The Wordmistress

The Sweet Spot

So a strange sense of calm has descended over my household. No one is crying, bleeding or devastated in any way. Yes, I've had a fairly consistent headache for the past month (yep, month). And, yes, Mia is having, er, independence issues. But as a whole, life is a-okay. And to celebrate that fact, we are focusing on the little simple things: baseball, comics and rock n' roll. Which, in fact, have more in common than you might think. At least to me.

First off -- baseball. Cubs home opener is today. I've already bought a couple of tix for some games and we are ... psyched! I think it's going to be a great summer here in Chicago and I am really looking forward to it. We are also going to head down to Lisle to see the Chicago Bandits play women's pro fast pitch.

Which leads me to comics. I just turned the Miabird on to the wonderful world of Peanuts. Of course, she had already been exposed to the Charlie Brown X-mas Special. But this is different. I've indoctrinated the girl into the world of the four-panel frame ... a simple, yet humorous world that has served me well. For me, the four-panel frame has served as a template for much of my life, serving as a model for things as vast as my sense of humor and my taste in music. I actually believe that my intense love of the four-piece rock band (the Beatles, the Replacements, those Old 97s), has its roots in the simplicity of the four-piece panel.

Even my career has been affected by that panel. Heck, if you would have told me 20 years ago that in 2006, I'd be spending most of my time writing copy for advertising that is delivered in, er, panels (banners), I would have laughed. But that is exactly what I do ... But that might not be what Mia does, as evidenced in this film clip. Check it out.

Big Girl

Three years ago tonight I was in pain.  I was in labor but no one really believed I was actually going to have a baby. Upon my arrival at the hospital, I was urged to go home and return to my normal activities. Er, um, Dr. Lin, I said through clenched teeth.  I don't think I could stand this type of pain at home. He finally agreed to send me up to the "fake labor" room for the next 6 or so hours where my friend Fran and I walked around for hours, wondering if I was, indeed, in labor.

The nurse, bless her wicked heart, asked me if I had a low pain tolerance.

But I was to be redeemed when I got that epidural and spent the wee hours of the next morning staring at a monitor, my doting mom, the dream team of Fran and Dan and then greeted the new morning with just a few little pushes and the arrival of precious little Mia. My brother Ross listened to the whole ordeal from the other side of the door. That next day was the last time I saw him.

Three years later a lot has changed. People I love are gone. I have a good job.  Fran and her husband Charlie just brought back their new daughter Lila from China this week and we are so incredibly happy to have her home that we are busting with joy.

And Mia is nutso. She is dancing and singing around like a total dodo bird. I think she's very excited about having a birthday. For me, her birthday will always be tied into these memories. Still, I couldn't be more excited or proud.

I think it's  okay to sit back and celebrate three successful years of somehow keeping a child alive and thriving! Oh yeah, she's a pretty good kid on her own too.

The Man

Mia cracks me up. She has this way of saying things that is so completely serious and earnest that you just want to give it so much credence, but at the same time, it is so god damn funny. For instance, whenever she observes any type of construction: a house being built, roads being repaired ... she will look out the window and, with a wistful deadpan, utter "The man did that." Our back porches are being rebuilt (don't get me started) and I showed her what was going on. She looked up at me, all wide-eyed and such and said, "The mans did this. Then they went away." Before you get all school her on gender equality on me, know this: I always explain to her that women do these types of jobs too. (I also tell her that it's men, not mans). But we don't see women out there. And she is stubborn little girl. And so as we continue on our travels, to school, to work, we are constantly on the lookout for ... the man. And y'know, he's always out there.

Still of the Night

No excuses. I'm a bad blogger. I'll be better. It's been hard to write, being emotionally felled by current events: the terrifying outcome of the election, the outlandish spending on the inaugural, and the ongoing unfolding of "things I should have learned growing up", such as the horrible, racist treatment of turn-of-the-century boxer Jack Johnson, and practically every one else of color to this day.

But there are some positive things to note. I recently came this wonderful link via jodi at iwilldare. I've been working rather steadily (much more on this later). And then there's the gremlin. Ah, the gremlin, the little light of my life.

Mia is now 2 years old and having a ball. She is everything you would expect out of a two year old: squealy, squirmy, squishy and scrumptious. If I'm ever arrested, it would be for taking a huge bite out of her gorgeous and wonderful butt.  But I am trying very hard to refrain.

Lately, Mia has been trying to sleep in her own big girl bed. Every night she tucks in and tries to sleep, but most nights, just as I start to slip away, she gets up and starts to cry. And back to the crib she goes. She nods off and I breathe a sigh of relief. But two nights ago,  she actually fell asleep in her own bed.

Yep, she was sound asleep. I snuck out. And later, in my own bed, there was to be no sleeping for mommy. Because once they are out of the crib, they have full run of the house. Images of her tarzanning across her room via the drapes, falling on her head, somehow getting outside ... no, no thank you. No sleep. When she roused in the morning, I was in her room before she even realized where she was. 

The next night (last night) she didn't fall asleep as easily in her bed. When I made a move to leave, she started to cry. "Back in the crib?" And big, big nods all around.

So last night, for at least one more night, mommy and baby slept. Soundly.

All Growed Up

So Mia is in daycare now. And I am a busy busy gal. And maybe, maybe, just a little sad about the gremlin doing all this growing up without me.

Like yesterday when I went to pick her up, her daycare provider told me that she and a couple of the girls were laughing it up at the table during lunch. She didn't know why, but apparently the little ones found something completely hilarious. Now that is a moment I would have liked to see. I know I should be more mature and dig the fact that she is enjoying daycare. And believe me, I do. But wah! Y'know?

Anyway, she still cries when I leave but I think she is having a wonderful time and that is terrific. I have been able to concentrate on my work, which is definitely a good thing, so I guess we're both growing up. One problem, though. I also think I'm growing OUT. I actually joined a gym last week and started working out, which is a good thing, right? (Tell my knees that!) But for some reason, the scale is reflecting an increase. NOT GOOD!! In a desperate attempt at damage control I have now joined ediets, which has generated a rather ambitious weight loss goal for me of about 60 lbs. Realistically, I'd love to lose about 40. Mostly, I do not want to gain or have a heart attack. Or buy any clothes that are bigger than the ones I already own. So wish me luck.

Onward and upward. Just not outward.

Teeny Weeny Itsy Bitsy

My friend Lisa dropped her three-week-old daughter Lili off and so Mia and I are babysitting. 'Cept Mia doesn't even know that Lili is here because the baby is enjoying the sweet slumber of life atop the dining room table, safely ensconced inside her infant seat, oblivious as can be. Mia was intrigued by the blanket hanging down over the seat and tugged on it a couple of times, but I told her it was for the baby and she seemed to be okay with that. I can't believe that Mia was ever that small. Or quiet.

Frazzle Rock

Generally Mia is the best sleeper; this kid sleeps 13 hours a night and takes 3 hours naps. Well mama, it's payback time!

Poor girl's got a bug and she's just not interested in sleep the past couple of days. Yesterday she had a fever of 104 degrees! We went to the pediatrician and he said it's nothing serious, just a virus that's going around. I felt terrible yesterday myself, but there's nothing like a sick kid to make a parent's symptoms disappear. And speaking of feeling sick ...

Yesterday I had the WORST. JOB. INTERVIEW. EVER. First off, it was nearly an hour from my home. I already felt kind of sick once I got there, but once I was sitting there I started to feel all feverish and gross and started coughing like crazy into my hands. Then I became obsessed with the fact that there's no way I could shake anyone's hand after I pretty much hocked a lung into them. This obsession pretty much cost me any ability to talk about my work and I continued to dig a deeper and deeper hole apologizing for my increasingly erratic behavior. I have no doubt that these folks thought I was on drugs. I think there were temporary moments of lucidity, but for the more part it was painful. Mostly for them. Too bad, because the job seemed pretty interesting. Oh well.

The good thing about feeling bad? Movies. And these two are the best I've seen in a long while: Lost in Translation and American Splendor. I am a huge Bill Murray fan and totally think he deserves the Oscar and after I saw that film I thought it couldn't be beat, but I must say that American Splendor blew my socks off. I am a huge comic book fan from way back, already very familiar with Pekar's work, and thought that the film was very creative and touching. Awesome moviemaking.

And so ... wit's end ... so don't expect any more wit today. To dream, perchance to sleep.

Nighty Night

Mia is such a trooper when I work at home. I'm constantly on the phone, checking email, and stealing moments to write in between putting away the laundry, sweeping the kitchen floor and cleaning the rooms. Somehow we made it to playgroup in between, so at least we played a while together there but at home she had to make do with intermittent hugs and kisses between all the must-dos.

That's why I don't mind when she sometimes wants to get up again after she goes to sleep. I think she just needs a little more mommy time and I'm usually into it. Then, if you can believe it, she waves nighty night, grabs the corner of her blankie, sticks her thumb in her mouth and heads for snoozeland. Too cute.

Cry baby

Mia never had separation anxiety before, but man she's got it now. As soon as I start to get my things together to go to work she wants to get up in my arms and grandma just ain't good enough. And then with the tears. As most mommies know this is one of those proverbial double-edged swords. You love that she loves you: proof!! But you are so sad for the little peanut. Wah!

Luckily she recovers easily and all reports from the front are positive. Whew. Is it okay if I cry now?

The Down Face

My daughter is cursed with a cute mug. She's at that stage right now where she can't communicate her needs with words and is easily frustrated. Trouble is that when she gets bummed she turns her mouth down and starts to cry and, I'm sorry, it's adorable. It's sort of like a cartoon of a crying baby. So you want to soothe her and help her and take her seriously (and I do, I really do), but inside you are smiling. Am I somehow insincere?

It's hard to know precisely what Mia knows about what she is communicating. Like pets, we ascribe qualities to pre-verbal children that fulfill what we want them to be thinking: she's saying hi to you! she likes you! she really loves her peas! But that might not be the case at all. Mia loves to prance around with things on her head. Yesterday, she put a pair of her bloomers on her head and picked up the broom and headed for the kitchen. She was the spitting image of Carol Burnett's washerwoman. She'll spend hours in front of the mirror in her room, posing with blankets on her head, talking to her stuffed animals. I've heard her say the same thing to each of them, so I know she thinks she is saying something consistent to them. But what could it be?

I try to take that sweet face seriously. Cause I'm trying real hard not to mess up her life and give her the freedom to figure out how to grow. So I read all the books and magazines and web sites and approach the subject cautiously. But Mia's rambunctious spirit is infectious, not cautious. Smiley face, down face, it's always her face and I just beam.