Love is Blind

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• Dear Blog, I think it’s time I say “Goodbye”

  I’m afraid my blog and I are calling it quits.  You heard me.  I got straight to the point and let you know what was on my mind, a rare move for Megg Lasswell.    I had every intention of letting those of you who are kind enough to read my blog, know that I was leaving behind Love is Blind…weeks ago.  Unfortunately, I am a bit of a non-confrontational asshole and I'm letting you know right now.  Right here and now, in this, my “dear john” letter.  I’m hoping that you all will forgive me for exiting on this last blog post instead of telling you and then posting some more.  That’s such a bitch move, right?  I know, and I hang my head in shame. Read More... Posted Jul 29 2009, 01:50 AM by Megg with | with 19 comment(s) Filed under: gigi, megg, gia, dear john letter, goodbyes suck, goodbe, love is blind, bye, see ya, hasta, strollerderby, movin' on up er...over?, end of blog

• Short of Breath.

  On Saturday morning I packed the car with my suitcase, plenty of GiGi-type-food, and a granola bar for good measure.  It had been at least 3-4 weeks since I had last stayed the weekend with my girlfriends in the bay area, so I was looking forward to a weekend of uncensored girl talk (complete with words and topics to make my mother blush).  It was especially exciting to get a tiny break from being a snack making, mind shaping, potty training mommy and passing her along to spend time with her daddy-o.  I had high hopes of bouncing out to the car at 7 am on the dot, and actually succeeded in doing s, despite the super stress of dealing with a slight fender bender the day before.   Backing out of a parking spot in a most unfavorite superstore chain, I looked both ways several times, and then smacked into a driver who decided to play “raceway” in the parking lot isles. A small woman in a large suv hit the brakes to “wait for a parking spot” to empty out and I backed into her going .0004 mph.  I hit her tire and gave the rubber a little of my silver paint, and my back bumper suffered a dent the size of a hand…or a fist punch.  This seems like the true meaning of the word “accident” in my opinion.  At least it does, on my end.  GiGi seemed fine aside from the obvious distraction in our plan to acquire some much needed milk from Starbucks.  She didn’t make a peep, and since it really didn’t feel like anything at all, I considered us both v. fine.    I stepped out of my car with my paper, pen, insurance card and license on hand.  The woman in the other vehicle refused to move.  She also spoke zero English and even after someone who spoke her native tongue arrived, still couldn’t manage to understand my need for an exchange of information.   I’d like to say that it worked itself out smoothly after that, but there was an ambulance, a police officer, several eye rolling witnesses, and a very near fight (a lovely father of two confronted the driver and her passengers while they requested an ambulance and I believe my favorite phrase was “come on now, this is a fucking scam and you know.  There’s nothing wrong with you OR your car.”)   In the end, she drove away in an ambulance while the officer continued to look for any sign of damage on her vehicle.  He came up negative on that one, just as he did with proof of her insurance.  I was left sobbing, wondering why someone would be deliberately trying to take advantage of the situation.   So on Saturday morning, I tried to be positive and hush the neon words in my head, like “$1000 DEDUCTABLE” and “SCREWED OVER”  and “MY INSURANCE JUST WENT DOWN. NOW THIS!?!!”   I managed to get into a happy groove and drop off the tot to her dad, and get over to my haircut, eyebrow wax and dye appointment with 10 minutes to spare.  I got all dolled up and then drove over to A’s house.    I remember taking an allergy pill the moment I arrived because I was feeling a little snotty.  Staying with her is hit or miss on the sneezing thing.  We were roomated for years, and so her home and the kitten condition is nothing new to my nose, but sometimes it affects me a little worse than other times.   I honestly assumed that I was just more sensitive that day, considering that I wasn’t there for that long before she and I, and two other of my lovely ladies went to lunch.    At lunch I still felt sort of sneezy, but  short of breath as well.   I chalked it up to a pretty fucking miserable symptom of allergies, but nothing more.  By the time I got into bed that night, I was having harder time breathing.  I flipped through pictures on my phone of GiGi, since I hate spending an evening away from her, and thought about the little things I was trying to remain positive about.  Sometimes working hard to remain positive takes it toll and at night I just lay tere thinking of all the shit that I need to really get a hang of.  I had gone through every class listed in the Fall Schedule catalog for college and gotten onto a few waitlists and nothing for sure. I had a doctor appointment for GiGi and needed to make another that I totally forgot to do.  This accident was going to impair my ability to finally pay off my debt, as well severely bother me with its unethical crap a-brewing from the other party….and now on top of all of those things I was having hard time breathing.   Awesome.   The next morning I woke up with the same issues of snot and sneezes and shortness of breath.  I trudged along through... Read More... Posted Jun 30 2009, 09:16 PM by Megg with | with 4 comment(s) Filed under: gigi, toddler bed, shortness of breath, anxiety, scams, car accidents, asthma, bitches, breathing

• Hold it now, Hit it.

  We are at a point in our lives where hitting has taken over previously mellow manners. I tell GiGi “no. we don’t open the cupboards,” and she lies on the floor crying out my name until I pick her up so that she can hit me in the closest of proximities.  She’s sly that way.  I’m not sure when the buzz grabbed a hold of her ear and identified a 1-2-punch-scratch combo as the coolest new thing around, but there it is.  Like white on snow, like gum under tables, hitting has arrived and it’s not going anywhere, anytime soon.  At least, that’s what it feels like.    I have resorted to buying the book, The Happiest Toddler on the Block, to try and salvage some of my midday sanity.  I wasn’t really enthused with the idea of buying the Happy baby/tot books, but after someone on my favorite parenting/lady/witty/life-saving forum mentioned, the author and I share the same method of acting a tantrum out.  Or so I’m told.  I figure if I am already like-minded in some teensy way to this author, then maybe there is a useful sentence or ten in this book that can save my arms, face and chest from the wrath of the ever-growing and relentless nails of my babe.   For most of the day... Read More... Posted Jun 23 2009, 09:38 PM by Megg with | with 4 comment(s) Filed under: gigi, toddlers, ouch, pain, cupboards, beating down her mother, pinching, smack, band aids, scratching, bleeding from my eyeballs, hit, temprs, terrible two, slamming fingers, gigi: it's hard to watch the real housewives of new jersey when you are scratching my eyes at 10 pm, scratch, blood, sanity, hitting, gia blind, two year old

• Mouth Like a Sailor

  I have a foul mouth.  While I would love to admit that I have mouth like a sailor, I must say that I have been around quite a few maritime men and never met my match (proud, aren’t you mom!).  I’m not completely devoid of decency and morals and though I enjoy the perfect opportunity to use a filthy word, I refrain as much as possible around elders and little ones.   That being said, I am human.   I’ve dropped a few+ f-bombs around the babe and I always just considered them as words floating around the air that landed where they may.  As long as I wasn’t teaching her to say words like shit, fuck, crap, damn it, hell, and the many other creations you can come up with, I figured I wasn’t really doing my child any disservice.  I also really, really don’t think it’s appropriate to yell in front of GiGi so any bad words were said in jest or simple conversation for the most part.   …and then she learned to talk overnight.   All at once my little girl went from being a little girl into becoming this walking, talking, curious toddler.  I’d like to think that the whole “do as I say not as I do,” thing works, but it just doesn’t when it comes to kids learning to speak.   GiGi has been a good mirror for my awful mouth and while I highly enjoy my language, I realize just how much I use the wrong words in front of her.  I would die, absolutely die, if she said the ‘f’ word in front anyone.  So, I’ve begun to swap damn it for darn it and take up saying the word flock instead of fuck and shoot/shite/shitake in place of shit.  I’m trying my hardest to clean up my mouth even if it means saying sass instead of ass.  ***P.S.- sasshole isn’t nearly as satisfying.   I was sitting on the steps outside of our bath tub last night, taking a video of my bubble faced child singing in the water.  It was one of those adorable remember-this-moment-when-you’re-gray times and then I saw poop floating amidst the watermelon scented suds.  My worst nightmare caught on tape.  This was worse than the pooping on the slide incident from a few weeks ago.  There were so many bubbles in the bath that I couldn’t find it/them.    I needed to get her to stand up so that I could rinse her off, and then take her out of the tub.  In the split second that I took to make a game plan in my head, she took the drain stop out and... Read More... Posted Jun 16 2009, 11:05 AM by Megg with | with 18 comment(s) Filed under: gigi, bubbles, bad words, cussing, foul mouth, cursing, mouth, bath, filthy language, the best words to use when poop is cloging the tub, soap, bath tub

• Shear Addiction

  Someone needs to come into my home and physically remove all scissors from my cabinets, drawers, and desk organizers.  What I thought would be a simple trim to remove the halfway-there-mullet from the back of GiGi’s head, has turned into a daily haircut.    Is there a documented, known condition in which one feels like they must keep cutting hair?  I swear I’m addicted.  My hands tingle and those shiny trimming shears that my mother keeps next to her barbers’ chair outside call to me at unexpected times, like when I’m eating a banana and watching a little Adventures in Babysitting.  The hairs on her sweet little baby noggin seem long and unruly, even though they were just trimmed the day before, and the day before that.  I’m out of control.   The good news is that her hair has not been butchered and/or severely altered for the worse. Also.. mo more constant pigtails or hair in her eyes. The first person I asked was my sister, who let me know that it looked nice.  Of course, she winced at the idea of me cutting her hair so soon (is two really that young for a first haircut?).  I set up Salon d’megg in the bathroom and as she ran past the door on the way to the kitchen, I asked her opinion.  There was a brief “awwww” and then a “don’t forget to save a lock of her hair,” as she vanished from the room.  Dude.  How could I have forgotten to keep hair?  I’m like, Queen of Sentimental and Sappy.  I reached into the sink where the hair was swirling around the sides, headed for the drain, and swiped the little lock left in there.  So, wet and funky looking, it sits in a little Ziploc bag.  I wonder what I need it for.  Surely my mother has a lock of my hair from my first cut, but to my knowledge and recollection I’ve never seen it.  You’d think she would have pulled it out by now and shown it to some ex-boyfriend or best friend as proof that I’m not really a brunette.  Proof that I wasn’t ever a red-head.  Evidence that I’m blonde and blonde can be.  Bu no, no she hasn’t.  She what do I need it for?   When my dad saw the trim he was delighted by the new do and impressed that I hadn’t “messed it up,” which I must say, I was too.  If anyone is going to give me a completely honest opinion it would be my dad, so I trust that it isn’t wretched.   So, my problem is not that the haircut is awful, or that I fucked up a precious head of hair, but that I cannot .... Read More... Posted Jun 10 2009, 01:05 PM by Megg with | with 9 comment(s) Filed under: gigi, hair, haircut, childrenns hair style, bangs, overdone, trim, addicted mother, parent, adorable, addiction

• A letter to the climber

  Dear GiGi,   I know that you may find me bothersome at times, because I seem pushy.  I know when dinner comes along you are just trying to catch a meal in your brightly colored high chair and I am too busy pleading with you to use fork or spoon for you to really enjoy your food.  I realize that this is tiring and you want to poke me in the arm with that fork, right before you launch it across the room.  I understand, really I do.  Why on Earth should you use an oddly shaped piece of plastic to pick up your strawberries when your hands work oh-so-much better?  Why the f* would you TOUCH applesauce when you can just cry until I say, “fine, fine! I’ll feed you!”  It’s slimy, hard to handle, and too cold to be bearable in the palm of your hand.    Honestly, bunny bee, I get it.  There are things I don’t understand yet about what makes you thrive and what sends you over the edge in terms of touch and taste. I will try to keep that in mind but I will also encourage you and keep presenting you with a fork and spoon.  Maybe I will just start preparing 12 forks ...     *VIDEO AFTER THE JUMP* Read More... Posted Jun 05 2009, 01:01 PM by Megg with | with 3 comment(s) Filed under: optic nerve hypoplasia, blind, onh, gigi, toddler, slides, steps, toddler slide, climbing, stairs, independence, sliding

• On, Off, On, Off, On, Off, On, Off, On, Off...

  Two years old seems to be way too early for pms, so what is the issue with my child?   What on earth is GiGi thinking while lying on the floor kicking and screaming because I direct her attention away from the television and its knobs?  What is she thinking as she throws herself backward onto the ground as I tell her “no no, that’s mommy’s keyboard.”    The television and its buttons are quite mesmerizing, I get it.  I understand that when you are visually impaired to a somewhat indefinable (at-this-point) degree, having a flicker of light 2 mm from you face can be quite inviting.  GiGi adores standing in front of our tv for 20 minutes at a time if I let her, turning the damn thing on and off.  For a while she was changing the channels also, but that quickly got her removed from the situation, so I think she’s caught on to the idea that the one button in charge of on/off is the safest route for tv play.  I find it hard to be that mad when she turns it on and then presses the off button, and so on and so on.  Read More... Posted May 28 2009, 10:51 PM by Megg with | with 4 comment(s) Filed under: gigi, cupboards, kids touching EVERYTHING they aren't supposed to, nono, no-no, laptop, tv, curious

• Calamity G.

  My darling tot has an ambitious mind and legs to support it.  The moment I explain to her that roads are dangerous and hills are steep, and NOT to go whichever way it is she isn’t supposed to go– she makes a run for it.  GiGi and I were playing in the front yard of my sisters’ home on Wednesday and instead of giggling over the furry bunny rabbit hopping about the front yard, she opted for falling.  Not once, but several times.   The yard has a tiny slope to it and in the midst of some serious running momentum; GiGi stumbled and ran into the cute scalloped brick border around one of the breezy trees.  She slammed into them and then rolled down the tiny hill. *tiny* hill.  Her poor shins are scratched to pieces and both bare bluish purple bruises that make me feel like crap every time I see them.  She shook it off pretty quickly and was more upset that I was holding her than the fact that she had blood on her legs.  She sprinted out of my arms and so I let her go.  Nothing appeared stitch-worthy and while I would like to have bandaged her up and pampered her little legs, she would have no part of it.   She got a good five minutes of running in before she decided to venture toward the brick surrounded flower beds.  I stood in front of them, trying to plead with her to play with her cousin and explaining the harsh environment that roses lived in. Brick, thorns, and tiny baubles are not a girl’s best friend.  She screamed and screamed and when I redirected her to the lawn, she ran the other way.   She zigged, I zagged and the bushes caught her.  I rushed her inside to scope out the blood, bruises and tears and again, she only wanted down so that she could play again.  My child is a tiny Wolverine, an x-babe of indestructible force.   The back of her right leg looks like I pulled a bush out of the ground and smacked her with it and her shins look like Tanya Harding got a hold of them.  Its sad.    We opted not to go back outside at my sisters house, so when we arrived home she was more than ready to run free outside.  GiGi is pretty simple when it comes to outdoor play.  Run, run, run and run some more toward danger (i.e. pools, roads, rosebushes.)  If not, she likes to swing or jump on the trampoline.  I say “jump” but its more like her sitting in the center while I jump around and watch her slightly fly into the air.  If I were to really jump, I’m sure that I could catapult her into... Read More... Posted May 16 2009, 02:03 PM by Megg with | with 7 comment(s) Filed under: sick, gigi, doctor, gia, slides, childrenn, calamity, hurt, injuries, gigi takes after me, accident prone children, bruises, band-aids, swings, injury, cuts, danger, accident prone toddlers, trampolines suck

• ...and the words fell like raindrops

  The topic of speech therapy and whether or not GiGi would ever say anything other than mama, bite, mimi, dada  and  papa has been on the table at our weekly in-home services for a little while now.  Should we get assistance if there aren't more words by age two or three or two and a half. Does she need them? Are blind children more likely to require these services?   I admit to being an overly pushy person when a casual mention of needing something extra is thrown out.  I jump at the chance to get her help.  However, the older she gets the more I realize that she is a tiny girl writing down her story one page at a time and sometimes she’s super slow.  Sometimes she gets writers block.  In the end, she always gets the story done.   Speech is just another page in her journal and as her mother I need to be less insistent on fixing something and more accepting of who she is and her speed of development.   I’ve said it before and I’ll say it as many times as I see fit; finding out that your baby has something as serious as no vision, at four months old instead of immediately, plays with the mind.  It plays with mine constantly.  There is still a big fat huge wagon full of guilt that I carry with me most of the time, and its got “how did you NOT know?” written all over it.  She’s two years old now and while its such a silly issue at this point, I still fee like going way overboard when it comes to her care.  Medical, physical, whatever care it may be, I don’t want her behind because I didn’t pay attention.  There shouldn’t be any more heartaches and shocks because I simply didn’t know.   So with the guilt following me around, it’s hard to learn a healthy balance between being GiGi’s parent/advocate/teacher and then JUST being her mother.  Letting her do what she will and develop how she was intended.  I never thought having faith in my child at this age, this young, young age, would be so difficult, but it is.  She has wowed me since birth and yet I constantly doubt that she will just naturally begin to do whatever it is that I’m worrying about.  I feel bad about that.   For the past few months her vocabulary has been limited to mama, dada, papa, pamma, mimi, bup (for up), bite, nana, peekaboo,  cookie and cracker.  I was happy that she was at least communicating that.  Those are all very important words.  There were words here and there that she picked up, but then laid back down almost the next and went back to.  It was frustrating.   …..and then she said rock-and-roll.       (because she *is* rock and roll in my book)     video after the jump ... Read More... Posted May 05 2009, 11:14 AM by Megg with | with 12 comment(s) Filed under: gigi, toddler, first words, talking, gia, age two, development, when to sit back and shut up, language skills, learning, specialists, speech therapist, speech therapy, teachers who sometimes aggravate me, words

• Poop.

  GiGi and I are crazy young ladies with wild on our side and a pocket full of routine to keep us grounded.  It’s a cute pocket, but it’s awfully heavy.  At night, GiGi either takes a bath or cleans up in a tot bath in the gigantic shower we are blessed enough to have.  When we finish with the lather-rinse-repeat, my child and I stroll back to my bedroom where she avoids her diaper and I attempt to get pajama’d in record time.  It’s a simple routine; showering, getting dressed, and then brushing our teeth before bedtime.  I’ve learned that if I change the bulletin list in any way, trouble arises.   A few nights ago, GiGi ran down the hallway yelling “Papa! Papa!” so I figured that it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if I were to let her tell my father goodnight while I scurried to get dressed and ready her pjs/ lotion/ diaper/ nightly shot (growth hormone, not tequila)/ toothbrush and book.  What’s cuter than a baby tush flashing past their grandparents?  Nothing.      It all seemed so innocent.  Naked time for the babe and a series of loud  “awwww’s” and “ well hello there’s” followed by giggles.  I was done in two minutes flat.  Do you know what can happen in two minutes, aside from dressing and prepping?   Poop.    Everywhere.   I walked down the hallway to grab my naked monster baby who I could hear rambling at the other end of the house and as I approached the end, I saw it.  It looked like little hot wheels scattered across the carpet where the hallway finished and the living room began.  “is that poop?’’ I thought.   I stopped and listened and only heard GiGi talking to herself.  If it was poop, there wasn’t anyone who had noticed it.  I flipped on the light and found big people sized pooplings laying about, mocking my new, capricious routine of letting GiGi run naked.  The cute had officially worn off and faded into a crap stained carpet.   It’s never a good idea to rattle the elders at night so I quietly ran to the kitchen to grab some cleaning supplies.  When I returned and looked closer at the mess, not only did I see the poop, I saw two smooshes.  One was an obvious foot smashing and the other?  The other was a wheel mark.  I’m not going to lie – I panicked.  Not only was there a mess on the carpet, but now it was a traveling mess.  Read More... Posted Apr 28 2009, 01:36 PM by Megg with | with 13 comment(s) Filed under: gross, gigi, toddlers, gia, chairs, tmi, poop, shit talking, poo, parents indeed love the poo talk, crap, slides, pooping on the carpet, couches, shit

• Through her Looking Glass(es)

  I’m not sure whether or not the sudden boom in speed and activity is a glasses related change or not,  but it’s happened.  Change has happened.   My child is an acrobatic wonder, moving with extreme speed and velocity as she climbs on and off of the furniture and attempts to climb up her indoor slide the wrong way.  The jumping on our furniture game has become a leading sport in the Lasswell/**** household.  At times I find myself encouraging the activity.  I know it’s wrong to encourage this sort of thing and then say, “no no!  don’t jump on the couch,” another day,  but after months and months and months of quietly begging some creature in the sky, rubbing rabbit feet, pulling apart the wishbones, kissing mini Buddhas and putting out a crapload of good karma, etc, to tempt the fates into allowing GiGi to crawl, or *fingers crossed* walk, I feel I am justified in being torn between good parenting and an aww-fuck it- go jump! kind of an attitude. ESPECIALLY since she is now wearing glasses because the doc thinks she is seeing things. Real things, not like acid flashback or kooky in the head -seeing-things  sort of "seeing things."   When GiGi first got her glasses, there were a few very subtle differences in her behavior.  It was a short adjustment period for her to get used to wearing them.  She hasn’t really ever fought me on the issue of putting them on, or wearing them all day.  That said, she has already figured out that glasses are important and very interesting articles of “whatever” for mama.  When she wants something she isn’t getting, she will rip them off and throw them.  She seems to know that doing that bothers me.  A lot.  She says “glasses” so clearly, and knows where they are.  If she falls or bumps them on the carpet, or otherwise mushes them on her face, se will adjust them herself and get them back to the right spot. She will fix them until they are perfect.  Its unusual. It’s, it’s like they have always been a part of her.   The way she needs them to be perfect just seems to tell me that they do something for her.   Something more than what I thought they would do for her vision.   When its playtime and GiGi is wandering around clapping her hands, or rambling some new inaudible song lyrics, she will stop and look into the stove and move her head from side to side, like she’s noticing something.  She’s begun to..     (way too many photos after the jump.) Read More... Posted Apr 17 2009, 03:13 PM by Megg with | with 12 comment(s) Filed under: o.n.h., optic nerve hypoplasia, onh, gigi, exploring, blindd, gia, glasses, scratching mommy, scratching glasses, drew carey frames, children with glasses, help me keep these things on her head, scratchin' records

• Kid On a Leash

  Raise your hand if you have ever stared at a parent in some public place or another, with their hand nestled a foot thick under a soft looking leash attached to a toddler.  Go ahead. Raise it.   Now raise your hand again if you’ve ever silently vomited and swallowed it back down again, at the idea of EVER using one with your own child.   I raise both hands, to both cases.  I have been Senora El Judge-y in the past, numerous times, and I’ll bet that I’m just asshole-enough to have made a comment ever-so-quietly-yet-audible-to-the-parents who held leashes.      My reasoning in the past was solely based on aesthetics alone.  There is a CHILD on a LEASH. How wretched. How lazy.  How on Earth can you wake up one day and say, “fuck it, let’s put the baby on a leash today and forgo the hand holding and actual watching of our child.”  I gave unintended dirty looks formed out of a single twenty-something mentality and a mild fear of babies.  I created this Karma that has now come back to bite me on the ass as I wrap my hand around a brown “tail” attached to a monkey that sits atop GiGI’s back. Read More... Posted Apr 11 2009, 11:51 AM by Megg with | with 24 comment(s) Filed under: gigi, kids, gia, glasses, judgemental parenting, leashes are awful, bad parenting, toddler leash, safety, karma, ew, safety devices, child leashes, I still hate ann coulter, leash

• Happy 2nd Birthday, GiGi

  Dear GiGi,   You came into this world at 8:56 am on a Saturday morning in the hospital we picked out in Berkeley, CA.  It was barely warm outside on the afternoon before, when I entered the hospital for a routine check-up before you were to come into the world the following week.  I wore a sundress in, with an aqua hobo bag on my arm and the doctors kept me.   You were due on April 3rd, and I was scheduled to have you on April 10th.  You arrived on the 7th, the day before Easter.    Our doctor gave me something to help you along since there was a dangerous amount of fluid left to protect you.  According to her, you would be here at noon the next day.  She left our room late that evening.   …and two years ago today, at this exact moment in time, I sat in a hospital bed in Berkeley and complained  “I think I have some cramps,” with a puzzled face and heart full of nervous happy.   I stepped into the restroom - My water broke - I barfed.   I cried in your daddy and nurse Suri’s arms and walked back to my bed with paper towels under my feet and gross on my toes, scooting, like they were ice skates.   When the nurses said “the baby will be here in an hour,” you came out 15 minutes later.   From the first of the five pregnancy tests that I took came out positive, my eyes filled up with a thousand tears at the thought of actually having to give birth.  The test was positive you were in my belly and I was positive that child birth would kill me. I was scared. I was petrified.    Right before the doctors came in and I was about to push you around, into this world, I asked if I could take a nap.  I was comfortable and coherent and otherwise pleased that you were coming.  Labor was not painful, and I wasn't scared at that mment, and no....childbirth didn't kill me.   I said I was having a boy and would name him Wolfgang Oliver, and alas you were, and are, a little girl.   The doctor said “We have a healthy baby!”   Your dad said “I told you so!  We have a little girl!” and placed you on my chest.   We took one look at you and he said “She’s no Luka. That’s not her name at all.”   We were all planned to name you Luka Lorraine, but you ended up with Gia Lorraine instead.   He thought of your name and I agreed, only because I would be able to call you Gia.     Newborns cry all the time, at least that’s what I had read and heard, but you couldn’t have been a more different baby than those in the articles.  You were the most quiet and calm baby in the world.  Everything that could be said to me about babes in belly and babes fresh out of the womb, couldn’t have been farther from who you were and what you were about.   I don’t know how it’s possible, but with every fear I had and still have, you comfort me in the most simple way. YOU take care of ME whether you realize it or not, and I love you for many reasons including that one. We’re a team.   Two halves that make up an insanely silly whole.   We fumble along at times, but get through everything singing, and dancing when no one else is.....   (memory lane pics after the jump) Read More... Posted Apr 07 2009, 05:07 AM by Megg with | with 16 comment(s) Filed under: gigi, berkeley, toddler, kids, baby milestones, gia, age two, life, celebration, birth, birthday

• Love Wears Glasses

  I had a few post all lined up about various things going on in mine and GiGi’s life.  Places we went last week and new people we met.  All of those posts are sitting in my Babble folder with their little jaws dropped at this post I’m writing now.  Those posts have nothing on the news I have now.   My alarm was set for 4:30 am on Wednesday morning.  In case you all weren’t aware, 4:30 is an “a.m.” too.   I thought I would let GiGi sleep and then I would put her in the car in her pajamas and just change her at the pediatric ophthalmology office once we arrived.  Fat chance.  She woke up once we hit the cool morning breeze outside and smiled over whatever it is that GiGi smiles about when the wind kisses her cheek (natures affection?).  I was glad that she had a sunny disposition  so early in the morning, especially since she is nearing two year old and it’s an every-five-minutes toss of the dice which way her mood  leans.   I was in a bad mood.  Terrible in fact.  Tuesday went downhill, slowly, and I ended the night with ice packs on my poor head and TUMS in my tum.  The prospect of a doctor visit to an office that  had recently yelled at wasn’t making me feel any better.   The receptiawench had left a message on my cell phone – on a Saturday – to say that GiGi’s appointment was cancelled.  I cried, punched y pillow, and then vowed to sleep on the news before I called back.  Monday morning I gave the wench a ring and no answer.  After the fifth phone call I left a message saying, “Hi, this is GiGi ****’s mother and I got a call saying that her appointment was cancelled. I just wanted to confirm that the appointment really is cancelled, because this visit is WAAAAY overdue and if we really aren’t getting in, then I might just pass out.  But when I regain consciousness Im afraid I might just punch your office in the face.  So, um, can you call me back at ***-3**-04**.  Thanks”   Beep   She called back five minutes later, a little shaken up, and said “oh no, Miss Lasswell, we just want to confirm her for an EARLIER appointment, will that be okay?”   I absolutely thought that they were luring me there to arrest me for the punching in the face comment.   So then, where was I?  Oh yes, post-migraine, feeling barf-y, and worried about the possibility of being citizens arrested by a receptiawench, I got into the car and headed to the bay area. Read More... Posted Apr 02 2009, 02:09 PM by Megg with | with 46 comment(s) Filed under: optic nerve hypoplasia, blind, onh, gigi, children, toddler, kids, gia, pre-cane trainer, white cane, no cane, walking unassisted, toddling, blindd toddler, glasses

• Tiny Chef / Big Tummy.

  Thanks to a slight sinus infection and overall funk for GiGi, I now have a child who will eat more than tomato soup, applesauce and goldfish crackers.  Is it inappropriate to thank a sinus infection for an increase in appetite?  Oh, who am I kidding, THANK YOU SINUS INFECTION FOR BEING CLEARED UP IN THREE DAYS AND LEAVING BEHIND ONLY AN APPETITE!   Up until the Whinefest ’09 that happened to be two weeks ago(and lasted about the same before an actual doctor warranted illness came about), I couldn’t get GiGi to try anything really unless I was prepared for a session of crying, flying food, and a good old fashioned sippy cup toss.  Sometimes eggs got a little breakfast play, and toast was a total winner (still is) but anything else was the worlds most idiotic idea ever posed to a tot, according to my child.  I can't count the number of times that I tried to give her a piece of banana and was met with a complete meltdown.  The silent cry, you know the one, with flowing tears and that upside down smile that amazes you because its so heartbroken and so forlorn and all you wanted was to give your child a bite of banana flavored potassium.   Three days of prescription and my child is a full fledged eat-a-saurus.  It’s wildly fascinating to watch her love of food grow with every meal.  I have been going a little overboard in my quest for a smaller ass, and the recipes can get a little odd, but GiGi likes them. Yes, the child who melted at mere touch of a banana is now eating garlic-soy chicken pitas.    She's also started to walk into the kitchen when I'm cooking and basically cling to my leg.  I try let her sit in her highchair while I prepare our meals and let her stir things on her tray or feel things that I chop, etc.     It’s interesting to dissect the cooking process and share it with a child, period.  Sharing the process with GiGi lends itself to a learning experience for me also.  Everything begins with how different and equally cool each utensil is.  The temperature of each spoon, whisk and spatula and the texture.  Having her help with multigrain pancakes on Thursday was a great learning time, but totally messy.  She stirred them very well and when I turned to grab a towel, she licked the spoon.  I screamed, she smiled.  (I'm one of those people that use a million napkins, towel, wash cloths, because I hate hate hate dirty things so cooking with a tot is a total challenge).  Then there is the magnificent and I would imagine, mind-boggling, event of turning something like big strawberries into a smaller and more wet version of itself when slicing, to the end result which is of course a Strawberry/Blackberry sauce for pancakes.   We taste the pinch of sugar and the squeeze of fresh lemon that goes into the sauce pan and she squeals at every sample.  She licks the cooled off sauce spoon and says “bite” with a smile.  She tastes the yogurt butter and kicks her feet against her high chair while clapping.  I serve her a nibble of pancake and she says “mmmmmmama” and claps again.  Cooking breakfast with GiGi is a lengthy process and some days do not allow for me to actually stand there and let every single thing be touched, licked, tasted, spilled, flung, clapped over and helped with Read More... Posted Mar 29 2009, 10:36 AM by Megg with | with 3 comment(s) Filed under: gigi, toddlers, feeling, appetite, grossed out by messes, messy, pancaks, cooking, texture, sinus infection

• Terribly Two

  My fingers are lightly tapping the keys in hopes that the noise will drum up some memory of the days when GiGi would get mad and I wouldn’t end up feeling like I could use some help getting through the tantrum.   I’m getting nothing.  For all the millions of little moments that my daughter and I have had in the past 23-1/2 months, I cannot recall a single time she was upset with a situation and it didn’t turn into a full blown meltdown.   I hate to say that my daughter is doing her terrible twos, so instead I like the idea of her being terribly two, and all that this age will bring about.  Maybe she’s pms’ing, but in an “almost two” way instead of “.period.” way.    The slightest hint at the word “no” results in a catastrophic tantrum.  Sometimes it’s a two-part problem.  For example, when we are eating dinner and she feeds herself a bite of something she doesn’t like and then spits it out, pushes the food off of her tray and then smacks the tray/my hands/ anything near her.  I admit that since she has recovered from her sinus infection her eating in general has been the best it’s ever been, but she still has her days.  I don’t think the table troubles and clearing of the tray to the floor is acceptable, so after a few warnings, she gets to get out of her chair.  That causes a mini war in our home.  Last night was a perfect example, in fact, of the wackiest meltdown... Read More... Posted Mar 19 2009, 10:07 AM by Megg with | with 13 comment(s) Filed under: crying, gigi, meltdown, toddler, snot, childrenn's hospital, terrible twos, crazy lady baby, clapping, pulling ones hair out, fits, screaming children, tantrums, going gray

• Get Up and Go

  GiGi has been totally dependent on her shopping cart since the day she was introduced to it.  It was pretty much a whole and perfect union for months and months. In fact, I have one in the trunk of my car, always ready to lend a helping hand to GiGi at any given location we roll into.  There is a shopping cart at home also, and she spends almost all her waking moments pushing it in the same pattern around the house.  I was positive that the same exact travel pattern  - every day all day - was a direct result of GiGI inheriting some sort of obsessive compulsive gene from me (or let’s face it, her father), but it turns out that it has proven to be her best practice technique.   In my last post I shared my joy over her latest success in walking, hands and pre-cane trainer free.  Since Monday, she has become increasingly ill with a nasty cold, and more determined to walk alone than I’ve ever seen.   Yesterday, I felt like I was at my wits end with GiGi.  The constant crying I can understand, because she genuinely doesn’t feel well (we have a doc visit set for today), but the tantrums and hitting I can’t get on board with.  She wanted to be near me at all times, even if it was to hug me or throw a fit.  I seriously felt like we were having a horrible sick day that wouldn’t end, until she took a break from me and crawled from my room to the front room to greet my mother.  I could hear my moms excited tone so I walked down the hallway to find my tot walking on her own.  According to my mom, she just pulled herself up to her and started walking.  Now, anytime she decides to walk alone, I’m proud.  Since my last post she has actually done it so many times I can’t really count.  Usually a walk initiated by me, my sister, and of course my mother.  The walks were shorter distances but she seemed to be getting a little more confident.   My mother and I were watching her walk and commenting on how happy GiGi will be once she figures out how to stand up on her own.  She’s tried a few different ways to stand up, but they all just sort of seem like downward facing dog poses from a yoga class I wasn’t aware she was taking. Until yesterday... Read More... Posted Mar 13 2009, 06:28 AM by Megg with | with 10 comment(s) Filed under: optic nerve hypoplasia, blind, onh, gigi, children, toddler, kids, gia, pre-cane trainer, white cane, no cane, walking unassisted, toddling, blindd toddler

• zZz...Big girl bed...zZz

  There is a room next to mine with toy boxes marked “Noise” and baby blankets galore.  There is a hot pink rocking horse that my sister made for GiGi  to celebrate her first birthday, and there are mountains of clothes.  There’s also a small lamp that casts a very faint shadow on the wall of my toddler sleeping in her bed at night. Her two pigtails were nestled deep into a new pillow sometime after 7 pm.   And for 5 hours and 7 minutes, I got to have my room all to myself.   I never planned on pushing the whole sleep-in-your-own-bed thing, because let’s face it, I don’t have enough memories to count on one hand of the times she slept in her crib. Something wacky about the relationship between my daughter and I just allows for a sense of “ah-ha” at random moments.  About three weeks ago, I was cleaning her room and I just decided to turn her crib into a toddler bed.  We bought one of those handy 3-in-1 conversion cribs so I thought it would be easy as pie to assemble.  I was dreadfully wrong, and that little warmer colored wooden bitch took skin, sweat, and many-a-foul-word from me.  It was not as easy as I thought so I went back to my room to search through my now meticulous files to get the folder titled “MANUALS.”  Of course, it wasn’t there.  So I went back to the crib, wrote down all info (not that there was a lot) and googled my ass off.  Long story short – it took me four phone calls before I reached the person in charge of emailing me an instruction manual.  As I read the instructions with the crib company woman, I noticed that there was a sack of parts I should of kept, so that I would be able to convert the crib to a bed.    Oops.    I actually think that I have it packed away somewhere but my finding it would cost more than having it shipped.  “Those replacement parts will be $10. Shipping will be $12.99,” crib rep. crazy person said.  Since I am not a fan of being bent over and having my money taken from me by a sweet southern accented woman, while I scream “Hoooow Muuuuch,” I opted to find them at a hardware store.  Plus, I’m not known for my patience, and waiting in the mail for a screw would be agony (insert joke here). Jackpot!   Of course I looked like a jackass trying to describe what I needed over the phone.  I had one of the screws I needed in hand and it involved a lot of thingamajiggy and hang-on-let-me-get-my-ruler talk to get the part correct, but I did and I walked away spending $5 and even bought spares.   Bolts in hand, Directions on laptop screen – I went to work, with a toddler crawling all over me and wondering what I was doing.  I find it annoying that it was harder to change this to a toddler bed, than it was to make it a crib, by myself, at nine months pregnant.   I told GiGi her crib went bye-bye.  It seemed like the proper thing to do since it isn’t a crib anymore AND…she hated it.  I told her she had a big girl bed now and that she was going to sleep in her room when she was ready to.  I’m sure that she didn’t understand everything that I rambled on about that day, but I keep reinforcing it.  I tell her that she can go at her own pace, like everything else in life, and I won’t push her.    We bought new sheets, white with little pastel polka dots (yes, I said pastel, and yes I picked them), and got a new pillow with a pink pillow case.  I know that I am the one who looks at these things, but... Read More... Posted Mar 05 2009, 07:20 AM by Megg with | with 1 comment(s) Filed under: gigi, kids, toddler bed, beds, routine, g crib, night time, converting a crib to a toddler bed, sleeping, big girl beds

• Valentines Day and the Single Mother

  From the precise speck in time, the exact second, that I found out I was going to be a mother, I had this image in my head about not being married and having a baby on my hip.  Throughout my pregnancy I felt this awkward pull towards not being single.  Was I genuinely in love with GiGi’s father?  Yes, of course.  Did things work out? No.  That being said, I have always (and Im not alone with this thought) that there was a stigma attached to the single mother.  It was hard to accept the fact that I would be one of those people. I would be a single woman in her mid-twenties, raising a baby on her own and struggling with daycare, bills, a “baby daddy” and a plethora of other things.  When I was a single girl, living it up with countless faces and places and a soundtrack to accompany it all, I wondered why my older sister was so adamant that dating be such a low priority.   No dates?   No lipstick and heels on a Saturday night?   No extra dirty vodka martinis and cigarette in hand?   …more importantly, no SEX!!!??!   There was no way that having a child, albeit by myself for the grand majority of the time, was going to prohibit me from living my life how I wanted to.  (Please note that I am not a skank by any means, just a passionate and um, lovely person).  Sure I would wait until she was a little older to date, but at that point, I would date and I would shrug off the stigma associated with the single mother looking for a new father to replace the old one.  After all, that’s what they say right?  No seriously, that-is-what-they-say.  In any of the forums I frequented to kill time or get some platonic daytime human interaction, even if over the net, any time the phrase “single mother” was spoken, the place went mean.  There are quite a few people out there who see single women who happen to have children, as clingy and wretched women (unless you are Ann Cunter and then you think that we are raising victims and future serial killers/rapists).   Pah!  I for one am neither clingy nor wretched.  Neither are... Read More... Posted Feb 23 2009, 06:58 AM by Megg with | with 7 comment(s) Filed under: gigi, parenting, mothers, february, valentine, valentine's day, ann coulter hate-club, single women, chocolate cake, cake, single mothers

• Toddler Bowling.

  This morning at our weekly in-home visit from various teachers, including GiGi’s Orientation and Mobility Teacher, I watched faces twist themselves from smiles to looks of pain when I said, “So I took GiGi bowling this weekend!”  Their faces mirrored my feeling on Sunday afternoon as I sat in a little gray nailed-to-the-floor-chair that with a screaming toddler writhing in my arms while sticking her fingers in my eyes and nose in protest to bowling.   I can be uptight about certain situations and refuse to intermingle myself in things if I have a gut instinct  that GiGi will hate it.  Like, for example, going to the movies.  Kind of a no-brainer at this point in time.  Taking a toddler to the movies might not be a completely stupid idea if some really colorful, musical, Disney or Pixar-gasmic flick were on the screen, but in our case I have sort of come to the conclusion that movies in theatres will have to wait until she is a tiny bit older to listen to them.  Yes, I intend to raise a full-on film snob.  Back to my rambles though…   GiGi and I drove to the bay, yet again, but this time we did a little Valentine’s Day babysitting for a best friend (oh yes, there will be a post on that one, stay tuned) and then spent two days at my oldest sisters house.  It was a great big sister event in Napa full of nieces and nephew and rain-rain-rain.   What the hell does one do on a three-day weekend when its pouring cats and wine drunk dogs outside?  Why, we bowl of course.    The word “bowl” and all the catch phrases and words that go with that sport should have flipped a little switch on in my head that said “no.”    It didn’t hit any switches, and like a moron I waltzed into the bowling alley with a toddler on my hip and the notion that things would be fine.   My brain says that having snacks and music in tow will always make a situation seem brighter for my child, but in a bowling alley?  What the fuck was I thinking?           (She looks soooooooooooooo amused by it all, doesn't she?)     Read More... Posted Feb 17 2009, 11:10 AM by Megg with | with 3 comment(s) Filed under: ca, gigi, toddlers, babies, kids, blindd, gia, bowling, bowling alleies, sensory disorder, napa, toddlerbowling, sound, loud noises, bowling alley, volume

• Taking the boss to the doctor

  I have a feeling that when GiGi wants to be picked up I’m not supposed to pick her up because somewhere along the lines she became a big girl.  Whatever it is that I do, I’m not supposed to do it, and that rule applies at all times.  *GiGi is the boss, according to GiGi. So it would stand to reason that she is the boss, not just in our home, but everywhere her feet or stroller take her.   On Monday morning we had an appointment at the endocrinologist.  I say “we” because I am the one who talks a mile-a-minute to the doc, trying to recall every detail of GiGi’s  life from the last few months since he saw her, as well as the giant mental note I make of all those questions that come up between visits (see: Is she too skinny? Is she just thin?  Has anything come up?  Blood work? Lumpy things? Etc.).  I’m acutely aware of the remaining patients in the waiting room and their children.  Some come into the office with rolling IV contraptions attached to them and some are joined by other siblings and exhausted looking parents.  Seats are plentiful but fill up so quickly.  While I wait for our doctor to arrive in Exam room #2, I realize that he is not just our doctor, but at least half of those other patients’ doctor as well.  So I try to be respectful and organize my thoughts so that I don’t keep him longer than necessary, yet get all the answers GiGi needs.   It’s like a medical quick fire.   And what better to accompany a quick fire, than a squirming toddler!           (I didn't get any pictures of her at the Endocrinologist because of the crying and otherwise Regan MacNeil-like behavior. So then...here is my smiling little babe in a happier setting: The Franklin Park post-doctor trip.)  Explanation after the jump! Read More... Posted Feb 11 2009, 11:34 PM by Megg with | with 7 comment(s) Filed under: gigi, doctor, toddler, snot, waiting rooms, childrenn's hospital, insane, endocrinologist, gia, cortisol, early puberty, terrible twos, puberty, defiant, busy baby, hates the doctor, thin, weighing, cryingg children

• What's a Friday without a fire truck...or three?

  (Waiting in the car while the firemen climbed the rainy rooftop)   I spilled coffee on my shirt yesterday morning.  Walking down the hallway on my way to the kitchen to warm up the coffee that always seems to stay cold once it hits MY cup, I stumbled a little and spilled it.  Yes, I was in my pajamas and yes GiGi was actually trying to stick her fingers in the cup.  I stepped outside my usual o.c.d self and said f*ck it. I’m not taking a shower today, and the coffee stink will have to stay until tonight.  Friday night with a baby on my hands?  What was I going to do other than eat popcorn and avoid the rain. Fast forward to two hours later and you would have found me cursing my morning coffee and the fact that I didn’t have on clean underwear as I stood outside in my pajamas staring at the flashing lights of three fire trucks.  Read More... Posted Feb 07 2009, 11:52 AM by Megg with | with 5 comment(s) Filed under: gigi, children, fireworks, babies, parents, kids, megg, fires, homes, mothers, dipshit things, fire truck, emergencies

• What's Next?

  GiGi sleeps. She is sleeping right now and has been asleep since 8:37 pm this evening.  We took a bath, then I gave her the nightly growth hormone shot and we fell back on the pillows to rest.  Like that *snaps* she was out.    Every morning we wake up, have breakfast and then it’s time for her to play and play and play AND PLAY and play and play. No nap. Play-play-play, lunch, no nap, play play PLAY play, dinner, bath, see above.   She isn’t teething or sick or walking unassisted.  She isn’t just beginning to learn this or that. There are no more sleep troubles (thank god/Buddha/jesus/heaven/diet coke/macadamia nuts/david beckham/etc). In fact, my little...   Read More... Posted Feb 02 2009, 09:49 PM by Megg with | with 4 comment(s) Filed under: optic nerve hypoplasia, onh, gigi, crawling, walking, talking, milestones, baby milestones, potty training, toddler milestones, blindd, 22 months old

• The Run Around

  Twenty-one months ago I gave birth to a gorgeous daughter who entered this universe with such grace, such impeccable ease and wonder, that I shouldn’t be surprised at how amazing she is to watch discover the world.  I feel like I’ve been spending my days showing her what I want her to “see” and blabbering on and on about the random crap I have in my head.  A little over 630 days if I attempt to do some bogus math.  That’s a lot of time spent passing on my ideas and wisdom to a tot – some perfectly sensible and some completely insane I’m sure.  Regardless of the specifics, it’s all been in my hands so far.   Years from now, and then years from that point in time, I imagine that I will be laughing at how frustrating it is to watch her be so independent and make such incredible mistakes and victories, all on her own.  I don’t know exactly what she’ll be doing to make me think that, but I’m absolutely positive I will remember the moment she captured the world in her hands and set it down to run laps around it.  The precise day that she proved to herself that anything was possible.   January 14, 2009, that was the day, GiGi’s Independence Day, that she showed me what she’s made of.     Read More... Posted Jan 18 2009, 11:58 PM by Megg with | with 5 comment(s) Filed under: blind, gigi, toddlers, walking, discovering, exploring, navigating, the park, foamy pebbles, o.n.h. optic nerve hypoplasia, cane, pre-cane, running, baby sprints

• Tomato Soup-In-a-Box

  At dinner this evening a spoon hit the floor.  Slammed may be a better word for it, but we’ll just say hit, or dropped so that I can pretend my child isn’t as food feisty as she really is.  As I was saying, this spoon that hit the floor was covered in the one ingredient she decided to eat from a table with a few options.     Hamburger.   Am I a hamburger fan myself?   Not particularly, but if it changes up the routine then I’m okay with that.  I spent $178.42 at Trader Joes this past week, and then $42 a few days later at the same place (yes, $25 of it was in a new Trek mix with raw nuts and whatnots that I became fast addicted to).  The only thing GiGi will eat from my sad little reusable bags is Organic Tomato soup in a box, soy chocolate milk, and unsweetened applesauce.  That’s it.   I try so hard to keep a cabinet, within the cabinets of the selections made by my parents (two very different styles of eating- mine is WAY less fun than there’s thus the weight gain on my part), that holds healthy snacks and truly amazing/good-for-you foods.  For a while there, GiGi and I...       Here she is (in the cutest shirt I have ever put on her) eating cheerios off the floor. Only one, then I freaked.  And yes, they were our cheerios, not pre-existing park cheerios.       Read More... Posted Jan 13 2009, 07:18 PM by Megg with | with 8 comment(s) Filed under: gigi, toddlers, trader joes, picky, tomato soup, picky eater, applesauce, food habits, cheerios, monotonous dining