mamaloo

Who cares about kids in Bangladesh?

I do. But not because my (step) Dad drilled it into my head.

Loo's a toddler, a very active one with limited time in his schedule for eating. I throw a lot of food away. I guess I could get all upset about that, but I don't. Food is a renewable resource--you buy it, you eat some, you throw some away. You get more.

There's no doubt that the distribution of food is grossly inequitable in this world, but I'm not going to ask my kid to care about that, yet.

When I was kindergarten age, I remember every time I didn't want to eat something, being hassled about the kids in Bangladesh who didn't get enough to eat. What did I care at 5 years old? I just didn't want the rest of my hot dog right then. Poor children who didn't have enough to eat weren't going to change that.

I vividly remember being so frustrated by my dad's Bangladesh routine. What was he going on about? Would he please leave me alone? Jeesh. He made such a big deal of it that my sisters and I used to mock one another with taunts of "Bangladesh!" That's what I came away with.

The compassion and social sensibilities I now have were not in the least bit fostered by pressure from my dad to eat and not waste.

I'm letting Loo call it. If he doesn't want that string cheese, well, he doesn't. I get wiser about whether or not I give him a snack when he says he wants one, or I eat it instead of him, or (gasp) we toss it. Yes, it is ultimately a waste of money, and I do care about that, but that's mine to worry about, not his.

I get a lot of pleasure out of watching Loo eat freely. He has no food hangups--it's too new to him. He trusts food's availability so much that he doesn't even think about it. I don't know why that touches me so deeply but it does.

I am so aware of his vulnerability and dependence on us when I prepare food for him or watch him eating. It makes me feel humbled that I am in a position to care for a child this way. He's so certain that food will be there. He doesn't have to think about it. Why would I mess with that?

It is absolutely tragic that not all children have that luxury. I was by no means raised in starving conditions but food was an issue and to this day I fight the effects. I don't want to do that to my child.

I don't think young children are equipped to grasp or care about big picture problems like starvation in other countries. I do not make light of these problems, but I'm not going to ask my kid to care about them right now. There's plenty of time for that.

stats

Me=suffering the annual Portland late-June "hotter than a mo-fo" heat wave. it is HOT up in this sumbitch.

You=don't give up on me yet! please come back in a day or two, I have a nifty birthday present I can't wait to show you.

The computer is upstairs and I'm mostly downstairs, chasing/feeding kiddos, so MamaLoo no postie. Hopefully back on track soon. I need to tell you about my birthday and some other fun stuff!

In the meantime I hope you are cooler than we are!

Today is my birthday

I am thirty eight.

Tomorrow (it is the wee hours right now--it's officially my birthday but the day part occurs "tomorrow") E has a surprise day planned. I have no idea what's happening, only that he's taken the day off and Loo is going on an extended date with his beloved nanny, so we can have some time together. I wonder what he's got up his sleeve.

Thirty eight. When do you start feeling all grown up? I still don't.

If you'd told me five years ago that today, I'd be married with two children under the age of two, I'd have been thrilled. Throughout my twenties and early thirties, in my heart I wanted to meet the love of my life and I wanted a family. I didn't actively seek those things, and part of me feared I'd never have them, but I secretly hoped for them and in the end they found me and tonight I am so thankful.

I love my beautiful boys and I adore my husband. It is easy for us to be together--we are each other's best friends. I love who he is as a spouse and who he is as a father. He is playful and present. Shouldn't we all have had such a father?

We have much stress in our lives, many worries, and yet in the middle of that I'm proud of us, I'm proud of the home we are providing our boys. We laugh a lot and we love each other deeply, and I'm so glad they'll grow up enveloped by that love and laughter. It makes me feel I am doing something worthwhile even as I essentially do nothing, nothing you can measure anyway, nothing in the sense of earning or accomplishing.

It's been a tough year, with many ups and downs, lots of highs and lows. In many ways I've been stagnant during this time, but the water is starting to move again. I'm happy to feel that desire within to change and create again, and at the same time frustrated by the physical limitations in my life that keep me from getting stuff done as quickly as I'd like to.

I'm just looking at the ground in front of my feet most days; that's about all I can manage. I don't often stop to lift up my head and see what's around me. But tonight I'm taking a look and what I see is worthwhile and for that I'm grateful.

On second thought...don't!

E told me this story tonight:

When he was eight-ish, he'd run around innocently challenging friends to "whip it out." As in, their weapon--think cowboys, indians and the like. But one day a "much older" girl took him aside and said, you really shouldn't say that. And he goes, why? And she whispers, because it means something. And he goes, what? And she goes, "it means you want to...kiss."

So of course he stopped.

"I like your outfit!"

Good Intentions, Rough Execution

I'm happy to report that Big Brother Loo's initial cool toward the Munchakin is warming up. He's added the baby to his "roll call"--whence he runs throughout the house making sure we're all there.

"OK Dada?"
"OK Boohbah!"

"OK Mama?"
"OK Boohbah!"

"OK Baby!" (so cute!)

He calls the baby "Baby" or sometimes "Mun-kin" (he can't quite manage all of Munch-a-kin). He wants to love on him often which is so endearing and also frightening, because he's all passion and no finesse. He'd do a push-up on the baby's face without thinking. The awareness of the baby as a fragile being is just not there.

So we can't leave them alone for a second. This is wise, but sort of sad. Often Loo will run into the bedroom where the baby is and I'll run after him just in time to see him lay his head on the baby lovingly (but, unfortunately, also roughly and heavily). You can tell he wants to communicate with the baby in his own way, just the two of them, and when I enter the room he senses my caution and backs off. I wish there was a way for them to be safe alone together but it's just too soon and they're both too young. The other morning I entered the bedroom just in time to see Loo on his hands and knees over the baby screaming "HI MUN-KIN!!" in his face and the baby starting to cry.

Awwwwww. He's trying.

E says the Munchakin's probably laying there thinking "The two big ones, they're nice. But that little busy one scares me. Oh NO, here he comes. That's right, you just keep going, keep going--whew! Made it. Oh NO--he's coming back, he's getting up on the bed HELP HELP!!!" and that's about right.

So I have to maintain my watchful presence. I still do try to let Loo get as much contact as he can without pain or injury. He's only two and just learning to love. I'm glad he loves his brother. I just need to keep him alive.

Me and Sisyphus, we go way back

Sorry it's been quiet here at MamaLoo. I've been busy pushing this big rock up a hill.

I've been busy because the first big phase of our kitchen remodel is finally complete. You'll remember we were installing the Biggest Sink in the Universe and also a new dishwasher. Those are both in, along with new butcher block countertops and some under-cabinet lighting. We still need some light fixtures installed and a tile backsplash set. Oh, and we have to paint our cabinetry and the walls and ceiling. Maybe two, three years from now I'm thinking? You know, judging from our current rate of progress.

Right now I'm just trying to get some order restored in my home. First task: move back into the kitchen (we've been "camping" while the work was done). Of course, this is so much easier said than done.

It's funny how in my head, I am still capable of completing projects. And I look at a project and in my head, I assess how long it will take. And in that assessment, I always forget to factor in a few things. Like my kids. And nursing a newborn. And etc.

Imagine you are moving into a new house, so your kitchen is all packed up. So you have to unpack your kitchen, and you also have to decide where everything is going to go. And you also have to wash every single item, plate, cup, utensil in the kitchen (which I have to do in case there is lead dust from the construction--even though we taped off, I don't trust it). And you also have to clean that kitchen up after construction (sawdust, tape and plastic, etc.) first before you do anything else and then, you are also nursing a newborn! And mothering a toddler!

Is it any wonder I can't make progress? I gave myself all last week to finish, and here it is Monday and I'm only now making a dent. Oh well.

Gotta go! That rock I pushed up the hill just came tumbling down. Time to push it up again...

melt

This morning, for the first time ever, my Loo said

"I love you Mama."

Lawn Sprinkler

The first week we brought the Munchakin home, I'd keep coming back to where I'd laid him down and finding him in a pool of wetness. WITH a diaper on. I just couldn't understand it. It wasn't usually under his bum either--it would be under his upper back or his ribcage. And it would be a LOT of wet. I could NOT figure out what was going on. Was he sweating? No, that couldn't be it--it was like someone came and poured their drink on the bed, it was that wet. Was he like urinating out his side? What?

Well, it turns out the kid pees like it's an olympic sport. I'm just not used to it. Loo in his entire two years has peed on me less than ten times. He's just not a pee-er. But the Munchakin? He's his own man, with his own style.

Here's the type of stuff you find when you leave a naked Munchakin alone for a minute or two:

That towel is soaked through and so is the sheet underneath it.

From two feet away!!

How does he do it??!!

All hail the Munchakin!

We won the baby lottery. The Munchakin is one of those elusive perfect babies that you hear about but have never seen in real life and doubt exist. He sleeps through the night. Is perfectly portable. Does not cry in the car. Does not require bouncing. Breastfed from day one. Wants to cuddle as much as you're willing.

God, I'm thankful. Do you know how much harder my life would be right now if he was a "normal" baby? I don't even want to think about it!

Thank you, Munchakin, for your easy goingness. You are so kind to your mama. May you be richly repaid for it, sweet child.