Django said the word "no" for the first time tonight. Clear as a bell. I pretended it didn't happen.
He wasn't actually saying no to decline or resist anything in particular. It seemed more like he just wanted to show me he knew how to say it, or perhaps, to feel the raw power of it in his mouth. Still, I found myself needing an extra minute to adjust to this new world order. The scene that flashed in my mind was sort of a cartoon-ish version of Adam & Eve in the the Garden of Eden having just tasted the forbidden fruit, the caption reading simply, "Uh-oh."
It wasn't too hard to feign a response to Django's first "no" because he's been saying a couple other words that resemble it -- noodle (which sounds like new-no) and stroller (which sounds like no-new) -- and we had just strolled in from outside with take-out chow mein noodles for dinner. But I knew, for certain, he wasn't talking about either.
I realize it's important to pick your battles. I try, I really do. But I regularly catch myself in the middle of battles I suddenly realize I never meant to 'pick' and, moreover, it'd be FAR more productive to avoid -- like the one pictured here, over whether or not I was going to open a brand new toothbrush for Django to claim, making it the fourth in his household collection.
Seems like a no-brainer, right? Your kid loves toothbrushes, hooray for you! They're not dangerous, inappropriate, breakable or expensive in the grand scheme of things -- and for someone who's dentally challenged as a role model (see earlier post) you think I'd be on the lookout for any opportunity to encourage a love of tooth-related hygiene. But there I was, arguing with him over it. And you can see that he was totally clear on what it was, and why he wanted it open. I forgot, for a moment, to think about the bigger picture.
If there's any one word in the history of words that causes people -- by which I mean, me -- to immediately cease metacognition, it's got to be the word "no." The fact that Django just mastered saying it means that I, again, have my own developmental leap to make.
It's been one of those weekends where an army of germs marches in and holds the household hostage, armed guard at the door, the whole bit. (As if the constant rain weren't enough to discourage further adventures.) So Django & I spent most of Valentine's Day on the couch together, humidifier and heater both at full blast. I doubt there were more than 2 hours we weren't physically attached. As well as I realize these years will be short, the ones in which I am capable of carrying him around on my hip, 22 hours hours of it makes for a l-o-n-g day.
Still, he cheered enough by this morning for us to shoot a little belated V-Day video. Kisses, guffaws, coughs, hugs & all. Love to you, and yours.
I was sitting in the dentist's chair the other day, having my teeth cleaned for the first time in 5 years. (Note to Django:this is just the beginning of the subjects on which I will suggest you do as I say, not as I do.) I remembered, too late, that -- hearing about my reasons for avoiding the dentist -- my new dentist encouraged me to bring my iPod. She said it'd helped lots of other people block out some of the less comfortable sounds, if not smells and pain. I could hardly imagine even good music mitigating my discomfort, but I'm writing now to tell you that the combination of the bad radio and the ceiling tiles sent me off on an unanticipated mental journey -- and that worked a nice distraction.
It was the bad radio station that got me (silently) complaining toward the ceiling tiles. But it was the ceiling tiles that got me thinking. They weren't your usual acoustic tiles, with evenly spaced holes all over. They had multi-colored and unevenly dented spots, ones that looked like garden eels had peeked out in one direction or another and then thought better of it, leaving a little impression and stain as a proof of the visit. The garden eel impressions reminded me further of the leafy and weedy sea dragons I had just seen at the Academy of Sciences, which -- wow -- was powerful enough to transport me all the way back to my first few years in San Francisco.
I came to San Francisco in 1991, on the run from a broken heart. I think I had been here all of once prior to moving, so it's fair to say I had no idea what I was getting into. And it took me a couple years to love the place. I remember very clearly the first time I realized I actually did. I was on an airplane, about to land at SFO, and the whole of me began to happily hum: I'm home.
Back then, San Francisco was a much easier place to be broke and relatively aimless. It was just after the big earthquake and just before the dot.com boom. Rooms in shared houses rented for $250/month, and there were more people walking the street wearing their hearts where you could see them -- on their sleeves, waists, boots, hats, skin. I wasn't really one of them (yet.) But I was an admirer. (Still am.) Somewhere between my time in love with the polyamorists and the free jazz movement, I developed a serious crush on the contact improv dancers. I never really learned to do it myself, but the idea of it lives in me and bubbles to the surface all the time these days.
In the most literal terms, I contact improv dance with Django all the time, but it's the figuritive terms that compel me -- and keep me up at night. How can we stay in touch and fluid at the same time? How can I always be a dynamic home base?
There's a chain letter going around Facebook, asking for you to post 25 random things about yourself and then tag 25 friends to do the same. I resisted the call a number of times, until I was inspired/shamed into it by reading my dear friend Zack's (a.k.a. Michael Kaminski's) brilliant list. So here's mine, for posterity.
1I knew I should’ve responded to this tag back when it required only 5 random things, or even when it upped to 15. I’m hoping it gets all the way to 50 in the near future, so I can feel like 25 was a breeze.
2.I like pie. Or cheesecake. Not cake.
3.Superbowl weekend 2 years ago I finished 3rd in my gender/age-group an 18-mile trail run in Death Valley. This Superbowl weekend I doubt I could’ve run around the block, unless it was necessitated by concern for the safety of a toddler. I miss exercising.
4.I try to make most of the gifts I give, especially at Xmas. This Xmas they were all made out of duct tape.
5.Inflating tires of any variety scares the pants off me. I would rather not have to do it. Ever.
6.My mom is in the Galapagos right now. She also sometimes builds computers from parts.
7.My dad, who is not married to my mom (in case you didn’t already know that) is the most noble man I know. He can also be counted on to have a horror story for any occasion. You like licorice? He knows someone who got liver poisoning from eating too much. Your kid likes to play at the steering wheel of your parked car? He knows someone whose kid got in solo one day, started up the car, reversed through the garage door, then shifted gears and drove into the kitchen. Wool socks? I don’t know, you’ll have to ask him. The good news is: even he seems to think it’s funny these days.
8.I had absolutely no concept of myself in 6th grade until Paul Sheats posted our 6th grade class photo on Facebook. Now I have an image of myself in 6th grade that I cannot possibly forget. Hard as I keep trying. Yikes.
9.If you’re ever at a drinking party/establishment with my brother or sister & I and you say something about wanting a tequila sunrise, we will assume you want our immediate help beating a hasty retreat from the person you’re currently near.
10.I have never, to my knowledge, actively visualized a scene from a book I was reading and yet I’ve frequently felt surprised by who gets cast for certain roles in certain books-turned-movies. What gives?
11.I know – and love – a dozen or more lawyers.
12.I put my right hand over my heart and say (most) of the pledge of allegiance every day. I can’t bring myself to say “under God.” It bristles me.
13.I loved being pregnant. I’d do it again in a heartbeat. If you know anyone interested in helping me out on this count, please send them my way. Umm, immediately.
14.At every stage of my long-winded education, I’ve been blessed with teachers who moved and/or mentored me. Thank you Mr. McCutcheon, Mr. Adams, Ms. Polite, Professors Fujii, Grappard and Kohl. There are so many people I have learned from – and need to learn from still. I wish it were easier to name & find them.
15.I used to like pigeons. Now I don’t, really. I worry that this means I’ve lost a part of my humanity.
16.I do not understand the man who stands in the street outside his house on Market St. (an urban thoroughfare) in the mornings, sweeping leaves from the place where cars might park, at risk to his own life & limb from the traffic traveling 40 mph down the road. That’s some serious OCD.
17.At age 9, I wrote my own musical to go with the Styx release “The Grand Illusion.” I wish I still had the copy.
18.I used to think my dream job was being an acrobat in Cirque du Soleil. Now I think it’s reporting about the traffic for NPR.
19.I’m afraid of microwave ovens. I’ve certainly used my fair share of them, but I refuse (so far) to have one in my home.
20.As an elementary school teacher, I have laughed & laughed about parents who spell their kids names all funny. Then I had my own, and named him Django Rey.
21.Without ever even coming close to having a fiancé in my life, I have managed to plan at least 4 fantasy weddings for myself.
22.My mom’s father used to eat sandwiches with peanut butter and anything – ketchup, onion, meat, etc. I think I inherited a little some of that from him. My favorite is peanut butter and chive cream cheese.
23.Last week someone else set my car radio to the Smooth Jazz station. They play Sade a lot. I have been thinking about changing it. I haven’t yet. This makes me feel old. And soft.
24.I don’t like it that rice is too small to really chew – unless it’s stuck together for some reason. I avoid eating rice because of this. I like to chew my food.
25.I’ve been keeping a mostly-weekly blog for my son since he was born, but have been having a hard time keeping up lately. So I’m cutting & pasting all of this into the blog and calling it a post…Now you know 25 truly random things about your Mama, baby boy!
Django said the word "no" for the first time tonight. Clear as a bell. I pretended it didn't happen.
