Through The Looking Glass

Last night, listening to Public Enemy:

Me–I don’t really see what Tipper was so afraid of.

Will–Living in a Black Nation.

Me–PUBLIC ENEMY IS BLACK?

Will–You’re confusing P.E. with House of Pain again.

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On Sunday, while doing the weekly grocery shopping (mostly farmer’s market this time of year, hooray!), I stopped a few yard sales. The last one was one of those times where I had to screech to a stop, park in a hurry, and run in while Sam yells from the car. Because I had spotted this, and I didn’t want him to see it until I knew if it was worth buying:

It was, obviously.

After replacing the batteries, the sounds all work perfectly. Which makes me wonder why we replaced the batteries.

Vader says a few things when you press the different buttons:

–You don’t know the power of the dark side.
–The force is with you.
–Don’t make me destroy you.
–Your powers are weak.

And of course it makes the breathing noise. Sam’s favorite thing to do is to press the buttons in rapid succession so that Darth Vader sounds like a hip-hop song.

“Don’t–don’t–don’t–the force–[breathing]–you–you–your–[breathing]–the–the–the force–”

And so forth. Fun!

He’s done two notably awesome things with the helmet so far: when he first put it on, he went and got the Darth Vader pictured above (a 1977 original obtained for a mere $5 because his cape and light saber are long gone) and held him inside the helmet to talk to him; and this morning, watching Empire, he ran downstairs when Vader arrives on Hoth and grabbed the helmet to come watch with him.

My kid is so awesome.

I’ve wanted to be a Pioneer Girl for as long as I can remember. That or a lounge singer, but I blew my voice smoking cigarettes in my 20s. (Other backup careers included spy, writer, and movie star. Is it any wonder I wound up a housewife and–inexplicably–knitwear designer?)

Our vacation last week took us all over California, most notably through Gold Rush country. My sister has written an amazing essay (READ IT) about the trip and her renewed interest in our heritage, which I share. She asks the question, what might we have been and done in 1850s California?

My immediate answer was dress maker. I can see myself running the dry goods shop and making custom clothing for miners and their families who can’t clothe themselves for whatever reason. Or socks! I could knit custom socks for the men without wives to knit for them. A hard-working man needs warm feet!

I thought about it some more and decided that running the newspaper also seems likely (if improbable due to my being so very female). Did you know that I was the editor of my 6th grade class paper? And I have had zines and websites for, like, ever.

Then I asked Will what he thinks I would have been, and he said, without hesitation, “baker.” So perhaps I would provide the camp with bread an pies. Mmmm, pie.

What do you think? What profession would you assign to me, or to yourself?

So, after approximately 1500 miles on the road in a rental, we returned to Los Angeles and were rear-ended in our car. SIGH.

The good news is that no one was injured beyond the basic rear-ending type injuries (I have some signs of minor whiplash and soreness around the seat belt touch-points), though we were all really worried when Grace started screaming after impact. She’d been asleep and was just really scared. Not a nice way to wake up!

We were at a complete stop and I think the guy who hit us was going about 5 mph, so I can’t see any damage beyond a tiny dent and some paint scratches, but I am waiting until our insurance office is open to find out where to get the car looked at. At least we probably don’t have to replace the car seats, which would really tick me off (not that I’d object to getting the kids safe seats, but because it would be such a complex endeavor).

So, let’s recount all of the car accidents I’ve been in, not counting things like scratching other cars in parking lots (which of course I never did, especially not as a teenager).

17th birthday: rear-ended another car in the rain when she stopped short in front of me due to a third car driving erratically. This one involved a lawsuit (she sued me)! Car totaled.

18 years old: spun out on black ice, friend driving behind me crashed into the side of my car his brother was riding in (no injuries, THANK GOD). Car drivable but totaled.

20 years old: made a left turn out of a parking lot. Woman turning left from street across the way pulled out, saw me, stopped, then COMPLETED HER TURN RIGHT INTO ME. Then she called her adult son who called someone to pretend to be a witness. I convinced the police they were scammers. Car NOT totaled.

(21 years old, probably shouldn’t count, and anyway I think Will was driving: stopped on country road for deer to cross in front of us, one of the deer ran head-first into the side of our car. Insurance companies were not called. Car dented but fine.)

21 years old: stopped at red light, man going about 35-40 mph switched lanes into my car. Why he was not STOPPING FOR THE LIGHT is anyone’s guess. He later made up a story about a third car cutting him off, and somehow the insurance companies believed him. Entire frame of Will’s car was bent, car totaled.

31 years old: last night, car NOT totaled. I’m pretty sure.

Hmmm, seems like there was more than that. But really, that is plenty.

While I unload four million photos from my camera, edit them, et cetera, perhaps you would be so kind as to check this stuff out:

Johnny Jump-Up, my latest knitting pattern, available for free from Petite Purls. This is a baby/toddler romper, knit in one piece from the top down with raglan sleeves and wide stripes of color. I am thinking of writing up an alternate version with buttons all the way down, including the legs, if there is interest in such a thing.

Prudent Pantry: Easy Side Salads, with recipes from two of my favorite books,

and

Prudent Pantry: In-Season Southwestern Salad, with a recipe from dear Cassie.

Huh. I thought there was more but now that’s all I can think of. Lucky you! Your assignment is quick and easy. Go, click, read. Reporting back to me is optional.

Santa Barbara, San Simeon, King City, Morgan Hill, San Francisco, Mill Valley, Santa Rosa, San Francisco, Sacramento, Auburn, Coloma, Marshall Gold Discovery State Historic Park, Drytown, Jackson, Angels Camp, Columbia State Historic Park, Casa de Fruta Parkway (Hollister), King City, Paso Robles, Santa Barbara, Thousand Oaks*, home.

DEAR GOD I AM SO TIRED.

*This was just a pit stop but I am including it because I actually know what town it was.

I did not make this dress. It was made for me on the occasion of either my fifth or sixth birthday (my mom is not sure). The maker was Jane Stone, the mother of two little girls in my ballet class. We spent a lot of time with their family, and Jane was always making things.

The buttons are extremely life-like ladybugs; the three on the bodice are functional while the one on the pocket is decorative. I am so grateful to my mom for keeping this for 25 years. I can’t wait for it to fit Grace! (I can wait. UNIVERSE, I CAN WAIT. TAKE YOUR TIME.)

As soon as I find it, I will post a photo of tiny Annika wearing the dress.

I decided to delay Grace’s introductions to solids for as long as possible. Sam did not start particularly early, but he was more physically advanced than Grace so it made sense to let him play with some food. Also since we have decided to stop at two, she is my last and so I wanted to be her sole food source for as long as possible. (Selfish? Fuck yes. You wanna make something of it?)

So.

Oops.

Yesterday morning (er, afternoon? I have no idea what time) Auntie K was eating a Haagen Dazs bar and Grace was so desperate for it that she basically dive-bombed it. She’s been attacking us for our food like that lately, and when I saw her chocolate covered lip (so close! SO CLOSE!) I decided she was probably ready and that maybe we should assert some control over what her first food would be.

Avocado. She tried using a spoon, but found is mostly confusing. What you can’t see in these pictures is how much of it wound up on her belly. We went straight from dinner to the tub.

And this morning I gave the kids breakfast to share:

As you can see, Sam had water to drink while Grace had coffee. She’s so sophisticated. Tomorrow we will teach her to drive.

Ohmygods mybabyisgrowingup beingglibtoavoidcrying helphelphelp.

–I haven’t been on Twitter in hours!

–What have you been doing?

–Reading my book.

–YOU’RE SO ANALOG.

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(Upon reading about a power surge in Century City)

–I wonder what was being robbed while the system was down!

–…

–…It’s possible that I watch too many movies.

–There’s no such thing as too many movies. But you might be watching the wrong movies.

Week before last I cut Sam off television cold turkey. He’d been watching more and more and his attitude was getting pretty rotten. Lots of temper tantrums and yelling and hitting, and refusing to do anything else. It was gross and I didn’t know how to handle it. I still maintain that television is not inherently harmful, and does have a place in our lives, but this was not its place. I had stopped limiting him after Grace was born because I was figuring out how to divide my attention, and for a while he did great but lately he wasn’t doing great.

The first day of zero screen time was MISERABLE. The second day was so great that I let him watch a Disney short VHS before dinner. That went well, so I’ve been allowing him one movie per day. Last Sunday we had Deadlands and he watched his movie after dinner. That was a disaster (or rather, bedtime afterward was), as was the day when I let him watch Toy Story in the morning (and he basically screamed at me for the rest of the day). But as long as he has his screen time about mid-afternoon, he’s been doing well.

Really well.

He has been playing with his toys with no prompting or assistance (but asking for help or companionship when he wants it), and after a few days of horrid jealousy and acting out toward his sister (ack, I suppose he finally noticed how much of my attention she gets) he’s being pretty lovely toward her. Asserting ownership over all of his things that she wants to grab and play with/chew on, but also giving her kisses, asking to carry her, and making sure she has one of her toys when he takes away his (let’s not tell him that her toys were once his).

I think the hardest thing about parenting is the fact that it’s always a work-in-progress. No matter what I figure out, there is something else to work on. And as soon as I find a good way to do something, the need changes and I have to start over. For now, limiting television is necessary, but I am certain there will come a time when Sam can self-regulate again.