So, now I'm off to finish The Tempest and begin (again and again and again) The Alchemist. Only a few more months and I'll sleep for a week.

happy groundhog day!

I love this movie. Really, really love it.

mmm...strawberries

So, I bought super inexpensive fruit on sale today -- green grapes and strawberries. Pic and I were enjoying some strawberries, but I couldn't figure out what she was doing with her leafy tops. Finally, I watched her eat one of her strawberries. She gnaws as close as she can to the greens, then surveys her work and then pops the rest in her mouth, chews and swallows.

Hmm, she seems fine so I guess it's perfectly okay to eat strawberry greens.

things that make you go "hmm"... plus cake tales

We have two Friday the Thirteenths upcoming. Just thought I'd point out the obvious. More importantly, however, is an upcoming birthday...that of my child (okay, that 'more importantly' part is hugely relative).

I think I've decided to make cupcakes for said child's birthday, so please ply me with your cake...suggestions. Last year, I made red velvet cake with raspberry-flavored pink frosting. The year before, I made (boxed) chocolate cake and formed it into a three-tiered layer-o-hearts with light pink frosting, darker pink trim and mini chocolate chips, regular chocolate chips and white 'chocolate' chips pressed into the sides as polka dots. For her first birthday, I made (boxed) chocolate cake with (canned) vanilla frosting. On top of that, I proceeded to add whatever sprinkles we had in the apartment. (None of these cakes have been particularly gorgeous, or not-completely messy, but they were made with lots and lots of love.)

So, what do you all think I should make for the child this year? (She's partial to pink, in case you haven't already guessed.)