Badgermama

egg journey
Originally uploaded by Liz Henry.

Glurge, or syrupy-dumb forwarded email, annoys me. Yesterday I got hate glurge from someone on my local mothers’ club mailing list. It pretends to be a call to action to save California public school systems from an evil plot to reprint every K-12 textbook, replacing the word “mom” with “sperm receiver” and the word “dad” with “sperm donor”. Because that’s just how radical our state government is! (?)

Dude. No self-respecting feminist queer would call bio-moms “sperm receivers”. We’d call them “egg producers,” with extensive disclaimers and complications. That was a joke, people… Anyway, the hate glurge needs contradicting, so if you see it, let people know it’s bull. (And point out that it’s made up on purpose to create misunderstanding.)

I sent a diplomatic reply to the group, debunking the hate glurge, pointing out that it’s hateful and manipulative, & linking to the real information and the text of the bill, California SB 1437, with analysis. It’s about positive role models and representation.

But over on the truly scary Concerned Women of America site, you can see a photo of a young girl (looking about 25, with prairie girl braids) who apparently opened her copy of “Fun with Phonics” to find herself looking at the GLBTQ equivalent of first tubgirl instead of, like, a sweet story of male penguins raising a baby penguin chick.

The thing is, I’m still mad as hell. Angry and sad.

Who believes this stuff? Who is really that dumb? Do they not have two brain cells to rub together? Are they really writing the Governor’s office in outrage – so that they can get tallied up as a tick mark on the “list of gullible idiots”? And what of the people who made up this piece of disingenuous propaganda?

My friend Ep sent her own reply to the list, telling it like it is and calling it what it is: “a particularly appalling piece of homophobic paranoia.” Hey, good cop and bad cop switched places! What happened? Why didn’t I rant? I’m so grateful that my friend did. We can always count on her cutting intelligence and her beautiful crankiness.

I’m feeling sad this week that I’m walking around in my own community with people who think I shouldn’t exist and shouldn’t be a parent. At the same time I find myself glad when they’re public with their hate, so I know who they are.

It gets me where it hurts. It would have made my life different to have had some positive images of gay and lesbian people in my education. (Not that I’m ungrateful to Martina Navratilova, Joan Jett, or Wendy and Lisa, icons of my early youth.)

These haters are saying to me – me personally – “I don’t want my children, or anyone’s children, to know you exist.” To those women who are bigoted and driven by fear, or to the ones who are just ignorant and don’t know any better, I want to ask them to talk to someone in PFLAG, in COLAGE, before they decide to diss other families.

me at the beach
Originally uploaded by Liz Henry.

I’m afraid it was obviously my underwear. At the beach in California when you packed for fog and it ends up 90 degrees, you just take off your pants. The beach could barely hold us as we ran around digging, building, climbing, splashing. Moomin started right in on an excellent fortress at the edge of the waterline, daring and businesslike, not at all like his reaction to the beach at the beginning of the summer. Sophie got into the moat to give herself a mud bath.

Just so you know what “packing for fog” means: two windbreakers, long underwear, short sleeved shirt, long sleeved shirt, flannel shirt, hats, hoodie, arm warmers, and extra socks.

Despite the warm harbor water and the pounding sun there’s a process of hotting up to go through. I go in up to my ankles, splash water onto my face, then go lie down for a while. Then up to knees and out to heat up and think about the water some more. Repeat… until critical hotness is reached. So finallyl when I was geared up to get all the way into the water, sweating, grubby, and desperate: I stepped on a fish. Stepping on a fish was everything I’d ever imagined it to be in years of beach-going and a head full of paranoia. It wriggled, it writhed, it was horrible and slippery, strong and alive, and I was terrified, screaming, hightailing it for solid ground, all within a tenth of a second.

I hope that a merciful veil of forgetfulness erases this incident from Moomin’s memory, or he’ll never ever go swimming in the ocean.

At some point Sophie found an enormous purple starfish washing up slowly onto the beach. Jo and Sophie were dubious, but I picked it up & was unable to contain my overenthusiasm as I ran around the beach in my grubby, sandy underwear like a scary little troll, demanding that everyone admire and pet the starfish. Then we climbed out onto the rocks and found it a home. “It’s a good thing everyone on the internet has already seen your underwear,” Jo commented helpfully.

tarzan and sabor, the lioness
Originally uploaded by Liz Henry.

The morning after BlogHer and WoolfCamp, I spent some time in bed with Moomin reading to me from a comic-book edition of Tarzan illustrated by Burne Hogarth. I love to hear his dramatic readings of purple prose; he sounds like an old-time radio announcer or a voiceover on a 70s superhero cartoon. This is probablly not an accident since I do play old radio Lone Ranger episodes (downloaded) and Rook watches a ton of cartoons off Netflix with him.

So it’s 7:30 am and I’m in the bottom bunk, curled up with a ton of stuffed animals, hearing:

As he drew the taut bowstring, the great cat sprang. The silvered missile leaped to meet her in mid-air. As quickly as Sabor hit the ground, Tarzan whirled and sank another shaft, and a third… lightninglike, struck her in the eye. In a screaming rage the onrushing body bore him down; but even as he fell, his powerful knife struck again and again before he realized his mighty adversary was dead.

A wave of exultation swept over Tarzan of the Apes.

I like to think that he is getting excellent lessons in prose style from this. Am I wrong? And will he like the Odyssey? I think so! It’s not far off!

Later I was trying to give him a pin from BlogHer, a little button with the dinosaur from Lulu.com. An extended conversation on “cool” followed.

“Mom, this is not cool. Not Cool. NOT COOL. It is CUTE.”

“But it’s still cool! It’s a dinosaur reading a book, for God’s sake! Look, I’m putting one on my backpack.”

“It is cute. It’s smiling. It is not MIGHTY.”

“How do you know? You can be mighty and still smile.”

“A mighty dinosaur does not know how to smile. It’s always stomping on things.”

“It might smile after it had a really really good day stomping on cities and eating people and fighting with other dinosaurs. It would be so happy and relaxed, afterwards, that it might smile and read a good book. It could be mighty sometimes and happy at others.”

“No. And I will tell you why. Mighty dinosaurs were before cities and people! Mom! You know that!”

“Yes… I did… just seeing if you were on your toes.”

If this makes us seem too fight-and-might obsessed… He is also strangely concerned with how he’s going to grow up and save manatees from motorboats. I’m not sure why manatees rather than something smaller and cuter – maybe because they’re huge and yet helpless, and they eat cabbages.

ears and horns
Originally uploaded by Liz Henry.

I wish I’d got her earlier!! It’s overwhelming!

I”m at the community-building workshop and we’re still throwing out ideas and questions. I think that then we’ll break into smaller groups to have more focused discussion!

Met Suzanne from CUSS!!! eeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!

People are taking my picture a lot because of the ears.

Nancy White and Lauren Gelman are talking… Lauren talking about how Blogher helped a lot of women in law school context learn about blogging & how to use blogging for their network.

Nancy and people hopping up to ask questions and bring up issues:
– what tools, tech
– defining boundaries of the blog and what it’s meant to do
– how to get people involved when they’re not up to speed technically
– what about legal aspects of community blogging around a brand
– Ariel: how to avoid burnout
– Leah Jones “accidentally jewish”. 2nd wave adoption. (what is that?)
–

a videoblogger from New Media Collective talks about people of color being underrepresented in media, online, etc new media collective all people of color

I wish people would say their names a lot… it’s easy to miss

Susannah Gardner talks about her community built around answering tech questions, “my community is inherently flawed”. she gets tech questions everywhere, in the pool, at the doctor’s office, “You know, during That Exam.” *laughter from everyone*

Nancy talks about her community she started for parents of kids in the NICU.

Pages with faq info … blogs under “share your story” Oh, 2nd wave means people who are only just now starting blogs and barely know what blogging is. Simplified blog interface with “web crossing” software – simplified it, designer made a beautiful interface. people responded to it, it was a warm and friendly interface. the community was invoved in the design process. they wanted to post picture. now there’s 750 blogs on the site. social issues come up. people only just realizing that maybe don’t post a naked photo of the toddler witih full name on it b/c years from now people will google it. not the digerati, still learning about these issues. community norm developed, no blog-hogging, blog around once a day. scalabilitiy. how to keep it a community and keep it intimate. we had significant psych problem people (made up stories) we have a team of health professionals and they do data lookup. to confirm. we have people who monitor if someone’s in crisis and they refer them to professionals in their area… to resources… people are living their lives on this.

Oh, there is a wiki for this group.

Oh very interesting Nancy talking about patterns in blog communities. what is the source, how did it start/grow.

– one blogger/blog?
– central connecting/topic/group
– boundaried community.

different dynamics of power/importance/distributedness depending on source…

who controls the tools?

heh, cool tshirt “stay at home blogger” from someone who just walked in.

***
breakout session.

I can’t hear a damn thing and people keep not introducing themselves. and we are not in a circle. and the group is still too big. the room in noisy. people don’t talk loud (of course)

Ecto mentioned

question from ?? about Blossom. a free host, java based. is it easy to use?

open source ones. Drupal, Plone. No one defends plone, or uses it.

We often choose a free tool b/c of having no money and then the tool doesn’t scale over time

edu blogger (who?) using Moodle –

Susannah suggests getting feedback, a focus group

how many of us have started a blog and then migrated it…

holy crap i am going to KILL EVERY MUMBLER… sorry people… speak up!!!!

[My 2 communities I’m thinking about…

Jess Ferris talks about moving from blogger to moveable type. Jess from chirky.com.

I speak up. but.. doh! forgot to introudce self. talked about feministsf. net and how we are using WP and mediawiki and phpbb etc. etc. not so scalable.

someone is talking aobut… expression engine… we have 8 different typepad accounts etc…. her clients now use expression enie and it’s great. it’s an blog tool and content management system. it lets you set up blogs with custom field. you can mess with templates easier than moveable type.

I have another request for the general public: hitch up your badge. the shoelace things are too long. tie a knot at the neck. they’re in everyone’s laps! i cant tell who anyone is!

woman in green sweater wetpaint.com wikis for bloggers. how much control members have, etc. levels of access controllable. ah! maria bennett.

i ask about basecamp . lots of peopel use it! and campfire and the other tools from that company. project management. someone is talking about to-do lists and group vacations. now she has all her passport info etc. and contact info and itenerary. for future trips, very useful.

susannah: y ou ahve a messaea area, milestones, files, wiki-ish thing called writeboard. time tracking feature, v. useful for project, freelancing. all web based. it’s secure. (lots of people are chiming in to say they like or use it. ) You can invite people into each specific project and there are different individual levels of access.

basecamp not reallyk a blogging tool but it’s a good intro for non bloggers, it has comments.

I talk about usin wiki for woolfcamp, feministsf.net wiki, we dont have clear community

Maria bennet talks about wiki and structure and problems … with it bein overwhelmedn the wiki has a very specific focus. yoga in marin. invaded by spammers. had to shut down the wiki.

debbie donovan. itsyourdecision… what? medical site, product. on blogspot as our tool. she volunteered for the project. boss said “we need a blog” this is about permanent birthcontrol. wha can we do to build traffic. we moved the blog up on the web pae and are starting to get traffic. we can’t link to people because the FDA says that it’s part of our labelling (?)

me: what about commenting… do they also regulate that? so, the fda regs interfere with your ability to do stuff with the blog…

*10 min break*

All These Gals in the Same Room!
Originally uploaded by Karianna.

I really love this photo – it captures what it felt like last night. We were all vivacious and bubbly, passing the babies around, talking non-stop, sipping our margaritas, and giggling. BlogHer is going to be a huge blast!

Karianna and I were talking about how much we all love to talk: we’re self selected to be opinionated loudmouths, who swim upstream against what we’re supposed to be doing . . . because mommyblogging really is a radical act. So being around each other in real life, it’s like the air is snapping with energy! Super amazing.

Woulda Coulda Dinnah
Originally uploaded by socalmom.

Notes (very condensed) from mommyblogger dinner, pre-pre-BlogHer:

– Toy (Lisa‘s friend, podcaster, action movie person) says to watch Top Warriors 2, a documentary about action movies. Also, any movie by Chi-ling (sp?). She also ragged on me to learn a martial art and do yoga and see some movies that aren’t from 1985. I promised to blog about Top Warriors 2. We talked about Hulk and Green Lantern and I told her about Promethea & that it would make a good movie.

– Donna, Mandajuice, Kari. Sat next to Kari and we talked about last year’s Blogher, Club Mom, autism/aspergers spectrum kids, then about The Unbloggable. What becomes unbloggable over time, who is reading your blog, etc. etc. And how we find ourselves telling things we need to talk about in baroque corners of the internet in the comments on other people’s blogs. Later I realized I totally knew Kari from comments, like from Koan’s blog, etc. Met Chris of big yellow house who has 7 kids. Lisa Stone. Elisa. Kristie Wells, Jen from Mommy Needs Coffee, Elkit, Mindy, Savtadotty, Gwendomama who I met at Woolfcamp, Socalmom, Jory. Talked with Jory about worky things and about writing. I would like to have a good long conversation with her about Everything, or a lot of them.

Kari and I also invented the Ultimate Blogger Tshirt, that would be one of those flexi-screen things like they keep trying to make for electronic newspapers or magazines, but with your own blog on it. “Blog on your Boobs!” (Because we kep tmeeting people and wanting to run off to our computers to look them up to see the REAL THEM.) Better yet… just have the flexiscreen with your rss reader… upside down so you can read blogs on your own shirt… handily. Like the vi cheat sheet shirt that I’ve always coveted. Anway. Kari rocks.

Talked About Everything Possible, Non Stop, All Night. Met Everyone.

That will keep happening for the next 4 days. Are you ready for it?

Ninjapoodles and Jeaneane Sessum can’t come at the last minute. SUCK… I will miss them!!!

Nakedjen and I got naked in the restaurant in a happy moment. And a fabulous setting. (Photos soon.) “Full nakedness! All joys are due to thee…” etc. Except not quite all joys. Jen’s going to Europe tomorrow and so will miss Blogher. She and I watched everyone try to leave and how they kept getting sucked back into a circle of everyone talking at once. It was beautiful to see !!!!

In the street with Mary, Grace, jenijen, and Squid, talking about books, “The Stolen Child”, Squid on about SIDS/Munchausen-by-proxy except not really and some cases in England where women were convicted on the expert testimony of one guy that having 3 babies in a row die of SIDS was impossible.

Jen told us an unbloggable story.

I decided that what I should do at blogher…or maybe woolfcamp… is tell and hear people’s unbloggable stories. What can we do with them? In a way… fiction… but only if you can fictionalize it enough. Kari and I talking about how weird it is that the most interesting complicated things are also the most hurtful to people closest to you or potentially so and yet it seems okay for total strangers to know them – problem is you don’t know who is strangers and who will remain so. Or, is that just weird? Is it a symptom of something unhealthy or wrong, that one wants to say unsayable things? Should they be so unsayable? What’s going on? I keep reading more and more Doris Lessing stories where her characters face exactly that.

If only i could remember all the other conversations!

I’ll try to go back and add links to this in the morning.

pose for mom
Originally uploaded by Liz Henry.

Moomin and Hamster played “dragonslayers” all afternoon. I was on the phone a lot with my mom, because my grandma fell, and had apparently been in a chair all night not able to walk, but too full of pride to go to the hospital, not admitting anything was wrong. The phone calls flew… everyone was kind of mad at everyone else… All tensions came to the fore. I am afraid I was not very “there” for Moomin and Hamster. “Mom I need tape!” “You know where to find it.” “Moomin’s mom, um, Badger! Where is the tinfoil!” “You guys can move chairs around in the kitchen and look in the cabinets. Improvise. I’m too busy.”

The crisis resolved somewhat when my mom made my grandfather call 911 for an ambulance. The depth of what was going on is just impossible to explain. My grandma is home now with some pain meds and a swollen hip, but no fracture.

In the evening I went to pick up Sophie and Eliz. from Squid‘s house, where Iz tried to make me take a stick of electric shock fake gum. I refused after she asked me if I were under 14, over 50, or had a pacemaker. OMG the mystery – how did I know!

On the ride back I enjoyed the kids saying that I had a “cool car”! We rolled down the windows and blasted the music, feeling deliciously naughty. We all described the ultimate cool car: this would be like a pimped-out James Bond Batmobile Chitty Chitty Bang Bang with a very loud thumping stereo. I deliberately drove past Eliz’s school while blasting The Ramones’ “Beat on the Brat”. She stuck out her tongue at the school. All very proper. I’m a good influence!

Eliz. then bossed us all around until we behaved appropriately to be the audience to her magic show, which lasted almost an hour. Sophie sang all the way through in a horrid off-key voice to the tune of “Oh What a Beautiful Morning”. Here is a sample verse that I ran in the house to write down:

I am a beautiful fat belly
i am a beautiful brain!
i am the beautiful guts of you,
i am a beautiful PAIN (in the neck)

Feats of memory (card tricks) and sleight of hand – Eliz was a good magician! I heard she’s teaching magic to the other kids for half an hour every day at her summer camp – the counselors figured out they could use her and it gives them a break! Everyone is so proud of her around here!

Now we’re watching Star Wars. More popsicles administered. I confess that during the pre-movie chaos, I meanly yelled “SHUT UP. EVERYONE, SHUT UP. Sophie, shut up.” Dead stop on all sides. Four children looked at me with their mouths open. “Why did you… how come you… you said ‘shut up’… to me… ” Sophie said as if in shock. “Because I’m rude.” “Oh.” *silence*

Yow! It worked! I’m a magician too!

homage to art frahm
Originally uploaded by Liz Henry.

As I was walking out of Whole Foods with two big bags of groceries I realized that a huge bunch of celery was sticking out of the top, and like magic, the lightbulb of Unwisdom went off over my head.

Hey! Wouldn’t it be cool if I posed like one of those Art Frahm pinup paintings, with my underwear around my ankles! No, no, it’s too much to ask a stranger to do in the parking lot of the grocery store. I’ll wait till I get home and then I’ll ask the Pilot to take a photo of it, because I’m really wearing the perfect outfit for it, though really a pointy-bra-ed a-line house dress would be better, but, the CELERY… But no, I couldn’t possibly…

When who should walk around the corner of the building but the Pilot! I explained. She would not let it drop. “No, no, clearly you have to do it. Have to. Here, stand over here in the sun…” Just off camera there is a guy getting into his minivan with his eyes popping out, which is also a traditional element of the Art Frahm grocery/celery/panty girl. She’s trapped by having to clutch that over-full bag of groceries, the celery works its magic, her skirt maybe flares up a bit in the breeze, there’s a guy in a uniform and a happy smile, and her underwear just falls down around her ankles. Actually, you can’t even dignify them with the name of “underwear”… they’re clearly “panties”.

Fellow mommybloggers, I leave you with this inspirational photo of extreme unwisdom and irreverence. Bwahahahah! I am the silliest!

lounge chair at the pool
Originally uploaded by Liz Henry.

The heat is still bad, but not as stunning as it was Saturday and Sunday. SuperT took me to the JCC pool – which was new! fancy! beautiful! huge! friendly! I spent a fair amount of time just gawking at the big outdoor pool with special shallow end, shallow enough even for Moomin to stand up in most of it; the separate toddler/kiddie pool; the indoor pool; the cafe with poolside window; the tiny playground right next to the pool.

There was an array of locker rooms. I am wont to make fun of uptight locker room rules. Yet… no, I don’t want to send my 6 year old kid alone into the men’s locker room, no way. This place had women’s room, and a special separate adults-only women’s room, where I kind of hoped the adult women-only action was happening, and then separate little family changing rooms.

The mom-crowd was quite diverse and I felt very comfortable! Unlike the creepy feeling I get at “Satan’s Pool” where if I’m not with the people I know aren’t members of the cult, I feel like someone’s going to lynch or convert me. And yet again, I wish like hell that this kind of wonderful place existed every few blocks, in every town, open to all… that’s why we have *government*… to make this sort of community center. Instead, the government sponsored places suck and the only nice facilities are all centered on religion. Why? Can’t people be passionate about government? Passionate and idealistic and community-focused? Without g*d coming into it? This will never stop annoying me as long as I live.

SuperT and I talked about the kids, other moms, BlogHer, Woolfcamp, Mac lipstick, her new job (yeah!), my recent job interviews, being cool playing moms vs. the moments of being loafing-moms in lounge chairs snapping at our kids to respect our personal space; and then she asked me, “So, what do you think of women’s fashion magazines?”

Full stop for the Badger…

What do I think of them? Do I have an articulate position? No… Well, they piss me off when I see them, mostly… and yet I still want to look. I hate the body-image negative stuff, and I hate the idea of pushing consumption…

“But lately… I like looking at what people wear and whether it looks cute… sooooo…. um….”

SuperT is looking at me like I’m a feminist guru… or like maybe she’s one…

“I have all these clothes from goodwill and garage sales… but then once I started to get richer, I realized sometimes expensive clothes are nicer, and last longer, and fit me… and… and…” I was sputtering lamely…. “So like, now I will totally buy a pair of 200 dollar shoes. I mean, I just did, the other day, because I had nothing else but 10 year old high heels, garage sale combat boots, and torn sneakers.”

We talked about how much is too much. Is it even ethical to own a million dollar house? How can we live this way? How much money are we wearing right at this moment? (Me: 20 bucks for bathing suit, at least 150 for prescription sunglasses, crocs probably 35-ish? and that mac lipstick. Which is a ridiculous amount of money to be wearing while at the pool.)

None of the world’s problems were solved during our decision that her style was “earthy elegant” and mine was “punky frivolity”. I declared my lifelong allegiance to armwarmers, no matter if they are in style or not.

Then we got into the pool and pretended to be dolphins trained by our kids, who rode us around until we all collapsed.

At some point, it was funny because we were both congratulating each other and ourselves for having the sweet, sensitive children… as Moomin quietly piped a request to Hamster, and Hamster replied sweetly, “Okay, why don’t you have this floatie, and I’ll have this other one…” Looking out for his smaller friend. “We can’t take the credit. They just came that way,” we said, both… rather smugly… “If we had other ones, they’d probably be hellions just to show it’s not our parenting.” Then 5 minutes later both children were screaming unattractively in our arms, Moomin insisting it was too sunny and he was cold, so I had to hold him in my lap, covered head to toe in a towel; Hamster who had mild sunburn around his eyes and who probably had some irritation from sunscreen, freaking about that. A little while of down time and they were back to normal. Ruefully… “Well that’s the flip side of the sweet sensitive ones… they can be a little too sensitive sometimes.” When our patience ran out we booted their asses to the playground.

The only thing this pool lacked… fancy cocktails. Even fake ones would be okay. I have high hopes for the pool parties at BlogHer!

action shot of quest
Originally uploaded by Liz Henry.

– Elemento, superhero wizard with water lasso, power over earth, air, fire, water

– Disastra, a magician with rainbow chain, utility belt, magic spells, and potions

– Oracula, who was born evil and yet can only predict good things; barbarian princess warrior of darkness

– Orphea, Oracula’s twin sister who was born good but only predicts doom; princess of light (Me)

Yes, we walked to Whole Foods dressed like this, for sodas and free cookies!

Spanglemonkey’s kids are wearing my high heels; gritty determination and vanity combined. They fight with swords & magic — in high heels and backwards like Ginger Rogers. Moomin lurked in the hammock doing announcements of our epic battles.

My ballgowns and costume jewelry (saved for years, waiting for just such occasions) were all over the floor — the “magic potion” materials still crapping up the kitchen, with soy sauce spattered all around — and at 8:30 last night I turned mean, nostrils flaring, eyes narrowed, hissing, “Clean it up NOW… or else. I am no longer your Fun Friend. I am a Mean Mom. Pajamas. Toothbrush. Pronto!”

Luckily they bought it, helped clean up, and then I switched to Nice Nurturing Mom to put them all to bed.

Droom and Iron Man
Originally uploaded by Liz Henry.

I love it that Moomin’s exclamations mostly come from comic books. I’ve heard him say in all seriousness:

– For Pete’s sake!
– What the . . . !
– Good grief!
– My stars!
– Suffering sharks! (Um, thanks, Aqualad)
– Holy mackerel!
– Holy smokes!
– In a jiffy!

There are more – all Silver Age wonders. Way better than him picking up on my own constant stream of boring profanity!

pink crocs, flowery skirt
Originally uploaded by Liz Henry.

Man, I hate it when people assume I’m a 22 year old tragi-heroic single mom without a lick of sense and that’s why my kid’s bones are showing through his skin.

On the one hand, I don’t want to sail under false colors and let them give me that weird “status” of being their pet adopted poor person that they’re so open-minded to talk to. It’s an icky politeness and over-interest, like they’ve got an extra invisible hand patting themselves on the back.

On the other hand, if I refer to ‘my husband’ or fail to evade questions about being a renter or an owner (always tossed out at me like, “So, are you in an apartment around here?” said as if the word “apartment” were prickly in the mouth and had to be grasped firm & brave so as not to sting)… Well, then I feel like I’m whipping out my privilege. And then it somehow gets me extra-complicated hate. Like if I’m that sort of person i.e. upper class stay at home, then I’m saying “fuck you” by letting my belly hang out and having goofy-ass hair . . . it’s like it’s a slap in the face to them. Why? When.. what the hell… I’m not going to dress up to walk 2 blocks to the playground and these fuckers are lucky I’m wearing underwear.

Those snooty haterating playground wenches always get to me, but I’m extra touchy because Moomin looks like a starving rat.

Blargh!

Normally I’m not so mean and hating on them! Seriously!

Today we played 567134871 games of Crazy Eights. I cheated madly to lose, which is harder than you think. Mostly I slipped the eights up my skirt. When he looked away, I’d stick them on top of the deck for him to pick. Question: Should I teach him to cheat and detect cheating, as I was taught? Or is that a bad legacy to pass on?

Are the playground wenches reading this and thinking “See! I knew she was a nasty piece of work. She teaches her kid to cheat at cards!”

Two (three?) days out of the hospital. He ate half a bagel, two pieces of Frosted Mini-Wheats, half an Odwalla juice, several nibbles of bread and butter and… the crowning glory… a whole plate of chicken nuggets. Has his appetite returned? OMG! Why didn’t the hospital give him IV nutrients?

My theory is that the more I force him to run around and ride his bike and quit lolling in the hammock reading comic books, the more he’ll eat. Since I’m naturally indolent this meant a slow walk/bike to the park where we laid on the slide together and made up stories about the slavering dragon-hound in the pit below (since we were in a supervillain’s lair, where there’s always a trap door and a slide to a monster pit) laying on a bed of gnawed-on bones, ready to pounce. “Mom, I’m ready for us to stop telling this story now. How about something else.” “No, man, it’s okay. The dragon-hound is chained to the wall, and you take a thorn out of its paw. It eats the crackers that were in your pocket and becomes your faithful pet.” “Oh! Oh yeah! That’s RIGHT! And then we go UP the slide and it defeats the evil villain! He looks like Dr. Doom! We’re going, ha-HA! GOTcha! We defeat him with the dragon-hound, and I call him… Droon. Not Droom, Droon. I’m made of metal like a robot. ”

This counts as healthy exercise, right?

I feel half-crazy after last week’s hospital heinosity. Can I please get over it already . . . I think I need therapy, or another large glass of good whiskey.

rice is nice
Originally uploaded by Liz Henry.

The old Batman action figure, who broke long ago and whose knee is secured by a tiny screw, to the new Batman action figure:

I’m from the future, and I’m really you, and, my leg is a robot leg, and my machines are going to take over Gotham City.

Future robotic evil machine-loving Batman then duked it out with his alter ego.

I played along with this – I was the Crazy Cat Lady and her War Kittens – and then got up to fix Moomin some dinner. Came back and made the cyber-batman say “Hey, I smell rice!” New Batman was like “No way, get away from MY rice.” “No, rice is my favorite!” “Hey, me too. Maybe we ARE the same guy!” “That’s what I said, I’m from your future! I Am You!“

Then real-Moomin stepped in to tell them both, “Get away from my rice! I’m stuffing you both under this pillow and squashing you together with the Crazy Cat Lady until I’m done eating!”

It’s so great to see him with an appetite!

The laughing is nice too. I keep saying “butt” to make him laugh!

Instead of sleeping while he slept, I weeded the garden with my mom and went to lunch with Debbie… and then hung out with Mammamer & Bri and their kid in the sandbox, Bri being very funny with the “sand alligator whose weakness is…. SAND!”

Company! Rook and I barely saw each other this last week, and I had no adults to talk with. It was great to see people who weren’t wearing scrubs!

milo and grandma
Originally uploaded by not halfway there.

Me having to do something horrid and saying “I’m so, so, sorry, this is going to hurt, but we have to do this so you can get better.” And Moomin’s tiny voice through sobs going, “I know Mom. Thank you,” but the “thank you” turning into a scream.

That was horrible beyond compare. I thought of all the parents who go through that kind of scene daily, whose kids have chronic problems and suffer terribly. Moomin’s cousin has been through so much!

Anyway, things are looking up. My mom called last night, offering to fly out and help. Sometimes her help just makes me more tense, but then I started to cry a little with relief. I felt a weird euphoria, because I knew she’d really help, sticking through the whole scene and taking a huge weight off my shoulders.

We expected to go home first thing in the morning. By noon the doctor’s gloomy predictions that it would be one more night were coming true. I was falling apart, even though my mom was there. Though she was helping, I still had to be on top of everything, to talk to doctors and nurses, to help decide whether to go home or not.

At home, unravelling or un-knotting, melting or falling apart, giving over responsibility to my mom, reverting to a drifting sullen teenager, grateful, hiding in my room . . . and then finally Rook got here and everything felt right again. It was worst when I would come home from the hospital to an empty house to catch guilty moments of drugged sleep interrupted only by nightmares that I was waking up.

Moomin’s so relieved. He can get around. No more tubes anywhere. We read in his “How Our Bodies Work, How We Grow” book about intestines, the stomach, blood, blood vessels, and lungs. I hope it helps him understand what happened. At least on the physical level if not on the level of “why do people suffer”.

Now, for the next few days I have the luxury of falling apart. A little hiding in my room, crying, sounds like a marvellous vacation from being the Person Who Gently Gives the Horrible Medicine and Holds You Down for the Insertion of Needles While You’re Out of Your Mind on Pain and Drugs and Then Chews Out Doctors with Cold Fury While Demanding More Pain Meds and Popsicles.

I’m grateful to the hospital for saving his life by removing his appendix, but I hate the hospital for injuring him further and for giving him a secondary infection . . . careless, & callous.

It’s good to be home.