Lists help.

Since firing the family I nanny for (doesn't that make me sound empowered?):

1. I've written most of a short story! Fiction! Creative-like! And I've been drawing, and mostly NOT crossing it all out in a self-hating fury!

Yes, that's a cyclops standing in a rudimentary rendering of the Frog Pond. Yes, it's gotten a bit beat up from being toted around in my journal. Yes, there's a story idea linked to it.


2. I've pulled out a ton of my own hair. Subconsciously, usually while watching Netflix. Don't blame Netflix, however. I do have strategies I should be acting on to prevent and/or reduce this nasty habit.

3. I have had phone conversations (note: plural) with my brothers and Mom. The phone rings and I answer it! Like an adult!

4. The man-boy I'm growing attached to has gone on a trip and I have noooothing to dooooo... besides tear my own hair out, paint my nails in needlessly elaborate patterns, weed through my entire wardrobe

4. I weeded through my entire wardrobe, which needed a good thrashing! I have picked out all the junk that was too big, was made out of that polyester blend that makes me sweat in public, or that I simply never wore, consigned about half of it and donated the rest. Aww yeah!

5. Dad and I are emailing and texting, despite his persistent attempts to make me abandon all the psychiatric support I receive in Boston. His latest evangelizing crusade; Robert Whitaker's Anatomy of an Epidemic, a book detailing how dramatically mental illness, and disability status, has increased in the United States, and positing that misuse of psychiatric medications is at the root of this epidemic. Considering one of my main hurdles in the course of my treatment has been the feeling that I lack the support of family and friends as I attempt more difficult - and life-interrupting - therapies, my father's rather loud proselytism is decidedly unwelcome at this very moment.

6. I had an appointment with my foot doc. He's leaving MGH forevs. Jerkface. But, I did get my brace refitted, and had a new one cast (by a veeery sexy dude who had no qualms flirting with me while casting).

7. Why not have 7? Hmm... now I have to think of something...  I'm missing Shane lately, and trying to work against my natural proclivity to doubt the friendship we had. Trying to simply celebrate and enjoy what we had. I made this to share for his birthday:

Yay lists!

The end.

Labors of love

I've been working on projects for the little people in my life, because it's all I can do, financially. I can't even afford birthday cards, but I can sew a little, so I'm trying out my Project Runway skills.

Here's an apron I made for the little one I babysat:

She's officially THE Starbucks baby, so it seemed appropriate. I'd show you a pic of her wearing it but I don't think her parents would appreciate it.

I made this as a going-away present. The mean terrible parents moved to Seattle without asking me. How selfish!





And then Baby Girl turned the big FIVE this week. I called her up on her birthday and she answered saying, "I'm five years old and it's my birthday all day!" She'd had a bit of sugar at that point.

I went home this weekend and it wasn't terrible, considering my brothers are still douche booketts and my mother is chronically coughing and my dad is a bag of awful. It was all worth it to see Baby Girl in my latest creation. I give you... the princess cape!


I know you can't tell that it's purple brocade with a satin lining (which, together, cost me less than $10) but it IS and it's beautiful and she seems to like it!

Score one for Aunt Jo!

I'm back early from my trip home, by the way, because I have lovely white dots on my tonsils. Strep, I believe, to be confirmed after a 3:30 doctor's appointment that I cannot afford to go to. Sigh.

Just so ya know...

The following things, since I know you've been wondering, have crawled up my ass of late:

1. Lost my T pass. The monthly one. The $60 one. I'm simultaneously stranded and strapped for cash.

2. Just paid my September rent yesterday. Can't imagine getting the funds together to pay October, especially since rent goes up Oct. 1.

3. My roommate ignores me or returns all queries with growls and grunts. Won't explain why, but I imagine it has to do with her passive aggressive attempts to get ME to call our landlord about HER mouse problem. I did call, and got yelled at by the surly receptionist because someone else has been calling her nonstop.

4. Three panic attacks at work in five days. Bad ones. Crying, gulping, gagging bad. So fucking embarrassing. Usually follow my trip home to Brookline with a straight-to-bedroom-shut-door cryfest. Could contribute to roommate's testiness.

5. Local babysitting job drying up abruptly, as the family shall abscond to Seattle tomorrow. Dealing with my mini-bereavement because, as usual, I have fallen utterly in love with the little one.

6. Did I mention the money problem? Have no insurance, stopped going to physical therapy (or any other therapy for that matter), thus in pain. Keep selling my stuff hoping to boost my finances - s'long file cabinet, stereo, maybe guitar next. Returned PAYLESS shoes I bought for interviews because a) I can't afford $12 shoes right now and b) I'm too gutless for interviews. What was I thinking? Also can't leave the house because (refer to item 1) I can't afford to go anywhere, see friends, eat food...

7. The Baby Girl's birthday is October 9th. Raise your hand if you can afford (mentally, physically, financially, emotionally) a trip home to Le Victoire - NOT SO FAST JoBiv!

8. Losing weight. Not on purpose, but none of my clothes fit correctly. Paradoxically always feel dumpy and gross and fat in my clothes.

9. Election season. My wee brain and shrinking faith can't take another bad one.

10. Because there might as well be 10... JoCD is back in full force. Lists, scratches, bald spots, blatherings...

Sponsored by the Letter J

Today, Iced Grande Two-Pump Vanilla Nonfat Latte, a young mom of a gorgeous two-year-old adopted child, complimented me in the nicest possible way. Now, considering she asks for me whenever she comes in (“Where’s Doh?”) and tells me all about her day when she sees me (“I hab schoo wiv Mommy,” “I hab punkin loaf after a rest”), Little A and I have gotten to be pals.

Iced Grande etc. Latte has a teacher’s cert in elementary ed. and has tons of brilliant ideas, one of which is an alphabet poster for Little A with familiar places and people. I… (gulp) have been nominated to represent the letter J.

I’m really, really, flushingly, flappingly happy.

But what is she DOING?

Because people seem to be wondering, I shall provide you with the following mundane list of the crap that fills my days.

1. Avoiding phone calls.
2. Making unavoidable phone calls.
3. Carefully timing all checks sent to landlord and utilities.
4. Putting various band-aids on various lacerations/blisters/vulnerabilities on my still-mostly-dead foot.
5. Making corporate coffee. Avec smile. (Sometimes genuine.)
6. Buying more band-aids whilst postponing rent checks.
7. Babysitting a ten-month-old baby girl who screams at the top of her lungs for the first fifteen minutes. EVERY TIME I WATCH HER.
8. Lying awake.
9. Avoiding you. Yes, even you, although I love you and want to have something wonderful to say to you about my life. I don't, and so I am quiet.

JoBiv's endless numbered days

Ready? If you need to, take notes or breaks as you see fit.

1. One week of partial hospitalization done! The doctor said something about me being there for only one week. That was untrue. They want me there for three weeks.

2. Yes, I went to Vermont - TO SKI!! J to the Bivvo on skis? Sounds like a bad idea, unless you know that I'm an undercover jock. It's true! After two days of dawdling and blaming the weather for my pokeyness, Mel and I decided to take a beginner's course in skiing. Turns out that I didn't need it. Everything came back to me from when my Dad first traumatized me on the slopes of Gore Mountain at the tender age of nine. It felt so good to swish my way down the slopes, to control my body and my speed, to get comfortable with the chair lift. Mel had a hard time, though, and tried to be happy for my success.


3. Baby Mama asked me to meet with her, remember? I did, in fact, meet with her and the Baby Daddy at Pea's last night. They were awkward, letting me hold Pea and play with her, conspicuously quiet between brief spouts of smalltalk. Pea fairly leapt into my arms as soon as I walked in, and wouldn't let me put her down for a good forty minutes.

Eventually they got up the courage to tell me they're letting me go. This, after all, is a perfect time for a transition for them. Y'know, while I'm sick. They're looking for someone who will cook and clean for them as well as watch Pea. And yes, I did cry right there in their kitchen. I thought I had prepared myself for this... I was not at all prepared for the smack of emotions while I watched the baby move a magnet from the refrigerator to the washing machine - something I taught her.

I'm heartbroken.


4. Today I stopped my tears long enough to make a follow-up call to an agency that has seen my resume and actually wants to talk to me. After a week of phonetag, I spoke to the woman who emailed me. She said, "This is how our process works. We do an initial interview of about three to four minutes on the phone..." And then my brains shot out my ears and I was dead on the floor.

Okay, not really. Then we had a phone interview, which was fairly easy since I'm excited about this agency and had lots to say about how my experiences fit the job. This woman will be in touch with me "soon," which, in non-profit terms, could be a month.


5. The Novelist took me out last Thursday. The first thing he said was, "Wow, you look really amazing tonight," and he blushed. Ding ding ding! We have a winner!

I'm seeing him this Thursday, too, and we have tentative plans for Saturday. Trying to move a little carefully just now, with all the world spinning away from me these days.

And I have to learn how to take his compliments graciously... I'm not accustomed to such flattery.

Does Johanna exist?

From "Does Joanna Exist?"

... What sort of world would this be if you

(or anyone, surely Joanna herself)

were to find after a lifetime lived

otherwise that Joanna is not the creature

all had assumed, but is in reality

some weird emanation from eternity

sealed up in a mind that thinks itÂ’s Joanna,

a body that lives in Joanna‚’s house?

...Of course she exists, everyone sighs.

And you exist too, Joanna replies.

-Bonnie Jacobson

I walked myself to Beth Israel Deaconess on Sunday evening, having had a terrible epiphany that I would never get healthy on my own, and having no idea how to get help. I walked to the wrong building, which was a little funny. They took me in an ambulance to the correct one, the ER, where I cried my eyes out with unchecked anxiety. I talked to five different doctors and nurses, telling parts of my story, and then I was left alone in a room with a big glass doors looking out on the nurse's station. I was there for a total of 20 hours while they looked for a bed for me in a psych ward somewhere in Boston.

Another ambulance, another hospital... They had me strapped to a stretcher, but let me walk once we were on the right floor. The people there gave me a kit of toiletries, johnnies to wear, and hospital socks. They were frantic to get me something to eat, but I wasn't hungry. I had arrived during snack time, and all the other patients congregated in the TV room, snatching cookies, oranges, pie, milk... I sat there, trying to eat, looking at the people, hoping they weren't looking at me and I wasn't in anyone's way. Someone poked me with a needle and got a blood sample. Someone else took my blood pressure and temperature. I took a shower with my tiny shampoo bottle and hospital towels, tried not to look in the mirror, went back to my room and put myself to bed.

The next four days were strange. I had meetings with doctors, a nurse assigned to me every shift (and different nurses every day), medication to help me sleep, some slight choice in food that I gradually felt like eating, and bizarre conversations with legitimately crazy people. I showed up for every scheduled event. I monitored my reactions to drugs. I managed stilted friendships with the less debilitated. I made phone calls without completely losing it.

I had to call the Baby Mama on Monday morning, early, to tell her I couldn't work. She asked if I was okay, asked if she could do anything. I told her I'd probably be out all week. I told her I'd be in touch when I could tell her more. She was pure sympathy.

I got a call from her on Tuesday asking if I could work this week. I called her back to tell her I couldn't. She, again, offered her services if I should need them. I said, no, no, I'm fine, thanks... She said, "When you get back home I think we should sit down to talk," in a very serious manner. In other words, I may have gotten fired for getting sick.

I'm back now, but not completely back. I have a day program to go to for the next two or three weeks. My symptoms... well, they were aggravated for a week, so I think they can only get better now. But, it turns out they're not just symptoms; I actually have OCD. Awesome.

I didn't have to be honest about this, but how could I leave it out? I'm trying to be more honest with myself. This was a pretty big event in my life. I didn't disappear completely for a week. I do exist, most of the time. I think.

Coats of many colors

The snow of two days ago melted, and most of it dried up as well. Today was a warm day with blue sky here and there. Pea was as eager as I was to get outside. She actually stood still while I put her many coats on.

Here's the thing about Pea's outerwear -- all her clothes are hand-me-downs, and none of them are warm or unstained. Thus we layer. First, of course, is the onesie, long-sleeved for super cold days. Then the shirt, then the sweater or sweatshirt. That's her outfit for bopping around the house. When we go outside, I say, "Pea, get your jackets." She tippy-taps over to the dining room chair where we hang her many worn coats, drags them off, brings them to me, then runs away when I go to put them on her.

Jacket numero uno: actually a fleece from Gap circa 1999. It's thick, though, and big enough to fit over her sweater. It's a deep, sporty blue color and screams BOY BOY BOY, evidenced by the many, "Oh he's so sweet" comments we get as we stroll down Harvard.

Jacket numero two-o: a once-downy, lumpy patchwork with disintegrating cuffs. This coat is probably her warmest, but it's officially ratty. It's also got the Brookline Hippie thang goin' on - androgynous color scheme set off by fairly-traded shell buttons carved into the shapes of little bunnies. I call this one Pea's Starfish Coat because it's puffiest in the arms, which means she can't put her arms down when she wears it. Funny, but cruel.

Jacket numero trio: The Ugly Coat. I have two words for you: color block. Add in a third - NEON. Are we done yet? I actually have a song for this coat. The melody is unimportant. The lyrics are uninspired, but state my opinion clearly.

"S...'s UGLY coat
Let's wear the UGLY coat
Go get the UGLY coat
Zip up the UGLY coat"

Now, the ugliness is offensive enough, but it's just plain disturbing that this has become our go-to coat considering that it's about as thick as two-ply Scott, it has no hood, and it's two sizes too big. Why does she wear it? Because it has snap-on mittens. Yep, that's the whole reason. It's impossible to keep mittens on her fingers, and so she gets the ugly coat instead.

Did I mention the color block? When a certain ice cream scoopin', sex shop hoppin' friend of mine saw it, he summed it up like so: "That's a fly coat."

And the cherry on top? Her hats are hand-me-downs, too. She has a baby BOY blue one with white bears knitted in and a pom-pom. That one's fairly cute, especially when it slips over her eyes and she has to wrestle with it. (Is it cruel of me to think that's cute?) The other hat is from Old Navy. The boy's section. It's navy blue and grey fleece and fits her well, but when I put it on her she is completely incognito. People who know the bright green stroller doubt themselves. "Is that... Pea? I thought that was a boy in there."

Now I'm not one for enforcing gender roles, but it's really frickin' annoying to correct people all day, and slightly concerning to correct people who know the family. I tend to make sure she's wearing purple or pink or ridiculous flowers on the bottom to give people an indication, and they're still confused.

Gah. Anyway, take a moment now to close your eyes and imagine the combination of all three coats. With either hat. Egads! The effect is horrific. Lucky for Pea, her cuteness outshines the egregious wrongs done her by such a fashion faux pas.

24 hrs

Wednesday:

10:00pm - Went out for a post-chorus drink with Rickety Split (J.P. Licks boy) to celebrate some person's dodgeball victory. Met roommates. Did not press vagaries of friendship. Enjoyed self.

11:40pm- Remembered I had to work next day.


Thursday

12:40am - Arrived home, got me ready for bed.

1:50am - Looked at clock, wondered why I was awake enough to read it.

3:30am - Turned clock around so I would stop looking at it.

5:50am - Turned it back around, sure I didn't set the alarm. (I did.)

7:15am - Alarm went off. Michael Bolton singing. Terrible way to start the day. Luckily, I set my clock a good twenty minutes fast and I was able to soothe that terrible start with a wee nap.

8:08am - Miraculously got out the door with wallet, cell phone, coat, scarf, mittens, ke... Waaaait a minute, where are those keys?

8:10am - Buzzed upstairs neighbor and tried to communicate the fact that I could see my keys dangling in my door's lock. She eventually let me in to retrieve them.

8:30am on the frickin' dot - Pea's dad opened the door proclaiming, "Pea, looks who's here!!" Pea looked, burst into tears and buried her head between Dad's knees. I picked her up. She stopped immediately and asked for milk.

9:40am - Cleaning people arrived. Pea refused to eat breakfast because, according to her, the entertainment had arrived.

10:30am - We met up with a nanny friend to hoist ourselves to the Children's Museum

12:00pm - Arrived at museum. Yes, an hour and a half later... Chased lil people around, had some fun, turned them around and got them back on the T.

1:20pm - Pea fell asleep on the T. I swore loudly. Several strangers rebuked me with their eyes.

1:40pm - Rewarded myself and extended Pea's nap with black raspberry ice cream. At J. P. Licks. Shush now.

2:40pm - Got Pea home, put her in her crib though she was partly awake. She whined unconvincingly, fell asleep for another hour and a half.

4:30pm - Susan P. Bloom called me, asked me to meet her at The Huntington Theatre at 7:30. I said yes immediately, filled with absolutely unfettered joy upon hearing that her grandson arrived safely at last! I hung up and wondered if I was conscious enough for theatre.

7:30pm - I was conscious enough. It was Les Liaisons Dangereuses. The set and costumes were amazing, the crowd was unresponsive despite quality acting. Bloomers updated me, asked pointed questions, received vague answers.

10:00pm - Dropped off by Bloomers, tired beyond belief but somehow sated.

11:36pm - Listened to Ben Harper. Thought of my grad school friends. Felt my eyes crossing with exhaustion.

Oh yes, the perks of nannying...

I remembered the reasons I chose/fell into nannying for work; no cubicles, I get to play outside every day, and I'm laughing all the time. On most days, anyway. Even today, when I had to be there at the ungodly hour of 7am, which meant I had to get up at 5 so as to limit shower schedule interference in my apartment.

So as to. What a terrible charm bracelet of meaningless words. Orwell would be annoyed with me.

As I was saying, even today, when I could barely keep my eyes open, I had a five-minute-straight giggle fit resulting from Pea losing a shoe and peglegging around the house, marveling at her weird gait and the funny pad-tap sound of her footsteps. She kept looking up at me to grin as though she'd just won some kind of prize. "Look how clever I am!"

Also, Pea prefers reggae. WERS plays a steady stream during her dinner time, and she bops her head while she smushes avocado between her fingers.

ALSO, Pea fell asleep in the stroller one friggin' block before we got to the apartment. Usually, she wakes up when I take her out and acts like she's been asleep for four hours, ripping the place apart and making me nuts, so I tried to wake her up immediately. She was out. Limp. Useless. Halfway up the second flight of stairs, she groggily lifted her head, looked at me, smiled, and gave me an open-mouth-on-cheek baby kiss. Then she snuggled into my shoulder and let out an unladylike snore.

On Holiday

I have the week off. I've spent a lil time being peeved that I couldn't get a full week for Christmas, but lo, now a WEEK off a month later... I can't travel again, can't afford it, so I'm here in Brookline, brooding a bit.

Thus the job search marches on.

My goals for the week:

1. Send out three resumes.
2. Cook well (from Sarah's cookbook, methinks!)
3. Get the hell out of the apartment (to museums? something fun...)
4. Get CDs sent out - they're ready to go, I swear!
5. Work on novel abandoned last year
6. One phone call to a friend I miss per day.

Doable, right?

I'll keep you posted.

Hello, may I take your disorder?

I should start a drive-through clinic. That would be tons o' fun.

Today was a lil crowded for me and my current antisocial anxieties. It was a beautiful day, so of course we went to the park. A bunch of nannies, grandmas, with familiar kids came out of the woodwork to see the blue skies. I just didn't feel like talking to them. I whisked Pea away, and just as she got settled into her nap, Baby Daddy came home.

"How are you, Johanna? I mean, besides tired, because you look tired."

"I'm tired."

"Take a nap! Why don't you just lie down on that couch? I'll just do some work in the back room..."

By "do some work" he meant "roam the apartment to find pots and pans to bang together."

Pea woke, her bottle was interrupted in a thoroughly predictable manner, I whisked her off to a concert in Coolidge Corner. Her music teacher just released a CD of songs for children, and it's excellent. (Vanessa Trien - it's bluegrassy, funky, intelligent stuff, for those of you with kiddles.) She had this concert at a store called Magic Beans, which has a play space about the size of my Beacon St living room. There had to be, oh, 40+ children there, with assorted chaperones. Cla-oo-stra-phobia.

It was very nice to see a mom and baby we knew from music class, who burned out just about the same time we did. I got up to leave, and lo, there was Auntie.

"Hi Johanna! This is quite a crowd! You sticking around? M- (Auntie's 3 yr old daughter), say 'hi' to Pea!"

"It's a little crazy in here... Pea's looking a little flushed."

"YOU're looking a little flushed... Here, can you watch M and hold J (3 month old) while I run out for a sec?"

I said, "sure." Because I'm the type of person who always says, "sure." Because, really, what else are you gonna say to the sister of your employer who wants to see you confident and ready to handle any lil situation that pops up?

I'm recalling Fall '04, when I tried to make myself say something, ANYTHING, to the T driver once a day. I'm swimmin' in exactly the same amount of anxiety now, and yet the expectations for my performance are much, much higher.

The thing is, when thrown in with other people (social anxiety), I begin to feel like they're all watching me (paranoia) and my throat closes up (panic attacks) and I respond by pretending I'm super-bold and exciting (multiple personality disorder) or pulling my hair out (self-mutilating), and of course, it's all TEN THOUSAND times worse with (insomnia).

12 is my bedtime. Off I go to stare at the blinds and block out the scuttles of mice in my closet with my racing thoughts. Gosh, I'm fun.

"Yes, but how ARE you?"

Baby Daddy wouldn't leave me alone today.

I hope you can understand how annoying this man can be. For a psychiatrist, a LOT gets by him that he should really notice. I mean, I'm a frickin' mess in general. I've been wondering when he'd pull me aside and ask me serious questions since the day they hired me.

Instead, he surfaces from his weird Monday ritual of teasing the baby with his presence behind a door that doesn't completely shut to ask me if I'm sleeping.

No. The answer is no.

He continues to siphon away my only break time, Pea's naptime, by asking about my sleeping issues and nighttime rituals and possible causes of sleeplessness. I answer politely, my responses short and guarded. I get the distinct feeling that he may not be listening because he cares, but because he has to prove to me that he is, in fact, a psychiatrist. Of course, this may be my defensive attitude kicking in, as I do, in fact, feel a bit attacked.

After a good thirty minutes wasted in this halting conversation, Baby Daddy appears to be done offering advice. He gets up, leaves the living room. I pick up my book (he'd interrupted the last chapter of my Agatha Christie), sigh a big sigh, and begin to read.

"Oh, and Johanna... I hope you don't have any anxiety about your future as pertains to us."

Huh? Can he see my heart racing?

"A lot of anxiety comes from future-planning, and Baby Mama and I both know that you're young, educated, intelligent... You won't be with us forever. So whatever anxiety you have, don't waste any on how we'll handle it if you have to move on to another job."

I plastered a teetering smile on my face, not sure what to say. Luckily, the man likes to talk.

"I mean, we feel honored, truly, to have you taking care of our daughter. You're amazing with her, and we feel so lucky to have found you, but we also know that there are other things out there for you."

"I do have a Master's to pay off."

Chuckles all around.

"So... yeah. Just don't let that worry you. If you have to go, we'll cope. We'd like to have you for ten more years or ten more weeks... whatever you can manage... but we'll figure it out no matter what you decide."

Hmm. Now I can't tell if Baby Daddy is incredibly shrewd, or a very good blunderer. Either way, I feel a bit exposed. (I can't wait to share this with my career counselor.)

Oh, and...

Ah-po. Pea's new word of the day. She is perfect. (She also ate an ah-po whole with her razor sharp chipmunk teeth.)

Dusting off the resume

That's IT. I need to start looking.

Things that pissed me off today:

1. Was asked to come early. I thought it was for a reason. Apparently, that reason was so Baby Daddy's normal morning could go a lil more smoothly. I, insomniac Jo, had to interrupt my very fragile sleep schedule because Baby Daddy can't change a morning diaper without falling apart. Not okay.

2. While attempting to catch up on some much-needed-because-interrupted sleep, BD came out to say, "Wow, Pea's dead to the world, eh?" I said, "Yeah, hope she'll hang in there another 20 minutes or so." BD: "Right. Okay." Walks to end of hallway. Slams office door. Wakes Pea.

3. He then GOES INTO HER ROOM AND GETS HER OUT OF HER CRIB!

4. He then PICKS HER UP!!

5. He then puts her in MY much-harrassed arms, where she deservedly bawls her eyes out for five minutes...

6. At the end of the day, Baby Mama calls to let BD know she'll be a lil late. This does not, nor should it, affect my departure at 5:30. I deliver the message. 5:30 comes around. BD: "I guess you should go, Johanna. I think I'll be alright." Umm... that's why my shoes are on and my purse is on my shoulder.

7. BD continues after noting my barely restrained teeth-gritting, "Thanks so much for putting up with us this week... so I'll see you early tomorrow? Is that okay?"

The All American Family

"So you had a good visit with your brother?" asked Baby Daddy.
"Yeah, it was really good to see him," said I.
"That's great that you're close," said Baby Daddy.
"Well, it's taken a lot of work..."
"Yeah?"
"We didn't always get along. We hated each other in junior high and high school."
"But now you're close?" asked/said Baby Daddy.
"Yes, close enough."
"That's great. You're closest with Smacks?"
"Umm... I guess I am, at the moment. Sometimes I feel I'm closer with Cripps," I said, wondering if he had a point coming.
"Wow, that's great. You have this big house with a big yard and a big family and everyone loves each other... The All American Family."
I let out a strangled giggle and changed the subject.

Pogo Pea

I woke Pea from her 2.5 hour nap today just by opening her door. She shot right up, her round pea head swaying a little in surprise. She used to cry and whine and cuddle. Today she decided to show off her mad baby skillz instead.

Skill number 1: Impersonation
Pea looked at me, bleary-eyed, smiled, and pointed past me to the clock on the wall. She made a clucking noise in steady rhythm. Dok dok dok dok... that's the sound of the clock! Clever girl.

Skill number 2: Evasive maneuvers
I reached for her, saying, "Did you have a good rest? Did you have any dreams?" ... All the usual stuff I blather to her when she gets up. She stood up as though she wanted me to pick her up, then gave me a sly smile and ran to the far corner of her crib, laughing her diapered ass off. When I laughed at her she turned to give her most charming smile, then ran to the other corner of the crib, chuckling the whole way.

Skill number 3: The human pinball
Pea found herself enjoying the bounciness of her crib. She held on to the side and pushed her body downward, not quite jumping, but getting a good lil bounce. She giggled like mad. She ran around her mattress with big man-on-the-moon steps, chuckling, shrieking, giggling, falling, rolling, bouncing... She hit her head against the bumpers on purpose, laughing uncontrollably.

Skill number 4: Composure
I finally caught my own breath long enough to say, "C'mon Pea, it's time for a bottle." She looked up at me, looked like she was going to try her Evasive Maneuvers again, thought better of it, and launched herself into my arms, cuddling into my shoulder.

"Nana," she said.

(We think she means Johanna.)

How very brutal!

(Natalie Dee clearly doesn't know MY Pea...)

Rave reviews and other news

Monday was a school holiday for a lot of Brookline. Devotion school had off for teacher trainings. Preschools had off for... I have no idea what reason. The result of all this holidaying was crammed parks, school-aged kids zipping around toddlers like they were mere buoys in an obstacle course.

It also meant that the baby's Auntie, who lives nearby, had her preschooler home for the day and decided to take her to the park with the new baby in tow. It was a pleasant surprise. Finally, an English-speaking woman in the park, a member of the Pea Fan Club (I believe she's the Secretary), and a playmate for Pea. Even though M is three years older, she enjoys Pea and follows her around sometimes, interested in her little Pea world.

We didn't stick with Auntie all day, though. We had social visits to make. There were the Russian nannies to consider, and our new friends, Ven and O, a Jamaican nanny and her Indian charge. And there were wood chips to eat, rubbish to kick around, gaping chasms to teeter on the edge of, etc.

This was all Monday, remember. Yesterday, Pea and I escaped the house for a bit, braving the drizzle for the sake of my sanity. We ran into Auntie's nanny, who's had a lot of leisure time since the new baby came. M was at school, Auntie was home with baby. She always sees us from far off with our electric green stroller.

"Johanna, I heard about you!" (Please insert Jamaican accent here.)
"Huh?"
"You know how they talk."
"Um, you mean about us?"
"Yes about us with the kids. Total strangers think they know me, you know?"
"Yeah, I know." Many a time I've had strangers wave me down to say hi to Pea and tell me they've heard soooo much about me. Very unnerving.
"Well Baby Mama was sayin how Auntie was so impressed with you, how Pea keeps you on your feet and you always chasin' her."
"Huh..."
"She said you are so good..."
"Well you know I can't sit on a bench with his baby."
"Oh no, not with THIS baby. OOh she know we talkin' about her!" Pea was squirming with impish delight in her stroller, smiling and chuckling.

She went on to say how impressed Auntie was with my mad skillz, how I stood out on the playground, how I obviously enjoyed my job.

I'm not gonna lie to ya. It feels good. Now where's my raise?


In the abovementioned other news:

My mother is so much more fun in writing. My father pushed her into an email account, and she's finally getting the hang of it. She cracks me up. She has this long-standing hostile relationship with the tab button and she updates me on their quarrels. She writes short emails, always afraid they'll explode or something before she can send them. And yesterday I got an email with the following subject line:

Your mother grows a set.

Apparently she's driving, by her wee self, to Boston. She wants to see my choir concert on Saturday, and she also wants to see First Light festivities. She's staying with me. I'm trying to keep her email charmingness in mind. Oh my, she is so charming. What a clever charming lady. Oh we will have such fun.

I hope.

Morning person my ass

I had to be at Pea's house a full hour earlier today. Please allow my earlier poetic waxings of camp nostalgia to conflate with the episode below:


This morning I woke up before any of my roommates, which is a feat. Jake gets up mighty early to work demolition or the early valet shift at the Ritz. Today was his day off, and I hoped my face-washing wouldn't wake him or his bladder. I had already determined not to take a shower, afraid I'd be tired enough to try to shave my eye or something as strange.

I heard someone bumping around over the sound of the water. I prayed it wasn't Becca, because she has the tendency to knock on the door while I'm in the bathroom and attempt full philisophical conversations through the door. Things like, "How long do you think you'll be?" My reply is an audible, "Go the fuck away!" But really, if I were less inhibited, I believe I'd say, "Hmm. How long have any of us BEEN? Are we here at all? These are all good questions."

Anyway, I think she's been suitably trained by now and didn't knock on the door. All the better for her.

Dressing for the day, I tried to imagine how I could possibly get my breakfast without sharing air with Becca. Y'see, it's partially because I hate EVERYBODY in the morning. People are so repulsive before the sun's up, aren't they? I harbor a more specific hatred for the way Becca operates in the world. To narrow the focus once more, I hate the way she operates in the kitchen.

As I tried, and failed, to invisibly slip to my pantry, the fridge, and the spoon drawer, Becca managed to position herself in exactly the wrong place for each movement. Now, when other people are holding a box of cereal, a bowl full of it, and a jug of milk, you might think to yourself, "Aha! That girl means to EAT that cereal! She may need an implement of some kind. Saaay, I'm right here by the spoon drawer. I could supply the spoon myself! Or, since I'm feeling a little lazy, I could just move myself out of the way. Zip! The way is cleared."

This is not how Becca operates. She stands there. Her mouth is moving. It's too early for me to know what she's saying. Something about an exterminator? Who is she calling at this time of day? Is that MY phone? And how has she dirtied four bowls within the ten minutes of wakefulness she's had in the kitchen?

I approach the drawer from the side. She's still yapping. I lunge. Useless. The path is blocked. She's talking. What is she talking about?

"... and I can't believe Stan sent a landscaper guy to kill the bushes instead of sending someone to rip up the carpet. Like we needed the bushes trimmed! I sent him that email... Oh yeah, I CC'd it to you... saying that we had to have something done about the carpet or I'm calling the Board of Health and I said that we needed to hear from him by this Friday or else..."

"BECCA!"

"... yah?"

"I don't speak English before... what time is it?" The clock read 5 past 7. I couldn't formulate the words, proving my point. "Before hours from nowish."

"What?"

"Spoon!"

"Okay."

"RARR."

"OkAY."

I think that's what happened. But I was tired. I could have dreamed it.