Friday, April 13, 2007, 05:48 PM
I'm guessing nobody stops by here anymore, but in case you do - I moved back in November to
http://amerimama.blogspot.com
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Thursday, September 28, 2006, 01:26 PM - General
I must have written this a few months ago - found it in my work files! Maybe I'll work on it some more.
Farfalle was named for her mother’s cravings during pregnancy. Her mother always said that rotini made her think of weird bugs and spaghetti just didn’t feel right going down during pregnancy. She craved pasta, though, and farfalle was what she often chose. What better way to name the child conceived at the end of a semester abroad in Italy? Her mother didn’t even know until she got home, and she knew she’d never see Paulo again, or even be able to find him.
Named for a pasta, with a mystery father, Farfalle nonetheless is the apple of her mother’s eye. A becoming combination of her mother’s very Irish features and her father’s classic Italianate look, the girl’s curly brown hair, freckles, and startling blue eyes draw constant comments.
Farfalle is three years old, and she loves pasta, too. She loves to chirp her order at her and her mother’s favorite hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant, and it’s always for her pasta namesake. Her mother has done a wonderful thing in weaving a tale for Farfalle about her conception. Many women in her situation would be bitter, and with good reason. Farfalle’s mother had too much fun being pregnant, and then bringing little infant Farfalle to her last semester of classes to be bitter. Understanding professors and a baby in a sling combined just as magically as Farfalle’s conception, and life is good for the happy pair.
Tonight is something new. Farfalle’s mother hasn’t dated since she came back from Italy. She wouldn’t, couldn’t bring herself to leave Farfalle for an evening, and most men aren’t inclined to have a first date with a three year old, however charming, hanging about. Tonight is different. Farfalle waits with her mother at the Italian restaurant for the Greek suitor. They draw pictures as they wait, Farfalle’s mother showing a deft hand with the crayons.
Farfalle sees him first. She tugs on her mother’s sleeve as he approaches. Tall and dark, Farfalle sizes Nikolas up closely. She likes him, at least she likes how he looks and how he smiles, but he has to like pasta, too. She and her mother can’t settle for just anybody. She thinks they do great on their own – her mother is a librarian and Farfalle goes to Jenni’s daycare every day, and Miss Jenni is like a second mother to her. This arrangement works for everybody, and Farfalle is a little nervous about it changing.
Nikolas has flowers, big pretty gerbera daisies. Two daisies, one bright, bright pink, which he hands to Farfalle with a grin, and one orange, which he hands to her mother. He sits down, and they order. Farfalle first, for her namesake with alfredo sauce and broccoli, and her mother and Nikolas next. Nikolas is nice. He talks to Farfalle and her mother, and it’s one big conversation. Farfalle feels very grown up tonight as she eats her broccoli and answers questions politely. When they get up to leave, her mother gives her a thumbs up and a big grin. Farfalle returns it, since she likes Nikolas. They go their separate ways, Farfalle and her mother in their little car, and Nikolas in his littler car.
Farfalle and her mother stop at her Grandma’s house to say hello. Grandma is anxious to hear about the date with Nikolas. Farfalle tells Grandma that next time she will stay with her while her mother goes out by herself, because that is what grownups do. Grandma smiles convincingly at Farfalle’s mother, who reluctantly agrees.
I must have written this a few months ago - found it in my work files! Maybe I'll work on it some more.
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Wednesday, September 27, 2006, 07:51 PM - AmeriCorps
As of last Thursday, I've completed my 1700 hours I'm required to serve as an AmeriCorps member in a full time position. Now I get my education money ($4850) and the opportunity to serve a second term, which starts next Tuesday with a three day va...I mean training in Lansing. Look, I'm poor, I have a kid and a husband. Three days with maid service, no cooking, swimming pool and gym and no poop to clean up? That's vacation to me.
It hasn't been a bad year, although I'll be the first to admit that I've been a damn slacker, doing only what I must to get by. Overall, it's a decent position with lots of flexibility and options. The pay, well, it sucks. National Service is not something you do to make money. I don't really like helping people who aren't grateful, I have a phobia of talking on the phone, and I can't follow through to save my life. I managed to get by last year, but this year I have to step up. I have to act as a team leader in my program.
This may be the most challenging year of my life. I thought maybe Freyja's first year was the most challenging - but I got to stay home, only interact with one infant, and pretty much do my own thing. Now I must interact with poor pregnant women (not too hard, I was there once myself) and support them through labor and delivery. I must call people and get them to come in for managed care and immunizations. I need to act as a team member with the other AmeriCorps members at our site. This is so freakin hard for me. I am not a joiner. I need to let go of that mentality, but it's exrtraordinarily difficult for me.
So. Year One: Done.
Year Two: geetiton!(a la Captain Tenille on MXC)
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Wednesday, August 2, 2006, 12:42 PM
Just a wee brag. Freyja used first person tense this morning. For those that don't know, she's not quite two yet and correct tense usage usually doesn't come until close to 2.5 or three.
F: "I want purple juice"(pointing to the grape juice in the fridge)
me: Ok, what else do you need to say?
F: "I want purple juice PLEASE"
She had been saying "Freyja want...or Me want...so I'm very proud of her :)
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Tuesday, June 20, 2006, 02:29 AM - General
Yesterday evening, I was dozing in the recliner, and I had a dream. I don't remember where I was, only that I was kissing this guy who was rather Alan Cumming-esque. Slight and dark, you know. They were nice kisses - soft, but hardly passionate. I rarely, if ever, have dreams about kissing or anything else that could possibly be construed as sexual in nature.
Later, after I'd gone to bed, I had dreams about lyncanthropes - a werewolf, and then two lycan cougars. They kept shifting back and forth, and people thought I was insane. The wolf was male, the cougars were female. I was trying to keep the cougars out of my car where Freyja was, and then out of a convenience store.
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