What, write?

Here bloggy, bloggy, bloggy...

I almost forgot about you. We're moving this weekend into a new casa just down the street from a liquor store! (56th and Illinois). My back is broken from packing/moving boxes, and it seems to be affecting my typing skills as well. (Or is that the wine?)

Matt and I had a date tonight....met for drinks and dinner downtown. Wow, it felt like a date from times gone by: sweet.

Enter tumbleweed.

Sam is crawling, talking (mama, dada, baba), weighs 22 lbs and is so adorable! I miss him every night when he sleeps. Now that is love.

A black woman went crazy for Sam today at Trader Joe's, yelling, "He's perfect! He's flawless!" I whispered in Sam's ear, "She's a crazy person, don't worry." He smiled pretty for her. I don't get caught up in flawlessness, never have; I concentrate on songs and hugs.

False Advertising

The photo on the First Years child gate box, the one of the child happily smiling, peering through the gate while his mother is in the next room working, is highly deceptive and, for that matter, complete bunk.

As is evidenced while Sam lies on the other side of our First Years gate screaming bloody murder (perhaps practicing Lizzy Borden's ritual in the mirror when I'm not looking?) because my attention has been divided.

Alas.

I'm about to launch some "Mommy articles" and this is the beginning of the first. Hats off to me, my aching back, the number of Aleve I take each day and the fact that Sam let's me run with him in the rain. He's so cool.

Happy Mother's Day

My boys got up and greeted me on my first Mother's Day. Sam got me a very sweet card, and Matt took us all to brunch at Maggiano's, where, for $32 per person, you had a 6 course meal. It was ridiculously American in Little Italy, and we brought home 9 containers of food. Service was awful, and our little bus girl didn't speak a word of English. She came by after we'd been eating for about 4 minutes and said, "Take this away?" Matt replied, "In a few minutes..." She started picking our plates up and staggering them up her arm, because she had no idea what "in a few minutes meant," and Matt continued, "Or, now..."

I laughed so hard I cried. I felt badly because I think she knew I was laughing, but it was too funny to leave the laugh out.

I love my boys so much, and it's been a great Mother's Day; I just woke from a nap, and I may take another one later...

Happy Mother's Day to all the mothers.

Portnoy's Desire

We're moving again, to a GREAT house! I found this poem that Jeff wrote to me in high school, tucked away in a box. It's a variation of the book Portnoy's Complaint, by Philip Roth, and it still warms me to read...so sweet. And I am a complete pack rat.

Allow me to introduce myself
I'm Alexander Portnoy.
I'm every Jewish mother's dream
The proverbial "nice Jewish boy."

"Stay avay from dem shikses!"
Uncle Hymie used to say
As he gnashed on Grandma's creplach
In the old country way.

Mother and Father prefer I bring home
A "vitz" a "berg" or a "stein"
But my fancies have wandered of late
To a certain Joyce Balentine. ...(Jill Brooks) : )

Mother whines and rants and raves,
"A goy will never do!"
Father seems to understand
For he was once young, too.

What is in store for me in life?
What is my destiny?
Not a Catholic, not a Jew,
But this W-A-S-P.

It's hard to decide what I like best
Of this blue-eyed blushing rose;
Her pearly pink skin, her straight golden hair?
Or her flawless, bumpless nose?

Is she merely an image?
For she's just too good to be
Alas, with one marvelous touch
I feel reality.

And with her smile my heart burns bright
With an unquenchable fire
For this goy, this shikse girl,
My Blondie, my desire.

Jeff Grosfeld

Hands and Knees

I was tuning my banjo this morning, and Sam passed by my feet on all fours. He's mastered the mechanics of crawling; not bad for 7 months!

God, I just realized how much of a hillbilly I sounded like in that sentence. ; )

Two Points

That's how much Hillary was ahead in Indiana, and those Republican votes I knew were coming from Indy didn't matter. Shame on you D & D!

Go Barack! I didn't get a wink of sleep last night dreaming about you. ; )

The Sun'll Come Out Tomorrow

Tomorrow morning, Matt and I are going to the Broad Ripple Park Family Center with our 7-month-old boy and voting for Barack Obama. I feel such honor that it's coming down to my home state.

I heard Karl Rove bashing Obama, based on what Reverend Wright said about him.

Rove: the man who has created 5 million refugees and 1 million widows in Iraq speaks of democracy.

Will Sam someday be drafted?

I would laugh if I wasn't about to cry.

I believe in you, Obama. I have hope for our country and our children.

The Daily Recorder

My dad and stepmom have been reminding me for years that there's a lot of my junk in their garage attic. I've mulled it over, and decided it's time to sort through.

This week I found my old dolls: Jenny, Teddy, Raggedy Ann & Andy, a clown that my 7th-grade boyfriend Eric gave me, my journals circa 7th-12th grade and a recorder.

I gave the recorder to Sam saying: This comes into "play" around 5th grade...and you'll be prepared.

All of the stuff is still in my backseat. Tonight, while Matt and I were driving Sammy around in my car, Sam started his famous 7:00 p.m. meltdown. I reached in the backseat and produced the recorder that soothed him for 5 miles.

The C scale; Mary Had a Little Lamb; Oscar Peterson.

Oh, I blew well.

Sam quieted.

Matt said, "Holy Shit, that awful sound worked!" and I replied, "Of course it did, and I think I'll leave it in my car for such emergencies."

Matt said that he couldn't wait to see people mouthing, "Is that an actual recorder that woman is playing????"