I’ve begun to suspect it would be more appropriate to begin my blog posts like a Catholic Confession.
“Forgive me father, for I have sinned. It has been 68 days since my last opportunity to enjoy out-of-the-home daycare and I have begun fantasizing about releasing my toddler into the wild. Not those messed up Texas Game Camps where rich bastards shoot tied up zoo creatures named Bobo, but a super nice, quiet and safe Tasmanian Devil sanctuary, maybe? Someplace she can be free to act naturally and enjoy frolicking with her own kind…..”
I consider myself a reasonably strong person- emotionally, physically and mentally. I’ve re-built my company three times after two disastrous beginnings. I’ve done many of my own tattoos. I’ve loved, lost and survived. I’ve packed up and moved solo all over the country many times simply to experience more of what life has to offer. Hell, I even shattered my ankle on a backpacking trip once and ended up toughing out the night in the snow before hiking back to the car on its stump the next morning. I’ve completed 15 full years of indentured servitude to Sallie Mae for several college degrees (with only 6,000 more years to go). And I’ll try any sushi on the planet. But in the end, I’m pretty sure I’ll be taken down by a 35lb reincarnation of Genghis Khan. My dear friend Kym told me recently that you can tell a powerful soul by the fact that the second toe on each foot is longer than the big toe. Mine is much longer, but Maddi’s second piggies put Gumby to shame.
And so here we are at the 20 month mark….holy crap. Some thoughts:
I used to get really grossed out by moms that did the lick-face-cleaning thing or the whole idea of getting puked and/or peed on, but now that I am a mom I kind of understand it. There isn’t that personal space wall between mom and child, they are you… kind of like sentient booger. I could totally share a toothbrush with her because its kind of like just using it my other mouth. Weird to actually see that thought all typed out right there. Makes my insanity official somehow.
Can someone please tell me why the Man with the Yellow Hat thought having a monkey was a good idea? And why does he dress like a disco park ranger? Caillou makes me crazy because every time I hear Mrs Puff’s voice I wish I was watching SpongeBob instead and the whole animation style makes it look like a dream sequence. Don’t even get me started on Barney.
I’m trying to solve the mystery about why both dogs and kids can’t help turning sideways in their sleep? Why does that happen? At no time am even I ever tempted to just swing out in a 90 degree angle when I’m sleeping – why do they do that? And do some people never grow out of it? And is the reason we grow out of it part of who passes Natural Selection due to mate compatibility? I mean the odds of two adult side-ways-snoozers finding each other is pretty rare, right? And no matter what size, shape or type of bed my side will always be known as the only side.
People see Maddi and Bats together and ask me questions like “is she safe living with a dog that big?” Seriously, I spend more time protecting the 110 pound great dane from the 35 pound toddler. She hasn’t decided if he is A. a ride, B. a ladder, C. a pillow, D. an older brother, or E. a toy. Probably because he fits into all of those categories quite nicely. At any rate, she isn’t afraid of him. She practically knocked him across the room with a shriek that could shatter glass the last time he attempted to disembowel Elmo.
More things I never thought I would say to another human being:
“Maybe the dog doesn’t want your thumb up his nose.”
“Vanilla pudding is not considered yogurt. Good try though”
“The iPad is not a coaster.”
“I’m not giving you more until you finish what’s in your hair.”
“Please don’t make Mommy list you on eBay.”
And about the move to the Mojave Desert:
Ridgecrest isn’t really a town, it is more of an outpost. Crazy hella advanced technology in the hands of cowboys…. kind of a Joss Whedon – Firefly outer rim planet. I’ve been to Roswell NM and my impression was they spent too much time and money making tourist spots out of day glow paint and neon green glitter. If you want the non-commercial Area 51, visit Ridgecrest. Jet engines overhead at random intervals make it sound like a runway to the Gods and there is more than enough land to hide a whole armada of downed UFOs.
But I really am happy to be back in California. I’ve always felt like my signal to the mother ship is strongest here. I have a sneaking suspicion that this is true for much of the population :)