What is Attractive When You're Three

Last night on the way home from Pie's house, I was sitting in the back seat with Lu and Justin Timberlake's "Rock Your Body" came on. I LOVE JT. He is everything I wanted Michael Jackson to be in 1984. We sat in the back seat, both of us nodding our heads in the grooviest way two white girls can.

"Who sings this song, Mom?"
"Justin Timberlake. He's Mom's boyfriend."
"Why?"
"Because he is very handsome."

She thinks for a minute (maybe about what a boyfriend is, what handsome is, why I am even thinking such things when I am married to her father), then asks:

"Does he have a bike?"

Lucy the Brave


Last Monday, Lucy started a new Montessori school. It's more like real school, as opposed to the Montessori-leanining daycare she's been attending for the past year and a half. We loved her old school, but we were ready for her to move to something a little more structured, with smaller ratios and more instruction.

It felt like she was ready too, because she'd begun to have problems at the old school. On her last Thursday there (which ended up being her last day because she got sick), she BIT a kid because he wouldn't hold her hand like she'd asked him too. Her teacher explained that Lucy had always been bossy, but now that the other kids were getting to be more developed, they didn't like it. Lucy defended herself by saying that she asked him nicely and she had only bitten his shirt.

And so she escaped being a pariah by mere days. This fresh start has big, cheery classrooms (inside a seemingly abandoned, 60s-era strip mall). It has Spanish, gymnastics, karate and tennis. It has COMPUTERS (not unlike the ones I used to learn to program BASIC when I was nine, but still, computers). It has a school bus.

Lu started the week with great anticipation and a successful first day. But by Wednesday, she was scared of taking a nap. By Thursday, she was fretting and losing sleep over going to school at all. The kid had insomnia. She wanted me to rock her in the green chair and "just talk about school, okay?" I tried to ask questions and focus on the positive, but all she could tell me was that she didn't want to go to school, she didn't want to take a nap, and she didn't like the friends at the new school. She didn't want to talk about school, just to talk her way out of going. Her anxiety was heartbreaking.

Friday morning was hell. Our only comfort was that Mrs. Robinson, her gentle genius teacher, was able to calm her, and she made it through lunch. Saturday, she woke up happy and then she remembered...school. "I don't want to go to school!!!" Not Saturday, Sunday, Monday, never. She'd stay home by herself with her guys and Duck. "I won't be lonely, okay?"

Then Saturday night, she and Granny had a slumber party. Being away must have helped her get some perspective on the whole school thing. By Sunday, she was telling us she wanted to go to school and take a nap. She woke up this morning and said again that she wanted to go to school and take a nap. She said she didn't need to bring a Duck or anyone because she was really big. I told her she should have options: maybe we should take someone just in case. She decided on Baby Rosie.

"Babe, are you sure you don't want to take Duck?"
"I just want Baby Rosie. Duck and Stripe can stay in the car."
"But won't Baby Rosie be lonely? You should take Duck to keep her company."
"Then Stripe will be lonely in the car."
"I will take Stripe in the office with me."
"Duck and Stripe can be company at your office and I will be company with Baby Rosie."
"Okay."
"And when I get to school, I'll have Baby Rosie and I'll wear a big smiley face, because Mrs. Robinson wants to see a smiley face."

And she did. She said "Bye, Mom" and asked for hugs and kisses over and over again, with manic forced happiness masking her tears. I am not sure if she did it for my sake or her own, but watching her made me proud and sad. I realized why she wanted to leave Duck behind: it's hard to keep a stiff upper lip when you're sucking your thumb.

Um, Condi?

Not trying to get all "Fatal Attraction" on you. I'm just freaked out, you know? It's my vacation. I'm a voter. I need a vacation. Of course, I didn't vote for you, or anyone in your administration or general vicinity. Except Colin. You know you miss him. I do, too.

There's nothing you can do. I mean, I don't want to be all show-offy, like "my best friend is the secretary of state." Because you don't know me (except through our correspondence, which has meant SO MUCH to me).

I am having some kind of free speech epiphany here. I almost deleted this whole post about OUR FRIENDSHIP because it occurred to me to be afraid that my concerns about my much-needed Mexican vacation, as expressed to you, the Secretary of State, would be held against me in my passport renewal process. I hope that is not true. I have not had enough sleep. But things are going great, Neocons. We're good. All good. Go peace. Go passport.

Sincerely,
Barbara K. Donaho

Dear Madame Secretary,

I know you're just trying to do your best up there at the State Department. Keep the bad guys out and all that. And I know that my trip to Mexico is really low on your radar, what with Iran and the Scotland business.

But, Condi (mind if I call you Condi?), I am soooo low on the radar. Right? I just want to go to Mexico. I just want to lie on the beach, while my deserving husband plays 72 holes of golf. I have no bombs in my shoes (BECAUSE THEY'RE FLIPFLOPS). I am guessing that when the courier/expediter dude comes to Chicago tomorrow, he's not getting your signature or anything. I just wanted you to know about my situation. So, anyway, good luck in the Middle East.

LYLAS,
kate

Memo from the State Department: You Need a Current Passport to Go to Mexico

Or at least proof you have applied to renew your passport. Which you can't get until 7-10 days after you apply. Which is really inconvenient when you discover this 3 days before you need to leave for Mexico. So you might have to fly to Colorado, which is the only passport office accepting appointments. Or maybe, if you're lucky, you can pay someone a whole bunch of money to handle it for you. But you won't know until morning how it's going to work out.

The End of the Affair

Every morning at 7:37, for as long as I can remember, we've heard the strains of the Elmo's World song. Lu will stand at attention: what will Elmo be doing today (besides speaking about himself in the third person)?!! He's always having fun! He's the star of his own segment that takes up one-third of the show! Elmo epitomizes both toddler interests (bicycles, families, fish, cats, hurricanes) and the toddler superego (deep emotion, short attention span, intense self-focus, absent parents). Elmo has been Lu's idol, her guru, her BOYFRIEND.

Except she broke up with him today. Maybe she did not break up with him today, but like any slowly declining relationship, today was the day of clarity. The day of "Oh, by dating other people, you mean...dating people other than me."

Today, at 7:37, she said, "Turn this off. I wanna watch Dora." This, from a semi-sick child who would have previously used Elmo as a poultice on a wound if she could have.

Turn this off. The end. Goodbye. And don't let the door hit you on your furry red ass on the way out.

Used Vacuum: $5. Dignity: Priceless.

We had our first (and only) garage sale on Saturday. We lost $960 (when you consider the gross profit of $240, minus hours invested, based on a very conservative freelance potential of $75/hour). We also lost something much more valuable than money and time. OUR RESPECT FOR HUMANITY. I have some words to the wise about garage sales, some of which involve profanity (and make me sound like not a very nice person):

1. People will show up at 7:40 and lurk like annoyed vultures, even when your cute sign says "8 a.m.! No early birds!"
2. People will insult your stuff. To your face.
3. People will switch stickers and try to steal. Even if the item only costs a dollar to start with.
4. If it rains, people will want a discount because stuff is wet.
5. The bitch-ass manager of the vintage store where you paid a lot of money for the clothes will come and buy them back from you at a fraction of the price. The best ones.
6. Craigslist is the new garage sale. Invite the jerks to paw through your stuff on a one-to-one basis.

Scene from a garage sale:
Confused man wanders up at the end of the sale and inquires about the rusty, filthy sad mountain bike. Its price ($20) has fallen off and truly may be too much. I say, "Dude, it's your lucky day. Five bucks." He laughs in a polite, confused way and keeps shopping. He wanders back to me and asks about how old the bike is. He shops some more. He comes up and asks about how long the bike has been sitting outside. How to take the back wheel and derailer off. Finally, I say, "Dude, it's free. Just take it. You can have it." And he feels bad and says, "I feel bad. I'll give you a dollar." I hate him so much in this moment. I say, with feigned levity, "Hey man, I don't need your charity. What I need is for you to get this bike out of here." At which point Maggie advises him, "Um, I think she just wants you to stop talking to her."

All of you, stop talking to me. Yes, fifty cents is fine. No wait — for you, forget it. I would rather give it to Goodwill. I would rather watch it rot in my living room, shedding paint, staining my floor, scraping me with its rusty scales than sell it to you. Now leave. LEAVE.