out of Kadesh

Easter is tomorrow. (Is it incredible to anyone else?) Things I have to do before then include finding an outfit to wear to church, since you’re supposed to look cute on Easter. Don’t ask me why; I’m from the south and I just follow the rules down here. And I hate shopping, and I don’t have time to shop anyway, so it’ll be something from my closet, which means it will probably be too big since I lost weight after my pregnancy (but I still look flabby anyway). Also it will be from at least three seasons ago, so it will be nice and outdated. So that’s going to be a fun task.

Other things I have to do today:

…use my birthday present to make some cinnamon rolls…

…bake Noah some oatmeal cookies for his candy-free Easter basket…

…and iron my pants for work. No, that has nothing to do with Easter; I just have to go to work tonight.

Things I’m doing instead of the aforementioned things I need to do today: sitting on my ass. No pictures for you, unfortunately. Just use your imagination.

And what the heck do Buzz Lightyear, cinnamon rolls, and fake grass have to do with the resurrection of Christ, you ask? (We didn’t actually use fake grass in Noah’s basket, but I wanted a third item for my sentence. My name is Megan, and I will lie if it makes my paragraphs sound more complete.)

I have been asking myself the same question, and the answer is, of course, nothing. Just like a Christmas tree and stockings have nothing to do with the birth of Christ. We Christians just go with it. Bring on the pagan holidays and add a side of Jesus. I LOVE THEM Y’ALL.

Dear Noah,

I would apologize for not writing you a 15-month letter, but I’m going to blame you for that. You should be apologizing to ME for not letting me.

The past two months have been so much fun, Love Bug. You are just the smartest little cookie I’ve ever met, especially in terms of your language skills. You can now say “banana” (you say “balalalala” but we know what you mean), “kitty” (“kee!”), “Lucy” (“Lee!”), “more” (“mah!”) (which you say for everything you want, by the way. You’re just chillin’ and suddenly you cry out “MAH! MAH!” and your Daddy and I are standing there going, What is it, kid? More what? More cheese? More water? More shoes? More chair? More petting the dog?), “ball” (“bah!”), and the other day you said “car” for the first time (“cah!”). You can tell me what the elephant says (complete with arm-lifting for the trunk), what the car says (“vvoooo!”), where your hair, ears, eyes, belly button, feet, diaper, and nose are (although sometimes your aim is slightly off and you point to the middle of your forehead for eyes, side of your tummy for belly button, etc.). And the other day, I asked you a question and you nodded at me! I was stunned! In fact, you understand so much of what we say now it’s a little scary. Mommy and Daddy are working on cleaning up our language so you don’t get in trouble for saying bad words some day. But just in case: please note that there are some words you can use at home and nowhere else. But we’ll save that lesson for another month.

Not that you don’t mimic us enough already. You “blow” on your food like we do (some might say “spit,” but that’s just semantics talking), you know how to use Daddy’s mouse and OF COURSE bang on the keyboard, you can use a spade to shovel dirt from one pot to another, and in addition to petting the dog and cat now you like to scold them, which is probably bad but so cute and funny I can’t bring myself to stop you. You also scold anything that trips or hurts you, which is a very funny thing we accidentally taught you so we could make you laugh when you got hurt, but it stuck and now even if you’re crying, you muster the strength to shake your finger and tell off the corner of the table, the rug, the toy car… anything.

One other thing you mimicked recently is a little embarrassing for Mommy. When you have a dog and cat of your own some day this will make sense to you, but Mommy has to vacuum every other day at least, to keep the fur under control. Mommy’s a little OCD, especially when you wander around sticking everything you find on the floor into your mouth. (In other words, IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT I’M NEUROTIC. But I still love you anyway.) So the other day, you picked up your toy guitar that we bought you for Christmas, and you started running it around on the floor while making motor sounds with your mouth. I was confused at first but then I realized what you were doing: you were vacuuming. I decided then and there that no son of mine was going to not know what to do with a guitar but know exactly how to clean the floor, so I’ve been doing my best to play guitar more in front of you. Which is hard because you want the pick, and you want the capo, and you want to bang on the strings, but still. It’s an improvement to you playing Martha Stewart instead of Jimi Hendrix.

You can tickle people now too, mostly people’s feet. You say “Deedle-deedle-deedle!” while you grab my toes, and I know the rules of the game. I’m expected to giggle like you do when I tickle your feet. I am happy to oblige. You also love to wrestle, and you push my chest with all your might until I topple backwards, going WHOOA! It’s so funny for both of us. And the best thing, possibly the best thing of my entire life, is the way you give me kisses. You lean in, putting your nose to my nose and your cheek to my cheek, then you plant a big, sloppy kiss right on my mouth. I live for those kisses.

So many awesome things have happened that I could paint an all-pretty picture of life around here for the last two months, Bubba, but I think I should paint an honest one instead, so here it is. You are a royal pain in my ass most days. Despite all the things I just said, you mainly walk around here whining and complaining about everything. You want me to pick you up but you still bite me. You want me to put you down. You don’t want your diaper changed. You want food, but not that food. You don’t want food at all. You want to play with your food. You want to throw your food on the floor or against the wall. You’re done with dinner, but you want me to stop eating and hold you in my lap so you can bash my fork against my plate. You don’t want me to read or use the computer. You want to use the computer. You want to shut the door to my bedroom IN MY FACE. You want to play in the toilet. You want to unroll the toilet paper. You want to stick your fingers in electric outlets. You want to yell at me when I tell you not to do something that could cause you harm, like sticking your fingers in electric outlets. You want to get back on the arm rest of the couch after I’ve brought you down from it one thousand times, and the second I look away you want to fall and hit your big noggin on the damn floor. You want to pull my hair, my necklace, my glasses. You want to jump on Wii games you drug out of the cabinet you aren’t supposed to be in. And you do it all with a look on your face that says I AM NOT HAPPY. (It looks kind of like Warf, from Star Trek, if you want to know. You wrinkle your nose and your brow and bare your upper teeth. Not pretty.) And you do it all while whining, so all I hear is UUUNNNNNNHHHHHHHHHHH! UUHHH! UNNNNHHHH!

ALL THE LIVELONG DAY.

In addition to needing my constant attention, you are independent to a fault, which seems like it wouldn’t follow but somehow with you it does. You hate having to hold hands when we walk down the street. You also walk up to me and hold out your arms, and when I pick you up you immediately start pushing my hands so I’m touching you as little as possible. So you want me to hold you, but not touch you. You want me to levitate you. You also don’t want me to touch you when you sleep in our bed. You are so independent you will actually complain in your sleep if my arm is around you, or even if my hand is resting gently on your leg so I can wake up IF YOU START TO FALL OFF THE BED. (Which you did once, and thank God fell onto a pillow and didn’t even wake up. I think you didn’t really mind that much, BECAUSE AT LEAST ON THE FLOOR NO ONE WAS TOUCHING YOU.) It has led to us not being able to sleep with you anymore, and I’m back to going into your room five times every night to nurse you and put you back in your own bed, where you can sprawl out and none of your stuffed animals dare to try and cuddle with you.

Somehow, in spite of everything, you still charm everyone you come in contact with. You smile at everyone, awkwardly holding eye contact until you make everyone smile back. Then you play shy and come hug my leg, peeking out to keep grinning at the stranger.

And then a car drives by and you look right into my face, point, and go “vvvvvoooooo!” and I’m taken in just like all those strangers, and even though you protest, I squeeze you and kiss your cheeks because I JUST CAN’T STAND IT. You are the most wonderful blessing that has ever come into my life, and even though you drive me nuts, I love you more than anything. It’s a great paradox, and I have a feeling it will be this way forever.

Love,
Mommy

Tomorrow I’ll turn 28, which is actually not all that weird because I’ve sort of been thinking of myself as a 28-year-old since the beginning of the year. I wonder if that’s how it will be from now on. Now that I’m getting old and all.

For real. You haven’t seen the right corner of my widow’s peak. It’s a gray-hair party over there. I was just plucking them out every time I saw one, but I can’t keep up with them now. Which might be because they really do grow back faster when you pluck them out (it’s not a myth). Also I stopped because it hurt. I’m not a big fan of pain, and there isn’t a whole lot more unpleasant than methodically ripping perfectly healthy hair out by the root. I mean, I only pluck my eyebrows when I start to look like Bert from Sesame Street, and a bikini wax? My first one is scheduled for NEVER. The only way that would happen is if I had a tragic accident and surgeons had to somehow operate on the tendon that connects my inner thigh to my pubic bone and I was already under deep anesthesia.

Please stop picturing my bikini line.

Maybe the reason I already feel my age is because last year on my birthday I made a list of 27 things I wanted to accomplish before I turned 28, but then at New Year’s, I made New Year’s Resolutions, which superseded my 27 for 27. It makes me wonder how many of those goals got tossed. Let’s explore together, shall we Reader?

audition for at least one play I didn’t even remember this was on the list. Huh. Yeah, definitely didn’t happen.
finish my children’s book It would help if I ever opened that document. Ever.
sew curtains for master bedroom and dining room, sew a diaper bag Well, I sewed the diaper bag! This is half a goal accomplished.
always be reading a book Yes! Finally, a goal accomplished. Of course, by reading I really mean starting and carrying around with me, but let’s not split hairs here. And I started a book club, which has helped.
work on the house: redecorate master bathroom, paint hall w/ chalkboard paint, make dining room warm, put flower boxes outside windows Yes, yes, yes, and yes. YES! (Do I get some sort of prize here?)
take yoga Nope. But I popped in a prenatal yoga video a couple of times! One of those times I even put down the tub of ice cream to stretch a little.
open a bank account for Noah, pay off credit card bill, focus on savings account Crap. We haven’t opened a savings account for Noah yet. I can almost HEAR his college tuition creeping up behind me. We did consolidate our credit card debt, but we didn’t pay it off quite yet, and we don’t have any savings to speak of. This will have to be a carry-over goal.
don’t talk bad about anyone I could almost say I accomplished this goal, but if I did say it, I’d be lying. But “not lying” was not a goal, so what the hell? TOTALLY ACCOMPLISHED THIS ONE, Y’ALL.
record some songs by Christmas No. But yesterday Lance restrung my guitar, so I might actually take it off the hook on the wall and play it once or twice this year now that it doesn’t sound like old cats being hit over the head with violins.
go to 5 concerts Sadly, we didn’t even make it to one concert, unless you count symphony concerts. If you do, then I far exceeded the goal! Of course, I was ushering people to their seats the whole time, but still.
OPEN A BOOKSTORE I like how this one is all in caps. Probably because I knew it was way too ambitious and I wanted to feel better when I didn’t accomplish it. And in fact, I think it worked, because not only do I not feel bad, I’m kind of glad I didn’t since all the bookstores in Nashville have now closed due to lack of money.
pray and read my freaking Bible like a real Christian Oh, this is such a long, long story involving no longer thinking that being “a real Christian” means reading a Bible for one thing… but it will take another blog post (the one I keep promising myself I’ll sit down and write, but the one I haven’t yet because of a) how painful and introspective it will have to be and b) this little guy called Noah who runs around sticking things in his mouth and putting his arms in the toilet.)
blog at least 2x a week Heh.
answer my phone and return phone calls I really suck at this. I haven’t gotten any better at it. I never know where my phone is and it’s usually on silent anyway, and that’s when Verizon decides I should have service in my house. Which is never. And when I do get a phone call from someone I really want to talk to I’m usually in the middle of changing a dirty diaper while grocery shopping and breastfeeding, baking a loaf of bread, and slicing an avocado. And I just think trying to answer the phone sounds a little CRAZY.
hang out with friends more often I have so done this. My New Year’s Resolutions actually make me have a coffee date with a friend at least once a week, and that has been one goal that has been easy to keep.
don’t miss any opportunity to play with Noah This is a tough one. Some days it’s so easy to get down in the floor with him and wrestle and tickle and zoom his cars around and chase him and help him stack blocks and put together puzzles… and some days (like today) I just want to sit here with the computer in my lap and a cup of coffee in my hand and watch YouTube videos. I can definitely tell a difference in his demeanor when I take time for him though. He’s less clingy and needy and whiny when I play with him throughout the day, and I always have so much fun. This will have to be another carry-over goal. I don’t want to wake up one day and he’s tired of playing with me. Like that episode of Parenthood last night, where the mom keeps trying to do all these fun things with her daughter, and her daughter is finally like, Mom, how many things do we have to do together? Heartbreaking. I can’t let that happen. I gotta take advantage. The pressure is on! I HAVE TO HAVE MORE FUN!
be more intentionally romantic (and have a date at least once a week) This would be a laugh if it weren’t so sad. Definitely didn’t even come CLOSE to happening. Well, not the second part anyway. It’s ok though – I amended it in my New Year’s Resolutions to one date a month. MUCH more attainable. And I have, of late, been more intentionally romantic. More details coming on that one, but a certain husband of mine reads this blog from time to time and I wouldn’t want to give away too much too soon…
have a Halloween party Yep. Other than my naive, liquored-up husband hovering over the toilet bowl and a man I’ve never seen dressed like Freddie Cruger, who came bursting into my living room after all the guests were gone (and, coincidentally, while said liquored-up husband was shall we say, incapable of picking himself up off the bathroom floor), the party was a total blast. (Freddie was just at the wrong house, for those of you who were worried he tried to kill me. BECAUSE I FOR SURE THOUGHT HE MIGHT.)
buy and cook healthy food for my family Oh, man. I had this goal for breakfast. Healthy, home-cooked breakfast.
get a tattoo Yep. Tattoo number two on my shoulder. It’s a bunch of butterflies, if you’re interested. They are symbolic of spiritual transition. I was petrified when I sat down in that chair, but it wasn’t so bad. I think the Oxicodone I took before it helped. (JUST KIDDING.) Now I’m looking forward to #3. I’m thinking something in Hebrew on my wrist. (GOTCHA AGAIN!)
see theater (subscribe?) (work p/t or volunteer for discount/free tix?) Yeah! I passed this test fo’ sho’. I volunteered with the Tennessee Rep and saw an A-HA-MAY-ZING production of To Kill a Mockingbird. And now I’m on the board of directors at the Street Theatre, y’all. WHAT’S UP!
go to the beach Oh, yeah, Savannah… miss you already, beautiful.
discover more East Nashville restaurants, bars, cool spots Seeing as we never leave our neighborhood, this has become more essential if we want to ever leave our house. So yeah, I think we’ve tapped into every resource available to us here in East Nasty… may be time to find other places in our city…?
take daily walks I became a total pussy when Noah was born about this one. It used to be so easy; if I didn’t walk at least two miles a day, rain or shine, I felt like my butt was getting bigger by default. Now if it sprinkles or drops below 45 degrees we don’t walk. Sorry, Lucy… sorry, Big Ass… I need to man up on this one.
adopt a Watoto child (Financially adopt, that is.) I’d wanted to do this ever since I saw these amazing children at our church in Washington. Finally did it last spring, and it is such a joy to support this cause. I want to support a new cause this year. Any ideas, y’all? I was thinking about charity: water because of how much their ads on hulu make me cry. Seems a good reason to open my checkbook, right?
go to counseling Did it. It brings me no joy to cross this one off the list though. It didn’t end well. In fact it didn’t go well at all… but yes, I did it.
start a vegetable garden Yes! Of course, the floods in May saw to it that we only got a few green peppers and a shit-ton of jalapenos (which we still have in the freezer – jalapenos freeze beautifully, if you want to know), but that’s ok because I had never done a garden before and it taught me how to do it, and now I have to start another one before it gets much later in the season. Of course, the weather making up its mind would be helpful in this area… (hint, hint, wink, wink).

Time to reevaluate my New Year’s Resolutions and add some of the carry-over goals in. Birthdays are a great time to try and live life to the fullest. It’s like a starting-over for free. Forget last year, and the crazy headaches and all the sickness and the stress of being a new mother and the realization that my sex life would never be the same and the racking up credit card debt because we were so broke and the bangs that I cut WAAAYY too short that one time. Forget it all. Because now I’m 28, baby, and this year is going to rock.

See y’all when I’m older and wiser. Which will be tomorrow.