Momma's having a major inferiority complex tonight. I'm making biscotti to bring to the Lost party that I am attending on Sunday. The recipe is stored in my facebook notes, and while I was clicking around looking for it, I happened upon the page of a friend of a friend, a man I worked with briefly when I first moved to Nevada. He has since quit the company, ridden around the world on a bicycle, documented his travels and now makes a living giving lectures and slideshows about his adventures. I, meanwhile, am still toiling away with the same company, more or less making the same pittance of a salary, and have not traveled more than six or seven hundred miles from where I'm sitting right now. It was this picture of his that made me feel very sorry for myself:
Apparently this is a self-portrait from some remote area of Turkey.
Fine. I finally find my goddamned recipe and start making biscotti. As I'm waiting for the first batch to come out of the oven, I'm leafing through the latest issue of Newsweek. Yes, I know I should be boycotting it for the horrible things that the columnist wrote about gay actors, but it's a subscription, and I am too distracted on a daily basis to figure out how to unsubscribe. Anyway, I come to a certain article somewhere near the middle of the magazine, and I notice that the photo was taken by a friend of mine from college. Sigh.... that's okay. I've seen his name out there in several big publications, so I was not too terribly taken aback. THEN, as I continue to read the article, ANOTHER guy that I knew and disliked back in college was quoted as an expert on the article's subject matter!
Ferchrissakes.
I threw the magazine on the floor in disgust. A better woman than I would be delighted to see so many former associates doing so well for themselves. But I am not that better woman.
In other news, tomorrow we have a playdate with the boy from the post below this one, and his mother. I actually took the initiative on this one, and earlier this week sent a note via Jakob to give to his friend to give to his mother. His mother and I have been emailing back and forth ever since, and tomorrow we are all going to see Shrek in 3D. That whole process in itself was an adventure for me. It wasn't a trek across Pakistan or a soak in a hot springs in Timbuktu, but it was terrifying and thrilling all the same. Yay me.
Wavy, I met with your teacher today. She used to be Jakob's speech and language pathologist, but now teaches speech and language classes for preschooler kids who don't talk so good. Ha. She's been expressing concerns lately about episodes where you occasionally shut down and go into a zone that's hard to draw you out of. I've seen this a few times, but never really thought of them as "episodes." Just thought maybe you were tired or overwhelmed. Even underwhelmed. We discussed strategies to work on this, but other than that, she said you were doing fine and have progressed so much this year. But then, you and I already knew that, huh.
Another week and a half of school for both of you, then it's off to Cali grandma's for a month. I feel slightly guilty for looking forward to this. But not too guilty, as I have already made arrangements to visit mid-June to spend a long weekend with you guys. And I'm sure Jakob will hold me to my promise of a boat ride, since he was too sick to go whale watching with me and Wavy when we were in Fort Bragg.
Time to get to bed so I don't fall asleep during Shrek tomorrow. That'll be an impressive first playdate, me falling asleep in her lap and snoring.
Love you. Sleep tight.
2 comments:
Maybe it is because I feel protective of your kids (even though I have never met you or them) but I can't believe that every time you talk to your kids teachers they have a fucking label for them.
I have been reading now for several years now and see you parent and what kind of person you are. I see pictures of your kids. They are obviously well cared for and loved.
So, they are onto Wavy now huh? Damn them! She is just a little girl. Little girls are supposed to be dreamy. She is supposed to zone out.
Remember the scene from Uncle Buck?
Woman - She is a twiddler, a dreamer, a silly heart and she is a jabber box. And, frankly I don't think she takes a thing in her life or her career as a student seriously.
Uncle Buck - She's only six.
Woman - That is not a valid excuse!
I hear that every day and I dismiss it.
Uncle Buck - I don't want to know a six-year-old who isn't a dreamer or a silly heart. I sure don't want to know one who takes their student career seriously. I don't have a college degree. I don't even have a job. But, I know a good kid when I see one. Because they're all good kids until dried-out, brain-dead skags like you drag them down and convince them they're no good.
You so much as scowl at my niece
or any other kid in this school and I hear about it, I'm coming looking for you. Now take this quarter.
Go downtown and have a rat gnaw that thing off your face.
Good day to you, madam.
She is just a little girl who is just being a little girl.
Barb
Barb,
Amen. Thank you for that. I had major reservations about everything the SLP had to say, and when I got out of the meeting, I kept thinking... this is a three-year-old we're talking about, right? And she's practically telling me that she thinks Wavy is manic-depressive. She's THREE. Ah well. Wavy loves her SLP to pieces, and loves the time she spends in class, and I love that there are only 3 kids in her class (as opposed to 20+ in Jakob's...), so I take the good with the bad and enjoy the free services.
But I really DO wish Wavy would quit messing around and start preparing for her summer internship with Doctors Without Borders.
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