I Am Still Alive

Quick, semi-embarrassing fact about myself: I sent an application to be on MTV's "The Real World" after the debut season. It was the springtime before college, and I thought it would be a totally fantastic experience, based on what I saw of the NYC crew. I still think that first run was great as an experiment, it was pretty entertaining, and the people were mostly just themselves and not shoved into roles yet or playing out manufactured drama for the camera. In my 18-year-old brain, getting on the show was a shot at trying out independence in an unknown city at the network's expense. I am thankful that I wasn't interesting enough to make the cut because, yikes, check out what that show got started (also that LA season was turrible). As much as I lament that I didn't seize on my imaginary potential to be a dancer/singer/aerialist/whatnot, I never had an impulse to be really famous - not that kind of famous, anyway. I'd love to be, for example, author-famous, where you get name recognition, maybe some critical respect, decent earnings, but people only rarely spot you on the street. I'm detracting from what made me want to write about this at all, though, which is that MTV ran a couple of old seasons over the past weekend to celebrate the 20th anniversary of the show (ugh, don't even), and I caught a few bits.

I remember so well that first cast, and that Sunday afternoon I got my mom and friend Tanya sucked into a marathon, leaving our French project untouched and prompting my mother to declare herself president of Norm's fanclub (she was the first gay-rights activist in my life). There were no Eric Nies fans in the house. Re-viewing as an adult, it was so quaint and cute. Everyone had their own thing going on. Eric sucked as much as I remembered. The network ran some other seasons during the night, and I started to watch the Las Vegas one but just couldn't. I remember watching it upon the original airing, but no. No. That's the trash we've come to expect from reality television. We all might have been better off if Jello Biafra had gotten his wish oh so long ago.

But it's time to live in the now: Eastertime! Family! A hip-hop show! The approaching weekend is already one for the books.

Judge Judy and Executioner

I'm pretty easygoing, as a rule. I tend to mind my business and appreciate when others do the same. But I'm also judgmental. I don't want to be. I don't mean to be. But I am, and always about the same types of things. Heads up, Ima judge you, harsh, if:

- you litter. Good people don't litter. Period.

- you refer to your child as a little prince or princess on a regular basis. That's obnoxious.

- you have a problem with homosexuality for any reason including religion. Especially religion.

- you can't pay for BLANK essential, but you find a way to afford a pack of cigarettes (to be clear I'm not opening this up as a debate whether, say, our welfare system is flawed, just saying maybe it's time to quit).

- you ride a bicycle in the city, which is awesome, but pick and choose which laws to obey. You guys who don't stop at lights and stop signs are killing me.

- you are suspicious of intellectualism, or think emphasis on smahts is something to be feared or ridiculed.

- you get defensive when people disagree with you about art. Sure I might be fixing to tap my miniature internal gavel if you say you don't like the Pixies, but in general I won't be mad at you or take it personally if we don't like the same things. Passion for a subject is one thing, bullheadedness is another.

- you have poor time management skills. Being late every once in awhile is understandable, but all the time is indicative of a larger problem, like maybe you don't value anyone else's time.

- you name your kid something straight up dumb, or something nice but with a whacked-out spelling. Again, this is something that is none of my concern, and part of the reason I never speculated on names with anyone before HR was born was because I didn't want input, but I am side-eyeing people's choices all over the damn sphere. I LIKE that people have the freedom to name their offspring whatever and wouldn't want to have that taken away. It's just that I can't always handle what the whatever entails. And that's my own problem.

I do have a million issues with parenting-specific things, but 1) most decent people share those hang-ups as they are the ones that put kids in danger to some extent (ex. - not watching your kid at the playground AGGHH) and 2) as soon as I judge someone on something, I'm going to end up being guilty of it, so I don't feel the need to elaborate and shoot my foot in advance.

In general, if you behave in a way that doesn't show basic consideration for people besides yourself, I don't like you. In case needing to be liked by me was a thing to be crossed off on your life aspiration poster. I've got a lot more that either don't immediately come to mind or that you don't need to know, but I feel this list was comprehensive enough. Even as I put an emphasis on positivity, it can be refreshing to dip a toe in the curmudgeonly end of the pool. Jump in!

Also, Marriage Equality. Honestly, Who's Not On Board?

Happy Passover, if that's your thing. We had a nice seder yesterday, hosted by Mike's brother's family, and though he ended the evening with an overtired meltdown, HR had a blast with his cousins. He turned up his nose at all the amazing food that wasn't hard boiled eggs or dessert, but you know and I know by now that toddlers are weird. I was happy to eat his share and enjoy the fine company. And now we begin the countdown to Easter candy. If you think food is my religion, you are probably not too far off.

This morning HR took it upon himself to use the potty. He didn't say, "hey Ma, get me on the toilet," or anything, but he was open to my suggestion, did his business, and did not demand a reward after. I was pretty shocked, myself. I do not think this in any way indicates that he's even close to trained, but it showed an awareness that's very encouraging. I haven't even thought about stressing out in regard to potty training, he just didn't present as ready to me so what was the point? But this feels like less of a one-off fluke than the beginning of something. (ETA: as I was getting ready to hit publish, I got a call from home notifying me that we've had another successful potty experience. So, that's pretty cool.) I just realized he'll be three a month from tomorrow. Three, that is a very substantial age, so strange to look at on paper or in my mind's eye. 3? I don't even know what to make of it. Obviously it's great, I'm so lucky for every year. But wow, did that go fast.

I'm feeling pretty rooted in nostalgia topped off with a dollop of spring fever today, so here's a song that reminds me of my semester abroad (mmmph years ago). I think I don't actually like this, but it makes me smile to hear it.

Movies! I Watched Some.

And now for another installment of... Movies from Two Years Ago I Only Just Watched This Year. I've been on a real hot streak, though. Here's the bi-weekly round-up:

Your Sister's Sister - Forget not watching this. Everyone is amazing and I loved it so. I won't tell you anything about the plot or anything that happens, and you'll be glad not to know. Mark Duplass is in it, which is an automatic gold star.  Rosemarie DeWitt, as always, was perfect. Emily Blunt was a revelation to me, I feel like she would be a blast in real life.

Attack the Block - Fun! Hilarious! Adorable! Kind of gross! Not for everyone for sure, but if you have a soft spot for alien invasion movies (meh), British teens (oh, yah) or Nick Frost (who doesn't?), check it out. I was surprised by how much I enjoyed it.

Martha Marcy May Marlene - Everything I read about this one warned that it would creep me out and I was like, what? This is pretty straightforward, I feel totally OK about watching this by myself at night. But it sneaks up on you. Whoa. Elizabeth Olsen is too gorgeous for words and gives an outstanding performance. John Hawkes, as always, mesmerizing. Christopher Abbott, you always play such a dummy but you are beautiful. Oh yeah, this is a movie about being in a cult.

Beats, Rhymes and Life - This might be interesting to someone for whom A Tribe Called Quest isn't a personal Bieber, but maybe not. I thought it was a really impressive documentary--kudos, Michael Rapaport--and it made me feel the spectrum of feelings. It was a blast from the past, but so much more. And the music, just stellar. Fascinating.

Ok, not a movie, but the most recent episode of "The Mindy Project" when it's her birthday was gold. I feel like that cast has really gelled. Also, not for nothing, Mark Duplass cameo. Mindy Kaling, I love you.

Happy Spring! Bye!

I Refuse to Talk About the Weather

After a wonderfully low-key weekend, the workweek blew up in my face. We're only halfway through Tuesday, people. At least I didn't have to wield a wet-dry vac today. Yet. My job is lots of things, but boring has never been one of them.

This morning I saw the neurologist and she was awesome. I took a liking to her right off the bat--she's just my kind of eccentric--and after talking to me for almost an hour, she diagnosed me with migraines. Not typical migraines, but migraines nonetheless. I guess I can live with that. She said that she only has a few slots per week blocked off for patients with unusual cases, which is how I got to see her so "quickly," and that these were her favorites because she likes to solve mysteries. She impressed me because she really really listened to all of my wacky symptoms and theories, and said that my inner turmoil stemming from parental phobias and the loss of Niki could absolutely have a hand in bringing the physical pain out. She also gave me a hot tip on where to get the best beer in America (she's German, I think). Anyway, I left with a scrip to try, some coping suggestions and a follow-up appointment in a few months. Additionally, and most importantly, there was just a solid feeling of well-being. Pink hearts, yellow moons, orange stars and green clovers! I don't want to write about my head any more ever again.

Babydrunk

I only just awhile ago got back from snuggling a sweet baby girl who is less than 24 hours old, so I'm still sort of in that zone, you know? It's like a narcotic. I'm rock solid on my decision not to add any more babies to my personal lot, but I love the hell out of everyone else's. Thanks go out to my dear cousin for giving me a good fix, but more than that congratulations on an amazing and perfect newborn who was delivered safely and into a slew of open, loving arms. Next generation, in effect!

My own sweet bundle slept in his own room straight through until 7 this morning--something he never ever does--and probably would've gone longer if we hadn't started making noise, but 7 is a veritable lie-in these days so you will hear no complaints here. I'm sure it won't happen again for years and years, all the more reason to make note of it and cherish one morning's good fortune.

In sum, this has been a pretty fantastic day. Let's keep on that roll.

La La La La, La La La La...

The unexpected result of watching "The Muppet Movie" with HR was that it introduced him to guns. I never before thought about my boy and his relationship to weapons until the scene in the beginning of the movie where Fozzie's trying to entertain a bunch of ruffians and one of them expresses his displeasure by taking a shot at the hapless Muppet. "What's that?" my boy asked. Hmmm. "A gun," I told him, just throwing it out there, and he didn't ask any more questions and we went about our evening. We didn't even make it to the part at the end with the frog executioner, and it's OK with me if we don't for years.

The experience really threw me for a loop. When does awareness of weapons and violence become the norm? Does it creep in little by little? Is it when he goes to school? The first time we let him watch "Star Wars"? It hadn't occurred to me that he wasn't just born knowing that there are guns. I'm not sure where to go with all this. Mike and I are not gun owners or enthusiasts. I have opinions about gun ownership, for example I don't know why anyone would want to own something like an assault weapon let alone feel entitled to it, but it's a very complicated issue that I'm not planning to fully explore right now. I don't have the answer. Guns are scary as hell, but they also have their place. I guess my hope is that their place doesn't turn out to be in his hands, but ultimately, it's my responsibility to make sure he grows up with a respect for what a weapon can do. And it looks like the conversations will start earlier than I had imagined. I guess I'll go with the whole, "be honest but don't give too much information before he's ready" tactic. Parenting: the adventure continues!

I don't condone violence, as a rule. But I love Cypress Hill. Too much paradox for a Tuesday morning.

Surf's Up

Today I'm all sunshine and mania. In other words the usual me. Good to be back. This weekend was so awesome it's hard to put into words to convey the awesomeness. Really all I did was spend time with Mike and HR (with a side trip to watch my nephew kick butt in basketball), but that was enough in itself. We passed Mike's birthday simply but happily (once he wrapped up his work and million hours of snow shoveling), taking in some stellar barbecue, eating ice cream while watching "The Muppet Movie" for our inaugural Family Movie Night (more on this selection in a bit) and just having some solid grown-up hang out time after HR's bedtime. I didn't even fall asleep on the couch at 10 o'clock which, believe me, was a concerted effort - not because I didn't want to be up and chilling, just because these day my body has an automatic shut-off switch. It wasn't Mexico, but I think Mikey was OK with it. We've also reached the stage where HR is becoming reliably amusing company. He's developing a sense of humor, and getting so smart and cheeky and curious. He's always been a play-it-safe guy for a toddler, but he's starting to branch out a bit, testing us, and I dig it right now because it shows some spirit. I understand if he grows to be an obedient do-bee like I always was, you can't help how you're wired, but I will always foster a questioning streak in him, a sense of real engagement with the world, that makes it all mean something. Remind me I said that when he's a teenager.

I've also just been feeling so good - I haven't had a serious, sustained headache in over a week, nothing since I had the MRI which makes me think, hmm, how much of the pain was brought on by my own internal freakout? Time will tell, but it makes a world of difference when you feel right in your body and mind, compounded with the added relief of being assured that nothing is glaringly wrong. Like I need to say it, but this is something not to be taken for granted times a thousand.

Re: "The Muppet Movie," the original one from 1979- this is a favorite of the grown-ups in the house, and we were psyched for HR to be old enough to show interest. As expected he was over watching it after the first half hour, but he's talked about it since and has requested to see it again, so that's cool. For Mike and me it was tinged with sadness because we realized that everyone involved with it--mostly everyone--is dead. No more Jim Henson. Dom DeLuise. Milton Berle. Richard Pryor. Madeline Kahn. Telly Savalas. Richard Hunt. Jerry Nelson. I'll stop there. Our childhood is so long, long gone. But we've got today. And today is wonderful.

This is the first out of his three daylight savings' times on this earth that HR has been sleeping through the night with any consistency, hence the only year I would be able to tell if it affected him. So far, we cool. Now to perform a spell to ward off any delayed reactions.

A weekend highlight: accidentally teaching my child this song by singing it in his presence. You really haven't lived until you've heard a nearly three-year-old sing the lyrics, "Find my baby, gonna find her now, she looks like Patti Smith, SURFING COW!"

Snugglybugglyruggly

After a mentally tiring week, it's nice to have a day with just a little snow, not enough to have to shovel, but enough to be pretty to watch, relaxing. It's also nice to have a birthday for someone you love coming up (and one today - happy 91st to Memere!), a baby waiting to be born any second (let's go baby Marvin!) and a stretch of time to hang out with my dudes, doing dude things. And daylight savings! Yes, it hurts the first week or so, but once we get into the swing of that lost hour, there comes spring, sooner than later. Spring is magic.

My headaches aren't totally gone, there's funky and sad stuff going on all around, but overall I'm in the best place I can be. And that's the place where I choose to take my bow for this week.

This is the second song I've linked since Monday that came from an HBO show. What can I say, they've got my number. And Enlightened, oh, I cannot recommend that show more highly.

This Just In

My doctor called at 7:30 a.m. to report that the results of my MRI were normal.



I'll be following up with the neurologist, but I think it's time to officially release the zebras to the wild. This is a good day.

It's Been, Uh, 25 Years Since My Last Confession?

Phobias! I have a few. I'm not proud of them, but I'm not ashamed of them either. If I'm ever going to surmount them, I need to talk about them, and the place where I blabber about everything else seems like a good place to start.

There's one chronic condition I'm dealing with, and I'm sure there's a scientific name for it, but I call it Steel Magnolias syndrome, because if you've ever seen this movie (spoiler alert for, uh, no one) you know that Julia Roberts's character drops dead while alone with her infant son and her husband comes home to find her expired in front of the open refrigerator and the baby is screaming and it's the saddest, awfullest thing. Since HR was born I have had this fear that something's going to happen to me while on HR watch, leaving him in danger and permanently traumatized. When he's tucked in his crib for the night or even a nap it's not so bad, because even if he wakes up he's in a safe place until Mike gets home (or until he learns how to get out, which is imminent). But when it's just the two of us, even when I'm not actively thinking of it, it's in the back of my mind. And that's exactly why the headaches have sent me right around the bend, because all I can think is that whatever they might be symptomatic of will strike only at a time when I'm alone with my child. Ridiculous. Irrational. But here we are. Becoming a mother is the best thing I've done in my life, but it's also opened up this whole new wing of neuroses in my brain. I think it's probably common, but man, just, man.

Another big one, and probably the most debilitating, is my fear of driving. Not every day, getting-from-here-to-there driving. I'm cool on my commute, I can even handle traffic with no problem. I mean a lot of swearing's involved, but I'm not afraid. It's just that every time I've had to drive on a highway in the past decade I've been sure I would pass out from a panic attack. I never have obviously, but as soon as I let myself think about what I'm doing when I'm doing it, I get that feeling of "unreality" and overthink and start to hyperventilate and it's terrible. So I go to great lengths to never have to drive. Luckily most places I go Mike is also going and doesn't mind the driving. But that's not the point of it. It's limiting, and makes me feel weak and disappointed in myself. I know if I had to do it, I could. But I don't want to. I can't point to how this one developed, all I know is, I want to get over it before my child is old enough to notice. As it is, on those occasions that Mama is in the drivers' seat, HR's world is completely shaken because it's out of the ordinary. I don't want a mother who drives to seem like some exotic thing.

Then there's wild animals. Most of them. I have nightmares about being attacked by raccoons, skunks, rats. Stray cats even. That they're on me and I can't fight them off. I'm not afraid of them killing me or anything, it's the idea of them touching me that I can't even handle. And it's not like I can chalk it up to being a city kid. I grew up in the sticks, not the deep woods, but in a place where I should be able to handle some varmints rooting around under the shed. Alas, no. I would be the worst survivalist of all time.

I'm sure there's more but those are the big ones. The common denominator here is that I'm scared of situations in which I have no control. Which is probably the root of the majority of fears out there. And now that I have a kid, there's that extra layer of really wanting to get over everything because I don't want to set a bad example for him. It's important for him to know, eventually, that his parents are human and vulnerable. It's important for him to know that it's OK to be afraid, also that there's no bravery if there's no fear. But I don't want him to be ruled by fears. And I remember a real struggle, a pit-of-the-stomach lurch, any time I realized my parents didn't have all the answers. That they had emotions and fears and couldn't protect me from every single thing. It's a valuable lesson to learn, but it can also hurt if you're very sensitive and anxious like I was as a child. There's a balance to be found here, and as always I'm seeking it. For the moment, the cleansing feeling of getting all that out was good enough. But it's a work in progress. I'm not a fearful person, in general. I'm used to living my life above what scares me. And when anxiety creeps in and threatens to take over, it pisses me off. Anxiety is for the birds.

Something I'm anxious about in a good way: the rise of Kendrick Lamar. LOVE this kid. Love him.

Heart Hugs

GUYS. My beautiful guys. My friends and cheerleaders and conciglieres. I love you all, so very much, and I can't accurately express how much I appreciate your collective embrace but this is an attempt. Really, thank you.

This morning I had my MRI, and, thanks in part to your wonderfully helpful comments, it was a piece of cake. It helps a bit that I don't consider myself claustrophobic - I have had moments where I've felt it, but it's not an overarching condition. Knowledge was definitely power here, and since I went in armed with a good idea what to expect (and a little yoga breathing at the initial entry in the tunnel), it was a breeze. I'd even say restful, if you pretend you're listening to construction out the window or listening to a Boredoms CD while trying nap. So that's one part down. And now we play... the waiting game.



I don't know what's in store for me, but I do know whatever it is, I'm already at the end of the rainbow and my loved ones are the pot of gold.



Yes, I got the idea for this song from last night's "Girls." Judy's never been my favorite, but she is awesome in her own way, and her appearance on the show reminded me of that and also that she has the most gorgeous hair on the planet. She is the only exception to my extremely judgmental attitude about long hair after a certain age (that's 14 or so, for most people).