A New Use for Argyle

She calls them robot hands.

"Look, Mommy!" she yells. Lola runs over to me, her hands encased in my socks. "Robot hands!" She begins to open and close her hands, while simultaneously making "rrrrrrrrrrr" and "eep eep epp" noises. "Robot hands," she cries, running to chase Gizmo onto the couch.

I ask Josh if he taught her about these robot hands. He says, no. I didn't either. Did she learn it from some TV show or movie or some other kid? I don't think so, he says.

Our little girl loves robots.

While I don't have a photo of her engaging in robot play, I do have this one which involves one of her favorite robot socks (on my foot) and her wearing my childhood pajamas (Carters circa 1982.)

Disco

The morning after we acquired Gary, Lola woke up singing, "Goooooood Morning, Gary!" This is was a different line from her usual tune of, "MOMMY! MOMMY! MOMMY, WHERE ARE YOU?" (Note, the "where are you?" line is done in a voice that sounds very much like Arnold Schwarzenegger, which is something I have been trying to capture on video for the last week, because man, this little Arnold-girl is going to go viral.)

Happy that Lola remembered our new pet, I picked her up out of her crib and went straight to the fish bowl.

When I saw it, my heart dropped.

Gary was resting on the rocks at the bottom of the bowl, and the water in his bowl was PINK.

I've mentioned that I think my fish is gay, right?

I tapped on the side of the glass. Gary fluttered to life. "Goooooood Morning, Gary!" Lola said. Looking at the pink water, I was a little baffled. Then, I realized that the dye on one of his fake plants must be the culprit. But, I didn't know what to do. We didn't have another container for him, or water prepped for a quick switch, nor did I even have anything to use to scoop him out of his toxic environment.

When I called Josh at work and told him about the water situation, he suggested prepping some new water for Gary and waiting until he got home to do the big switcheroo.

So, I prepped the water, got Lola dressed, and took a photo of her with the iridescent bowl.


Poor kid. Polka dot turtlenecks should be illegal.

When Josh came home, he insisted that we move Gary into another container so we could clean out the fish bowl. Our big problem was that due to the narrow neck of our re-purposed vase/fish bowl, only my skinny hand could fit into the bowl. After a ten minute argument between Josh and I about how I was (NOT) putting my hand into the bowl and scooping out the fish, I demanded that Josh go to the pet store and buy a net.

Three dollars and twenty minutes later, we scooped Gary out (via the fish net) and plopped him in a mug.




Once we cleaned out his bowl, and replaced his toxic tree, we transferred Gary back to his home. Crisis averted. Kind of.

Book Club for One

In many ways, I think law school stole a small part of my soul.

It's not like it swooped in and sucked out all the life in me. Law school was such a long, arduous, all-encompassing process. Three years of non-stop briefing for my doctorate, another year of studying statutes for my master's degree, and nearly a year of memorizing laws and outlines as I prepared for the bar exam. By the end of it all, I was exhausted. Those five years created a gaping black hole in my mid-twenties while it simultaneously ruined my love for reading.

Or so, that is what I thought.

I used to love to read. Some of my favorite childhood memories involved going to the local library and carrying home as many books as they allowed me to check out (26.) I specifically picked English as one of my undergraduate majors because I loved my English classes more than any of the others. I used to read and read and read, and I enjoyed it.

Then, I got to law school and I stopped. During my five years of studying law, I did not read a single non-law book. Not one. I tried, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I was too tired of reading.

Then, I went on my honeymoon. I read three books:
Wicked
Reading Lolita in Tehran
Eat Pray Love

After returning home, I started studying for the bar exam. That time I read two books (in addition to all of my bar materials):
The Kite Runner
Peace Like a River

(Looking back on this now, it's clear that I had very light reading for my honeymoon, and very dark violent sad books for when I was studying for the bar. Says something about my mood, huh?)

Then, I found out I was pregnant. I can't even begin to list the books that I read, because I read so many that I know I have forgotten the names of most of them. Plus, those are kind of boring, and now that I know Curtis does in fact read my blog, I will refrain from talking about how a cervix dilates and the postpartum state of being. Not that I really talked about those things before, but if there was a time to talk about all the crazy things that I read in those pregnancy books, now would be it. You can thank Curtis for my exercise in restraint.

Continuing on with the time line that is my life.

Two years ago, when Lola was born, I began reading parenting books. Those involved child development, breastfeeding and how to make your child sleep. Since Lola didn't really start sleeping until last October (when she was 20 months old), I re-read the sleep books a few times.

In the meantime, I didn't really read anything else. I bought a few magazines, but was largely disappointed by the current magazine market. Real Simple was boring, Nylon gave me ADD, InStyle had too celebrities, Redbook made me feel old and matronly. The only thing that I found myself reading was the magazine Parents.

That's when I knew I had a problem.

I decided to tackle this issue similarly to how I tackle most problems: by setting a goal, creating rules, and applying psychotic discipline. So, I told Josh that as part of my New Year's Resolutions, he was supposed to pick out books for me. Whatever he picked, I would read. And, I would do this for an entire year, with the hope that by making reading for pleasure a requirement in my life I would fall in love with it once again.

As you can tell from the books mentioned above, most of the time I am drawn to stories involving women, coming of age, or midlife crisis. Josh loves books that involve aliens, zombies, mysteries, and stuff that I classify as weird fantasy-sci-fi-shit.

I was really desperate.

So far, with Josh as my book connoisseur, I have done very well. Since January, I've read:

The Catcher in the Rye
The Incident of the Dog in the Night Time
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest (started, but did not finish. It was literally too crazy for me.)
The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (book 1)



I'm currently reading Book 2 in the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. I wasn't intending on reading the second book (there are five total), but the first book really didn't wrap anything up. There is no way that the first book could independently hold its own ground. I have a feeling I will be reading all five books.

I recognize that I've only read four books so far and each book is pretty small, but I consider this to be quite an accomplishment given that I'm usually only able to read for 11 minutes before falling asleep.

Lola says

While on the jungle gym at the playground, Lola loses sight of Josh. "Daddy, where arrrrrre you? Where arrrrre you, sweetie?" Upon seeing him again, she says, "Honey, I found you!"

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Last weekend, I asked her what she wanted to do for the day. She said, "Lola go to Heinz Field!" (home of the Pittsburgh Steelers.)

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She wasn't feeling well, and I couldn't figure out what was wrong, so I asked her if she wanted anything to make her feel better.

"Lola wants drugs."

(Don't worry, Dad, "drugs" are her reference to Children's Tylenol.)

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I asked her what she wanted for breakfast, she said, "Cannoli."
"What about toast?" I asked.
"No. I want cannoli for breakfast."

(We settled on a granola bar.)


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An Introduction

On Saturday, I casually mentioned to Josh that I would like to get a goldfish. I was partly inspired by (I can't believe I am about to admit this) Dorothy, Elmo's pet goldfish. Lola loves Elmo, and occasionally Dorothy makes guest appearances on Sesame Street, and I just found myself sitting on the couch with Lola, thinking that it wouldn't be too bad to have a fish. It might be fun. It could even be educational because I could teach Lola about death.

Yes, those were my reasons: It might be fun, and I could teach Lola about death.

It sounded much more rational in my head.

As I told Josh about the potential goldfish in our future, he adamantly stated that he wanted nothing to do with it. That if I wanted a fish, that was fine, but he was not going to be the one to take care of it. He looked at me very seriously and very father-like when he said that. I told him that I was only thinking about getting a goldfish and that I wasn't making any plans. He seemed satisfied with my answer.

On Sunday, Josh went to a movie with a friend. When he came home, he walked through the door with a plastic container with a metallic blue betta fish swimming in its water and a bag of fish supply stuff from the local pet store.

"Suuuuuurrrprise!"

"I got you a betta fish," he said.

"They are much more durable than goldfish. This way, you can put off teaching Lola about death, for at least awhile." he added quickly.

I stood there, a bit surprised.
"Do you like it?" he asked.
"Yeah."
"Why are you being so quiet?"
"Because I wasn't expecting you to go to a movie and come home with a fish."
"I'm being romantic."
"Oooooh, okay."

Thirty minutes later, after setting up his bowl (a previous thrift store vase) and making sure the water was the correct temperature and discussing his ability to survive the transfer from his current container to his new home, Josh poured the fish into the vase.

The fish belly-flopped right into his new home. After we watched him swim a few laps, and determined that he was indeed going to live, we introduced him to the family.

Archie was unimpressed. Annoyed that another being was entering our home, he glared at me and then proceeded to sulk on the couch.

Gizmo tried to drink out of the bowl.

Lola yelled, "FISHIE!" and tried to pet him. The fish was very responsive to Lola. We took this as a good sign until I later read that betta fish dart from side to side when they are really pissed off. So maybe, L and the fish were instead off to a rough start.

Then, Josh told me that I was in charge of naming him. I hemmed and hawed over this for at least 20 minutes. (Choosing a name for a pet is serious business.)

As I gazed at our new friend, my thoughts went like this:
The fish is a shiny metallic blue, with really beautiful fins.
His fins looks like big billowy flags.
He's male because the sticker on the side of his bowl says so.
He doesn't need a male name because names are typically all about gender and since this is a fish, I don't know his actual gender because I can't ask him.
Damn those blue fins are so pretty.
Almost sparkly.
Kind of flamboyant.
Would it totally be un-PC of me to assume my fish is gay?
I do like the name Gary.
My friend Maria has an uncle who is gay and his name is Gary, and his partner is also named Gary.
What about Ricky?
No, I like Gary.
Is it really bad that I think Gary is the perfect gay male name?
Am I going to subconsciously teach Lola to assume that all feminine looking males are gay?
She's TWO!
Do I subconsciously think that?
I can't decide.

"His name is Gary."
"Gary?"
"Yes. Gary."

So, here he is, in all of his glory. Please meet Gary, the newest member of our family.

It's National Poison Prevention Week

We all know that I'm a fan of the local poison control phone line. If you want to read more about how to contact poison control, click here.

A belated, but necessary, post

I'm such a slacker. The beginning of March has flown by, mostly because we spent the last week traveling around Southern California visiting family, eating food that we can only eat while on vacation, and holding babies. (More on that later.)

But, I've also found it difficult to motivate myself to sit down and write because, while I typically write about Lola's latest adventures, lately I find myself wanting to write more about myself and then I feel this weird maternal guilt because the blog is really for her yet I'm too lazy to start another blog for myself, resulting in me just not writing anything at all. (This run-on sentence fully demonstrates the back-and-forth arguments that go on in my head.)

The overall theme of my New Year Resolutions for 2011 was to focus more on myself, and less on Lola. She is only two years old, and yet I already see myself going down that typical fateful mothering path of putting needs of everyone else at the top of my To Do list while I wait patiently in the back looking for more time and energy to (magically) appear so that I can then do something for myself. (These feelings have been solidified by the newest season of The Biggest Loser. Not that I am obese, but I can see how easily people get to that place.)

My New Year Resolutions:

1. Live a healthier life.
I want to be stronger, physically and mentally. Oftentimes, I over analyze situations and then stress out to the point of where things become ridiculous. I need to fix that. I want to become more grateful for the things and people I have in my life and less envious of the things I do not have. I want to be able to go for a 30 minute run and not feel like I am going to have an asthma attack, and I want to eat less sugar. (I am a total sugar junkie.)

2. Utilize my creativity.My profession is pretty cut and dry. I spend most of my days reading forms and statutes and regulations, and then crunch a bunch of numbers. As much as I would like to think that I use creativity while working on my cases, I really don't. Not at all. Instead, I daydream about assembling my personal cookbook, sewing new curtains, and building a corner library for the bean. This year, I want to finish my digital photo book projects (uh, wedding photos) and pull out the pattern for the purse that I bought the fabric for, oh so long ago, and actually make the purse, and work on my Amanda Bean drafts.

3. Read non-parenting books.
This is a big one. When I found out I was pregnant in June 2008, I, being the researcher that I am, began reading every pregnancy/child development/breastfeeding book that I came into contact with. Since then, I haven't really stopped, and I haven't read any other genre either. I've certainly tried, but I ever book that I picked up, I ended up putting down, unfinished. At one point, I was so frustrated that I stopped attempting to read books all together and turned to magazines. It was then that I also realized there were no magazines out there that I enjoyed. It's clear that my taste and attention span has changed. That's when I decided that I needed to make book-reading one of my resolutions. I have set a few ground rules (subsections to my resolution, if I so may):
a) The book can't involve any sort of rape or sexual assault of women or children.
b) No incest.
c) No dying dogs.
d) Josh is in charge of picking out all of my books. (So far, this has been very interesting, but I will save the details for another post.)

So far, and for the first time in a very long time, I'm doing very well on my resolutions. I'm happy that I set some this year, and if you don't mind, I will be writing some more about them here.