25 random things about me

Yes, I caved.  But I have to say, it was pretty fun.

1. I like to think I didn't do this earlier because I am too aloof, but really I couldn't figure out how to. Like, technically. I still think I may have it wrong.
2. Disco will never be dead in my home.
3. I once saw Heath Ledger, Michelle Williams, Carol Burnett, Misha Barton, and Courtney Love at the same bar on the same night. 
4. I consider myself a feminist but I have probably spent about 25% of my adult life worrying about my body.
5. I berate myself out loud in the car. But only when I'm alone.
6. I still sometimes feel physical, cheek-burning humiliation about things I said or did decades ago.
7. I am strangely proud that I weighed 200 pounds at the end of my pregnancy with twins. 
8. I have a Master's in English and I've never read a novel by William Faulkner or Virginia Woolf. Sometimes I pretend I have, though. 
9. For a while in my childhood we were friends with an ex-con named Swede who drove a pale yellow Cadillac and brought us weird gifts like sets of silverware and a copper espresso machine.
10. I went to part of fourth grade in a tiny village in Mexico. I hated it at the time but now it's a source of pride. 
11. I am powerless in the face of macaroni and cheese from a box. 
12. The carpet does not match the drapes. Never has.
13. I'm pretty sure I'm not as good looking as I think I am.
14. I find motherhood way harder than wifehood.
15. I wish I liked yoga but I don't. It makes me very impatient and it hurts my feet.
16. One of my greatest pleasures is to be alone in my house, sitting on the couch with a magazine. 
17. I'm terrified of divorce, cancer, car accidents, and spiders.
18. Some of my favorite memories are of trips I've taken with my friends Kate and Lisa. Once we talked for nine hours in the car. Without stopping. Seriously.
19. Before he married me, my husband was the mellowest guy I knew.
20. I have had four step-mothers. Now I have none.
21. I fear my ambitions outweigh my talents.
22. I was once followed by the secret police in Romania. For three days.
23. I was once detained for stealing towels in Panama. I was innocent.
24. I really like my job, as jobs go.
25. I often wish I had done something more useful with my life. 

25 things about my son

25 thing about Oliver Joseph at two-and-three-quarters:

1. He called Maggie "Sissy" until very recently.

2. We call him "Oliver with the strange water-repellent hair" because his hair is strangely water-repellent.

3. He is crazy about kitties and has been since the first time he saw a picture of one when he was not yet a year old. 

4. When something captures his attention he asks us to "talk about it," as in "Mommy, talk about the traffic."

5. He's a spectacular dancer, but he can't throw.

6. I've never seen him tire of being read to.

7. He won't eat any meat, fish, or chicken but he loves tofu and cheese.

8. Sometimes he looks at me and says, "Mommy, you're the cutest."

9. He can throw a mean and prolonged tantrum.

10. He still sucks a paci when he goes to sleep and he'd like to suck it more.

11. His first sentence was "I don't know."

12. He would like the opportunity to ride more buses.

13. He says his favorite color is black.

14. He recently said to me, "I don't want you.  I want a different Mommy." It made me cry, but it was a bad day anyway.

15. He likes to figure out how things work: light switches, pulleys, gears, etc.

16. Every night he asks me to sing "Hush Little Baby."

17. I know he wants to play bunnies when he looks at me and says, "Hello, mommy bunny.

18. He is terrified of walking in parking lots or streets (I consider this an accomplishment.)

19. He's in the 17th percentile for height but he doesn't care.

20. He loves to be tickled, especially by his dad.

21. His feet are so wide I fear he may someday have to wear special shoes.

22. When he was born we were told he had a heart murmur caused by a genetic defect. Two years later we found out that his heart is completely normal.  No murmur.

23. We once had to come home early from a weekend away because he had such bad diaper rash. 

24. He is one of the funniest people I've ever met and I think he might know it.

25. For a large portion of his second year he didn't walk: he ran, hopped or jumped everywhere. 

A thing I like

My dad's new Bonsai blog.  He's a good writer, my dad.  And he knows a lot about bonsai and Japanese gardening and trees in general.  He can be kind of a know-it-all, actually.  I come by it honestly.  My brother Joseph designs the site.  He's also a know-it-all, mostly about music and books.

25 things about my daughter

This "25 things about me" thing has been going around on Facebook and I've been tagged a couple of times.  I'm tempted to do it but, I don't know, blogging seems self-indulgent enough.  I mean, how interested can people possibly be in me?  Don't answer that.

I decided I would try to do it for my children.  Mind you, I do not speak for them.  These are strictly MY things about them.

Maggie first.

1. Maggie could be seen kicking her brother in the head in utero on ultrasounds.

2. Maggie's favorite color is purple.  It's also the only one she can consistently pick out of a lineup.

3. Maggie's eyes are crazy, crazy beautiful blue.

4. She can wiggle her eyebrows like a vaudeville villian.

5. Maggie is fearless in the water but she can't yet swim.

6. So far, her dancing shows a worrisome lack of rhythm.

7. She sucks her thumb, which I love.

8. On New Year's Eve, when the Mister came home from work, she took his hand and lead him toward the cheese platter saying, "We're having a party, join us and have some cheese."

9. Maggie LOVES her grandmothers.

10.  She can imitate accents.  Her best ones are Midwestern and stuffy lady from the '40s.

11. She's been to Delaware, Pennsylvania, Vermont, Connecticut, and Hawaii.

12. She's been to Mexico twice.

13. Her first word was "agua", same as her brother's. 

14. She hates all barrettes, headbands and ponytail accouterments, much to her mother's dismay.

15. When she sings "Happy Birthday" she sounds all breathy, just like Marilyn Monroe.

16. She loves to make "bunny holes," where she goes to hide from the foxes.

17. She talks a big game about loving our dog, but there is much evidence to the contrary.

18. She often prefers her daddy.  Except when she's hurt.  Then it's mommy all the way.

19. She calls my dad "Yeah Yeah" and my step-dad "Bigotes," which means mustache in Spanish.

20. She thinks "Bigotes" means Big Gotes.

21. Maggie likes salami, brie and tofu but won't eat pizza, nuggets, french fries or ketchup.

22. She's had an astonishing throwing arm since she could sit up.

23. Once, at Stinson Beach, I let her run as far away from me as she would go.  After 25 yards she disappeared into the fog and I had to chase her down.  I have no idea how long it would have taken her to get scared.  Maybe forever.

24. She prefers me to tell her stories rather than read them.  She particularly likes to hear about Santa.

25. When her baby dolls get hungry they still nurse from me, not her.

Next post: 25 things about Ollie.

A Thing I like

This list from Hula Seventy.

The always-hilarious lists at McSeeney's.

An experiment in single parenting. It's not pretty.

I totally know how he feels

The Mister is out of town.  He's in Utah on non-Mormon related business.  Books and stuff.  This means that I am alone with the twins for five days.  I won't lie.  It's been hard.  Like, soggy-rice-chex-hardening-on-the-kitchen-table hard.  Like, no-time-to-shower hard.  It's even been grab-your-kid's-arm-just-a-little-too-hard hard.  I know, I'm a wimp.  All hail to the single parents of the world.  Truly.  I've never been more appreciate of the Mister's contributions around here than I am right now. I miss him.

Here's a scene from our little experiment:

This happened last night after the burrito battle, and the bath battle, and the one-more-story battle, and the light-on-a-little-more battle.  The kids are in bed.  The door is closed.  I can finally do something fun, like clean up the huge mound of dishes.  

And then I hear it, the potty pleading.

So I get them up, and walk them in to the bathroom, and take off the complicated footsie p.j.s, and undo the nighttime diapers. 

OLIVER (sitting on the potty and looking thoughtful): Mommy, are you happy?

ME (astonished and sort of not that happy): Yes, honey.  I am happy.

OLIVER: But, are we driving you up the wall?

ME: Not anymore.  But you were earlier.

OLIVER (gazing philosophically into the middle distance): Yeah.

A thing I like

This thought from George Bernard Shaw:

"This is the true joy in life, the being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one; being thoroughly worn out before you are thrown on the scrap heap; being a force of nature in stead of a feverish, selfish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy." 

Kind of harsh, I know.  But a good one to keep in mind.

Buy Nothing January, an update

A cascade of crap I do not own

I'm almost through the first month of my three buy-nothing months and I've gotta say, I'm sort of loving it. Austerity is so contrary to my personality.  Self-denial makes me angry nearly instantly, and yet, there is a certain foreign but distinct pleasure to not shopping.   The best way I can describe it is as a sort of spaciousness. Ignoring those little blips of desire is liberating.  Plus, you mostly forget instantly what it was you wanted. 

Before I get saddle sores from my high horse, however, I do have to come clean: I bought some stuff. Here's my list, followed by my justifications (I think you'll agree they're good).

Item 1. a frame and mat--$70

Justification: I bought the Mister this really snazzy poster for Christmas.   I felt that if I didn't frame it, the whole gift would go to waste.  So I was throwing good money after good.  No regrets.

Item 2. Memory card--$20

Justification: The Mister bought be a snazzy little point-and-shoot camera for Christmas but it came with the wimpiest, puniest memory card imaginable.  Three photos and it was wheezing and fanning itself and begging to sit down.  Without a replacement card, the camera would have gone to waste.  No regrets.

Item 3. Two yards of fabric--$3

Justification: It was $3 (in Mexico) and my mother-in-law is going to make Maggie an adorable outfit out of it.  No regrets.

Item 4. A little hand-embroidered blouse for Maggie--$8.

Justification: I was drunk.  It was cute.  Pesos don't feel like real money.  Considering Maggie's extensive collection of embroidered Mexican blouses, I really could have gone without.  Minor regrets. 

I mean, come on, how cute is this?

Item 5. Three plastic under-the-bed-tubs--$23

Justification: Either that or piles of rubber sheets and dress up clothes in the middle of the floor.  No regrets.

Item 6. Cover Girl Outlast lip stain--$6

Justification: I tried to sneak this in under the "toiletries" category but the Mister says no dice.  Minor regrets, especially because it doesn't look as good on me as it did on Drew Barrymore. 

TOTAL: $130

Except for the fact that we spent a ton of money on other stuff, like going to Mexico and fixing the Mister's motorcycle and replacing some closet doors, I'm feeling pretty superior right now. 

A thing I like

Vinyl wall decals from Elephannie at Etsy.  I bought these cold little birds (back when I was buying stuff) in lime green for Maggie and Oliver's room.  They sit over their beds. Now I want to stick stuff all over the house. I mean who among us has a home that wouldn't benefit from giant dandelions growing up the wall?

Just a little more about Yelapa, Mexico

I was a fourth grade pie lady

Exactly a year ago I published a story in Sunset about Yelapa, the Mexican village where I went to fourth grade and which I have visited nearly every year for 30 years. In it I waxed extremely nostalgic, basing much of my argument that it is one of the best places in the West on my thesis that it had barely changed at all in three decades.  

The Mister and Ollie on the panga to Yelapa

A lot of people traveled to Yelapa because of that story (I saw some of them holding the article in a plastic sleeve and consulting my restaurant recommendations!) and I sometimes feel a little squeamish about that.  Yelapa is a beautiful place, maybe even magical in its way, but I feel the need to set the record straight. So here it is, my revision:  

Yelapa has changed A LOT since I was a kid and there was no electricity and my friend Fermina had never seen a pizza and no one, not one resident, had a TV.  Yelapan teenagers dress like Kanye West now.  They have cell phones and designer jeans.  Gone are the pigs rooting around in the mud on the trail, in large part because the trails are are now PAVED with cobblestones, allowing ATVs to zip up and down. There are drug dealers and yoga instructors and a full-time doctor in Yelapa.  You can buy Diet Coke at the grocery store and hear Norah Jones at the taco stand.  If you go you will most likely see more gringos than Mexicans.  But the biggest change, the thing that made me sad and wistful like nothing else this year, was the total lack of pie ladies.

Yelapa has been known for its pie ladies, they of the sturdy calves and impeccable balance, who trudge up and down the beach selling fresh, homemade pie out of Tupperware balanced on their heads.  And now they are gone. It's the end of something good, truly.  I haven't had enough time to properly grieve and process this loss, but I know for sure that life will never be the same.

Still, the kids liked it.  

Maggie discovers her inner Cousteau

Ollie discovers his inner Luke Skywalker

A thing I like

I'm finally reading Obama's Dreams from My Father (my last drop of the Koolaid) and man, it's really good.  He can write.  I would probably even read this book if it weren't written by the holy savior of America.  This guy, this smart, human, complicated, flawed, compassionate person is our president.  It hardly seems possible.  Pinch!  

Obama's inauguration in Mexico, lovely Mexico

Here's an image:  We are sitting in plastic chairs, huddled around a TV inside a cinder block house/restaurant at the edge of the jungle. Roosters interrupt us in their boorish and macho way.  It's hot.  The door to the bathroom is a moldy plastic shower curtain. Everyone is eating bacon and eggs and drinking the world's worst coffee.  Then Obama appears on screen and the room, filled with maybe 50 Americans—mostly middle aged, mostly Berkeley-esque—is silent and we watch the inauguration and some of us cry and everyone claps, especially for Aretha, giant hat and all.  

Everyone, that is, except for the Mister.  He's busy reading If You Take a Mouse to School out on the patio to our twins, who have chosen the exact moment of Obama's speech to get all squirmy and testy.  I try to relieve him, I do.  But he has martyr tendencies and maybe I don't try all that hard.  Anyway, I owe him one.

On our way upriver to watch the inauguration

And, Mexico.  Here's what I forgot when I was spazzing out and getting all worked up and worried about the trip: I love Mexico and I'm sorry I ever joked about cheating on it with Disneyland.  I would never do that.  Disneyland may have a better sewage system and a more reliable sense of time, but Mexico has soul.  And mariachi music, and margaritas (which, in combination, always make me weep).  They have boats painted orange and aqua. They have fishing poles made of bleach bottles, and way better Cokes, and lollipops covered in chili powder, and geckos that chatter in the night. They have kids everywhere and baby girls in frilly dresses. They have waiters who pick up your kids, and brown pelicans patrolling in formation. Parrots. Palm trees.  Bananas growing in bunches of 100.  Donkeys carrying sand.  And they have best avocados in the world.  Bar none.

Paintings on the street I did not buy

Hot dog-lime cups I also did not buy

Maggie and Ollie are so not into pants in Mexico