Lion

When I was little I had a stuffed Dumbo that I slept with and was very attached to. I think I loved Dumbo so much because he was a deformed, emotionally vulnerable animal who was dealing with a mother that was thought of as crazy. He also tried desperately to get his life together and liked a good drink. You figure out the attraction.

What I am trying to get to is that Lydia has an animal that she just adores. His/her (depends on the day) name is Lion. She dresses him up and brings him everywhere. She recently acquired a carrying case for him. This is a picture that she took, without my knowledge of Lion on a hot water bottle. (He gets cold) She tells me very often that he is sick, "Lion doesn't feel well today because he played with a fox last night. Lion is allergic to foxes." Lion usually is covered in band-aids. Me: "Why does lion have a bandage on his nose?" Lydia: "I bit him last night by accident and now his nose is broken." Yesterday I was told that Lion might be dying. Lydia: "I have some bad news. Lion might be dying. He's spending too much time with foxes, he can't control himself. He needs help." Me: "where should he go for help?" Lydia: "I'm not sure. Somewhere that sick people go who can't control themselves around foxes."

Luckily Lion is doing much better. But I can't help but notice Lydia being drawn to someone with an addictive self destructive personality. Is this a sign? What was your favorite animal or doll? Did they have a dark disfunctional background? What does this say about you? I think I'm onto something here.

How did I get in this pickle?

By pickle I mean predicament to the ultimate degree. You ever notice that just when you weren't even paying attention all the rules in your life change? You think you're in charge and have everything under control and the next thing you know you are side swiped by a role reversal reality check. Well that has been my week. I'm not complaining. I'm actually in awe of this phenomenon and I feel like it deserves a notation.



One big issue is my Grandmother. The poor thing can't remember a darn thing. She gets totally frustrated by this, until 30 seconds go by and she forgets to be frustrated and its business as usual. She asks the same questions all day long.

"What day is it?" "Did I eat lunch?" "What's your name?"

I love her dearly, but I have watched her become someone that I don't know very well and she certainly has no clue who I am. She doesn't know that she practically raised me and that when I was my daughters age I loved her so much that I carried a photo of her to school. But she does know one thing, and she stated it pretty clearly this week.

"You seem like a smart girl, you need to do something with your life."

And the pickle jar is sealed.



Lydia my charming, sweetheart of a trouble making child also seems to have one up on me as of late. Today she destroyed her room. She got hold of the cinnamon while I was dealing with our taxes. A jar of cinnamon some water and one egg later, her room is one contaminated mess. Even if I could force her to clean up this disaster, she would never be able to. This concoction was in drawers, all over clothes and smeared into the floor. As I'm cleaning up Lydia says, "Lion and I were talking", (lion is her fave rave stuffed animal that she brings everywhere and is often very insightful, although he is allergic to foxes supposedly) "and we were thinking that you really ought to go on a vacation. You seem really tired."

It used to be that Lydia was my daughter and she didn't hold much insight into my emotional state. She might recognize that I am happy or cranky but she took this as inevitable maternal emotions. Only recently have I begun to realize that she sees me for who I really am.
Take it from me when your five year old and her lion recommend a vacation you need to take them up on it.
And when your 95 year old grandmother with dementia realizes that you are wasting your potential it's time to get to work.

The Wig Runs In The Family

Sometimes I wonder where my child comes from. She puts so much time and energy into pretending to be someone else. She is super creative and fun. She loves finding the weirdest and strangest clothes and wearing them together. She can spend hours dressing and redressing. She talks about fashion and clothes to whomever will listen.

I on the other hand feel so uninspired. I watch her with envy and tell people that she gets her creativity from her dad. I feel like I am in a creative rut and am totally bored with myself.

I see so much happiness and excitement in her eyes when she gets a new "item" to put on. She plans these outfit's for every event: parties, dance class, the supermarket.

I struggle with this sometimes because I know even though I gave birth to her she seems nothing like me: creative, confident and happy.

Then I found these photos of myself. All of which I had forgotten about. It all falls into place. I need to get those creative juices flowing. I need to be a little more creative. I need to get that excitement back about something. I NEED A NEW WIG!

Me in high school, this is not a wig, this is my real hair in a beehive. The B-52's were popular I guess and I made the most of that look.
This was not Halloween. I am drinking and wearing shades, so it could have been during my "undercover" days. Steven does not believe that this is me. Compliment or not?
This was Halloween, or at least I hope it was.

The smile and happiness is the same in these photos as in Lydia's.

Needless to say at least the Wig Gene is not recessive.

How sickness effects my family

Whenever anyone in my family gets sick the other family units react in a predictable manner.

For some reason I feel guilty that I didn't drive three hours to RI to take care of G.G. Mamma. Even though my five year old had a temperature of 102 degrees and received antibiotics for an ear infection, I feel like I should have put her in the car and driven three hours to help my 95 year old grandmother.

The guilt persisted all day until I recognized that the guilt is multidimensional, meaning even if I did leave I would feel guilty for dragging a sick child 150 miles. So instead I've managed to funnel all the guilt into one place and turned it into a total lack of motivation.

Steven (the father unit) always gets sick whenever anyone else in the family feels ill. He calls it "under the weather". No matter what ailments you have ear infection, menstrual cramps or sunburn, Steven will immediately begin to suffer from similar symptoms. This usually results in two days out of work and a long hot bath.

Lydia usually resorts to "baby"mode when she gets sick. She mutters things like "Da Da I need more ice cream" and "Ma Ma back rubs back rubs". She clings to her stuffed lion named "Lion" who is also "under the weather", (he's allergic to foxes and supposedly there was a fox in the house this morning).

Needless to say we're all a little sick.

Day At The Beach

Oh those wonderful days in March, that just for a day you feel like spring is upon us. I took G.G. Mamma (my 95 year young grandmother) and Lydia to Conimicut point beach. This beach is always getting shut down in the summer because of "high bacteria level". It's located right at the entrance of the Providence River. It has an awesome lighthouse right off the coast. When I was Lydia's age I swam here all summer. And G.G. swam here for pretty much her entire life. In your face "high bacteria"! Good genes prevail once again!

G.G. is always up for an adventure on a sunny warm day. She is happy to finally be out and about. She hates going out in rain, snow and any form of cold weather, good thing she's lived in New England for the majority of her 95 years.

It's so nice outside that Lydia has shed her coat.

This concerns G.G. considerably.

Lydia shows no regard for this concern.

When G.G. saw this picture she said, "that's me with that crazy hat on".

And in one picture her destiny was set. Captain Lydia of the U.S. Navy reports to duty.

Overall pretty fun time. G.G. forgot that we went as soon as we got home. She was really confused by the large amount of sand that poured out of her shoes when she went to put her slippers on.

Memories for us, moments for her is our new catch phrase.

Alive at Five

So the girl, my charming little cherub has turned five. Yes five! I can hardly believe it. Not only has she reached this age, but amazingly we also have been parents for five years. Count them people. Looking back at our life B.C (before child) it seems like we would never be able to get up early enough to deal with a child. Yes, there were a few years where 10:00 am was getting up early for me. And 5:00 am was always the time when I knew I had stayed up way too late. And now I have a child that is five. She is no longer technically a baby. She has now reached early childhood and there is no turning back.

I could sit here , be the proud parent, and list all her awesome , rockin' creds.

But being the parent of a five year old I feel it is more important to list a few things that I, myself has learned, (it's still all about me).

1. Yes, she may be pretty cool, but by listing her "awesome rockin' creds." I am really trying to be cool through my child. She prefers Hanna Montana to the Ramones and Cinderella to Hello Kitty no matter how hard I try. And let's be honest I've never been cool. Dorky hip, maybe. Trying hard to seem like I'm not trying at all, definitely.

2. I can have a great time with person that is not always looking for the next party. Yes, sometimes it seems like your pre-schooler is the fun and sometimes annoying friend from college that is always drunk. They fall down, take crazy risks and you can't always understand their jokes. They even dress like that old roommate wearing broken jewelry that they made themselves, mismatched layers and inappropriate shoes for the weather. But my preschooler is not drunk when we are hanging out at the local tot-lot and either am I for that matter. Hush!

3. I have made friends. Note the plural. Listen I've never been great at keeping friendships. Call me lazy or insecure I'm horrible at maintaining friendships. I've had the same bestest girlfriend since 1991, which is a testament to both of us, I think. Anyone who knows Corinne and I together recognizes that not only are we great friends but that it is truly difficult to be around the pair of us for an extended period of time. Ask any ex-boyfriend and they will give the emphatic roll of the eyes. Our current partners are too smart to answer this question.

As I've matured I've actually managed to make a few new friends, that I truly adore and who supposedly like me. And going back to #2, I can enjoy their company without a brewsky, but that's always fun too.

I'm not advocating having a child to gain emotional growth. I actually think most people do this on there own, sometime in their early twenties. I've always been a "late bloomer", so for me these milestones have been significant. I can't wait to see how mature I get when she goes to Jr. High.