I just spent the last half hour painstakingly gathering up the ripped pieces of a page from Clifford's Puppy Days, which were shoved between Owen's mattress and the wall. I then put them together like a jigsaw puzzle and connected them with Scotch tape.
Let's just say that someone got a lecture on the importance of taking care of books; especially library books.
Thursday, June 30, 2005
Friday, June 24, 2005
My first (non C-section) stitches!
The latest news is that I sliced my finger on a white board (yes, the kind you write phone messages on, and no, I didn't think it was possible either).
I had to get four stitches. They don't come out for another week, and until then, it's too hard to blog as I can't hit letter "d" or "e" without pain. More to come...
I had to get four stitches. They don't come out for another week, and until then, it's too hard to blog as I can't hit letter "d" or "e" without pain. More to come...
Thursday, June 16, 2005
Why I Love L.A.
After five years of thick smog, suicide-inducing traffic and blazing sunshine, I have decided that I love L.A.
I wasn't always such a fan. It took several years for this Midwesterner to get used to cramped (comparatively) living conditions, parking disputes and homeless people going through my dumpster.
But now I say, bring it on.
Yes, living on top of your neighbors can be annoying. I get to hear the old lady next door carrying on full conversations with her cat. I get to hear the teenager on the other side of my patio screaming at her parents and sisters each night. The college professor in the apartment behind us has several screeching birds. In addition, there are endless disputes over where cars are parked in relation to dumpsters, garbage cans and other cars. The placement of a couple of recycling bins in conjunction some burning sage caused two of my neighbors to hate each other until one finally moved out (they used to have radio wars where Spanish-language pop music and Indian tribal chants crept up in volume hour by hour until both were so loud that even hearing one of them would have been annoying, let alone both at once).
However, the advantage is that in my neighborhood, we all know each other because it's impossible to avoid it. The kids all play together in Mary Lou's apartment's backyard or ride their trikes up and down the sidewalk. They run over to Vicki's (nice older lady) house to play with her dogs. They eat ice cream at the Provenzano's house and have a teenaged babysitter (Chelsea) living across the way. When we leave for a weekend, we have dozens of folks keeping an eye on our apartment. When a hit and run driver smashed into our neighbor's car a few years ago, fifteen or twenty people came out of their apartments to see what the damage was, and several of them actually pursued the driver and cornered him until the police came. I feel a strong sense of community with my neighbors that I never had in the (supposedly friendlier) Midwest, where large homes and expansive yards keep neighbors from ever having to interact.
Living in a small apartment as opposed to a big, Midwestern style home can also be annoying. Sometimes I feel like there's no place to escape from the kids and vice versa. Even when they're sleeping, they're still no more than a twenty feet away at the farthest and it will only get worse as they get older, bigger, louder and more independent. When Stewart was a tiny baby his "room" was the bathroom. Yes, we actually set up a playpen in there where he slept for the first six months of his life. It sounds crazy but there was no place else to put him- we didn't want him to wake Owen up constantly, and we didn't want him in our room because it was impossible for us to sleep. The living room wasn't an option unless we wanted to spend our entire evening in the bedroom, tiptoeing to the kitchen for snacks and drinks, forgoing TiVo for night after night.
However, the longer I live here, the more I appreciate what living in a small space does for you. For one thing, it pushes you to be organized. You don't keep garbage because you don't have room. Anything that comes into the house is instantly sorted and filed or thrown away- if we're not using it, it's gone. I would never have had the discipline to be so organized if it wasn't a VITAL part of squeezing four people and a dog into a two bedroom apartment less than 1000 square feet.
Another advantage to living small is less waste. We aren't very materialistic because there's simply no room to store excess goods. We don't go out and buy things because they're on sale or because they match the living room or just for the fun of collecting. We don't have room for anything that's not functional- most things purely decorative were tossed or stored long ago. If we lived in a large house, however, with plenty of extra rooms just for storing crap, I shudder to think how much unnecessary crap we would have bought. And really, how much room does a family really need?
Everyone needs a place to sleep. Some clothes. A place for dishes and food. Some toys and possessions. You don't need 4,000 square feet for that. You just don't.
Living in a small space also gets you out into the world. When you have a huge, comfortable house, beautifully decorated and full of amenities, it's natural to want to hang out there. But living in a rent-controlled apartment provokes outings- in fact, other than naptime and bedtime, we don't usually spend more than an hour at a time in the apartment. Why? Because it's BORING in here, that's why! Life goes on outside, at parks, libraries, cultural centers. I take the kids for long walks, bus rides, trips to the mall for the sole purpose of riding the escalator. We're two miles from the beach, a couple of more miles from the Santa Monica Mountains and Malibu, fifteen miles from the L.A. Zoo, and are surrounded by National, State and municipal parks of all types. Weekends in L.A. lay before me like adventures waiting to be had, whether they are urban adventures like riding the L.A. subway and exploring the old skyscrapers of the Financial District or adventures in nature- peering into the tidepools of Leo Carillo Beach to see crabs and starfish or hiking into Los Padres National Forest- all easy trips within a forty minute drive.
And the best part is, the weather is ALWAYS cooperative. Can you think of a better way to live?
I can't. Which is why I embrace the almost oppressive quality of the July sun, sit happily in traffic (mostly) and sort the redeemable bottles and cans for the dumpster diving homeless.
They say L.A. is a city you either love or hate, but in my opinion, L.A. is a city you both love AND hate in equal measure, but once it gets under your skin, it's hard to imagine life anyplace else.
I wasn't always such a fan. It took several years for this Midwesterner to get used to cramped (comparatively) living conditions, parking disputes and homeless people going through my dumpster.
But now I say, bring it on.
Yes, living on top of your neighbors can be annoying. I get to hear the old lady next door carrying on full conversations with her cat. I get to hear the teenager on the other side of my patio screaming at her parents and sisters each night. The college professor in the apartment behind us has several screeching birds. In addition, there are endless disputes over where cars are parked in relation to dumpsters, garbage cans and other cars. The placement of a couple of recycling bins in conjunction some burning sage caused two of my neighbors to hate each other until one finally moved out (they used to have radio wars where Spanish-language pop music and Indian tribal chants crept up in volume hour by hour until both were so loud that even hearing one of them would have been annoying, let alone both at once).
However, the advantage is that in my neighborhood, we all know each other because it's impossible to avoid it. The kids all play together in Mary Lou's apartment's backyard or ride their trikes up and down the sidewalk. They run over to Vicki's (nice older lady) house to play with her dogs. They eat ice cream at the Provenzano's house and have a teenaged babysitter (Chelsea) living across the way. When we leave for a weekend, we have dozens of folks keeping an eye on our apartment. When a hit and run driver smashed into our neighbor's car a few years ago, fifteen or twenty people came out of their apartments to see what the damage was, and several of them actually pursued the driver and cornered him until the police came. I feel a strong sense of community with my neighbors that I never had in the (supposedly friendlier) Midwest, where large homes and expansive yards keep neighbors from ever having to interact.
Living in a small apartment as opposed to a big, Midwestern style home can also be annoying. Sometimes I feel like there's no place to escape from the kids and vice versa. Even when they're sleeping, they're still no more than a twenty feet away at the farthest and it will only get worse as they get older, bigger, louder and more independent. When Stewart was a tiny baby his "room" was the bathroom. Yes, we actually set up a playpen in there where he slept for the first six months of his life. It sounds crazy but there was no place else to put him- we didn't want him to wake Owen up constantly, and we didn't want him in our room because it was impossible for us to sleep. The living room wasn't an option unless we wanted to spend our entire evening in the bedroom, tiptoeing to the kitchen for snacks and drinks, forgoing TiVo for night after night.
However, the longer I live here, the more I appreciate what living in a small space does for you. For one thing, it pushes you to be organized. You don't keep garbage because you don't have room. Anything that comes into the house is instantly sorted and filed or thrown away- if we're not using it, it's gone. I would never have had the discipline to be so organized if it wasn't a VITAL part of squeezing four people and a dog into a two bedroom apartment less than 1000 square feet.
Another advantage to living small is less waste. We aren't very materialistic because there's simply no room to store excess goods. We don't go out and buy things because they're on sale or because they match the living room or just for the fun of collecting. We don't have room for anything that's not functional- most things purely decorative were tossed or stored long ago. If we lived in a large house, however, with plenty of extra rooms just for storing crap, I shudder to think how much unnecessary crap we would have bought. And really, how much room does a family really need?
Everyone needs a place to sleep. Some clothes. A place for dishes and food. Some toys and possessions. You don't need 4,000 square feet for that. You just don't.
Living in a small space also gets you out into the world. When you have a huge, comfortable house, beautifully decorated and full of amenities, it's natural to want to hang out there. But living in a rent-controlled apartment provokes outings- in fact, other than naptime and bedtime, we don't usually spend more than an hour at a time in the apartment. Why? Because it's BORING in here, that's why! Life goes on outside, at parks, libraries, cultural centers. I take the kids for long walks, bus rides, trips to the mall for the sole purpose of riding the escalator. We're two miles from the beach, a couple of more miles from the Santa Monica Mountains and Malibu, fifteen miles from the L.A. Zoo, and are surrounded by National, State and municipal parks of all types. Weekends in L.A. lay before me like adventures waiting to be had, whether they are urban adventures like riding the L.A. subway and exploring the old skyscrapers of the Financial District or adventures in nature- peering into the tidepools of Leo Carillo Beach to see crabs and starfish or hiking into Los Padres National Forest- all easy trips within a forty minute drive.
And the best part is, the weather is ALWAYS cooperative. Can you think of a better way to live?
I can't. Which is why I embrace the almost oppressive quality of the July sun, sit happily in traffic (mostly) and sort the redeemable bottles and cans for the dumpster diving homeless.
They say L.A. is a city you either love or hate, but in my opinion, L.A. is a city you both love AND hate in equal measure, but once it gets under your skin, it's hard to imagine life anyplace else.
Monday, June 13, 2005
RUDE PEOPLE UPDATE
So I was waiting at a stoplight to cross the street, holding Stewart up so he could push the walk button, when this old lady hustles up to me and yells, "Would you just push the button or else let me get in here???? GOD ALMIGHTY!!!!" Then she thrusts her fist between Stewart and the light to get at the button.
Can I just tell you how much effort it took not to push her into traffic?
Then after we crossed the street, I ended up following her because we were going the same direction.
Apparently she could feel my stroller behind her because she got off the sidewalk with a huge dramatic sigh as if I were SO INCONVENIENCING her by simply existing. As I passed her she glared at me as if I were the scum of the Earth! And I hadn't said any of the things to her that I was DYING to.
I gave her a big smile and said "Thank you," and she glared right back at me.
I mean, seriously, what a BITCH! I tried to take a few deep breaths and "let it go" like the yoga instructor at Bally says.
But I still kinda want to hunt her down and have it out.
Oh, speaking of Bally's- there was this awesome guy in strength training class on Friday night.
The strength training class is kind of like aerobics, but instead of cardio it's working with free weights for muscle definition. But like aerobics, it does take a certain amount of coordination and rhythm.
Well, there was this guy there who just totally ignored the teacher the whole time and did bicep curls. Literally for the entire class. We'd be lunging- he'd be doing bicep curls. We'd lay down for sit-ups- he'd be doing bicep curls. I kind of respected it in a way.
Can I just tell you how much effort it took not to push her into traffic?
Then after we crossed the street, I ended up following her because we were going the same direction.
Apparently she could feel my stroller behind her because she got off the sidewalk with a huge dramatic sigh as if I were SO INCONVENIENCING her by simply existing. As I passed her she glared at me as if I were the scum of the Earth! And I hadn't said any of the things to her that I was DYING to.
I gave her a big smile and said "Thank you," and she glared right back at me.
I mean, seriously, what a BITCH! I tried to take a few deep breaths and "let it go" like the yoga instructor at Bally says.
But I still kinda want to hunt her down and have it out.
Oh, speaking of Bally's- there was this awesome guy in strength training class on Friday night.
The strength training class is kind of like aerobics, but instead of cardio it's working with free weights for muscle definition. But like aerobics, it does take a certain amount of coordination and rhythm.
Well, there was this guy there who just totally ignored the teacher the whole time and did bicep curls. Literally for the entire class. We'd be lunging- he'd be doing bicep curls. We'd lay down for sit-ups- he'd be doing bicep curls. I kind of respected it in a way.
Saturday, June 04, 2005
Volatile
I've noticed that as I get older, I get more and more stupidly confrontational.
I think it's because I expend so much patience on the kids that I have none left for rude people elsewhere.
I try so hard not only to be patient with the boys, but also to set an example of patience for them by being polite and cheerful when I'm waiting in line or resolving problems.
In addition, I think I make an effort to be friendly with everyone when walking in the neighborhood or playing at the park.
That's why I've just about had it with being treated disrespectfully.
I seriously almost had it out with an old guy at the hardware store last month, because as the cashier was looking up the sku for play sand for me, he was fidgeting and sighing SO DRAMATICALLY that I wanted to smack him in the face.
It literally took her about 45 seconds to look up the number. Plus, it's not like I didn't wait in line with everyone else! I wasn't about to leave without what I came for.
I also was called a "fucking bitch" by a nanny in the park, I think because I told her little brat not to push other kids, after he did it like five times without her saying anything (which I did in a very nice way- "Don't push honey, it's not nice"- something along those lines).
I also was harassed by a bag lady while walking with Mary Lou- she was screaming "Your baby is hanging out of the stroller! (not true) Go 'head, see if I care! It ain't my baby! I KNOW you wouldn't invite me to dinner..." insert various crazy talk.
Okay, I know she was crazy. I know. I know I shouldn't get angry about it, I should be feeling sorry for her or praying for her like a good Christian.
But how immature am I? I wanted to tell her to shut her fucking trap and let me walk down the sidewalk in peace.
I didn't of course, but what bothers me is how badly I wanted it!
What is wrong with me?
I think it's because I expend so much patience on the kids that I have none left for rude people elsewhere.
I try so hard not only to be patient with the boys, but also to set an example of patience for them by being polite and cheerful when I'm waiting in line or resolving problems.
In addition, I think I make an effort to be friendly with everyone when walking in the neighborhood or playing at the park.
That's why I've just about had it with being treated disrespectfully.
I seriously almost had it out with an old guy at the hardware store last month, because as the cashier was looking up the sku for play sand for me, he was fidgeting and sighing SO DRAMATICALLY that I wanted to smack him in the face.
It literally took her about 45 seconds to look up the number. Plus, it's not like I didn't wait in line with everyone else! I wasn't about to leave without what I came for.
I also was called a "fucking bitch" by a nanny in the park, I think because I told her little brat not to push other kids, after he did it like five times without her saying anything (which I did in a very nice way- "Don't push honey, it's not nice"- something along those lines).
I also was harassed by a bag lady while walking with Mary Lou- she was screaming "Your baby is hanging out of the stroller! (not true) Go 'head, see if I care! It ain't my baby! I KNOW you wouldn't invite me to dinner..." insert various crazy talk.
Okay, I know she was crazy. I know. I know I shouldn't get angry about it, I should be feeling sorry for her or praying for her like a good Christian.
But how immature am I? I wanted to tell her to shut her fucking trap and let me walk down the sidewalk in peace.
I didn't of course, but what bothers me is how badly I wanted it!
What is wrong with me?
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