I want to get these down before we forget she says them.
She calls kisses, “pisses.”
She calls her diaper, a “biper.”
She calls a banana a “deaah.” This one I don’t get, cause she used to say “nana.”
She calls Granddad, “Dad-dad.”
She calls Angela, “Annjaa.”
She calls a washcloth, a “caw-cough.”
She calls Dixie, the German Shepherd, “Dickies.”
She calls yogurt, “gogurt.” And she doesn’t mean the brand.
I’m sorry, but she’s really cute.
So Thanksgiving was good. We took the train down to Waco on Wendesday afternoon, as we have no car anymore. It was fun. It only took six hours. But it was a FUN six hours. We got to hang out and sit back and relax and watch Judah run around and take it all in. It’s her first train ride. We got to have a snack and we didn’t even have to stop and pull over for Judah to go to the potty. In fact, when we got back up to the riding car, Judah had to stop at every aisle and say “Judah pee-pee inthe potty.” She was very well-received.
We went to Bev and Norman’s lakehouse for Thansgiving Day. There’s nothing like eating a bunch of food, laying around for a bit and then having someone say, “You wanna go ride in the boat?” Yeah I do. The weather was gorgeous and Judah found her sea legs. She loved standing in the middle of the boat balancing herself. She’s so much fun.
We went back to Waco on Friday where we ate some more and laid around some more. We got to see LeeAnn and Damascus, who’s really huge and social and has these big, gorgeous eyes. Sunday, we went to Redeemer Presbyterian and saw Daniel and Greg and later we got to hang out with Greg and Tracey and their FOUR children, age 6 and under. I can remember when Abby was a baby and was drooling all over me. Now she’s a big, big coffee drinking sister. I’m proud of her and she’s not even my kid.
We had a great weekend and did not want to come back to the grind. When we packed, I had no idea what the weather was going to do, so I had couple of tank tops, t-shirts, long sleeves, and sweaters, jeans and a skirt, and on the way back I told Joshua, “You know, I’ve got enough clothes here, that we don’t really have to go back to Dallas, we could just go wherever, you know.” He said, “Well, I’ve got my computer, I’m good to go.” Tempting as that is, I do have a job I have to show up at and at least turn in a notice. Maybe later.
We had a great vacation. Thanks for asking!
I’m home sick today. I felt it coming on yesterday, that scratchy tickling in the back of my throat that makes me constantly clear it, and then the vaguest feeling of tightness in the chest. Full-blown coughing came on last night and I’ve decided that Nyquil is nothing more than a thick-tasting placebo. It certainly doesn’t help me sleep any better.
Judah came into our bed around six a.m. We couldn’t figure out what time it was at first because our power had gone off sometime during the night. That might explain why I had been waking up so cold all night long and why my little girl’s body was shivery when she curled up next to me. I called in to work around nine, and Joshua went and found the breaker, restoring our electric. It’s better now that the heaters are running. I’ve spent the day coughing crap up out of my lungs, curled up on the futon with a blanket and endless mugs of tea, reading news and blogs on the internet. I’ve got the latest Observer and the Chronicles of Narnia to help my sanity.
Joshua suggested I get out of the house for a bit, so we went and had lunch at All Good Cafe, ran by the post office and stopped at Blockbuster to get a couple of DVDs, or as Judah calls them, “JBs.” I don’t know why she calls them that. I can hear her waking up from her nap now, rolling around in her bed and saying, “morning, Mommy.”
I’m planning to return to work tomorrow. I’m hoping I’ll feel better, cause it would really suck if this got worse.
So the context is, many mornings while we’re getting ready, we play the radio. More specifically, we play Jack FM. While this is not a plug for certain radio station, we do listen to Jack. Mostly because they don’t have annoying DJs talking all morning. They generally play shiny, happy music.
Judah loves to dance. She always wants to watch Cinderella and Belle because they “dancings.”
So one morning, a week ago or so, we were playing Jack FMs shiny, happy music, and Judah was wanting all of us to dance. Joshua was getting dressed while we were all dancing, so he turned to Judah and said, “This is the opposite of a strip. It’s a dress.”
You know, since when you dance and take OFF clothes, it’s considered a “strip.” And Judah uses the word “dress” to mean putting clothes ON.
There you have it. Not very exciting.
I stayed in with Heather and Angela last night. We drank margaritas, ate chocolate chip cookies and worked on my hair.
I went out with Janiece and Mandy tonight. We went to Bishop Arts and got coffees (and tea!) at the Nodding Dog.
Both nights were equally fun. Photos by me, mad photoshopping skillz by him.
Yesterday, Joshua, Judah and I were at the laundromat around the corner doing gads of laundry. I stepped outside for a minute to call my dad, and as we were beginning a conversation, I noticed a woman walking along Gaston, carrying lots of grocery bags, with two small children in tow. I noticed her because she was screaming at them at the top of her lungs, something like this: “… you little motherfucker! If you don’t shut the fuck up right now, when we get home I am gonna beat your ass!”
I was paralyzed. Everything in me wanted to run toward them, swoop up the little boys and scream at her to stop. I told my dad what I was seeing and hearing and as I was retelling him what was happening, they walked a bit further and she dropped her bags, then turned on the small boy (who couldn’t have been older than four) and screamed, “I told to you to shut the fuck up! You better shut your goddam fucking mouth right now!” then she picked up her bags and kept going.
I was appalled. I can imagine that goes on behind more closed doors than I’d like to imagine, but I could hardly believe that this woman, though I have a hard time using that word as an identifier right now for her, could do this to this little boy in the middle of the street. In public. To me, for her to be able to behave that way in public meant that she thought that was acceptable behavior. I’m not saying I’m perfect (good Lord, ANYONE who knows me knows I’m FULL of issues), but I know enough to keep most of my shitty parts out of public view and do most of my self-abasing behaviors in the privacy of my own home.
The only thing that kept me from running over to her and giving her a piece of my mind is the vision I had of her returning to the laundromat with a gun and disposing of me. After all, if she would cuss out her kids in public, God knows what she would do to a stranger who told her what she was doing was wrong and to STOP IT RIGHT NOW.
My friend Angela lent my a book by Anne Lamott titled, “Traveling Mercies.” I read it yesterday. The whole book. In one section she tells this story about being at the beach with her son when a man began abusing his golden retriever. He hit the dog twice in the ribs with a big stick, right in front of Anne’s son, Sam. He later pulled the dog up into a standing position using the leash, so the dog was practically hanging by its collar. Sam was begging his mother to do something, but she recalled how she felt frozen and helpless, and that anything that came to her would have helped the dog but berated the man.
She said how Jesus would have not only saved the dog but loved the man as well. Not because the man deserved it, but because that’s how Jesus operates, he loved people even when we think they aren’t worthy of it. We’re all worthy of love because we’re all here. She said how she felt like a failure, not only because she failed to act, but because also even if she had, she would have failed to love.
I realized today, that if I had run up and let that woman have a piece of my mind, I would have only got it half right. I might have been able to stop her from abusing her child, and I might not, but either outcome, I would not have loved HER. I’ve been thinking today about what kind of pain, what kind of problems, what’s wrong with her that she would be that way toward a child, and am now convinced that she needs love just as much as her little boys. So today I’m glad that I didn’t run up to her. I would have acted out of a sense of injustice but I would not have acted out in love.
I think that realization will help mend the suffering I feel at not having acted.
Got this from my sister Whitney, you and Brian would like this one.
“Which Random Irish Gaelic Phrase Are You? “
Pog mo thoin
‘Kiss my ass.’ You’re one tough bastard, and if anyone doesn’t like it, they can kiss your ass. You enjoy fighting and causing grievous bodily harm. Hey! What are you lookin’ at, punk?
“Daddy socks?”
“Yes, Judah, Daddy’s wearing socks.”
“Daddy socks?”
“This is my new look,” my husband said as he stuck a pose in nothing but his nice black socks and boxer briefs.
WONDERFUL.
So I got a little carried away with my garden, and wondered if we planted Judah if we could grow more of her. Someone told me that’s not quite how it works.
Okay, so umm, not really. But Mark and Dawn and my Dad, who was over for a bit, dug these great holes in the ground since our fence fell over a day ago (see background) to put the new posts in to raise the fence back up, and I couldn’t resist sticking my child in one.
She loved it.
“This is the opposite of a strip. It’s a dress.”
What exactly is my husband trying to teach our daughter?