I Have 5 Years to Reach Enlightenment

Today is my friend Liz's 40th birthday. I don't think she will mind me telling you that, but she will be embarrassed by what I am about to say. Oh well.

Liz is my hero, and she has been since I was, oh, about 10 years old. She is deadly funny, a natural storyteller that could make you laugh your ass off while she described something as mundane as the weather. She is an amazing mother — raising with "love and logic" two kids of her own, the hundreds of others that become hers for a few weeks at a time each summer and advising the rest of us along the way. She's a great friend, the just-knows-you're-having-a-bad-day-using-her-powers-of-ESP kind of friend. But those aren't the reasons she's my hero.

Liz is a right person. She approaches the world with humor, humility, compassion and curiosity. When I think about the kind of person I want to be, it's somebody like Liz. Happy birthday, Mrs. G.

A Good Heart

A few weeks ago, I was having some shortness of breath, and went to my OB's office to get it checked out. The nurse took my pulse, then had another nurse come in to take it, then a third nurse, during which I said, "I know I'm not dead, but you guys are scaring me a little." Turns out they were just verifying that they'd all heard some "skipped beats."

They sent me to a cardiologist, who told me the so-called skipped beats were not actually skipped, but premature ventricular contractions, where the ventricle tries to initiate the heartbeat, interrupting the normal rhythm of the heart. He said it was a minor thing —  I could have had it my whole life, or it was stress and pregnancy-induced, or some combination of the three, and recommended I come back for a cardiac echo just to make sure my heart didn't have some underlying structural problem we should know about. He also suggested I relax and cut out caffeine. Ha and ha.

The cardiac echo revealed nothing more than a benign murmur ("Your heart is very strong") and the cardiologist sent me on my way ("See you when you're old, and maybe not even then.")

I am fine, and I am lucky.

Birds and the Bees Lesson #1: Where Babies Don't Come From

Please enjoy the first entry in what I am sure will be a series, to unfold over the coming six months. Warning: contains graphic, scientific and personal content.

So Jason informs me that he and Lucy were having a conversation about whether or not she will like Lemon (this is the name she has given Future Baby since I told her it was "about as big as a lemon").

Jason: "What if you don't like it? Can we put it back?"
Lucy: "NOOO, we can't put it back after it comes out."
Jason: "Why not?"
Lucy: "Because it won't go back in mom's butt."
Jason: "Oh."

Incredulous at the IMMATURITY of this conversation, I ask, "Did you tell her it's not coming out of my butt?!" Jason says, "No!" I say, "No?!" Jason says, "You tell her!"

So I do. Later that night, as I am tucking her into bed...
Me: "Lucy, you know the baby is not coming out of mom's butt, right?"
Lu: "That's where Alex told me it comes from."
Me: "Nope. Do you want to know where it will come from?"
Lu: "Uh huh."
Me: "My vagina."
Lu: "Oh."

In Case You're Why I Keep Referring to Myself as "Mama"

As in "Mama needs a cheeseburger" or "Damn, Mama's tired." It's because I am going to be a mama. Again.

Yes, it's true. At the end of August, there will be a new person living at our house. We are all excited, mostly Lucy. We told her Saturday before last and she kept wanting to see my belly, which she insisted was getting bigger (see cheeseburgers, above). Later that day, I was in the shower and she stuck her head in the bathroom to ask in a very grave voice, "Mom, how's the baby?" I replied, "Fine..." "Good," she said and shut the door.

When you next see her and she shares our news, please act surprised. She will likely say, "I have something VERY exciting to tell you! There's a baby in my mom's belly and it's just starting to grow in!" Just starting to grow in...like new grass or a bad haircut.

Back to School

Today Jason and I attended the new parent orientation at Highland Park Elementary School, where Lucy will be a kindergartner next year. Yes, a kindergartner.

I walked in the door of the 50-year-old elementary school and the distinct smells of cafeteria lunch and industrial cleaner transported me to Wooldridge Elementary, circa 1978. Ah, school. The cheery effort displayed on every wall. The little jackets on little hooks. The noise. I don't remember much from kindergarten except the eternal nap time, but by first grade, I was in love with school. The world was at once so small (studying the intricate details of the wood grain pattern of my desk) and so big (learning about the Iranian hostage crisis).

As unreal and scary as it is to imagine her in that big/small new world, the very school-ness of the place was comforting to me. She will love it as much as I did.

Superfluous

Tonight Lu was making a very complicated Valentine card for our friend Katie, and I asked her if she needed help with the glitter glue. She replied, "Nope, I've got it under control" and waved me away.

?

I just want you to know that when she later needed help spelling EVERY WORD of the note included in said valentine, I did not say, "Well, well, well, who's got it 'under control' now, smarty pants?" But I really wanted to.

Hey Little Carter

When I first met Melanie, she was a teenager. She talked to me about boys. In the 14 years since then, she has become a woman, my sister, a wife and now...a mother. And she is still talking to me about boys — one in particular:

He is the prettiest baby I have ever seen. I will tell him this his whole life and it will embarrass him when he gets older, but I won't care because I am his aunt and I am embarrassing. I also plan to tell his girlfriends and the other guys at soccer.

Tinkerbell, Santa Claus and God

As explained by Lu to Baga, who told Nini, who told me:

"Tinkerbell, Santa Claus and God all live far away.

Tinkerbell isn't that far — she just lives at Disneyland.

Santa Claus is really far, because he lives at the North Pole.

And God, he lives (gesturing wide with her arms) WAY, WAY far away in heaven. BUT (pointing to her heart) he is always in here."

Her theory sounds like it's only missing the part about how they all three walk into a bar. I have no idea where she comes up with this stuff. All I know is I have talked to her far more about Santa Claus than I have either Tinkerbell or God. She does seem to have them vaguely in the right order, if power is measured by distance. Or something.