Childhood Nightmares

I have not taken the time to look at my childhood photographs in a very long time. Usually, when I do I end up embroiled in a nasty argument with my mother about what the hell they were thinking when they decided to let me leave the house looking a certain way.

Exhibit A is the above shown picture of me circa 1979. Clearly I was not a child anyone loved. These clothes:

A. Do not match
B. Do not fit
C. Should not be worn in combination with each other. EVER.

Seriously folks, do you see how the stockings bunch up at the ankles? Do you not see the pained look upon my face? The single earring? The stuffed animal I am holding doesn't even appear to be enjoying life. And clearly, CLEARLY, no one has bothered to run a brush through my hair for days.

My mother insists that I wanted to dress this way and that they let me only because no one wanted to argue with me. My mother lies.

What I am reading: John Cheever - Short Stories
What I am listening to: The Streets - Original Pirate Material

Mind Jumble

This is not a proper post, but rather, a jumble of things going on in my mind today:

1. Where the hell is my passport? I am leaving on Sunday and I need it. Although, the passport folks told me that I could travel with my expired passport for up to a year (dude, that makes no sense at all....if you aren't gonna honor the expiration date then why even have one?).

2. Shut up Shani Davis! You won the gold medal; Congratulations. You ran (skated) an amazing race and I would have admired you if you had kept your mouth shut. But, no, you had to get on worldwide television and complain that your teammate(s) did not congratulate you. This does not make them look like jerks; it makes you look like a jerk. Is it not enough to win the gold......does humiliating your teammates make you feel better? You're an ass.

3. When is the trend of ultra low rise pants going to be over? I need to buy pants and the mere sight of my body is proof that I have given birth and will NEVER be able to wear low rise pants. Unless I get plastic surgery, which I am not planning on at the moment.

4. I generally always have a "TV boyfriend", but this season I have a "TV girlfriend". Sandra Oh, how much do I love you? You have as many relationship issues as I do and it is refreshing to see on TV (on an unrelated note - George, how could you sleep with Meredith? That is all kinds of wrong, wrong, WRONG!!).

What I am reading: Recaps on Television Without Pity.
Also, I am still on my Hemingway kick and have been reading a book of his short stories every night.
What I am listening to: Dave Brubeck. I actually listen to more Jazz than anything else, although you would never guess that by reading this blog. I love all things Jazz. Hell, I even named my son after a famous Jazz musician.

Dear Gmail

Dear Gmail,

I don't know if you've noticed or not but I have not been able to access my e-mail for 2 damn days. Thats like 6 years in Interweb time. Its damn near crippling and its interrupting my work.

Please fix your server or whatever the problem is because this just can not continue.

Thanks,
Nadine

I have not read or listening to anything today. I watched the Olympic biathlon. I love the biathlon. I am convinced I'd be good at it. Sure, I haven't skied in about 10 years, but I am a damn good shot. Actually, one of my nicknames in college was Shotgun. Although, admittedly, it wasn't because of my shooting ability.

Dora the Explorer is a Hoochie Mama

Mr. Little Man does not speak. He used to have quite a large vocabulary in 2 languages (English & German) and his rather quick loss of speech is one of the things that led to his diagnosis of autism. So now we do a little bit of sign language and we've just really developed our own method of communication over the last year. He babbles ALL OF THE TIME, just not words.

He has a small army of therapists that are really working hard on his speech and about 2 months ago something clicked. He now says NO, HI, BYE BYE, UH-OH and ELMO. He will sometimes repeat words, however, he does not say anything without a prompt and he rarely uses a word appropriately. The point is we are making progress and I couldn't be happier.

He also discovered Dora the Explorer and thanks to a set of grandparents who do not understand the words "stop buying him stuff" he was promptly loaded down with all things Dora. He got Dora books, Dora computer games, Dora DVDs, Dora legos......the whole nine. Every night before he goes to bed he kisses his Dora Lego and tucks her in. I am not sure what they are doing in bed but it involves a whole lot of giggling. I suspect that Dora may be his girlfriend.

Now, he gets to watch 1 hour of TV per day. Usually we watch an episode of the Muppets or Blues Clues or Sesame Street, but lately he has been wanting to watch Dora. I don't know what you know about this heifer, but her whole deal is teaching people how to speak Spanish.

Imagine my surprise last night when I gave him his dinner and out of nowhere he said "GRACIAS". Ummmm, what? "Gracias". At first I thought it was a fluke, but he really tried to repeat some of the phrases she was saying last night when we watched the DVD. Damn, this child has no desire to speak unless Dora says it first. Bitch.

What I am reading: Facing Autism
What I am listening to: Jack's Mannequin and Imogen Heap

Workplace Shenanigans

Whenever anybody asks me what my son is like I always say "Daredevil Gangsta" and inevitably I find myself explaining what that means. Basically, he isn't scared of anything other than the vacuum cleaner and he is pretty blatant about breaking the rules. Overall he is actually a very well behaved child, but if he is going to do something he knows he is not supposed to do he is gonna go big. There was a time in the not to distant past where he had a huge problem with sharing. He would "beat a bitches ass for even looking at his Legos", but thankfully we are over that.

Mr. Little Man did not have school on Momday due to the "inclimate weather" (side bar.....there was no inclimate weather). I had to go to work for a little while because I had some things that just couldn't wait one more day, so I thought that I'd take Mr. Little Man with me. At the time it sounded like a great idea because I'd only planned to be there for a little while. I packed up some toys and we headed off. He's come to work with me before and it has always been a breeze.

A colleague of mine was apparently in the same predicament and she brought her son with her as well. The two kids know each other, are the same age and do alot of things together, so we just figured we'd get our work done while they had a play date. Fun all around!

I volunteered to go pick up lunch for the kids while she kept an eye on them. The kitchen is right next to my office (coincidence? I don't think so) so we set them up in there with toys and crayons and everything to keep them happy. There isn't anything in the kitchen that could hurt and there certainly isn't anything in there that they could damage. Or so we thought. Again, it sounded like a good idea at the time, but we forgot about the water cooler.

When I came back from the lunch run I heard my colleague yelling so of course I ran to the kitchen and found her mopping the floor. Apparently the boys decided to find out what the lever on the water cooler does. After the realized that it dispenses water they decided to drain all 5 gallons and play in the puddle (in case you are wondering it takes less than 7 minutes to drain 5 full gallons of water). By the time I arrived Mr. Little Man's clothes were soaked and he was grinning from ear to ear. He was so happy and the look on his face said "bitch, don't even try to get mad at me because you secretly think this is totally adorable. I have been in trouble before and this was worth whatever punishment I get".

What I am reading: The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova. It is good, but extremely detailed so that it tends to drag at times.
What I am listening to: Jenny Lewis. AGAIN. "Melt Your Heart" is stuck in my mind

Valentines Day is for LOVE

This morning as I was driving to work I noticed that the folks in the car behind me would kiss at every stop. It was kind of cute until I saw her head disappear in his lap (I know you are telling me to shut up right now, but I could not make this stuff up if I tried).

At first I thought she had dropped something on the floor and was picking it up, but no, I don't think so. They followed me for quite a while and I alternated between looking out of the front windshield and searching the rearview for what I will only describe as "head bob"; there was none, but the look on his face said everything. He still managed to obey local traffic laws, so I guess no harm, no foul. I am pretty sure that I am not the only one who noticed because the gentleman driving the pick-up truck next to them made sure he had optimum view the entire time.

It literally took every fiber of my being not to jump out of of my car at the last red light before I had to get on the highway and tell them that Valentines Day is for LOVE, and not, you know, hummers.

What I am reading: Terms and conditions of my new credit card.
What I am listening to: Luther Vandross and Bobby Womack (If you think you're lonely now). I swear....if you even suggest to me that that is a Mariah Carey song reference I will be forced to inflict bodily harm.

Ode to my landlords

When I was pregnant I lived in a studio apartment that was located in the basement of a 3 family house. Across the street from a strip club (actually, on several occassions my neighbor took great pains to explain to me that it was a go-go bar, not a strip club). It was a perfect apartment for a single girl because the rooms were large and it had both walk in closets and a dishwasher. It was not a perfect place for a baby (plus, my parents were going to visit and I sure as hell could not hide the den of iniquity I was living next to).

Never one to procrastinate I started looking for a new, larger apartment when I was 8 months pregnant. Clearly, I did not put much thought into this, because there are not alot of folks willing to rent to a single mother, let alone one whose clothing can cover the ever growing belly. Seriously, my maternity pants would linger under the belly and my shirt would hover above it. All you saw was linea nigre and an occasional footprint from the kicking.

So, after looking at a whole bunch of really horrible apartments I stumbled onto a place I loved. The place was huge (3 bedrooms AND an office), nestled between 2 parks and close to everything. It was perfect, except that the landlord lived downstairs. At that point I was desperate and I really did not want to look anymore. So, 4 days before giving birth I moved in.

At first I was really, really worried about living upstairs from my landlord, but I totally fell in love with them. First, he is 94, she is 90. They have become like surrogate grandparents to Mr. Little Man and they never let a holiday pass without acknowledging it with him. They make elaborate plans for him for Halloween, Christmas, his birthday, Valentines Day, 4th of July. He always gets a box of cookies and a card. ALWAYS.

They both play piano beautifully and have no problem letting Mr. Little Man bang away on theirs. Actually, they encourage it, because according to them he is a prodigy and if I haven't noticed its only because I am an idiot.

By far the best thing about living upstairs from them is because I get the best advice in the history of the Universe from them. Advice such as this:
"Gays make the best tenants because the gays are clean"
"You should wear red when you go to court. You look very pretty in red. AND FOR GOD'S SAKE PUT ON SOME LIPSTICK"
"He did what? You tell that bastard to go duck himself" (She says "duck")
"I hope that young man that visited you yesterday was single. Make sure he has money before it goes any further"

They also have great stories to tell. Stories like:
-How I am clearly a wine connoiseur judging by the looks of the recycling
-Why you should stop driving once you run over a cliff
-How to get through a race riot if you are a white nurse working for a black doctor in the 1960s
-What happens when your cousin runs away with your priest (even though they are happily married now and living in Somerset and make sure to send you a Christmas card every year)
-Why she lights a candle for me every time she goes to church and prays that I find myself a wealthy husband (this is apparently really important for her)

They are 2 of the coolest folks ever. Seriously, where else am I gonna go where they pray for me to get rich and tell me that I wish I was their daughter?

What I am reading: USA Today.....the sports page
What I am listening to: Luther Vandross. Seriously, tomorrow is Valentines Day. What else would you listen to? Although, I may have to cut the Luther short. I will be having dinner with my ex father-in-law in a "non romantic, nice to see you kind of way"

Transcripts, Pt. 2

This is from an e-mail between The Gue and I:

Me: So, something has bothered me for the last 2 days. The other night you said that Luis was your moral compass and I just can NOT help wondering what that makes me? Clearly, I am nothing close to moral compass.
The Gue: The Holy Trinity. Perhaps that will better describe us? Of course, this is after I finished laughing my ass off reading your comments. Offended? The woman who waits with baited breath for the latest story? While Luis is the angel of light, sitting on my right shoulder, you MUST be the angel of debauchery, sitting on the left. I, of course, remain neutral.

What I am reading: It snowed almost 2 feet last night. I shoveled all day so unless you want to count the Pottery Barn catalog I haven’t read anything (or watched any Olympics). Also, I didn’t really shovel all day. I shoveled for about 2 hours and then went sledding with Miles and then had coffee with all of my neighbors while we stood outside and watched our kids play.
What I am listening to: Jenny Lewis and the Watson Twins - Rabbit Fur Coat. The first time I listened to the CD I thought, "damn, Jenny has found religion" and I wasn’t enthused (but not because of the religious aspect). I also feel this way about Rilo Kiley CDs at first listen, but now I really like it. So much in fact that I have decided to go see Jenny Lewis next month (Hey Gue....want to go? We could "debauch" it up!)

HRC?

Apparently I am having a slow day at work because someone sent me a link to this website.

You upload your picture and it tells you which celebrity you most look like. Let me tell you that this website LIES. Apparently, I look most like (brace yourself) Hilary Rodham Clinton. The fuck? That could not be more incorrect! Here is the full list:

Hilary Rodham Clinton - 59%
Drew Barrymore - 51%
Irene Cara - 51% (this may be the only correct comparison, because after I looked at her picture I had to agree. I look alot like Irene Cara)
Shirley Temple - 45%
Jodie Foster - 43% (Ummmm, I am mulatto. Nothing about me looks anything like her)
Billie Holiday - 41%

What I am reading: Still reading The Economist
What I am listening to: Joss Stone

Happily Single

From the age of 16 to the age of 26 I was never single for more than a few weeks. Most of my relationships lasted more than a year thus earning me the title of serial monogamist. I never dated, I never played the field. I just went from one long term relationship to the next.

I was the ideal girlfriend as long as you had no expectations from me. The minute my man of the moment began to talk about living together, getting engaged, getting married or having children I would subconsciencely began to plan my escape. That was my M.O. Of course, I would never have dreamed of looking anyone in the eye and telling them of my fears. No, that would have made sense. Usually, I just kept smiling and denying that anything was wrong.

I have been single since I had Mr. Little Man and, you know what, I like being single. No, actually, I love being single. I didn't realize how much of myself I had tucked away and its nice to rediscover what I am all about.

I consciencely took a break from dating and I haven't missed it at all. I think it will be a couple more years before I am ready to jump into the dating pool because I still have some things I want to do on my own.

The funniest thing about all of this is that the things that I was lacking (understanding, patience, generosity, affection, selflessness, supportiveness, balanced hormones, etc.) that made it impossible for me to committ, I now have. Also, I think committment got a little less scary when I saw how much I loved my child. Seriously, you don't get any more committed than to your child. And you learn that relationships can, in fact, overcome hardships. That was something I never understood. EVERYTHING can be worked out. EVERYTHING.


What I am reading: The Economist. I have a subscription. Also, I don't think I've mentioned it here yet, but I am going to grad school part time starting in the fall (can you say MA in Economics?). The whole thing should only take me about 10 years.
What I am listening to: The iPod is on shuffle so there is no telling what will pop up next.

The Fashion Police

This morning when I dropped Mr. Little Man off at school one of the little girls in his class told me that I looked liked a princess. It was seriously the sweetest thing I've heard in a long time and she was so excited about my "princess look".

Let me describe my attire: knee high black leather boots with a 3" stiletto heel, black pencil skirt and black cashmere turtleneck. My hair and makeup looked better than they have in months.

I was totally going for "demure dominatrix"; I am not sure how I ended up at "princess".

What I am reading: Nothing. I have been fighting off some horrible illness (SARS, influenza, the bird flu??) and I have done nothing but lay on the couch and watch television. Also, the Olympics are starting in a couple of days and I will do nothing but watch Olympics. I am addicted to the Olympics.
What I am listening to: Remy Martin (sample lyric from Conceited - "My thong showin but its cool my shoes go with it, now all I need is a room with a pole in it") and Trina (sample lyric from Here We Go - "I shed so many tears, can't believe how many years the baddest bitch put up with your dusty ass "),
I can't help it.....I've been in Connecticut all day in a business meeting. I have to do something to get all this professionalism off me.

I Knew It!

I fucking knew it was just a matter of time before the missing crayon made its appearance.

This is the picture that greeted me this morning as I emerged from the shower; pretty nice, right? Please note that this is a distinct combination of missing crayon, permanent marker (used to write Mr. Little Man's name on his lunch) and eyeliner. When I busted him he had just found a paintbrush, so I had taken a little longer in the bathroom I'm sure I would have emerged to an entire mural.

The caption should read something like this, "As an artist I like to use readily available
materials. My influences are Cookie Monster, Thomas the Tank Engine and Blues Clues. This abstract piece really just allowed me to express my rage at my mother's refusal to allow me to eat Oreos for breakfast (and possibly for making me wear this sweater). I am a big fan of the Dadaists. "

What I am reading: Lots and lots of Dr. Suess as per Mr. Little Man's request (and maybe a Hemingway short story or 2 before bedtime).
What I am listening to: U2 (War)