Babble

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Love is Blind

  • The Haight Street Urine Carwash.

     Monday morning came like an unwanted solicitor on the front porch.  I was exhausted  from the busy weekend, but still wanted to do something special with GiGi before we left the tall, tall buildings and traveled back through towns with two stoplights.   I sprang to my feet over the course of 5 minutes and took a shower first, then the babe. Around 9:30 am we made our way to a great little punk rock café in Emeryville and had eggs and toast.  It was a seat yourself kind of a place so I chose the back of the restaurant and watched the faces of flats and mod dresses look up at me with mild horror and discomfort.  A hip joint like this doesn’t appear to be swarming with the 2 and under crowd.  No one was rude exactly but the vibe in the room seemed to be muted once GiGi started banging her toy hammer on the table and chanting “MA-MA-MA-MAMAMA-MA!!” 

     

    We snacked merrily and I was delighted when a cute couple walked in with their two little girls.  The noise they were smacking up halted my little destructo mid-hammer-swing, and I glanced over with a sigh of relief to finally not be the only noise makers in the joint.  They quickly scanned the room with an apology squashed above their eyes like a visor, and when they got to me I handed them an eye-catching Hi-Five.  I tend to applaud parents who just let their kids be kids during thirty minutes of toast, omlettes, and bottomless coffee.

     

    ( Here is my little cup eater. Evidently pancakes aren't as tasty)

     

     

     

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  • Milkshakes for GiGi, Martinis for Mommy

     

    This weekend was busy. Crazy and chaotic with a side of “ew” at times.  My Friday morning hint at this arrived in the form of a ditzy drive-thru barista who forgot to hand me a straw with my light coffee blended frothy goodness, that I didn’t realize until I merged onto the freeway.  Aghhh!   Keeping with my attempt to make things more positive in karma land, I kindly unstrapped my 1 yr old who at that point thought it was time to get out for good, and walked inside to let them know that next time they should consider passing out straws with their cold beverages. 

     

    Once we got to the bay area, we stopped in Orinda to grab a house key from one of the best friends, Lea.  I threw her baby shower this weekend (thank you Dina!) and needed to unload 206 tons of rubber duck paraphernalia while she was workin’ it up at her company.  I’d like to thank her bosses for encouraging my portly state of being, by offering GiGi and I the best milkshakes ever.  We went with a little F’real mint chip action and before I could get my camera out, my little ice cream monster had already dove in, fist first, to the cup before her.  I thought I would go with the flow and let her feed herself, but in retrospect, I gave her a lot more hand-to-mouth credit than I should have.  We got ice cream everywhere.   Sticky hands, sticky table, sticky mommy, sticky eyelids, sticky 5-foot radius…

     

     

     

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  • Food and Breaking-up.

     

    It’s not at all uncommon to read that some little starlet has dropped a million pounds since giving birth to her ridiculously gorgeous baby like 2 days after having him /her. 
    In theory, losing weight is attainable and very appealing on a “fat day.”  You know what I’m talking about.  I buy these magazines that say how so and so lost all the weight in 47 milliseconds and I hope for once, that the article will make sense.  It never actually computes correctly in my head though. I'm not sure how to afford or incorporate the 3 hours of personal trainer time or low carb diet into my daily routine.

     

    I join a foodie support group because people are starting to stare at me funny when I say that I'm still carrying a little toddler weight....

     

     

     

     

     

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  • A Passion for Jonathan Richman.

     

    There are a kagillion things to be embarrassed about as a mama.  For example, GiGi has raised hell with so many of her bibs and I refuse to buy more so we’re using the backup food catchers.  She wears one that reads: HOTTIE. It’s got a mild creep factor to it, since my kid is cute…silly….any word, except for HOTTIE.   GiGi also sucks on cabinet knobs and grocery cart handles no matter how many covers I lay over them. She has accidentally dropped her bottle onto more sets of pricey shoes than I can count and while I’m a smidge embarrassed none of it means the end of the world is coming.

     

    G’ is also known for more ‘making-mama-proud’ habits like chewing the head of a red Buddha that I keep on my desk, or motor-boating my chest, and of course my favorite – talking to Jonathan Richman. 

     

    Music is a key ingredient to our daily mix of life. I wake up singing her ‘good mornings’, we sing to soothe before naps and nighttime, and we most certainly rock out throughout the day simply because if she cannot see, I will make life colorful in other ways.  Needless to say – I have a colossal assortment of tunes to move her soul.  Every person active in her life has their own song that they la-la-la to, so that she is content in their arms.

     

    My mother sings “Gia Lorraine, sat on a plane” and it reminds me Mike Meyers in all black, singing on stage in So I Married an Axe Murderer.  Boy Wonder has a wide range of weird trance-house-indie-synth-pop magic that she adores also.  One best friend of mine, Anouck, belts out a lovely rendition of Whams’ “Wake me up, before you go-go” that I can’t even get next to.  For the life of me I remember one...

     

     

     

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  • Club Mean

    I wish I could say that I wasn’t interested in ‘Mommy Clubs’ but sadly, I am.  Maybe it’s because when I was sitting with my newborn in the bay area and all of my girlfriends were working and then heading out to live their own child free lives, I was there with cries for milk and poops.  At some point I think it’s only natural for us to gravitate towards other people who are in our situation. People who have children and spend their mornings sneaking through the house to see if they can be quiet enough to take a shower or brush their teeth without waking the sleeper.  

     

    My first club experience involved terrible house music and people under 18.  Wait, wrong club.  I tried to join several mothers groups but most were showing as inactive for the past few months when I searched them online. My first actual club for mamas that I got to join was a seemingly sweet group that I found on meetup.com.  I was a member for a whole week or two until the organizer kicked me out for not answering enough of their polls and for having yet to attend a function. I’m sure if they would have emailed me first before kicking me out they would have known that right after I joined, GiGi was diagnosed as blind. When that happened, I didn’t give a shit about their ANYTHING bit my babe and of course I let them know that a few weeks later.  They, at that point, decided to let me back in.  I sucked up my ego and pride and went to a few outings and actually really liked the women.

     

    Then we moved.

     

    (gigi avoiding mommy clubs and dancing instead) 

     

     

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  • New Kid in Town

     

    Well hello Babblers!  My name is Megg and I’m the mother of one of the newest additions to the dirt eating, playground wandering, germ sharing, tiny giggling world of toddlers , GiGi,  who just turned a year old less than two weeks ago.  Babble has invited me to be part of the blogging family but before I am welcome here I should probably tell you a bit about myself.  After all, it’s a bit rude to try and settle in somewhere without giving up some info.

     

     

    I’m 6 feet of brunette funkiness that hails from a lesser known city in California called Madera.  Up until 7 months ago, I was living on a small island bordering Oakland, working full time, raising the babe and living it up. My ex (let’s call him Boy Wonder) and I got the news on August 8, 2008 that our GiGi was blind. She never really tracked my face or looked at anything in particular so concern grew and grew with each check up. You know,  I asked my sister in the hospital, right after I gave birth, “When will she look at me?”  I should have known by the quiet, delayed response, that something was wrong with her vision from the start.  I didn’t though, because she is and has always been perfect in my eyes and I was too in love with her to imagine something like that.  At 4 months old, hearing the overwhelming diagnosis of optic nerve hypoplasia, meaning her optic nerves never fully developed for one reason or another, was more than I could handle with just Boy Wonder present and neither of our families close by.  So almost 2 months after the shock GiGi and I moved to farm life, usa.

     

     

    While living at home with your parents at 27 years old isn’t the most hip thing to do, it is the thing that makes the most sense for me.  For us.  For my family of two.  Our puzzle-pieced two household family of four.  I spend every other weekend in Oakland with my closest friends while GiGi is spending time alone with her daddy.  When I’m not honking in traffic or looking for never available parking, I am here at my new home which is smack dab in the middle of …nowhere.  Instead of phones’ and heels, people are rocking the cowboy hat and boots look. Madera is a pretty conservative place, and having spent 10 years in the bay area I’m in total culture shock.  I can’t seem to find a radio station spewing politics or even sports talk. There is however a lot of country music and Spanish channels.  Neither one are my thing though so I am out of luck there. Thankfully the town is progressive *enough* to have internet availability.

     

     

    Here’s the bottom line – I’m a brand new mother. A woman who had never planned on children or even considered become a foundation of stability and consistency.  My life was flipped upside down and thrown into a blender with wheatgrass shots and then served with a mango slice on top the day I found out I was a people maker.

     

    My heart says that I can do this. I can be a great mother to my daughter and learn as I go, doing things my way, her way, any which way but normal. We will create art together and GiGi will be passionate about painting and reading even if that means raised paint and Braille. She will love beeper-ball soccer and dinosaurs and playing with friends. I will encourage her to play any instrument she can get her hands on, and sell my soul to pay for them. I will let her know that tattoos are fine and pink is a lovely shade to color her hair. 

     

    There is no real “how-to” guide for parents that fits everyone’s life perfectly, but at least there is some sort of guide out there.  GiGi, Boy Wonder, his older daughter and I have no handbook. Nothing is present in our lives to explain how to do this so our parenting trip has been a rocky, but entertaining show.  My pint sized hero is teaching me everything I was once missing in life, and putting me to work for that knowledge.  Stay tuned to hear about my lessons in love, single-mothering, and raising a child with as much vision as I have patience.

     

    oh, I almost forgot, Nice to meet you!

     

     

     

    Megg & GiGi


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About the Blogger

Love is Blind

Megg Lasswell in Oakland.

This single mom moved home at age twenty-seven to raise her blind toddler, leaving city buildings behind and trying her best to embrace farm life outside Oakland. She is working on her first book in between indie-rocking out with her daughter GiGi and teaching her the simple things in life.

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