But I’m still not going to grow up.

You guys, I think I might take out my eyebrow ring.

I always told myself I’d take it out when I felt “too old” to have it in. That’s not so much what happened, as I just realized one day that eyebrow rings are a bit SOOOO 10 YEARS AGO, OMG.

The kids at Bowie’s preschool are very inquisitive about it. “Why do you have that thing on your eye?” I’m used to that.

My usual response is something to the tune of, “Well, it’s like an earring, only I wear it there instead of in my ear.”

Usually kids say, “Ok.” And we all move on. But, lately they are saying, “No, I mean WHY do you have it there?”

And for that I do not have an answer. “It was super cool, and all the cool kids were doing it in 2000 I SWEAR.”

I’ve had the thing in my face for 10 years now, and sometimes I forget it’s even there, it’s become such a part of the landscape. I suppose that’s enough rebellion for one young lady’s lifetime, yes?

Of course, now I can’t stop thinking about the old lady that came through my checkout line when I was 23 and working at Target. At first she seemed like the cool, understanding old lady type. “My, that’s a pretty bead there on that ring.”

“Oh, thank you.”

“But,” she added, as she walked away with her goods, “You do realize you’re going to have a scar. A SCAR.”

At the time, I was like yeah, no shit. But now, I’m like, crap, she was right.

Oh well. I’ll consider it a battle wound. White girl college rebellion is SERIOUS BUSINESS. Not for the weak and feeble. You might leave with a scar, A SCAR!

Newest Family Member

Auntie got Bowie a fish for his birthday. A real, live, eating, swimming, pooping fish. Which is super fun, truthfully. I grew up with lots of fish around, and had been wanting to get him one for a while now.

We tried to get a really cool, fun name stuck in kiddo’s mind, but nothing took. Not Miguel, Ricardo, Lightning McQueen, The Situation, nothing.

Fishy’s name is Fishy. And this is NOT because he just keeps pointing at it and saying “fishy!” This is because one day when I was saying to him, “Is his name Ricardo? Can you say Ricardo? I think Ricardo is a nice name!” Bowie turned to me and said, “NO MAMA, his name is Fishy!”

Okay then.

Yes, we let him.

Funny thing happened at preschool today. Funny in that I feel like a moron.

We were singing this fun song at music time: “Wake me, shake me, don’t let me sleep too long. In the morning I …. ” and then the teacher calls on a child and they fill in the blank. I eat breakfast. I put on clothes. I brush my teeth. I say good-bye to my dad. Whatever.

Teacher calls on Bowie. Who is 2 1/2 and off in his own entire universe when this is happening. Teacher says, “What does Bowie do in the morning, mom?”

I say, “Uuuuuuuummmmmmmmmm he watches Curious George.”

The pause in the room was palpable. I mean, GOD LOVE ‘EM but most San Francisco parents are not hip to the half hour of peace you can get from plopping your kiddo in front of a nice television program. (Or, at least they’d never admit to it in the very public manner that I chose.)

The song went on as normal, but LORD, the PAUSE.

I’m here today to admit, yes, I let my son watch television.

At least I said Curious George, he’s on PBS. I could have said Fresh Beat Band or something AMIRITE.

The Mouths of Babes

Funny things my kid says/does now that he’s getting the hang of this talking thing:

He will knock something over and ask, “What did you do?”

When I leave the room and he doesn’t want me to he says, “Get back here!”

When he hits the cat he yells, “Mama, don’t hit kitty!”

When the sun gets in his eyes (which he HATES for some reason), he screams, “OOOOOWWWWW!” from the backseat of the car, which never fails to make my heart jump into my throat.

If he’s walking near you, and you happen to touch in any way he says, “Oops, sorry!”

When he drops something he says, “Oh, shit!”

When the cat runs away from him to a place he can’t get to he says, “OH NO MAMA GET THE KITTY OH NO WHERE’S KITTY? WHY???”

Whenever I open the refrigerator he says, “Strawberries? Strawberries. Mmm, strawberries. Strawberries?” And if I don’t have any: tantrum city.

Climbing on top of the printer and speaker, “GET DOWN!” Like, before he’s even up there.

Every night before bed, he hugs daddy, and they look out the window together and he yells, “Bye bye Sicko!” Sicko=San Francisco 🙂

It’s so fun watching them learn and grow and try to communicate. I need to get this on tape for the 18th birthday party, hehe.

For Other Mamas of Blondies

Once my son’s white-blonde hair sprouted, I have heard from countless people the expression “towhead”. I had never heard it before, and for some reason I wanted to take offense to it, so I did a bit of research on it.

I thought at first that it was spelled “toehead”, as in his head is so white it looks like a toe. That is completely wrong. Thank God.

It is “towhead” as in, a head of “tow”, which is “An untwisted bundle of fibers such as cellulose acetate, flax, hemp or jute.”

So there you go. It looks like their hair is made of hay. That’s all.

Where Has He Been All My Life?

You’re never going to believe this, but up until about 12 hours ago, I was a complete David Sedaris virgin. Yes me, the creative writing degree holder. We’re all supposed to read him in college, right? Well for some reason, in my particular panorama of professors, his work never came up. But, over the years, I have heard his name here and there, and finally broke down and just bought one of his books already. Well, I had heard him on This American Life and knew I liked his brand of humor.

Now, 40 pages into Me Talk Pretty One Day, I am Hooked. Capital H. How could I not have discovered this before? And unlike my current favorite author Melissa Bank, I won’t run out of material after 2 books. Last night, reading in bed, I’m like, hey eyes, can’t you stay open for just one more story? Eyes: no we can’t, we’ve been open since 5:30 am and we need…to…close…now.

I guess I can’t call it an obsession yet, since it’s only the beginning, but definitely a budding obsession.