Archive for August, 2008
Kaiser Alex addresses his public on his 16th month birthday
Oh my adoring public. I’ve missed you. No really. I’ve missed you. But to jump right in, 3 events have kept me from you these long, long months. 1. Mommy’s email “crapped out”, 2. Mommy’s camera “crapped out”. 3. My Grandpa died in March. Mommy has been too busy designing tshirts that say “SUCK IT SPRING 2008″ to help me write to you all. But here I am, back and better than ever!
After spending much of the month of April in the mighty state of Mommy’s home, I topped off my tour of Highway 13 between The Burg and Big Rich with my first birthday celebration. I got cake, people came to see me that day. I got presents! And because I can’t hold a pen yet, Mommy is hoping that people will understand why I didn’t send out thank yous …. don’t get me started on trying to reach the mailbox…
I worked off those calories by working out and getting buff with my awesome walker. It has been dubbed The Magpie Mobile because I collect all things bright, shiny or just interesting in the front of it. I especially like things like Keys to the car when running late and Debit cards. Check out my feet, I’m moving so fast that I’m blurry!
My cousin sent me a phone, I luff it. I luff all phones. Or things that look like phones. Or things that might be phones someday …. no Mommy, I’m not going to fall for that coconut being a phone, nice try though.
My Mimi taught me to eat apples. I hear an apple a day takes the doctor away – good thing too, every time I go to the doctor they look all inside me and I am not a fan. Although, might I petition to change “apple” to “french fry”?
Finally, I decided, What the heck. Let’s try walking. See my farm in the background?
I like to help Mommy with her knitting. I am very good at arranging her finished products all over the house. But I look so innocent.
No really, innocent. It helps me get away with eating salsa by the handful. Or lapful. Whatever.
Tavish and I had a meeting of the minds. It was way more important than that Yalta thing at the end of WWII. I mean, did they have bottles and cats there… well probably… (ed note: and by “cat” I mean …. euphemism…)
And again with the food. And the innocence. Helps Mommy get over her organic whole foods guilt.
See? Cuteness takes practice. Oh look, more carbs in front of me. Atkins what?
This is my good buddy Tigger. I call him “CA!” I also call Tavish “CA!” I also call gorillas “CA!”. If it has four legs, I’m probably calling it “CA!” Not to be confused, of course, with “CAH!” because THAT is clearly things with four wheels not four legs.
I am big into decorating. My design motto is “a bare floor is a boring floor” so each time Mommy and Daddy clear off the floor, I immediately fix this style paux fas.
My sense of personal style is evolving as well, here I style my hair while inspecting my inner eyelids.
And this fine ensemble features the fashionable mardi gras beads, diaper, one croc and one leather shoe. Don’t you wish your toddler was hot like me?
No matter where you are, I hope you are as happy as this. And that you don’t email my winky all over the internets.
Lovely to be back in the loop again, I have missed you!
Kaiser Alex
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The Butterfly Lover and the Man Who Loved Her
When I was in grad school, one of my responsibilities was seeing clients in our clinic for speech therapy. We had to have so many adult and so many pediatric hours. I was dead set on getting a peds internship, so I begged and begged for adult hours in the clinic.
I knew of the Butterfly Lover and the Man Who Loved Her only by reputation. We went to their church, he was retired from the university and he was well like and respected for looking out for the good of many rather than the good of himself only. (A rarity in this den of higher education.)
The Butterfly Lover was in her early seventies – but she was old at her age. She’d had strokes, she had Bells Palsy, her voice never really recovered and was extremely difficult to understand – and on top of that, she had “emotional lability”.
What’s that? you ask?
Imagine the most hormonal day you’ve ever had, exhausted, stressed out, and finally you burst into tears. That’s more or less what it’s like – except that you could be talking about the weather and burst into sobs … but not feel sad. Can also manifest in inappropriate laughter – but the Butterfly Lover sobbed and sobbed.
I worked with her for 18 months. Some weeks they would be on vacation, so we would make up with double sessions the next week. I was getting hours, the Man Who Loved Her was getting a break, the Butterfly Lover was getting companionship – we were all winning.
We would do vocal exercises and then we would work on the computer – she was into genealogy, so I would take her to sites so we would have things to talk about. Not sure what it says of me that I had a hobby in common with a little white haired lady, but it served us well.
Turns out she was the grandma of someone I’d gone to high school with. One of those people who I was never BFFs with, but we kept running into each other – much like this. This opened the door to have the Butterfly Lover email her grandchildren.
She loved butterflies (which you’ve probably figured out by now). She loved the color purple. She loved her family.
Her husband took excellent care of her, right down to doing his best to draw on her eyebrows, every day.
They bought me a necklace for graduation. A heart with my name and butterflies on it. A perfect kind of grandparent gift. I wore it my first day of work – but inside my shirt 
The next spring my grandma died. On the way back home, I decided that going to see the Butterfly Lover and the Man Who Loved Her would make me feel better.
When I got home and opened the newspaper, the Butterfly Lover’s obituary was in there. I could only helplessly cuss at the newsprint.
I did see her. Alone in the funeral home. I had enough time to step in before we left for home. It was the first time I saw her healthy. Her face was even and symmetrical. There were no tremors. Next to the casket was a huge arrangement of flowers in the shape of a butterfly. There were family photos of her with her loved ones and for the first time I really understood the tragedy of her last years. Those strokes robbed her and her family of a vibrant lady. I think I’m glad I didn’t know, that I couldn’t compare. To me she was just the Butterfly Lover. Not what was left of the Butterfly Lover.
The next year, the Man Who Loved Her died. He’d been in decent health, but I think his heart died with her.
I saw my classmate this last weekend at our reunion. We stood in the middle of the banquet room and she told me about the last hours of her grandma’s life. We talked about how important they were to us. We hugged more than once in this conversation. Changing the subject because we were a few sentences away from sitting on the floor and having a good cry.
She introduced me to her brother downtown, in a smoky loud bar. He hugged me and didn’t let go. I thought maybe he was copping a feel, but when he let me go he said, “My grandpa meant more to me…. did more things for me than I will ever know….” So he was at least thinking of the the Butterfly Lover and Man Who Loved Her while copping a feel.
They were hard conversations to have. But I’m grateful for having them. Grateful for the chance to have mattered.
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Rick Rolled Redux
Man, I wish I would have had this last week when I posted for Loralee. A billion thanks to CityMama for tweeting this.
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164.5 Redux
I hate this number.
During the 15 year awkward period I had (ages 8-22), I didn’t pick up on the transition from getting larger clothes because I was growing taller to getting larger clothes because I was growing fatter.
When I was 20, I hit my top weight of 164. I don’t remember how I felt specifically. I don’t really remember how I looked. This really was just more of the same for me in a decade and a half long stint of being awkward and undateable. You’d think the giganto boobs would have helped – but apparently giganto boobs are only good when they look like Pam Anderson (circa Baywatch), not Eddie Murphy (circa The Klumps).
I lost weight accidentally, I’d started eating less because I lived with my mom and didn’t want to eat all her groceries. Once I started hearing comments I stepped on the scale and was shocked to see I’d lost, oh, say ten pounds without really trying. I mean it was the same “oh I’m trying to lose weight” mantra that I always said, but this time it was actually happening.
I lost weight through using free weights. No gym, no running. Just a DAILY freaking 10 rep routine with the weights.
I lost 20 pounds in a very moderate, healthy way. Then Scout and I broke up and I lost 10 pounds on what I call the coffee/nicotine diet. By the time I graduated college I was down to 134, dressing and clothes shopping was a whole lot of fun, but I admit I cringed when people asked me how I’d lost it – I didn’t want people thinking the way I lost that last 10 pounds was GOOD idea.
I’ve gone back up the scale twice since then, and was back down to 139.5 for a brief shining moment on the scale 15 months ago. Then we went to Europe, then I got pregnant, then I weighed 183.7. But I got a cute kid out of it, so that’s all worth it.
Losing the first 19 pounds was easy, 7 pounds of kid, 5 pounds of kid nurturing stuff, 7 pounds of no sleep and stress. Then it all came to a screeching halt with the move and the Culvers Frozen Custard within walking distance and all the company paid for meals for 30 days. Two weeks on real (ish) food again and I’m at my nemisis number.
164.5
It’s time to change. I don’t want to be too self conscious to hang out with my kid at the pool, I don’t want him to be embarrassed of me…
Oh wait, while those reasons are true, let’s just be honest.
I wanna be a MILF.
(Originally posted August 2007. I’m happy to announce that the last time I looked at the scale, it said 149. No comments re: WHEN that last time was!)
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How to get your baby to sleep
(Brilliance from my friend Red, who is now Mrs. Tater. ‘Bout damn time.)
***
I have a friend who is a lawyer. She is not married (BUT SHE’D LIKE TO BE. HINT HINT – oh…. excuse me Tater…. my bad). We were talking (IM) about baby sleep because of a conversation I’d had in yoga yesterday (more on that at a different time. I like my can of worms closed in these hot summer months). We talked of how we’d like things to be – which resulted in the MOST awesomely drafted memo ever. I once again believe I should hang up my funny crown because there’s a new princess in town.
(edited so y’all believe we’ve actually graduated from institutions of higher education)
(for sake of clarity I will her NOT Mrs. Tater and I will play the role of Mommy)
NOT Mrs. Tater: Like I said, I have a bias about how I’d “like” to handle stuff but I don’t live with an ankle-biter full-time.
MOMMY: Well, I fully expected said crumb snatcher to be sleeping in his crib in his own room on a completely separate floor of my home at the time.
NOT Mrs. Tater: I find memos very helpful at my job, think you can send a memo to file to BabyKaiser?
MOMMY: Like BabyKaiser, you can now start sleeping 12 hours at a stretch and waking up with a dry diaper and good mood? Sincerely yours, Mommy?
NOT Mrs. Tater: Well, I would have your lawyer write it up as “Mr. BabyKaiser, as you recall, we agreed on April 25, 2007, that all employment and service opportunities (hereinafter “Motherhood”) would include required periods of inactivity of at least 12 hours per 24-hour cycle (hereinafter “Sleep”).
MOMMY: OMG. Awesome.
NOT Mrs. Tater: We have noticed that Sleep has been markedly absent from our prior interactions and would appreciate its return.
In addition, as previously discussed, all bodily functions of each party remain that party’s individual responsibility.
This memorandum shall serve as a reminder that all foul moods and waste products are yours to be disposed of and Mother will heretofore bear no responsibility for said articles.
We appreciate your cooperation in these endeavors.
Best regards,
Mother
Acknowledged and agreed to on August 1, 2007,
Alex”
MOMMY: I’m totally putting that on my blog.
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Signin’ off
I’m off to live la vida dial up for the next several days – fun times. Cleaning out the largest collection of Playboys in the midwest – also fun times.
So, miss me, love me, and I leave you with this link to a deep thought.
(Loralee, this one’s for you.)
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