My “crowning acheivement” for that day-- “surgery” on Y’s Dora doll. She arrived, on Yosie's second Christmas @home, with her hands firmly clasped around a bouquet of felt and satinroses, her arms tacked to her chest. Dora is pillowy and large and recently Yosie discovered that she would fit into clothes that Y herself has outgrown. Yosie had a particular dress picked out, but since her arms were tacked down the fit was ...difficult. I promised and promised to do this little task over the couple of days prior and well, I kind of... stumbled to it.
On our walk to the library for storytime, earlier in the AM, we discovered a large stick on the library sidewalk shaped just like a Y. Yosie thought it was novel and I suggested we keep it and hang it in her room. I suggested we might decorate it later in the day.
I must say, she was patient... “later in the day” finally came AFTER: Daddy came home early, lunch time, a thorough (and much needed) cleaning of the upstairs, with Y’s help (tho temporary, it was gratifying), and a little down-time for me to recover from the busy-ness of all of the above.
Even I was excited about the stick. I planned to wrap it in a variety of colors of embroidery floss. I think I saw s/t like that on Pinterest or Etsy and it looked simple enough for a 4 year old to help. I started at the base of the stick letter and showed Y the technique. I let her try to take over the section I started but since I am right-handed and she is a leftie, the direction that I was going made it difficult for her. So, I started her with a color of floss of her choice on the opposite end, with caution to be gentle, as the stick was somewhat flexible but more brittle than green. After about 5 min of work, I finished my section, and she was making progress with hers, but growing rapidly impatient and irritated. I decided to leave the stick to her, so that I would not be accidently tugging on the other end and interrupting her efforts in any way. I messed with the floss to keep myself available. The string got caught up several times and I helped her correct after her attempts were causing her to start harumphing and groaning and complaining. I wanted her to be able to solve it herself, but after several hangups, her frustration level had mounted so that her string was getting caught up more frequently.
It was difficult to watch her struggle, and I wondered if she felt I was hovering. I hate it when people hover over me, especially when I’m trying to figure something out. I got up and headed to the kitchen. Just as I crossed the threshhold, I heard a little sound that made me flinch- the snap of a twig. I quickly returned and asked what happened, though I knew immediately and vision confirmed my suspicion. The branch had split into 3 pcs at the joint. It was unsalvagable. She dissolved into tears of disappointment and grief and frustration. I held her a few minutes while she cried. I was sad myself. I thought about offering to go find another stick, but didn’t feel up to it. Instead, I distracted her with the “Dora Project”.
Undoing Dora hands was simple with the seam ripper, but her arms were sewn into the body of the torso. I snipped the fabric as close as possible to the seam, Y hovering nearby, caring for another doll. While I sewed the fabric of her arms together, she hung over my elbow so closely that I had to tell her several times to back away, as I was not certain that my emerging needle wouldn’t poke her in the eye!
Yosie asked several times why I had to do this and that, as I stitched. She asked about the dress she’d chosen for Dora--one made by her Mana (David’s mom)--and how it had been sewn. She claimed to have sewing skills. She told me how she’d pretended to give one of her friends @ daycare a shot. We talked how we should not be poking people with things, unless we have special permission-- as in, healthcare provider. Nurses give shots (she's had a few) and phlebtomists take blood-- she remembered our visit to the Children’s Hospital at the end of December for a blood draw to contribute to a study of children adopted from her country of birth. We talked about needles and how they are sharp. She declared she would be a phlebotimist when she grew up.
Did alot of cleaning. Vacuumed, wiped down, and mopped the upstairs. Much needed. Hadn’t been done in … months. *shame face*
Vacuumed the downstairs and David did the dishes last minute before we went out for a quick errand run: I dropped D and Y off @ the park while I grabbed some stuff @ Staples and the grocery.
Watched “Contagion” and drank a beer.
Day 4:
I worked. Nothing special that I can remember @ the moment...
Oh, wait, yeah ~ that was the day I started really feeling like crap. My sinuses were so congested, I was desperate for something, anything for relief. I finally asked for a recommendation from the doctor I work for. We had some samples of a couple types of nasal sprays, which he did not promise would give me immediate relief. I grasped @ hope and pumped my nostrils full. It was a little more tolerable by the time I got off work.
At lunch I went home and ate a bowl of cream of chicken soup and SIX slices of toast. READ: The Complete Stories, Flannery O’Connor
After work, I changed into my yoga workout clothes before I left thinking I would head directly to the studio, but I called home and changed my mind. I was early enough to meet Savana @ my house, where she would be dropping off her boys. David agreed to watch the boys since her in-laws were sick. Yosie was so excited about their impending visit she was literally bouncing everywhere when I got home.
Yoga was difficult because it’s hard to breathe deep when one side of your nose is stopped up with congestion. The 3 legged down-dog took me down, into child’s pose. I soldiered through tho. I wasn’t cured. Afterwards my belly started to hurt like I was being jabbed with a dozen little knives.
When I walked in the door @ home and asked how things had been David took me off-gaurd by immediately intoning “poorly”. Yosie was upstairs howling b/c she’d chosen the low road: hitting one of the boys and then flat out refusing to apologize.
Bedtime was quite a chore, and though I rocked her as usual there was no humming lullabies d/t stuffy nose and it didn’t last long d/t the intensifying belly pain.
After I came back downstairs, I ended up eating chips and salsa and somehow that was helpful.
Day 5:
Worked: Slow morning since doc was out. Caught up on miscellaneous paperwork and answered plenty of phone calls. Drank Vanilla Spice tea, second morning in a row, instead of coffee. Savored. Nose felt 25% better.
Free lunch thanks to drug reps: sandwiches, wraps, salads, chips, cookies. Grabbed a plate to go. Made the transfer between banks to pay the mortgage. Parked underneath the pine trees behind the several years vacant grocery, and finished what was left of lunch and responded to a text from a friend.
Busy afternoon (doc was in), but finished work surprisingly early. Providential, since D had to work late and I needed to be able to pick up Y by 5:30p. Y was the last kid there and she was getting her coat on but distracted by SpongeBob when I walked in. Mary was caring for her newborn grandson (the girl that turned out to be a boy) and I was freshly awed at the immaculate smallness of people so new.
When we arrived home, Y began took a purple glass rock from her coat pocket and called my attention to it’s prettiness. I soon realized her pockets were full of more of similar specimens. I asked if she’d been given permission to bring them home with her. She immediately admitted and excused her guilt because “they’re so pretty!”. I instructed her to get her shoes and coat back on, and maintained a cool temper through the ensuing outburst of defiance, reluctance and rage that lasted nearly all the way back to Mary’s. I grimly returned her to the door where she knocked and coerced inside. She clung to me, but followed through. Mary was very gracious. I hope we're done with that for awhile...
By bedtime I was exhausted.
I took some sinus cold med, drank part of a beer and fell asleep while watching "Cave of Forgotten Dreams" with David
Day 6:
Today @ some point, I learned that I am an amateur, at writing, because I love it, as a novelty, but I have no intent to commit my life to it. I need it though. I learned this from our present bathroom literature, the War of Art, which is some deep thinking shit (oh, how i love a pun...). I read no more than 4 pages at a time, which is good, cause I need some time to digest the facts about how I’m being foiled by Resistance. True, so true.
I gave Dr. Osterbur a hug good-bye @ our office party this evening. And Dr. Bowlin and his wife. So, there’s 3 to start the list of hugging 30 people I’ve never hugged before. To be fair, the hugs were rather formal, nothing like those super-squeezes the Richards kids give whenever they greet someone they even remotely like, still, formal hugs count. hmm. Who will be my next target?
Yosie asked me again about breasts while I was getting dressed for the party: Why do women have them? Will she have them? Why doesn't everyone (ie: men) have "fat boobies"? (I advised her to call them "breasts") Do Teenagers have them? sheesh. She was on a roll. I kept my answers basic and simple. She seemed satisfied, for the time being. I was quite amused, but kept my laughter in.
Yosie pushed me to the point of tears earlier today with her belligerance and defiance. It started before swim lessons, and nearly cost her that privilege, but her irritability and my frayed nerves were strung tight, though I thought provision of a snack for the short drive home would fend it off. When I wouldn't comply with her demands immediately when we arrived home (I don't even remember what they were now) she became enraged and declared she wished she had another mommy. I decided to let her see how much she’d hurt me. Texting a friend to vent during the process was really helpful for me. Later, Yosie cried with me, told me she loved me, we talked, and apologized and made peace as we snuggled on the couch and watched DragonTales together.
Yosie did a great job in swim lessons this AM. She’s looking more like she’s swimming instead of just barely fending off drowning.
I took a shower and made coffee before we left for swim lessons.
(i’m recording events backwards in time for Day 6, if it’s not apparent yet...)
I crawled out of bed @7:30am to answer Yosie’s repeated shouts, from the bathroom. I know I’m a mom, cuz I started my day wiping her butt, and I said “good morning” besides. *sigh*
Somewhere in there I read 2 pages of “The Complete Stories”.
It is way past bedtime.
Is “posting the first 30 days of 30” worth it?
