Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Slice of life – 3/8/09 (Sunday)
I burrow down into the covers, pulling them over my ear but leaving my mouth area open for fresh air. It’s just after 11 a.m. and, having just laid Ander down for a nap, I am taking the luxury myself. Still in my PJs, I revel in my cocoon and the feel of the bed beneath me. Resting. If I do nothing but rest, it will be worth it.
Monday, March 9, 2009
Slice of life - 3/7/09
We’re walking through the District at Tempe Marketplace (an outdoor mall with water and fire features, areas to sit and enjoy the day with good restaurants and boutique shops) .
Jeanette and Aunt Hazel are at least 4 stores ahead and I look back, “C’mon Ander,” I say.
He is inspecting the decorative colored glass in the large planter. “Don’t put that in your mouth, honey. C’mon.” He looks up at me, puts the glass down and runs toward me. I smile at his swinging arms and swaggering run. His eyes pass from me to behind me and he continues to run, just out of reach, into a store called Apricot Lane.
Stopping at the door and entering with more caution, he is drawn to the motorcycle in the store. A big sign says “No touching or sitting on the motorcycle.” Which I read to Ander. He points, wanting to badly to touch it, but doesn’t (good boy!) and moves further into the store, drawn by all of the clothes and accessories studded with sparkling and shining objects.
He wanders through, making gestures and grunts at objects. He gets to an African American mannequin near the dressing rooms. He circles around him, looks up and says, “Hi!” with his hand in the air. I love that he is so outgoing and slightly sad that the mannequin won’t be responding.
I try distraction, “Oooh, Ander, look,” I say, holding a sparkly belt. He comes over to touch it, he hugs it close and let’s go. He is drawn to the sunglasses display near the cashier. On his approach, he sees the cashier and heads toward him. Standing just outside the opening to the cashier area, Ander again raises his hand, “Hi!” The cashier responds, “Hi there.”
We are the only ones in the store and the cashier, a man named Nick, gets off of his stool and comes over. Ander starts talking, gesturing with his hands in a fashion that looks as if he is asking a question. He stops, hands in air with palms up, waiting for an answer. Nick responds, “You want some sunglasses?” Little did he know how much he had just become endeared to Ander, who loves glasses. Nick hands Ander a pair from the rack. I stop him, “I don’t want him to break those.”
“They’re free,” he says. “We’re trying to get rid of them.” Ander has grasped them and is trying them on. They are in the new fashion of being BIG and the looks like a fly. But is swaggering around, like a rooster with a harem. “Are you sure?” I ask in somewhat disbelief. Nick waves my concern away “yes” and returns behind the counter to watch Ander and the store.
Ander comes before the counter, “Up” he says to me, pointing skyward. I pick him up and place him on the counter. He talks, again, to Nick. This is bonding time, I can tell. I am simply the translator. Nick rolls well with the jibber jabber, answering and asking questions. I introduce myself and we shake hands. Ander then offers his own hand, takes a business card from the counter, and then hands it to Nick. It was priceless – classic. Nick and I laugh.
A bit more conversation ensues before Aunt Hazel and Jeanette appear at the door. “Here you are! Ready to go?” Hazel asks. I turn to Nick, thank him. Ander also says, “Ank u” and then, as I pull him from the counter, “Bye, bye!” waving to Nick.
Once on the floor, he makes a bee line for the door , sunglasses in hand, heading toward our next adventure.
Jeanette and Aunt Hazel are at least 4 stores ahead and I look back, “C’mon Ander,” I say.
He is inspecting the decorative colored glass in the large planter. “Don’t put that in your mouth, honey. C’mon.” He looks up at me, puts the glass down and runs toward me. I smile at his swinging arms and swaggering run. His eyes pass from me to behind me and he continues to run, just out of reach, into a store called Apricot Lane.
Stopping at the door and entering with more caution, he is drawn to the motorcycle in the store. A big sign says “No touching or sitting on the motorcycle.” Which I read to Ander. He points, wanting to badly to touch it, but doesn’t (good boy!) and moves further into the store, drawn by all of the clothes and accessories studded with sparkling and shining objects.
He wanders through, making gestures and grunts at objects. He gets to an African American mannequin near the dressing rooms. He circles around him, looks up and says, “Hi!” with his hand in the air. I love that he is so outgoing and slightly sad that the mannequin won’t be responding.
I try distraction, “Oooh, Ander, look,” I say, holding a sparkly belt. He comes over to touch it, he hugs it close and let’s go. He is drawn to the sunglasses display near the cashier. On his approach, he sees the cashier and heads toward him. Standing just outside the opening to the cashier area, Ander again raises his hand, “Hi!” The cashier responds, “Hi there.”
We are the only ones in the store and the cashier, a man named Nick, gets off of his stool and comes over. Ander starts talking, gesturing with his hands in a fashion that looks as if he is asking a question. He stops, hands in air with palms up, waiting for an answer. Nick responds, “You want some sunglasses?” Little did he know how much he had just become endeared to Ander, who loves glasses. Nick hands Ander a pair from the rack. I stop him, “I don’t want him to break those.”
“They’re free,” he says. “We’re trying to get rid of them.” Ander has grasped them and is trying them on. They are in the new fashion of being BIG and the looks like a fly. But is swaggering around, like a rooster with a harem. “Are you sure?” I ask in somewhat disbelief. Nick waves my concern away “yes” and returns behind the counter to watch Ander and the store.
Ander comes before the counter, “Up” he says to me, pointing skyward. I pick him up and place him on the counter. He talks, again, to Nick. This is bonding time, I can tell. I am simply the translator. Nick rolls well with the jibber jabber, answering and asking questions. I introduce myself and we shake hands. Ander then offers his own hand, takes a business card from the counter, and then hands it to Nick. It was priceless – classic. Nick and I laugh.
A bit more conversation ensues before Aunt Hazel and Jeanette appear at the door. “Here you are! Ready to go?” Hazel asks. I turn to Nick, thank him. Ander also says, “Ank u” and then, as I pull him from the counter, “Bye, bye!” waving to Nick.
Once on the floor, he makes a bee line for the door , sunglasses in hand, heading toward our next adventure.
Friday, March 6, 2009
slice of life - 3/5/09
I lay spooning my husband, feeling the weight of the day. Not tired, but defeated, I need communion with my partner. My hand on his thigh I let the day's emotions roll over me:
I can sense that Shane, too, is awake and not resting. We are communing without words. Lending support in our touch as we both process and release this day.
“Good night love,” he says.
“Good night lover,” I reply.
*Inspiration from the day-long training *Concern for the work crisis that followed and the explanations and examinations that took place as everyone looked for one to blame. *Discouragement that Ander continues to bite and apologetic for the kids he bit at daycare that day. *Impatience as his tired and sick clinginess and tantrums filled the evening. *Disappointment that Laurie continues to just use the house and what it provides without contributing in any way. *The conflict of yet-another exchange between Shane and Laurie about the rules of the house. *Fear that the 2 hours of sleep Shane has lost this evening will cause him to be more tired tomorrow as he drives fuel across the state.
I can sense that Shane, too, is awake and not resting. We are communing without words. Lending support in our touch as we both process and release this day.
“Good night love,” he says.
“Good night lover,” I reply.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
slice of life - 3/4/09
7:30 p.m. – Shane tells me he is going to bed. He gives me the house cell-phone, and shares with me that a woman will be coming to the house around 8 to look at the 2 fans that he took down earlier that day to purchase them. He is firm on the pricing at $100 for both. He kisses and hugs me goodnight and then chases Ander down for the same. He goes into the bedroom and closes the door. I stop straightening up the house and put in Harold and the Purple Crayon for Ander, trying to calm him down before his 8 p.m. bedtime.
7:55 p.m. – A call from an unknown number and woman letting me know they are only a few miles away and can they still stop by to look at the fans? Sure, I say. So much for bedtime at 8 for the boy.
8:10 p.m. – The couple park their jacked-up pickup in front of the house and get out, chiding Laurie and Matt (who are moving river rocks from the front yard) that they also have yard work if they need more to do. They come into the house, look at the fans, do the requisite inspection and back and forth about whether they match, how old are they, etc. I don’t indicate that we’re desperate to get rid of them in any way. They confirm the price and I confirm that it is firm. I pocket their $100 and help take them to the truck. By way of chatter, they tell me they are coming from a pro-gay marriage rally. This heartens me in this generally conservative state.
8:30 p.m. – Ander is not interested in going to bed, running away from me outside as I tell him to say “Night, night.” to Laurie and Matt. Gathered in my arms with protests, we head inside to his room for some book reading and rocking.
9:00 p.m. – I emerge from Ander’s room and debate whether to collapse on the couch and postpone packing a lunch for Ander until the morning or packing the lunch now and cleaning the kitchen. The kitchen wins – mostly because I know from weeks of experiments, I cannot pack a lunch in the morning and be on time to work.
10 p.m. – Done with lunches and kitchens, I go outside to ask Laurie and Matt to wrap it up for the night. Matt is headed to go get cigarettes and Laurie says she’ll pack up the tools. I head inside to take a bath.
10:30 p.m. – I go outside, towel on my head, to find Laurie waiting against the house. I tell her I’m headed to bed and to not stay out late. Her response, “I’ll try not to.” In her response I hear the excuses that she will have the next day when I confront her about coming home late. I’m too tired to care, but not too tired to rest on the couch instead of going to bed so I can track what time she comes in.
11:30 p.m. – I hear Laurie and Matt at the front door. I get up and peek out. It looks like they are saying good night. I head into my bedroom. A few minutes later I hear the door open and shut. … twice. I head back out. She is walking down the sidewalk toward him. It looks as if she is going to walk away with him. I head to the front door, “Laurie, come in the house now please.” She responds, “I’m saying goodnight.” I shut the door and head to the kitchen for a drink of water. She comes in, heads right to her room and closes the door. I head to bed.
2:20 a.m. – Shane’s alarm goes off. He’s up and getting ready for work. In my sleep I smell the coffee brewing.
3:00 a.m. – Shane wakes me with a kiss goodbye.
4:15 a.m. – The water I’ve been drinking to clear up a UTI catches up with me.
5:00 a.m. – Laurie wakes. The light from her room and the noise drift into my bedroom.
5:15 a.m. – Laurie leaves the house.
5:37 a.m. – Alarm goes off. I hit snooze until just after 6 a.m. Time to get up and start a new day.
7:55 p.m. – A call from an unknown number and woman letting me know they are only a few miles away and can they still stop by to look at the fans? Sure, I say. So much for bedtime at 8 for the boy.
8:10 p.m. – The couple park their jacked-up pickup in front of the house and get out, chiding Laurie and Matt (who are moving river rocks from the front yard) that they also have yard work if they need more to do. They come into the house, look at the fans, do the requisite inspection and back and forth about whether they match, how old are they, etc. I don’t indicate that we’re desperate to get rid of them in any way. They confirm the price and I confirm that it is firm. I pocket their $100 and help take them to the truck. By way of chatter, they tell me they are coming from a pro-gay marriage rally. This heartens me in this generally conservative state.
8:30 p.m. – Ander is not interested in going to bed, running away from me outside as I tell him to say “Night, night.” to Laurie and Matt. Gathered in my arms with protests, we head inside to his room for some book reading and rocking.
9:00 p.m. – I emerge from Ander’s room and debate whether to collapse on the couch and postpone packing a lunch for Ander until the morning or packing the lunch now and cleaning the kitchen. The kitchen wins – mostly because I know from weeks of experiments, I cannot pack a lunch in the morning and be on time to work.
10 p.m. – Done with lunches and kitchens, I go outside to ask Laurie and Matt to wrap it up for the night. Matt is headed to go get cigarettes and Laurie says she’ll pack up the tools. I head inside to take a bath.
10:30 p.m. – I go outside, towel on my head, to find Laurie waiting against the house. I tell her I’m headed to bed and to not stay out late. Her response, “I’ll try not to.” In her response I hear the excuses that she will have the next day when I confront her about coming home late. I’m too tired to care, but not too tired to rest on the couch instead of going to bed so I can track what time she comes in.
11:30 p.m. – I hear Laurie and Matt at the front door. I get up and peek out. It looks like they are saying good night. I head into my bedroom. A few minutes later I hear the door open and shut. … twice. I head back out. She is walking down the sidewalk toward him. It looks as if she is going to walk away with him. I head to the front door, “Laurie, come in the house now please.” She responds, “I’m saying goodnight.” I shut the door and head to the kitchen for a drink of water. She comes in, heads right to her room and closes the door. I head to bed.
2:20 a.m. – Shane’s alarm goes off. He’s up and getting ready for work. In my sleep I smell the coffee brewing.
3:00 a.m. – Shane wakes me with a kiss goodbye.
4:15 a.m. – The water I’ve been drinking to clear up a UTI catches up with me.
5:00 a.m. – Laurie wakes. The light from her room and the noise drift into my bedroom.
5:15 a.m. – Laurie leaves the house.
5:37 a.m. – Alarm goes off. I hit snooze until just after 6 a.m. Time to get up and start a new day.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Slice of life - 3-3-09
The black Honda accord pulls up into my driveway.
“Thanks so much for going out of your way to drop me off,” I say to my co-worker as I open the door and get out.
The driveway looks empty with only one car – the other one was dropped off earlier that day for a transmission rebuild.
I wave goodbye as she pulls out and drives away. I walk along the path to the front door looking at the small flowers I planted a month earlier.
As I open it I hear Shane, “Don’t make it sound like I’m victimizing you Laurie.”
And see Laurie standing defensively the end of the kitchen counter and Ander sitting at the table having a snack. “I’m not!”
“You are. You just said that it’s my fault Matt can’t come over…when you've had all afternoon...”
Ander has seen me and is running towards me, arms open, hair disheveled from his nap, “Mom..my!”
I scoop down to pick him up and give him a hello hug. He begins to play with my necklace with his right hand as I hold him in the crook of my left arm. “Did you go to the doctor today? “ I ask him, wondering if Shane has already given him the first does of antibiotics for a double ear infection and congestion in lungs from a cold. “Yep.” I hear he is still wheezing.
“I said that earlier, because I was angry…” she continues. “ Can I please just borrow the phone to call Matt?”
“No, Laurie.” Shane replies, and begins to continue as Laurie interrupts, “It’s boring just moving rocks. Can I please just use the phone?”
“No, Laurie.” And the debate continues as I carry Ander into my bedroom to change out of my work clothes.
A few minutes later I hear a door shut and the house is quiet. She has left. I’m not sure how angry or frustrated she is. I didn’t look at her face beyond when I first came in the door.
After changing into a pair of black capris and teal tank top with “Angel” studded in silver across the chest, I leave the bedroom, and peek through her room and the window to where she was moving river rock on the front property. This is our attempt to give her a respectable way to earn some money.
She’s no where to be seen. She has apparently left and I know it will probably be 8 p.m. until she shows again, her nightly curfew.
I have 3 hours of anxiety-free home time.
“Thanks so much for going out of your way to drop me off,” I say to my co-worker as I open the door and get out.
The driveway looks empty with only one car – the other one was dropped off earlier that day for a transmission rebuild.
I wave goodbye as she pulls out and drives away. I walk along the path to the front door looking at the small flowers I planted a month earlier.
As I open it I hear Shane, “Don’t make it sound like I’m victimizing you Laurie.”
And see Laurie standing defensively the end of the kitchen counter and Ander sitting at the table having a snack. “I’m not!”
“You are. You just said that it’s my fault Matt can’t come over…when you've had all afternoon...”
Ander has seen me and is running towards me, arms open, hair disheveled from his nap, “Mom..my!”
I scoop down to pick him up and give him a hello hug. He begins to play with my necklace with his right hand as I hold him in the crook of my left arm. “Did you go to the doctor today? “ I ask him, wondering if Shane has already given him the first does of antibiotics for a double ear infection and congestion in lungs from a cold. “Yep.” I hear he is still wheezing.
“I said that earlier, because I was angry…” she continues. “ Can I please just borrow the phone to call Matt?”
“No, Laurie.” Shane replies, and begins to continue as Laurie interrupts, “It’s boring just moving rocks. Can I please just use the phone?”
“No, Laurie.” And the debate continues as I carry Ander into my bedroom to change out of my work clothes.
A few minutes later I hear a door shut and the house is quiet. She has left. I’m not sure how angry or frustrated she is. I didn’t look at her face beyond when I first came in the door.
After changing into a pair of black capris and teal tank top with “Angel” studded in silver across the chest, I leave the bedroom, and peek through her room and the window to where she was moving river rock on the front property. This is our attempt to give her a respectable way to earn some money.
She’s no where to be seen. She has apparently left and I know it will probably be 8 p.m. until she shows again, her nightly curfew.
I have 3 hours of anxiety-free home time.
Monday, March 2, 2009
slice of life: 3/2/09
I was challenged by a friend to join the Slice of Life Challenge and write a short "slice of life" entry on the blog each day. Here goes:
He must be awake. I hear bed springs squeaking rhythmically.
I open the door and the jumping stops, blue eyes watching me, waiting for a comment.
“Hi, ” I say.
“Hi.”
I move to the window to push aside the bright green and blue striped curtains to let the sun light the room. His eyes follow. I can tell he’s been up for some time, as there’s no sleep left in them and he doesn’t squint at the light coming through. I turn and walk cribside, reach down to pick him up and ask, as I give him a squeeze and lift at the same time, “Did you sleep good?”
“Yep.”
“Mommy’s eating breakfast. Do you want some breakfast?” I say as I carry him out from his room, kissing his head.
“Yep.”
We approach the kitchen and his perceptive ears hear the faucet on. He leans from my arms to peek around the wall.
“Da!”
“Good morning Ander.”
Ander responds with his own chatter, not quite having mastered “good morning.”
“Do you want some cereal?” I ask, heading through the kitchen to the pantry shelves.
“Yep.”
“Yes?”
“Yesh.” He squiggles out of my arms and drops to the floor to investigate his choices on the shelf at eye-level. I pull out the Cinnamon Life.
“No. No!” Ander says as he reaches for the Smart Start. This has been his choice the last few days. He even chose it for lunch the day before. He hugs the box to his chest and his under 2-foot frame carries it to the kitchen table. He places it on the table, reaching high, so his hands are free to help him pull and climb his way onto the chair.
I follow him through the kitchen, stopping at the cabinet with our dishes. “How about a green bowl? And a green spoon?”
“Yep.” Mental note to self: ask questions that aren’t yes or no answers.
He spots the orange Matchbox sportscar that I got him last night as a surprise. “Ca. Ca!” His version of car.
“Is that your new car?”
“Yep.” So much for mental notes…
I pour him a bowl of cereal and he asks for “Milk”.
Together we eat our cereal as he maneuvers the largest, most heaping spoonful of cereal that he can manage toward his mouth. It’s no use telling him small bites. One lesson at a time.
He must be awake. I hear bed springs squeaking rhythmically.
I open the door and the jumping stops, blue eyes watching me, waiting for a comment.
“Hi, ” I say.
“Hi.”
I move to the window to push aside the bright green and blue striped curtains to let the sun light the room. His eyes follow. I can tell he’s been up for some time, as there’s no sleep left in them and he doesn’t squint at the light coming through. I turn and walk cribside, reach down to pick him up and ask, as I give him a squeeze and lift at the same time, “Did you sleep good?”
“Yep.”
“Mommy’s eating breakfast. Do you want some breakfast?” I say as I carry him out from his room, kissing his head.
“Yep.”
We approach the kitchen and his perceptive ears hear the faucet on. He leans from my arms to peek around the wall.
“Da!”
“Good morning Ander.”
Ander responds with his own chatter, not quite having mastered “good morning.”
“Do you want some cereal?” I ask, heading through the kitchen to the pantry shelves.
“Yep.”
“Yes?”
“Yesh.” He squiggles out of my arms and drops to the floor to investigate his choices on the shelf at eye-level. I pull out the Cinnamon Life.
“No. No!” Ander says as he reaches for the Smart Start. This has been his choice the last few days. He even chose it for lunch the day before. He hugs the box to his chest and his under 2-foot frame carries it to the kitchen table. He places it on the table, reaching high, so his hands are free to help him pull and climb his way onto the chair.
I follow him through the kitchen, stopping at the cabinet with our dishes. “How about a green bowl? And a green spoon?”
“Yep.” Mental note to self: ask questions that aren’t yes or no answers.
He spots the orange Matchbox sportscar that I got him last night as a surprise. “Ca. Ca!” His version of car.
“Is that your new car?”
“Yep.” So much for mental notes…
I pour him a bowl of cereal and he asks for “Milk”.
Together we eat our cereal as he maneuvers the largest, most heaping spoonful of cereal that he can manage toward his mouth. It’s no use telling him small bites. One lesson at a time.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
L and her love
L and Matt met and started dating in December. They have been joined at the hip since, going every where together. The first photo is one she took with her camera in January and the second was taken at home in Feb. I'm sure there will be more to come in the future...
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