Monday, July 27, 2009

the summer of almost seven years old

I've been looking at the Pie a lot lately and am just stunned by (1) how utterly good-looking he is and (2) he is turning 7 at the end of next month.

I've allowed him to grow his hair for the summer, with the agreement that he would cut it before his birthday, which is a week before he goes to school. He doesn't like having messy hair when he is going to school but I've always wanted to see what he would look like if we let the sweet curls keep growing. He's got these little curly bits around his ears and his handsome face is framed by this thick, black, wavy hair. It emphasizes his deep, dark eyes and I cannot get over how I will have to beat the pretty girls and boys off with big sticks in a few years.

He is so tall and thin. He's so strong and so very unaware of his own strength. He's not skinny-thin (okay, maybe a little) but muscular and wiry. His basic yoga and gym training has him contorting himself into all kinds of positions and mostly giving me a heart attack.

I find it so hard to believe he is getting so big. He was in my arms, a cute, little, fatty baby. He was set on one hip as I did my thing in the kitchen. He said things like "chooch it, mama chooch it" when he saw ants, making the onomatopaeic sound of the Baygon. And no matter how many times I said, and he repeated, "cu-cum-ba", he put it together as "cumbaba", a pronunciation I love to this day. A cucumber can never be anything else.

I remember watching him taking that first step into his second step, all by himself. Him walking towards me, all wobbly and triumphant as I clapped and clapped. I rocked him on my chest every single night so he would fall asleep. He still likes that, but he is so heavy now, I can barely breathe when he lies on top of me.

Now he says things like "Daddy, how do you spell absurd?" and "Well, you weren't specific," and "I used that strategy" that leaves us dumbfounded. We lie in bed at night, repeating what he has said to us over the years. When we moved in together, even after he wore us out all day, we would lie in bed talking about him. It's not so surprising to me anymore.

He still likes to stick up under me when he is sitting on the sofa. Unfortunately, a couple of days before my period, I cannot bear to be touched and this only happened after he was born. Sad, but I feel so suffocated when he comes and jams his thigh under mine. I cannot help it, so he gives me two inches of space and I have to be content. He cannot help it either.

Friday, July 24, 2009


On Tuesday, I hurt my back while bending over to open to one of Pie's drawers. I felt the pain like a hot iron across my hips, searing into my lower back muscles. I immediately straightened up and realized after that if I didn't do it then, I would not have been able to.

I screamed when it happened and again when I straightened up. Pie was in the bathroom getting ready for a shower and yelled to ask if I was all right. I had no idea what to say, because I really wasn't. I forced myself to lie on his bed and tried to breathe through the pain.

I told him to bring me my phone and sent him back. I heard him get into the shower and wondered if to call 911. I decided to call John and see if I could get him to come home. I rang both his work and cell phones and no answer. I just redialed his cell phone over and over, hoping that someone in his office would see it vibrating on his desk (if he was in a meeting) and call his attention to it. 

Pie came out of the shower and I told him that if I cannot reach Daddy in the next few minutes, I will have to go to the hospital because I hurt my back very badly and I cannot move. The look on his face almost made me want to get up and dance the fandango. He look terrified for a moment. He asked if I was going to be all right. I sent him to get dressed and let me try to reach Daddy one more time.

I really meant to dial 911 as he stepped out of the room but then we heard the front door. I thought I was hallucinating from the pain. Then, Pie said, "Daddy," and I could have fainted from relief.

John never comes home early without calling. It's like an unspoken rule. I have to have time to hide the evidence of the lover and the crack before he comes home. 

We tried to get a hot pack under me but it was too painful for me to move on my side. I took some Tylenol and he went to refill my codeine prescription. He moved my laptop into Pie's room so I could at least watch a movie. I couldn't read or move, but I managed to turn my head so I could see the screen. I now have a crick in the left side of my neck.

The worst of it was when I had to go to the bathroom. I held it for as long as I could but I had to go. The pain was as bad as when I had my C-section. The initial pain was worse than any labor pain I had with Chris. Maybe it was a good thing I went through that C-section because at least I knew how to move.

I had to ease my legs off the bed first. Thank goodness Pie's bed is not very high. Then I managed to get on my side and walk my hands up until I was sitting. John helped me to stand up and I put my hands on his shoulders and we walked very slowly to the bathroom.

It's a day in your life when your husband has to pull down your jeans and underpants when you have to go potty. I was so embarrassed. John was so sweet, trying to make me laugh. I had to sit ramrod-straight and of all of the days to go number 2. Sitting upright is not conducive to pooping, let me tell you. I read about the correct way to poop and it changed my life.

I managed the rest of it by myself (thank God!) but had to call John to help me back into my underpants and to get my jammy pants instead of my jeans. Then make the trek back to the bed.

Sleeping on Pie's bed was a bitch. Sleeping on my back was a bitch. All the meds I was taking was making me nauseaous. I desperately wanted to sleep on my own bed but there was no way I could make the stairs.

John stayed home Wednesday and Thursday and took excellent care of me and last night I was able to go downstairs to my own bed. I've had to take something to help me sleep so I would not roll around too much and hurt myself. I cannot sit down for too long and I already emailed my LSAT teacher to tell her it looks like I cannot make it this weekend. I think the train ride to the Village would derail me.

I do feel a bit better and can move around. I cannot bend over, though, so Pie is chief picker-upper for the next few days. I am going to try to cook today because the boys have been eating pasta for 3 days and I ate macaroni and cheese for 2 days in a row and cannot look at it anymore.

Friday, July 3, 2009

my NY travels

I got home from a rather long, unnecessarily circuituous route home from a trip to Times Square. I got the gift for Pie's pal and headed outside the store. So far, so good.

I wanted to see what the Boardwalk hoopla was all about, so I took a walk up the street. It was okay. I guess I'm not enough of a New Yawker to be as ticked off as John. There were fewer tourists on the sidewalk, but only for the bit where the street was blocked off. After that, it was back to every person for herself.

So I decided to walk down to 6th Ave to catch the M7 home. But since I have no actual sense of direction, I took a chance and turned left. Wound up walking towards 8th Avenue. Ah well. I didn't bother to turn around and decided to keep walking till I hit a bus stop or subway stairs.

I think it was 45th Street I was on and it was fabulous. The entire street was filled with back-to-back restaurants. It's one block off the street with all the theaters and it must be lovely to go see a show and then just walk down the street and have your pick of foodies. I was enthralled. I do not think I ever took so long to walk one block in my life.

I got to 9th Ave and found a bus stop that would take me right to my flat. Lover-ly. I bought a Vitamin water to beat the hit and jumped on the bus that pulled up right as I walked out of the deli where I bought my water. I was feeling good.


Isn't it always a however?

I didn't realize the bus was going downtown. I live uptown. I heard the driver say "Last stop" and wondered if I was in Brooklyn! Ack! Where the frak was I?

How could I not know where I was? Well, yesterday I picked up Heather Armstrong's book "It Sucked and Then I Cried" from the library. I requested it ages ago and had to wait for over 200 people to get through their copies before I could get it. I started it last night and even though I read her blog every day, I could not put it down.

I took the bus to Toys R US so I could read and thought I had a nice long bus ride ahead of me to read more on the way home. Well, the long ride part was true but I was so engrossed in the book that I never raised my head to see I was going the wrong way.

(Aside: Bellie: if those plans are still the plans, run out and buy this book now! NOW! I was trying to find a 2nd hand copy to send to you but I think all the women who bought the book are keeping it in the waistband of their jeans to swack the fathers of their children!)

Anyhoo, so I get out on Hudson Street and had to laugh. It was originally my intention to go to the toy store and then head down to this new park called The Highline to see if I wanted to go there to watch the fireworks along the Hudson River. And here I was, just a few blocks away!

Well, to punish myself I didn't go see the park. I found the train station and went to take the C train home. 20 minutes in the blistering station (not complaining, I enjoyed every second of being outside in the heat. No fucking winter!) a crackling voice said something about no uptown A or C service. So I took an E to 34th street and walked out to look for that elusive 6th Ave again.

There was this lovely map thingy outside Madison Square Garden, with landmarks and everything so I didn't have to deal with north and south. I found this store that John and I had taken Drew to for his birthday a couple of years ago. It was a games store. Now it's an adult film and paraphernalia store. I couldn't tell from the outside, so I went it. It was pretty cool, especially for me. The guys in the store got all quiet as I walked around. Anyone touching anything immediately dropped and put his hands at his sides. It was hilarious, but I really wanted to get home, so I left. (I must go back with John.) I found the B and D train station and decided to take the B home. Ah home. I remembered it well.

Alas, alack! Another 20 mins to hear Ms Crackly Voice say ... well, I can't tell you what she said. In fact, I cannot even tell you exactly it was a she. The D came and I took it to 59th St. I was very happy to get off because a guy in a wheelchair sat in front of me and stared down my t-shirt while I was reading. I wanted to hit him with my book AND Kijani's Transformer toy.

I got out and decided was going to take th M7 home. But then I saw Whole Foods across the street and felt I MUST. GO. THERE. NOW. Powerful draw, Whole Foods is. One is opening up in my neighborhood and people are up in arms. Screw you, people. Whole Foods is the bestest!

I bought stuff and lolly-gagged over the flowers and finally left the people place to find the M7. On the bus ride home (in the right direction this time) I finished the book. I was in tears. It was like reading about what I went through with Le Pie, minus the supportive husband and father. That's the part that made me cry the most. I actually think I would love to have a child with a man who actually wants the baby and wants to take care of me while I have our baby. But that's a post for another time.

It was great, four hours later, to be home.

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

the lsat chronicles - score

I got my score last week - a 153 in the 56th percentile. Not good enough.

I was so delflated when I saw it. I rang John immediately and told him I was wanted to re-do it in September. It meant another $132 but at least I could take the Kaplan course again for free. I decided not to do the exact same course again but another one that is more tailored to people who have taken the exam and need a push for the harder questions. I also got a terrific tutor, as my own Tutor has left to go to law school.

Part of me wants to tackle it now and part of me feels so dejected. I was hoping to get over 160 and get on my recommenders, finish my personal statement and get the applications ready. The class does not start until July 19 so I have time to work on my statement and my recommendations. At the same time, I want to make sure I have time to spend with the kiddie.

John is on vacation this week but so far he has mostly slept the days away and stayed up at night. We've done nothing together and we have no ready money with which to do it, even if I could convince him. He and Le Pie are headed to CT tomorrow to visit Jess and Bri and I will be home. My brother is coming to visit on Sunday and we're trying to save a little money with me not going, not having to board Jackson etc. I still have to tell my brother about the score.

I thought that by this time the LSAT chronicles would give way to the law school chronicles. But, I guess not.