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Tuesday, May 23, 2006

At Seventeen

Mamie is 17 months old today. Or yesterday. Or whenever blogger says it is. Ok, she's 17 months old NOW.

What has changed in the last month? Oh that's right, the walking. She looks like such a big kid (on drugs and drunk) when she's "walking" and I swear she will never believe me when she's 16 and I show her the little movies I take of her -- pantless and stomping around. Let me tell you now Mamie, you like very much to be pantless.

Mamie's also got a few new words: banana and zzzsssssssss. The second word is used for a lot of things. Most things. Banana is used for banana, which has replaced peaches in Mamie's world of most delectable food. She is still using the word dog for all animals and for certain kids at the playground. Last weekend Doug said a mother there noticed that Mamie was calling her son "a dog, a dog, a dog, a DOOOOOOOGGGG" very loudly and clearly. I asked Doug what he did in response and he said "selective hearing." Mamie also yells "a dog" to people too. It is embarrassing when it happens and somehow hysterical when we get home in the privacy of our living room.

The teething continues but so does the sleeping through the night (thank you, Lord). Every day is the same, yet different. One day something is a favorite, the next day when I offer said item, you look at me like you cannot believe I am giving you that shit (you loved that shit yesterday Mamie.) Also Mamie now goes up to little kids and touches them. She wants to hold hands with Noah at the playground and she likes to finger comb the little French boy's massive afro (he will have no part of it) and she likes to try and grab Chi-Chi's shoes (while they are on her). This month Mamie understands more words and knows that if she goes to the front door and pounds on it, Doug or I will take her outside. Yeah, sure if she said the word outside that would be great too, but I'm kinda liking this grunting phase. She also knows that she needs shoes to go outside and will walk over to get them, hand them to me, and then wait for me to put them on her. She's no monkey.

It is so interesting to see her change from day to day. I can almost see her little brain clicking, picking new things up (literally, Mamie's new favorite toy is a pail to collect leaves, rocks and dirt in). She is starting to get the whole communication thing really, really well and is delighted with herself when she can point words or things out in books. It is amazing to see.

Wednesday, May 17, 2006

Frankenstein in Da House

Mamie started walking last Saturday.

It's not constant yet - she stills drop down to crawl a lot, but she is standing alone and taking steps (to Daddy, to the big ball, to the TV -- hey, it works). She clomps her little feet and seems pretty pleased with herself.

So I took her to the playground today, where everybody there has been very nice to me about the whole Not Walking Yet Thing. I was so excited that as soon as we got there I announced that Mamie was walking. She got a bunch of hand claps and cheers and then proceeded to... crawl.

Oh she walked some too -- holding my pinkie finger so tight that she cut off my circulation.

The important thing is that I know she can do it. And so does she.

Soon, running!

Mystery: Solved!

Remember a few months when a long lost friend of mine resurfaced? Then I posted about how he never came through and disappeared again? Well, I finally got an email from ol' long lost Vincent yesterday. It went something like this:

Dear Wanda... Sorry for the long silence but I stopped doing my email last November when I went to Ireland. In fact I have been on the move ever since. And as usual with hotmail, my account was deleted due to inactivity. hope all is well with you. I never passed through NYC a blah bla blah BLAH BLAH BLAH...... xxxx Vincent

That's nice that he finally got in touch with me 6 months after he was supposed to come here, but who the hell is Wanda? Wanda? Does he mean LaWanda Page from Sanford & Son? That is the only Wanda like person I know. I don't think he means her. Nah, couldn't be.

So I wrote him back asking him who the hell Wanda is, only I didn't exactly use those words. Two days went by and I received another email. It seems that he wrote the same email to everyone that he dissed, but only addressed it to someone named Wanda, then cut and pasted the body without taking out her name. According to Vincent, he pissed a whole bunch of people off. While that makes him much less evil in my eyes, it also makes me roll them as well. I mean, come on dude. How many people did you call/email after all these years saying you wanted to reconnect? You got us all excited and anxious to see you and then you did your thing, that is, you disappeared without a word, leaving us all hanging.

I used to think that Vincent was mysterious and exciting, a great storyteller with a heart of gold, someone who fucked up but you loved him because of it. But now, I kinda see that he is just a flake. Maybe a lovable one at that, but a flake. And I don't like that. My time is limited these days (I write this now as Mamie naps, her ONE nap a day that leaves me time to eat, clean, write and "everything else", if you know what I mean) and my headspace time is full to capacity as well. I am Up To Here with all this. (It's official, I am now my mother, that's another post.)

So no, I'm not going to write him back anymore. Even though he says he may be through New York in June. Cuz I don't need to be hopeful all again just to get slam-dunked down. It's funny when you have a kid in your life. Somehow seeing old friends takes on a whole new meaning. You not only want them to see you, but you want them to get to know your kid. And when someone seems disinterested or too busy or whatever, it stings in a whole new way. But that's not even the point here. The thing is that I'm over it. I don't need the mystery anymore. Feels weird to even type that. But so be it. It's the way it is.

So, farewell Vincent. Good luck to you -- and Wanda.

Tuesday, May 16, 2006

Reading Redux

I spent the better part of Mamie's nap time yesterday reading aloud the story I was going to be sharing that night at Housing Works. Sounds easier than it is, especially for someone like me who speaks really fast. The weird thing is, I don't get out of breath when I speak in conversation, but after reading a lone paragraph, I was totally out of breath. So I took a red pen and literally put lines in every few words to remind me to breathe. What can I say, I'm not a professional. Would it show?

My story is funny though and so I had some confidence in the fact that I could get the people to laugh. But I was nervous all day, blaming my outbursts on nonexistent PMS. I of course got to the reading too early, so I went to Sephora to apply some eye shadow. I mean, since I was going to be reading, eyes downward, why not sparkle a little? When I arrived editors Christina and Rachel were there, as well as another reader, Sarah. Everyone was really nice, although my palms still continued to sweat. I popped yet another Pep-O-Mint in the hopes that my fresh breath would garner some good vibes.

I looked around the bookstore for friendly faces. I had invited a bunch of people, but most of them now have kids, which means a 7PM reading is out of the question for 99% of them. Even Doug was at home taking care of Mamie. More contributors came, and they all seemed really friendly. I sat next to Jessica and she was not only fun to talk to but calmed me down a bit on speaking. S-L-O-W. Keep it slow. I pondered this for a minute as Christina looked at me and said "you're on first." I wondered if that was a good thing or not. Less time to be nervous that's for sure. OK, I decided it was a good thing. It was then that I took out the Lifesaver and put it on my pants pocket. Again, not a professional.

Turning around I spotted my friend Loren and his pal Vestal, as well as Fahs and Dawn. Not bad. A posse of 4 is something. I waved and said HI and then returned to my seat in the front row --- and schvitzed. As I got introduced my heart started pumping hard. There was no turning back. Luckily my contacts had a build up on them so I couldn't see the crowd so well. I'm ready!

Flashback to my Bat Mitzvah: Haftorah time! People laughed in unusual places and were stone quiet in others. I think I had them interested. They clapped for me afterwards. I didn't lose my breath too bad. I hardly stumbled. I spoke into the mike (those P's are tough, man). I didn't flub the kicker as I did when I practiced at home. I didn't trip on the way back to my seat. I didn't blush. I didn't forget to say thank you afterwards. Yeah, I think I did ok. A-men.

As I sat and listened to the other 5 readers, I noticed how Brian was so at ease with his inflection, how Thisbe was such a pro, how Jessica was cracking herself up, how Sarah had the perfect pace, and how Annawas surprisingly candid.

As I heard everyone's story I kept wishing that I had the opportunity to read it again. This time with more emphasis on certain sentences, less on others, etc. But I guess that's how it goes. Next time, right?

Tuesday, May 09, 2006

The Most Beautiful Word in the World

Mamie said a new word tonight. A word with real meaning. A word for something she wanted more than anything in the world. Mama? Daddy? Porsche? Cigarette? Advil?

No. BAGEL. Two syllables, baby.

This might seem really silly but the thing is, babies talk all the time. It's just that nobody can understand them. So when Mamie says da da da DA DA DA da da in various frequencies with various gestures, I know she is trying to say something of the utmost importance. Ten times out of ten I do not understand her. But tonight, oh tonight, I did. She was teething badly (again) and didn't want much of her dinner. She kept saying something that sounded like ca, or ga. "Does she want a car,?" Doug asked. "No, a ga," I said. "It's much more gaaaaal, actually." I stared at my child, in full end of day crustification and then I heard the "ba". Ba-gaaaaaaaaal. BAGEL.

So I did the only thing I could, that is, go to the bottom of her stroller with this morning's bagel in it, half crunked and stale, and gave it to her. "Bagel?" I asked cautiously. "Gaaaaaaal." Which means affirmative. She ate the bagel and seemed pretty pleased with herself. Me? I wanted to cry. "She said bagel, Doug, she said bagel." Where is the page in the baby book where they say bagel?

See, our pediatrician wants Mamie to have 20 words by her 18 month visit. She told us this at 15 months and since then I have been worrying about it because Mamie is not the most verbal girl in the world. She says, Mama, Dada, dog (to all animals and to certain people, which is very embarrassing), up, ball and that's about it, folks. That is not 20 words. She understands everything we say and can follow commands really well. She just can't say much. And no she is still not walking without holding on to a finger, A FINGER of mine, that she doesn't even need. I am not pushing her though. I am waiting for that moment when she takes off. Whenever that moment happens, that's fine. Maybe it'll be tomorrow.