Well, Hello There...

...And here we are at the end of March.

I certainly did'nt mean to leave this blog doubleparked like I did.  The world just sort of fell apart for awhile.  It started with me contracting pneumonia and then our computer dying.  Both the PC and I have been resuscitated to varying degrees of functionality so lets try this again.

In the past two months, Donny has GROWN.  And this is not just in the where did those long legs come from? department.  Literally overnight, he went from just scribbling to actually trying to draw things.  Also, he completely freaked me out when I gave him a pen and paper, left the room, came back in and found that he had written his entire name, "Donovan Victor Shanley."  Craziness!

His 4th birthday is next week and he is not having an actual party, mainly because his Mom is a loser but also because I just can't figure out how to do it--invite some of the kids from his class? All of them? Have it here? If not, where? We did, however, have a "practice birthday" at his grandparents' house--Donny's Uncle, Aunt and Cousin were in from Denver and so a party was had. Below are photos--I told you he grew...



Uncle Pete is sharing space on the cake due to his recent birthday



Lincoln Logs!  Note the dinosaur investing some sweat equity into his new home.

Uncle Tom watching Donovan draw a portrait of him.  Note the uncanny resemblence.

Here We Go, Warhol, Here We Go [clap, clap]!

This past Saturday was the BIG GAME, so we took Donovan to the Warhol.

The thing about going to the Warhol on a BIG GAME day is that the stadium is literally a block away from the museum.  Its the oddest and most fitting Pittsburgh juxtaposition.  The game was to start at 4 and we got the the North Side at about 10:30 am and we still got stuck in traffic.  Luckily, the Warhol has a teeny tiny parking lot--I wanted to take photos of the 2 signs they had at the entrance to it: "WARHOL ONLY" and "NO FOOTBALL PARKING."  Mike and I wondered how many times the guard at the entrance hears, "Awww, c'mon!" on a day like that.  It was actually really fun to see everyone setting up to tailgate.  As we were getting out of the car, I looked across to the parking lot across the street and a couple of guys were splitting wood for a fire.

I would also mention that taking Donny to the Warhol was pretty much akin to taking any all American kid to a department store to see Santa Claus.  One of Donovan's favorite books is Uncle Andy's Cats and we told him we were taking him to Uncle Andy's Museum.  The downside of this arrangement is having to stay in character with your kid and refer, in public in front of all variety of hipsters, to Andy Warhol as "Uncle Andy."  I'm sure Warhol was a kind and loving Uncle to his nieces and nephews but I just know too many stories, not of bad behavior per se but behavior unbefitting someone you're teaching your kid to call "Uncle."

Anyhow, Uncle Andy's Museum was a huge hit. I don't have many photos because, as an ex docent, I gave up prime photo ops in order not to break any museum rules. Wisely, the Warhol lets you take photos in the silver cloud room. That, of course, was the hit of the day. To get Donovan to leave we pretty much had to carry him out sideways like he was some sort of battering ram capable of having a tantrum. We also got a couple shots of him in a room that was all televisions and headphones: that was also a big, big hit.

Quiz Will Follow

Last night Donovan told me, "My favorite letter is G, my favorite number is 9, my favorite color is red and my favorite bus is the 54C!"

So now you know.

I was reading Blow by Blow last night while Donovan was playing in the front room.  This was our conversation:

D: Stop reading!
Me: Why?
D: That's my paper!
Me: No, its my book.
D: [looking at photo on cover] She's wearing a hat!
Me: It's a pretty hat, isn't it.
D: [thoughtfully] She's thinking about butter.

Wherein I Use My Lunch Hour for New Year's Pontification

The snow outside is making everything look so crisp and new and the thought I am actively denying is “I should’nt be here.”  Here being work.  I’m thinking of my kitchen and how the snow must look outside the window.  The backyard will be much improved, cosmetically speaking, by this snow.  And would’nt it just be great to look up and see the snow as I take bread out of the oven or work on a huge batch of bean soup?

For the past 7 months or so, I catch myself shaking my head, wondering at my evolution into someone who thinks baking bread, mending clothes and mopping that damn kitchen floor would be more fulfilling than a career.  But then again, my life has changed in many big ways in the 10 years since I started my current job and even before those changes it was never a comfortable fit. 

 

In thinking of what I want to do with this next phase of my life, the metaphor I keep coming back to is that of a sprinkler.  The beauty of a sprinkler is that it’s powered by what it does:  its more or less the definition of itself.  Is that too esoteric?  Whatever—that’s what I’m thinking of as I stare down the barrel of my own 45 (ha! Nice!  Good birthday double entendre, there!).  “Let be be the finale of seem.”

Apparently, I yearn to be a Simple Machine.

So that is what I, in all my financial stupidity and infinite naiveté, am working towards.  A life where I work but where my work is part of a bigger picture that includes the rest of my life.  Why choose between a career and giving my son more attention so he can get over his developmental delays more quickly?  Why choose between having health insurance but only getting to see my family in Ohio twice a year (my Dad died 2 years ago and I still have not seen his headstone)?  Why work 8 hours a day to make enough money so we can buy bread, baked goods, soup, vegetables, and cleaning products that I could make/grow better and much more inexpensively if I didn’t have to work 8 hours a day?   

I want to volunteer at my kid’s school and visit my friends who are now in their 80s and who probably could use some help getting around.  I want to go home once a month to do chores for my Mom and her sisters.  I want to be a good person, a good citizen. 

It would also be nice not to stare at a computer screen for a good portion of the day

Why bring this all up here?  Well, why not?  The kid is obviously a big part of this thought process.    I had no idea how much time having a kid would take—and that is not a complaint.  The older I get, the more sense Home Economics makes.  I grew up in the prime era of Women In The Workplace Feminism—my Mom the lunchlady was a union rep for her lunchlady union!—and I understand it, I do.  Financial autonomy and equality are necessities in the modern world—denial of such is institutionalized oppression of the worst and most corrosive kind.   But I keep thinking, “At what cost?”  When do I get to decide what is of value to me?

I get to decide when I take responsibility for myself and, by extension, my family. Which sounds an awful lot like Feminism, if you ask me.

Alright then.  I can do that. 

And now, back to work.

Ring Out the Old, Ring In The New

In a couple of hours it will no longer be 2010.  That is perfectly fine with me--it was'nt a terrible year, personally, but it certainly was not without its heartaches and I am more than ready to GET ON WITH the rest of my life.  I have many plots and plans and here's hoping I'm actually not insane and that at least some of them are viable.

While I harbor the suspicion I'm having a midlife crisis, none of my plans involve a trophy husband or a shiny red car.

ANYhow, you can't be looking at a blog about a 3 year old and not wondering how Christmas was.  Christmas was nice and not too ridiculous.  It was the year of the Gender Specific gifts--matchbox cars and plastic power tools--

but the hands down winner in the gift department was the Big Fold Out Cardboard House.  I know its supposed to be for girls (there are flowers printed on the door) but I say f**k all that: my boy has loved the cardboard box houses I've made him and when this thing went on super sale I decided we needed to trade up:

 

I had it ready to go on Christmas morning and he spent most of the day in there with his stuffed elephant and his glockenspeil:

A couple days later, Mike says he caught Donny saying, "I love my new house, its so BEAUTIFUL!"

Mama must have been pretty good this year too.

We had a nice Elyria visit despite the fact that I have been, and continue to be, sick like the dog with a cough that will not let up. 

The other big news is that I took the plunge and put up a facebook page for Polish Hill parents with preschoolers.  We had a playdate on Thursday with some sweet kids and great parents: this just might work!

And now, to start on the wine.  Happy New Year! 

You Can Actually Go To Someone Else's Home Again

  

I've been working very hard to simplify my life which, for an old school Gemini like me, is tough. Every since my last cemetery tour of the season I've been guarding my Saturdays like a growling dog. That being said, there are somethings I can't say no to and one of them is The Frick.

I used to work and the Frick and the joke I make about it the most often is that the Frick is like my first real boyfriend: I knew it would never last but [fake voice breaking into uncontrollable weeping] I still love him!!! Working there was one of those crazy stumbleintoit things that can define the rest of your life, for me, in a very good way. So when one of my favorite people from the Frick invited Donovan to attend a Pre-School event, I couldn't say no.

Even tho I woke up grumpy and with a sore throat.

Luckily it all worked out--it was a two bus trip and both were on time, we had to walk but the kid was a trooper. And even tho I forgot his bag at home another mother kindly and knowingly gave me one of her (adorable) son's pullups: WHEW.

The program itself was very sweet and when I complimented the folks who put it together today, all of them sort of rolled eyes heavenward and said "GOOD, 'cause we haven't done this before!" By "this" I'm guessing they mean preschool programs that include the house museum as a component. The program started with a story about how Spencer, the Frick's chef (Spencer! Lookin' good! I've missed you, dude!) would make gingerbread men for the Frick kids for Christmas and one got away so we had to go in the house to find him.

The gingerbread boy that got away left his shadow all over the house (shadow=felt cut out) and the kids went from room to room to find them. The kids really got into it--even Fauntleroy, The Lone Gunman--but they were all very good. After we found all the shadows, we went to decorate real gingerbread cookies. Donny needed a bit of nudging from me but he did a nice job of decorating his.





And also of eating them.

As for me, it was so nice to go back on a springlike sunny day. I even got to see some of my favorite folks. Plus Donny and I both got majorly fussed over. He seemed not to notice but, you know, I think I needed that!