Some mommy worries

Daisy has done a strange thing, lately; well, she's done it twice. I am not sure what to make of it. The first time was a few days ago. I had just put her pigtails in and she wanted to look at herself in the mirror, as we always do. She ran excitedly to the full-length mirror in her bedroom. The second she got there, she let out an ear-piercing scream and burst into tears. She screamed Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, hold me. I went running over and picked her up, sure she had just stepped on a tack or experienced some other kind of devastating pain. She was crying so hard she was bright red in the face and gasping for breath. She was clinging around my neck, sobbing and sobbing--not for very long, although it felt long. I kept asking her where it hurt, where the pain was, because there was no doubt in my mind she was in terrible pain. But... I never found the source of the pain, and she was unable or unwilling to explain it to me, and then she calmed down and asked me to read some books.

It was really a strange thing. There was absolutely no lead-up to it; she had been in a fine mood. She is not afraid of the mirror, and in fact was dancing and smiling in front of it later that same day. There was no tack in her foot. There was simply nothing to explain why she burst into tears like that. And it wasn't some little bursting into tears, either. I have NEVER heard her scream that loudly in her life, including when she had her vaccines, and including when she had blood drawn. And it wasn't a tantrum, because it was accompanied by nothing fussy, nothing cranky at all. It was just--total serenity, then heart-rending screams of pain and torment and tears, then--nothing again.

I was hoping it would never happen again, though it bothered me to think I'd never know the cause of it. But something similar happened today at the San Francisco Friends of the Public Library Book Sale. It was a completely different circumstance--a big crowded room full of people and possibly over-stimulating for a sensitive two-year-old. Daisy was not thrilled to be stuck in the front of the shopping cart, but we were getting through it okay. Then--I looked at her and her lip was trembling and the tears were welling up. She let out several VERY loud screams, loud enough that every person in the book fair heard them, though not NEARLY as loud as the scream from the other day. Again, tears poured down, and she told me to hold her, and she was saying, "Mommy, make it feel better, make it feel better, make it feel better." And then it passed again, after a minute or two.

I feel sure that she must be in some kind of acute pain. I don't know how else to understand it. There just isn't any kind of prelude to these fits that makes sense. There has been no warning. She has fussy moods, but they are nothing like this. She's had mini-tantrums, and they are nothing like this. These fits look like extreme pain or extreme fear, not like a kid throwing a fit because she wants something you aren't letting her have. But what kind of pain could it be that would be extremely acute, then pass, then not return for a day? I don't understand. I am worried.

Daisy and the purple crayon

Before I explain why I called this post that, I have to report that today, as Daisy and I were getting dressed, she took a close survey of my body and said, "Mama's body is filled with boobies." I asked her what her body was filled with, and she said, "Boobies also."

We love Harold and the Purple Crayon, the bestest children's book in the world, and I have noticed it having quite a good effect on Daisy's artistry. Daisy has always been interested in books and music, but not so much with the drawing. I'd sit her down with some paper and writing implements, and she would sort of hit the pen into the paper so that it made a few spots here and there, or else she'd start smacking other parts of the pen (not the ink) into the paper. As I reported earlier that she insisted once on writing with the CAP of the pen.

But ever since the advent of Harold, Daisy is more into drawing. The only catch is that she needs to draw with a PURPLE crayon herself, thus far. Tonight she went absolutely crazy with the bathtub crayons (well, with the purple one). She drew, and I quote: "mountains, forests, apple trees, THREE apples, moonlight, Harold's bed, Harold drawing the covers, Harold, Harold's footies, Harold's blue pajamas, fish, and... Cubism."

Most of these are things that Harold also draws, so she wasn't exactly being original, but I was still quite impressed. She has finally figured out how to PRESS the tip of the crayon down and produce lines, circles, etc., instead of random, light spots. She made quite a purple mess out of the bathtub. I am happy she's getting into drawing.

It's just so beautiful

Sarah Goss, if you were born to Sarah Palin, your name would be:
Open Aircraft Palin

Who knows, Open Aircraft Palin, you just might be president one day!

To find out your Palinesque name, see the Sarah Palin Baby Name Generator:

http://politsk.blogspot.com/2008/09/sarah_13.html

PS
Mark, I already did yours, and I'm afraid it's "Strangle Thicket Palin."

What an innovative young artist

Daisy is making a drawing with Gommy in the corner of the room while I grade papers and I just heard her announce, "It's Cubism!" Then, a second later, she said she was going to draw with the CAPS of the pens, not the pens themselves. I am so impressed. This girl is definitely going to invent some new form of art soon.

Or she's going to be a nudist. I suppose this is a phase a lot of two-year-olds go through. She does not like clothes. Because we make her wear clothes when she leaves the house, she does not want to go out. She also wants other people to be naked, unfortunately; she has told me repeatedly to get naked, though I refuse. Last night we told her she could take her clothes off after she finished her dinner and she yelled, "Yay! I love being naked!"

I find it hard to believe I ever went through this phase, myself. I didn't even like taking my socks off. I have photos of myself at 2 or 3 sitting in the sandbox in our backyard, wearing socks.

Preschool freakout

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa apparently people getting on waiting lists for San Francisco preschools when they are pregnant or, even better, just trying to conceive; several places have directions that say "please wait till your child is BORN" aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa there is still a year before I want Daisy to start but several places have already told me it is too late to sign up and that they have 200 applications for 10 spots next fall aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa I hadn't anticipated the application fees for all these places so what do I do? Apply to a million places and spend $40-$65 a pop in the hopes that she gets in SOMEWHERE or pick just a few and run the risk that she won't get in those places aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa this is so unfair this is so dumb this is so stressful aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa what if she hates it aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.

Friends at the playground

Dena took these pictures of Henry and Daisy at the playground today... I think she captured some truly magical moments. The one where they're touching hands is so beautiful! About the one where Daisy's holding her cheek with her hand and has a big smile: when Henry gave her kisses on the cheek she would press her face like she was capturing the kiss.

Two things from today

1. As I changed Daisy's diaper today, I asked her whether she'd like to learn to poop in the potty. She said, "No. Not yet."

2. Mark has been saying for years that he was going to tell telemarketers that Mr. Meritt can't come to the phone because he's having a boil lanced, but the most he's been able to get himself to tell them is that "Mr. Meritt is having a procedure"... until today. Boil lancing day. It was glorious.

As a side note, telling people "Mr. Meritt is having a procedure" did seem to make them want intensely to hang up. There was just something very mysterious and uncomfortable about it, I guess. We thought the boil-lancing would have the same effect, if not more so, but Mark said the guy replied without missing a beat, "Is Mrs. Meritt available then?" So it may not be as effective a line as we thought. I think he should have replied, "Mrs. Meritt is by Mr. Meritt's side during this very delicate and sensitive procedure."

EDIT: Mark now says he's going to tell someone "Mr. Meritt is having penis reduction surgery." I told him I'd give him a hundred dollars if he does it, but we'll see. If he does it, the whole key is going to be to get very offended if they accuse him of flippancy... he said he's going to get huffy and say, "He has an unusually large penis and it's been causing him a lot of discomfort!"

I think she's napping!

At least, it's awfully quiet in there.

Please get better, day

Yeah. Today so far... not so good. Not that anything tremendously terrible happened, but just a whole series of small annoying things. First thing Daisy said on the monitor this morning was that she wanted to go to the "old merry-go-round." I find that very endearing; she has been letting us know that her loyalties lie with the first merry-go-round she ever went on (the one in Golden Gate Park) as opposed to the one she calls the "new one" (the one in Yerba Buena Gardens that we also sampled recently, new to her because she'd only gone to the other one previously).

We set out for the carousel. No money. I tried to stop at the bank; all the parking spaces in front of the bank, every single one, was roped off. I finally found parking. Dragged Daisy with me to the bank. The ATM refused to dispense money. Stood in line at the bank to get money. Drove to the carousel. There is some kind of film production happening there. It looked kind of exciting--lots of trailers in the parking lot and people dragging heavy equipment here and there. However, not so convenient when you have a child who is dying to get to the carousel. I found parking, but then had to wait while I figured out whether we could cross the line of cones that were blocking us off from entering the playground area. There was a security guy ahead of me in a shouting match with a woman who said she was the executive producer of the film and was demanding to be let through the cones. They were actually shouting abusively at each other. Another man let me walk through the cones, and a second later this woman almost mowed us down with her SUV. Charming.

We get to the carousel, and of course--OF COURSE, because that is the kind of day I'm having--the hours have changed and it is closed and won't be open for another hour and 45 minutes. Daisy was so disappointed that it was physically painful to behold. She tried to pry the doors open with her fingers. Then she started crying, and the worst thing is that it wasn't pouty, tantrummy, annoying crying; it was more like grief. Silent tears filled her big brown eyes, welled over, and rolled down her face. I offered to take her to the carousel at the Zeum in Yerba Buena Gardens; no, she only wanted "the old one." I told her Mark would take her later, when it was open, and she accepted that and allowed me to take her back to the car without a fuss, but the tears were still rolling down her face and her lower lip was trembling. In the car on the way home, she actually looked sort of depressed. It was strange, because I've never seen her like that. I was expecting something more tantrummy, not depression.

We are home now (obviously) and I read her some books. Now she is supposed to be taking a nap. She did not take one yesterday. I really, really need her to take one now, because I have a lot of work to do to get ready for the class I am supposed to teach in a few hours.

I feel... grumbly and overwhelmed by my life. And this is only my first full week back. I keep thinking of her happy, excited face as she ran down the hill toward the carousel. She was exclaiming, "There it is! There's the old one!" I know--not exactly a tragedy, and she'll get to go later. But... it is such a gray and unhappy day, and the whole thing was sad and annoying, and I have to go teach in a few hours, and BLAHH.

And I kind of wish I knew what movie they were filming at the playground. Being me, I did not ask anyone, even though it would have been easy to.

The red, red restaurant

Today Daisy said to me, "I'm so proud of you, Mama!"

She also told us she wanted to go to a "red, red restaurant" and eat pizza. We took her to Pizza Orgasmica (where it took about 45 minutes for our pizza to arrive, despite the fact that there was nobody there but us) because Mark remembered it being reddish. It was, in fact, yellowish, and Daisy commented on that immediately. But she seemed satisfied.

Soooooo...

Daisy is on the front of a Leapfrog box this month--or at least, her head is. I am pretty sure they cropped her head off and stuck it onto another kid's body. It is kind of strange, not being sure, but... I am pretty sure that's not her body.

It's funny, because the photography studio mentioned that they often cut heads and stick them on bodies, but that it's usually the same kid's head and body. However, I know that advertisers sometimes match different kids' heads and bodies because I've seen it happen with my friend's daughter (her head has been on other bodies) and another woman I met whose baby has modeled told me she once found her daughter's body with another kid's head on it. I am sorry... this is all sounding rather grisly, isn't it? It's a strange world out there.

I can't find the image online anywhere, so I am obviously not posting it, but here are some other cute Daisies.

Ahem

1. My daughter says, "That's Mio Babbino Caro!" when that aria comes on, and can identify other classical pieces, such as "Morning," when she hears them, and

2. She just said, "He's coming out of his chrysalis!" (to a picture of a caterpillar who was, indeed, transforming into a butterfly--that might not be a perfect use of the term "chrysalis" but I am still pretty impressed).

Okay, now that that show-offy mom moment is out of the way... here are two cute things that hopefully will not be even more annoying:

1. Daisy says, "That's my Sarah," and looks at me with so much love in her eyes sometimes, and

2. This evening at dinner she said, twice: "Dada is a brother and Mama is a little girl."

How'd I do, hon?

Stolen from Haddayr's blog

How well do you know your SO meme

How well do I know my husband?

1. Sitting in front of the TV, what is on the screen?
Football, the news, or The Simpsons. But he is rarely sitting in front of the TV.

2. You're out to eat; what kind of dressing does he get on his salad?
Okay, he really wants ranch, deep down in his heart, but no, he orders oil and vinegar.

3. What's one food he doesn't like?
EGGPLANT. He also hates bananas.

4. You go out to the bar. What does he order?
Beer from a microbrewery--an amber or dark beer.

5. Where did he go to high school?
Saint Ignatius, a Jesuit preparatory school--all boys, then.

6. What size shoe does he wear?
I'm guessing 11? (He just told me it's 9.5).

7. If he were to collect anything, what would it be?
Guitars. KISS paraphernalia. But I will add, he also happens to have a huge collection of old deodorants with two specks left in them, socks with huge holes in them, and half-empty peanut butter jars. Yes. He has a problem.

8. What is his favorite type of sandwich?
Umm... I am going to go with vegetarian--like, avocado, tomato, sprouts, etc., because of his recent interest in health.

9. What would this person eat every day if he could?
A loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter. And ten doughnuts.

10. What is his favorite cereal?
Oatmeal.

11. What would he never wear?
Something very preppy--like, a tasteful polo shirt with tan shorts, and a short haircut and sunglasses.

12. What is his favorite sports team?
The Giants (football). Oh, but he prefers to watch college sports... so, maybe, U of Oregon Ducks.

13. Who will he vote for?
Obama.

14. Who is his best friend?
Me. Definitely.

15. What is something you do that he wishes you wouldn't do?
I am perfection in his eyes. I guess I'll say: nag him about the food-covered dishes that are somehow crowding the rack AFTER he has, allegedly, washed them. (Hmmm, I turned that question into "something HE does that I wish he wouldn't do." Tricksy of me.)

16. How many states has he lived in?
3: California, New York, and Oregon. And he spent 6 months in Saudi Arabia.

17. What is his heritage?
Assyrian, Italian, Polish, English, Scottish, and... German.

18. You bake him a cake for his birthday; what kind of cake?
He is not a big fan of desserts, but I would make chocolate chip cookies because I know he likes those.

19. Did he play sports in high school?
No. But he was some kind of baseball hitting champion when he was in 4th grade (I think). And he was the school's Most Congenial Boy. (And maybe one of the most cooperative, sportsmanlike players on one of his earlier teams?)

20. What could he spend hours doing?
Nothing. He does everything for half an hour and then he has to do something else.