So while I was away from this space, the physical space around me was altered by maturing and growing children. Hannah is headed to Kindergarten soon, totally mainstream. Claire now wears clothes sized nearly to her age, Hannah, though still stick figure skinny, could actually get out of the big toddler car seat and into a 35 pound rated booster . . . but worse than that, is the vocabulary growth. Claire made a witty joke about the womb when she heard Hannah morph the r in room. Granted she is all for a low grade knock-knock joke as well, but when I recently offered her a bit of my cheese toast, she, observing my fruit salad topped with whip-its delight said "my eyes are on the cream." WTF? When first she said "what the heck is going on?" I blamed her environment and heaved more than one sigh of relief that the phrase came from a wretched popular children's movie. Last week I promptly lost all my helicopter parent cred by showing her YouTube shorts of songs from Les Mis, which she now begs for daily. Mommy can we watch Red and Black? And then Do You Hear the People Sing? Sure I say, until I hit upon a making of the movie clip, and got stuck when the costume director explained the color choices for prostitutes coordinating with the imprisoned slaves. Oh yeah, Mommy, nicely played. Now explain prostitutes, slavery and metaphor. When I told Claire that Fantine sold her body I said she sold her hair and her . . . teeth. True! She did! And some other stuff. And then I had to decide that I wasn't ready to show them Les Mis yet. I don't know which character she would emulate (Javert?) but I don't want to find out.
Mother of two, step-mom to two more. Married. Work in the theatre of the absurd, behind the curtain, and pulling the strings. First daughter was a preemie, new Baby has MCADD, or Medium Chain Acyl-CoA Dehydrogenase Deficiency (Mighty Crappy Aggravating Disorder) and mild Cerebral Palsy, because the fun never stops around here. Foggy mind. If I wore a button it would say: Lose mind now, Ask me how! Things you might find here: bits and pieces of fluff about babies with wacky disorders, mommying, knitting very slowly, and stuff I don't say at work. If you want to send me free stuff just email me at gingerbblog at gmail.